#i can't function cause of my body right now and I'm so frustrated

[advisorsage]

Really feeling the medical anomaly part of chronic illness/pain type of disability.

[its--deandraa]

There’s something that doesn’t feel right about this post but I’m having a hard time putting it into words, I think for some people this kind of statement can ring true, but I don’t think saying that “periods do more harm than good” applies to everyone, I have a lot more to say on this subject…

I know I shouldn't be putting my two cents on a post from twitter since it's where most brain dead takes spark aflame, but this one bothered me quite a bit and I couldn't figure out why, but when something bothers me, I keep picking at it like a scab until it bleeds again and I figure out where I got the scab in the first place. Saying a statement that periods are causing harm makes people feel like there is something wrong with themselves and in a society thats already violently hateful towards women and femme bodies and any traits associated with those bodies, this doesn't help. I'm not here to romanticize having a period and because I know there's a lot of people with serious medical issues in which getting your uterus removed is totally valid and totally necessary depending on your choice/situation. But I want to acknowledge that in our capitalist society were always in a rush, things need to get done fast, hustle hustle hustle, and having a period (one that is not painful or along side other health issues) forces those to slow down, rest, and be in tune with our body, even if we don't want too, which is the complete opposite. Our current society is built around a cisgender males body which runs on a 24 hr cycle where as people who menstruate have different phases (follicular, luteal and ovulation) and run on a monthly cycle, which is deemed inconvenient and not efficient. I know of a lot people who mention that having a period has been a good indicator for their health and hormones, a reply under this tweet mentioned how this was a privileged take and that people who menstruate can't even have access to period products in developing countries, another said "now what?" Exactly, now what? Even if that statement was true, what are we supposed to do? A lot of women face mistreatment in healthcare, a lot of women are facing poverty and are not even able to afford healthcare, and if periods were causing us harm then we would all probably be lining up to get hysterectomies instead of buying period products that aren't even FDA regulated. Period pain has been used against us and weaponized against us in order to further dismiss pain that is associated with being a women/femme. This kind of statement, while it may ring true for some people, further teaches people to hate a natural occurring function of their bodies and further upholds this hateful misogynist society we live in.

Another side to note, the replies to this tweet are mostly people talking about their experiences of either getting a surgery or birth control, and never having to deal with their periods again which is great for them and I’m genuinely happy for them, and I’m glad I live in a era where people with periods have access to healthcare that gives them a better quality of life, but with all the good experiences, they are also agreeing with the original statement which in my opinion lacks empathy and compassion for those still having painful periods and are further re-enforcing this hate towards something naturally occurring for majority of the population, and even animals!

I’m not sure why I felt compelled to write this much about this topic, maybe its coming from a place of anger or maybe it’s the fact I’m a women who has done so much work on their body issues and also currently on my period (hehe! 🤗) but it’s been really frustrating to see women promote hating themselves just because their bodies don’t naturally function within a society that hasn’t considered them in the first place.

[prpfz]

Rule Compliance Emoji 🔥

Yo!! Ever since a few of my past partners have dropped off of the face of the Earth, there's been a vacancy open, and some plots I've quite missed writing. So, I made some similar plots and dropped them here!! If you're interested, please do dm on discord @kastion

I've little to no limits, so if you've got something in mind you want too, hit me with it!!

Plot 1: Year 2577. Muse A is a woman born with a strange condition that makes her regenerate. This regeneration is functional immortality - yes, she can die, but she always ends up coming back just fine, in the same body as before. Despite being quite literally immortal, she was always jealous of her elder sister. Taller, prettier, but most importantly? Happier. More talented. More loved by the people around them- including her dad. She felt like she could never match up to her- never be happy like she was. She ended up finding her people, a group of punks and delinquents that cause trouble for the oppressive authority. And she ended up falling for the leader of the group.

