#i am finally calming down from the major anxiety episode prompted by this event

[hylianengineer]

I know long sleeves in a lab context would usually be bad but why don't they either make lab coat sleeves or gloves longer. This post brought to you by the time (an hour ago) I splashed sulfuric acid on my wrist, directly between my glove and my lab coat. I am fine though, it did not burn me and I assure you I have taken all relevant safety precautions. I am fine, I promise. I'm just slightly freaked out.

[thorne93]

Curious Conundrum (Part 35)

Prompt: You’re John Watson’s sister. One day you decide to visit your brother for lunch, only to meet the infamous Mr. Holmes…

Word Count: 1304

Warnings: language, flirtation, sexual innuendos (maybe? idfk), murder/crime/case related stuff, angst, jealousy…

Notes: Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong Not only did she beta, but I literally couldn’t have written half these scenes without her help. She contributed majorly, even wrote some parts of scenes. I am forever in her debt.

Also, this starts AFTER Season 2, episode 1. I don’t follow all the episodes, but it does follow the timeline and hit some major events : )

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 |  Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Part 32 | Part 33 | Part 34 |

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After a very complex plan, including being a pirate, the four of you were in the compound. Sherlock insisted on going down to see his sister. You begged him not to go. At least, to not go alone. He said that it was hard enough to get just him down there, let alone the two of you.

He got in, and you were in a conference room with Mycroft and John, while Mycroft lit up the governor of the prison. You all sat and watched surveillance tapes of Eurus. Eventually, John realized that the man who was sitting with Eurus in one of her tapes was the governor himself, which meant he was compromised. The governor called security, and as John was being hauled off, he got away, but then they knocked him out again.

Then, you were escorted at gunpoint to a room, Eurus room, with the three men you came with, and the governor. Sherlock was seemingly shaken as glass was reinstalled into the room.

“Are you alright?” Sherlock asked when you were finally trapped inside.

“No, I am not alright. I am far from alright,” you said in a low voice, anger soaking every word.

After a moment, the phone seemed to ring and a little girl was on the line asking for help. Suddenly, the room went red, and Moriarty’s voice was on the speakers, making you shiver.

“Hello, my name is Moriarity. Welcome to the final problem.”

“He’s supposed to be dead,” you said, your eyes flashing to your fiance.

“He is dead,” he insisted.

“Doesn’t sound like it,” John agreed.

The recording came back on and then the little girl spoke again, Sherlock tried to talk to her to calm her down so he could help her, but the line cut off. On a TV, suddenly Eurus face filled the screen.

The instant you saw her, live, in front of you, your heart began hammering in your chest as you clenched your fists. You’d give anything to remove the screen between you two, be right in front of her and squeeze the life from her. Sherlock's’ sister or not, she posed as John’s therapist, nearly killed him, and nearly broke up their marriage.

She spoke of Moriarty and talked to Mycroft and Sherlock for a bit before Sherlock got back to the problem at hand.

“The girl – where is she? Can I talk to her again?” Sherlock asked.

“Poor little thing. Alone in the sky in a great big plane with nowhere to land. But where in the world is she? It’s a clever little puzzle. If you want to apply yourself to it, I can reconnect you; but first …”

She sat back in her chair and turned, so that all of you could see a woman tied to a chair, and bound.

The governor looked up. “That’s my wife,” he said before getting to his feet. “Oh God, that’s my wife.”

“I’m going to shoot the governor’s wife,” she stated.

“Please, no, please, help her!” he begged, looking to Sherlock.

“Oh you can save her,” Eurus offered.

“How?” Sherlock demanded.

“There’s a gun in the hatch. Take it.”

“You want to save the governor’s wife? Choose either Doctor Watson, Y/N, or Mycroft to kill the governor.”

“Oh… oh god,” the governor said, shaking his head.

You gasped, looking to Sherlock.

“You can’t do it, Sherlock. If you do it, it won’t count. I’ll kill her anyway. It has to be your brother, your fiance, or your friend.”

The governor turned to Mycroft. “You have to do this.” He then turned his attention to Sherlock. “Eurus will kill her.”

“Doesn’t appear we have a choice,” Sherlock said handing the gun to Mycroft.

“Right then. Countdown starting,” she said.

“How long?” Mycroft asked. He had yet to take the gun.

“No, no, no. The countdown is for me,” she informed. “Withholding the precise deadline will apply the emotional pressure more evenly. Where possible, please give me an explicit verbal indication of your anxiety levels.”

Your eyes flashed to the screen, your gaze narrowing severely on her. You had a million words you wanted to say to her, but your anxiety levels weren’t one of them. If you ever got out of here, they would have to redefine the word psychotic for what you would do to her.

“I can’t always read them from your behavior.”

You continued to clench your jaw and your fist, trying to bite your tongue from lashing out.

Eurus continued to talk in the background while Mycroft refused the gun.

“Fine. John,” Sherlock said, turning to him.

The governor begged John to do it and you wanted to stop this madness. You weren’t sure how, but you couldn’t bear the thought of John having to do this.

“No, John, wait,” you said. “Let me.”