But that's not the focus of the story. As time went on, she developed a big name for herself- soldiers swearing that they managed to take her down, just for her to come back the next day or so like nothing happened. A scientist, Muse B, took an extreme interest in this, and decided to change the order from kill to capture, to run experiments and tests on her. Soon enough, she's shot down- nothing unusual for her, by this point, it's the usual. But when she eventually comes back to, she wakes up in a white room, with no windows, other than one overhead with people that peek into the room.

You would play Muse A, I would play Muse B, along with a few others.

Themes that will definitely be in this roleplay: noncon, monster fucking, torture, kidnapping

Themes that might: 🍪, snuff, group sex, body modification, pregnancy

Plot 2: Muse A is a crime lord, worked herself all the way up from the grit and dirt to become a kingpin. The way she runs this is up to you, but I always imagined that she'd be very dangerous, but mostly reasonable. She roped Muse B, a young man who owns a Toyota car dealership into working with her- getting her vehicles as off the table as humanly possible, in exchange for large amounts of pay. Now of course, if he didn't do it, it was his head. He was paid, but a choice was never there.

Suddenly, Muse B isn't supplying the vehicles, which violates their “agreement”. Muse B has her right hand woman kidnap him, and drag him to her office - or the middle of nowhere. He explains that he's been audited- that the IRS is up his ass and suspects foul play, if he tried to get her people more vehicles, they're all going down. Frustrated as she is, she understands. She can't let this go unpunished though, so she thinks of another way he can repay his debt- in what's essentially functioning as her toy.

You would play Muse A, I would play Muse B and the bodyguard.

Themes this roleplay will definitely include: dubcon, femdom, kidnapping

Themes this roleplay might: Noncon, torture, group sex

As previously stated, please dm on discord @kastion ! I'm unlikely to respond, especially in a timely manner, to reactions.

kastion

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

hi, i’ve been following you for a while but this is my first time back on the app in a long long time. I just saw your post about getting sent home from surgery, I wanted to reach out to you and let you know that you are truly not alone with your frustrations with medicine right now. i have been struggling for years with so many issues such as incredibly low ferratin, my glucose levels are off, i can’t keep my platelet level high enough and because i’m so young they refuse to help me figure out if i may have an autoimmune disease. whenever i finally get to see a doctor i’m told i just need to make a lifestyle change & to go home. I have not felt like myself in years. not only that, i’ve watched my mother go through the same thing i’m going through and come home crying because she was disregarded by yet another doctor. keep fighting, you will find help. i’m so sorry for the way you have been treated & i cannot imagine your own frustration as someone who is in the field themselves. i know it seems hopeless, but i am rooting for you <3 thank you for sharing your story so that other people feel seen as well. I truly appreciate it.

Thank you so much for reaching out. I completely understand "not feeling like myself" part. I mean I've always had chronic pain and it did limit me somewhat but I was also functioning despite it. Last two years have brought me to my knees and I can't believe it but I miss the usual chronic pain and fatigue, because this, how I am right now, is not sustainable and at this point I just want my life back. Feels like all I've done is work and sleep and gain weight, because I have no energy to do anything else. I started working out again in September and lost some weight and was thinking maybe I'm getting better and in like 3 weeks I got so much worse and the last 3 months have been absolute hell.

I went into this field to help people like me. A little selfish in a way because I used everything I can learn to help myself (lot of good it did, huh), but also to be that one doctor people come to and know their voice is heard and that the person before them will do everything to help. Medical gaslighting (for women especially) is terrible, I'm sorry they're not taking you seriously. The saddest part is that it takes either a life threatening event for them to help or 10+ years before you find someone who is willing to do the necessary work and tests and help you. I've been on both sides, I hope you find someone capable before it gets bad. If the doctor won't listen, switch doctors if you financially can or badger the first one continuously until they hear what you have to say. I wish I advocated for myself more. I wish my parents advocated for me too, because I haven't been pain free since I turned 9. Don't give up either, okay? Chronic illness girlies might be a terrible name for a club but unfortunately there's a lot of us in it. Trust your intuition and your body, you know best when something isn't right. Always trust that gut feeling. Journal symptoms with dates and severity, and if you do your labs always keep the results, form your own medical history. I'm really sorry you're going through that. I wish you didn't suffer this way. No one should be put in this position.

P.S. the lifestyle change they talk about...can hold some merrit but root cause won't be fixed by simply losing some weight and fixing your diet. I've tried. The fact they barely understand the concept of "my diet isn't great because I'm too tired to cook, I'm in pain and working out makes it worse or the I'm gaining weight because of my symptoms that you refuse to acknowledge and treat". Most of us tend to gain weight because of the chronic issues that go unresolved for so long. Hearing "lose weight" pisses me off because my symptoms were there when I was skinny too, it makes no difference. Will it help somewhat? Maybe. But to blame weight and lifestyle choices and treat that as a cure-all is frankly lazy and an insult to our lived experience.

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Heya, INFP adult in standup comedy here. Your work is awesome. I'll jump right at it: I keep doing this thing where I know what kind of joke I wanna make or answer I wanna give, but it floats in my mind as a vague concept or vibe, that I can maybe match with my body language and/or tone, but not actual words. It's like I know what kind of emotional reaction would be the funniest in the exchange, and I usually even remember where I've seen it first (talk shows, comedians, movie scenes...), but I can't quite put my finger on the syntactical details in time.

Basic example. Let's say my line is "I'm too old for this" after a certain interaction: I intuitively know it's gonna be funny if I say that, =I know it's the right thing to say for the bit to keep flowing, but I also know I can't say it that way. I need to construct the sentence more, using synonyms, throwing in a reference, maybe use a funny metaphor or example... and so forth. I always called this "adding layers" to the core concept in my head, which is basically the rule I've followed to make comedy work for my entire life even if for some truly appalling reason I just can't seem to do it anymore without spending SO. MUCH. MENTAL ENERGY. like, man... I used to do this effortlessly. I thought I was good at this shit?

Every time I make an attempt at good improvisation now my brain goes nothing to see here, buddy and I end up giving the basic answer, which sometimes ruins the entire buildup, especially at the end of bits with other people (who look at me sideways in awkward silence while I pretend I'm dematerializing). It's so frustrating.

I'm assuming this has something to do with Ne? Seeing the general picture before zooming in? What's your advice (except practice, I'm already losing hair every day) to pop the bubble and come up with alternatives as fast as everyone else? Cause ngl I'd kinda like to stop rereading ChatGPT synonyms lists on my phone in the midst of a panic attack the night before meetings and weeks later realize I gained nothing from it but myopia degrees. Big thanks

---------------------

As a writer who tackles rather serious subjects, I might not be the best person to ask about comedy. I can only offer some general thoughts about creativity and the creative process.

If I had to speculate, I'd say that your problem boils down to trying too hard. It's a surefire way to interrupt and even ruin the creative process. "Trying too hard" can take many different forms. A common form is "overthinking", e.g., overemphasizing procedural details to the point where you lose all sense of practical ability.

There is a neurological basis for this. To grossly oversimplify, the parts of the brain that are responsible for executive functioning (used for analysis and planning) and creativity (used for brainstorming and free association) are somewhat separate. Maintaining a healthy balance between the two is necessary for achieving what you're trying to do. However, since they are somewhat oppositional processes, it is easy for them to get out of balance, and then problems occur when one process overrides the other.

As a general rule, mental equilibrium is very easily disrupted by any kind of stress. Trying too hard basically increases the probability of creating a stress response in the body that disrupts normal distribution of mental energy.

For instance, a stress response might get triggered by overthinking the details about exactly how to do something. This leads you to overuse executive functioning for planning, which then dampens creative functioning. And then the more you feel "blank" creatively, the more anxious and stressed you get, and then the more you overthink. It is a vicious cycle that, if left unchecked, can shut down creativity completely. This vicious cycle is also responsible for the fatigued feeling of expending more and more energy with diminishing returns.