“Are you mad? I’m not letting you do this. You don’t need that on your conscience.”

“I don't need you doing it either. You have enough problems with PTSD from the war as it is,” you countered.

“No,” he insisted. ‘I know what you’re trying to do, but I’m fine. I’ve killed in the war before, I can cope.”

“You don’t have to do this,” you stressed.

“We really must be moving along,” Eurus pressed, the red light coming on along with Moriarty's voice of “tick tock” replaying over and over.

“Please! Someone just do it to save my wife!” the governor pleaded. John looked at you, sort of talking with his eyes and you knew he would feel an iota better if he did it, rather than you. You stepped aside, your heart heavy.

Time seemed to drag on for eternity as you watched John aim the gun at the governor, then he tried to get him to kneel, which he did. John kept aiming, re-aiming, then pulling the gun back. He was hesitating.

Eventually, he just pulled the gun away and stepped back.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. I can’t do it,” John said an you breathed a sigh of relief and hugged him. As he was hugging you back though, David ran up and grabbed the gun, aiming it at all of you, making you back up.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Remember me,” he said before he put the gun to his chin. All of you ran at him, calling out no, but it was too late. He fired the gun and with a flash of red, his life ended.

Mycroft couldn’t stomach the sight and started to retch in the corner. You felt nothing but white hot rage though and your eyes flashed to the screen. John, Sherlock, and Eurus exchanged some words before she suddenly shot the governor's wife anyway, stating this was an experiment.

“This is an experiment. There will be rigour. Sherlock, pick up the gun. It’s your turn next,” she commanded. “When I tell you to use it – and I will – remember what happened this time.”

“What if I don’t want a gun?” he asked.

“Oh, the gun is intended as a mercy.”

“For whom?”

“You.”

“How so?”

“If someone else had to die, would you really want to do it with your bare hands? It would waste valuable time.”

You and Sherlock exchanged a weary look.

“Perhaps it’s best to just take it,” John said.

Sherlock picked up the gun and pulled out the clip. “There’s only one bullet left.”

“You will only need one. But you will need it,” she promised.

Her face on that screen made you want to scream, to claw your way out to get to her and strangle her. What she was putting all of you through was inhumane. With a burning feeling in your chest, rage in your eyes, and lead in your feet, you trudged forward to the next room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[estudierprouvaire]

I see many posts about studying with things like depression and anxiety and even ADHD in the studyblr community but one thing I don’t see a lot of is what studying with psychosis is like, so I’m gonna put in my story I guess (there’s also some PTSD stuff and dissociative problems)

December 17 2017-  Type my one page outline for my composition final, make my clothes packing list for winter break, do laundry

those were my goals. I had a day with, no social engagements from noon until 7 pm, more than enough time to do those things, but sadly my wonderful brain had a different idea and here’s how my day ended up panning out:

7ish-9ish am: I had my not-quite-partner over for a sleepover and we just hung out in bed and cuddled and such, no big deal

9:30-11 am: walked to town for breakfast then went to a little coffeeshop to chill out until they had to head back to their place

11:30 am-1 pm: i started dissociating very heavily, as well as having flaskbacks and mild paranoia. My friend tried to help but they also were a little dissociating so it didn’t end all that well and we both headed home

1-1:30 pm: the singular most terrifying walk home I have ever had, i was so paranoid of everyone that it was messing with how i held myself, curling to be smaller so nobody would hurt me. I also was dealing with flashbacks because of something a friend of mine said and was extremely depersonalised (i felt like i was not real at all and that my body was fake) as well as derealised (it felt like all the events that had happened were a dream). I also was getting hit hard by two of my major delusions- that all the people I care about hate me and that I am actually dead and have been since fall 2016. this is when my first post from above was made.

2-5 pm: I made it to my dorm, put on my music, calmed down a little, and passed out for a few hours, hoping it would help me feel better. I also texted another friend who lets me check up on whether or not they hate me, which helped me come out of my intensely delusional state a little.

5-7 pm: messed around on youtube because I was still floaty and dissociated, and sent my mom a video about derealisation and depersonalisation, her response of wanting to talk about it while I’m home for break prompted the second post above. 

7-11 pm: my mood went back to extreme fluctuations and my paranoia started to kick in, to the point where I was terrified of getting out of bed, and at one point I attempted to go to the RA office because they had free fruit but I was so paranoid that once in my hallway I immediately had to turn around and come back. I also wrote the third post above at about 9 pm.

11 pm- 12 am: in a panic-induced moment of energy upon remembering that the outline for my final exam was going to be collected, I grabbed my laptop and reading materials, scouted an empty lounge, and wrote up the outline in about an hour before retreating back to my room and falling asleep for the night.

I write about this because, although this was definitely one of, if not the worst day I’ve had as far as my psychosis affecting my daily life, especially my studies. I want others who struggle with less represented mental illnesses to know that it’s okay if it affects your studies. I haven’t yet figured out the key to being able to work while having a psychotic episode and that’s okay because right now, the best thing i can do for myself is let myself rest if it’s a bad day, because as logical as that sounds it’s still a new concept to me.