Note that I'm always emphasizing how important it is to improve one's emotional intelligence. It is not only people with poor mental health who need to improve EI. It's something everyone could stand to improve because emotionality is baked into the center of the human mind. If you don't have a good grasp of your emotional life, it can have a negative impact on many aspects of your mental functioning.

One of the most important applications of EI is stress management, which is vital for both physical and mental health. Stress responses can easily cascade in the brain and body, like a domino effect. In the worst case psychological scenario, the cascade can lead to a "breakdown" of some kind, such as a panic attack. Improving EI should help increase bodily awareness, which would allow you to spot stress earlier and do something about it while it is still manageable.

When you're worked up about something, the worst thing to do is anything that gets you even more worked up about it. Putting more pressure on yourself only escalates the stress response in the body. Although it sounds like trite advice, the best remedy is simply to chill out. Put reliable strategies in place for calming yourself, especially your body. There are so many possible strategies to choose from: take some deep breaths; clear the mind with a meditative state; jog around the block; shout it out; give yourself a mental break; distract yourself with a different task; have a nap; etc.

The creative process requires a certain amount of freedom, relaxation, and inspiration to work optimally. A creative "block" means there's an obstacle and you need to remove it:

freedom: you have to give yourself enough open space to experiment and grace to make mistakes

relaxation: you have to choose optimal work conditions that challenge you to rise to the occasion, but not so difficult that you drown in anxiety or dread

inspiration: you have to keep looking for new ways to stimulate and exercise the generative+imaginative+associative (Intuitive) aspects of your mind

With regard to Ne, maybe it is time you switched up your method. The more you rely on one so-called tried-and-true procedure (isn't this just another way of saying Si loop?), the more you paint yourself into a corner. And the more you feel stuck in that corner, the more you trigger stress responses that undermine the creative process.

[lowcalheavyweight]

Tw: vent, personal meanspo? (Seriously these thoughts don't apply to anyone else, I don't think any other people have measurable worth, i love you)

They won't care

They will never care and they have never cared, even when they thought you were sick.

You tried kindness and sincerity

They didn't like you

You tried being smart and helpful

They didn't want to talk to you

You tried making yourself interesting with hobbies and style

They didn't want to be your friends

You tried dressing pretty&sexy

They didn't care about you

Now you are trying being petite and fragile

They won't attempt to reach out to you

"You are too intimidating," "You're self-sufficient," "Independent,"

Wha-I'M LONELY.

TO THE POINT I'M STRUGGLING TO FUNCTION

I will beg for scraps of your friendship that you deny me for these excuses

My attemps to bond and reach out have left me with anxiety so crippling I can't talk to people without being convinced they hate me

I'm obsessing about my worth as a human being, desperately holding onto my "worthy" parts and crisis panicing when I accidentally got a burnscar cause that means my stock value just went down, right?

I use my body as a barganing chip and I'm too scared to do what i want with it cause my "possible worth" will be higher if I'm still able to become anything they want me to be, for the person who finally picks me up

My brain tells me I will be worthier if I lose more weight

My brain tells me they will just contine to look past you

I'm already on 24/7 sale, they will never pick you up

Never choose you

I've been reflecting on the past recently (can you tell?!??haha) and remembered middle school.

I was already eating quite disordered(without realising - in a soft binge cycle and missing hunger and fullness ques) and we had a schoolwork to "mark on this website your eating habits-food etc for a period of time and submit to the teacher"

If I remember correctly i think it didn't let me log a empty breakfast so I asked, in front of the while class "what if you eat irregularly?" and was then openly pressed until I revealed I mostly only ate once a day and sometimes missed days (once again, I didn't even really try to hide it, I ate a lot when I did and didn't think about food much, I just wanted to do my schoolwork properly)

My teacher then told me to eat something for meals to log them and I just got frustrated cause before, they had extra told us not to change our habits for this assigment

I forgot about it soon and only long after realised my whole class thought I had a full blown ed at that time

And all they did was - ONE person told me once, randomly to eat breakfast every morning, at least a sandwich (at least?? dude that's a whole MEAL) and report to them every day what I ate.

Honestly, at that point I was just confused but happy someone seemed interested in having a daily conversation.

They never once talked to me again.

And honestly, I was actually super sick at that time, not with an ed but severe depression and disassociation due to family trauma. Staying up 72h straight REGULARLY, fevers and sick all the time, severe memory loss

I was visibly sick,

with what they thought was an ed

And noone cared

They will never care, you will never reach anyone or anything else exept your ugw

Your worth will still drop cause your health, skin, mental capacity and wellbeing will drop it lower than your weightloss could ever regain

You will die alone, anxious and fuking pathetic cause it is all your fault anyways and noone feels bad for you "being so lonely boohoo"

You are the real evil anyways, otherwise you'd be worthy of love at this point.

Die like you deserve

Xoxo ♡

[omegapheromone]

I think the worst part of the heat is over finally considering I was able to actually go to the store to get some food... still felt super anxious around other people and felt like I was sweating and overheating the whole time still, but at least my condition wasn't that bad. It's still definitely there, the heat itself isn't over- but it's calmed down a lot from the initial onslaught so I can actually function fairly normally now.

I also took a shower right before I went to wash off any potential scent still clinging to me after hiding in my nest for so long so I imagine I probably wasn't too much of a nuisance in terms of an overwhelming scent either. I felt very irrationally worried about it though- logically I know that people can't actually perceive any pheromones from me (because, 'real world' vs misce identity brain) but I was constantly thinking "what if" regardless.

(More rambles/complaining under the cut, all sfw, just putting the read more here for the sake of post length)

...I felt like people were staring at me, so that made it worse- even though that is almost certainly just because I have a fairly distinctive "look". Still, I imagine that if those people actually COULD sense my pheromones/omega scent for real, I'd have caused some kind of a scene bc I felt like my anxiety must've been like. So obvious. I couldn't even look up from the floor at all aside from when looking at which products to buy. Note to self to NEVER grocery shop while still in heat ever again, because it will be a nightmare. Too bad I actually genuinely needed to get some food because, you know, I'm trying to keep my flesh vessel fueled with enough nutrition.

Idk. It's such a weird thing to get so anxious about. I felt a bit crazy, like... logically, nobody is going to be able to tell that I'm in heat because, you know, non-misce people don't generally even consider that a possibility for humans. And even if people could sense my anxiety- which is entirely possible if not likely from just my body language alone- it's not like they'd know why being at the store would be so stressful for me. I wasn't ACTUALLY in danger. Even so, I constantly felt like "everyone can tell, I must be such a nuisance to everyone, I wish I had a scent blocker or heat suppressant at hand, I feel so bad and guilty for being in public like this because it must be really annoying for everyone else". That type of thing. I guess it didn't really help that I definitely noticed some people glancing at me a bunch, even though it's almost certainly just because I have a pretty distinctive and noticeable look (unnatural hair colour, etc). A kid was pointing me out to their parent in a foreign language I happen to understand a bit, and another very young kid was very openly staring at me for a good while. Kids tend to do that to me all the time, because I look interesting to kids especially, but today it just felt. Bad. And of course, when kids point me out, the parents look too. There was also this (potentially fellow queer) person who definitely did glance at me a good few times, most likely because they just wanted to do that "shared glance of acknowledgement" people tend to do when they notice another obviously Not Very CisHet Person in the wild, but god did it make me feel more anxious to know that they were continuously glancing at me in hopes of our eyes meeting in order to do that "nodding in acknowledgement except with your eyes only" thing gays do. I kept noticing it from my peripheral vision and the sentiment was very nice and everything but I was genuinely on the verge of a panic attack in the store so like, it just. Made me feel worse. Which in turn makes me feel guilty bc I must've seemed like I was avoiding them or something.

I guess I'm just like... frustrated? Because there's no "actual logic" behind any of it, aside from trauma and heat causing my emotions, esp anxiety, go kind of haywire. Also it feels silly to be genuinely paranoid of "oh god everyone can smell my heat can't they, I feel so awful for causing an inconvenience, I'm scared someone will try to hurt me" when. Absolutely nobody can tell.

Hnnng anyway... I still have to decide if I go out tomorrow since I have a therapy appointment. I really should, I haven't seen her in person in a while, but gosh, if my heat is still ongoing I'm going to feel so terrified all day again. But I do need to run other errands too... idk I'm just very. Don't know what to do.

[gabbagepatch]

Ah, fuck. 2/29/2024

Well, I'm certainly a little worse off since my last blog.

My symptoms have gotten much worse since the death of my dog, and I've acquired a cute anxiety disorder to go along with it. It's definitely some kind of medical anxiety, I am terrified of every creak and groan from my body. I'm expecting my health to rapidly deteriorate at any moment, any event to set off a fatal reaction in my body. It's completely ridiculous! I feel barely functional this week, and the worst part is that I know it's my anxiety but I can't stop! Knowing logically that you're fine seems to do little to prevent your body from deciding you're in a life-or-death scenario. The human mind is fascinating and stupid.

Luckily I have a wonderful PCP and he was happy to give me a months supply of sertraline, which I started Monday. I have to say it's already helping, no panic attacks since the first dose!

Both ears are now experiencing tinnitus, whereas before it was unilateral. This is causing me so, so much stress and anxiety because I have already lost hearing in my right, I don't want to lose hearing in my left as well.

I think the new bilateral tinnitus is causing an increase in headaches and stomach upset as well, which feels very debilitating at the moment. I am having a very hard time eating, I'm hungry all the time but can barely manage a few bites of food. It's awful.

Reached out to a therapist yesterday and I have the appointment tomorrow with an intern. I have no clue why the "intern" option appealed to me but it did, perhaps I am having some kind of clairvoyance? Hopefully it goes well, it's online which is great because I'm struggling to drive lately.

All of this combined means I chose to pull out of 2/3 classes I'm taking this semester. It's honestly breaking my heart! I was doing so well before the symptoms got worse and I lost my dog, I was enjoying my classes so much. Knowing I'm withdrawing with A's and B's is beyond frustrating; if only things were different. It makes me so sad honestly.

TLDR; I am having a rough time right now. I always keep it pushing though. Keeping up with skincare, reading, my custom nails, my ethics class. I'm doing whatever I can when I can, which isn't very much right now. I'm taking so many naps, I feel like I could sleep one hundred years. But anyways, I'm gonna come out of this better, I have faith in that.

[adhd-sakura]

ive got good news and bad news: only if you want it. only if you work for it.

It's not fair work. It's insanely unfair, that you have to work for functionality that comes to everyone else so easily.

it's rarely easy, either, BUT sometimes the hardest part is figuring out where to begin, so I know it's kind of a cop out, but. Anywhere. Start anywhere, and start small, with something easy (by YOUR assessment, not anyone elses- if I had it my mom's way I would've STARTED with taking consistant showers, and would've ended there, too).

Personally, I started with Talking about things I trained myself my whole life NOT to talk about. I started this blog to project my ND experiences onto characters, to try out talking about them without talking about myself. I started recording audio diaries where I talked to myself. And when I finally escalated to talking to other people, it was awful a lot of the time. Hard and painful and awkward and exhausting and, like everything else that seems to come so easy to others, a skill I had to learn. A skill I fucked up while learning, undersharing or oversharing to awkward ends (and, a few times, almost dangerous ones). It sucked.

But it was worth it, because I felt like I could breathe, for the first time in years. I felt less alone. Voicing my experiences, talking through them even with people that had no damn clue what to say and/or what I was saying, gave me more understanding and confidence in dealing with them, myself. It made me less confused and frustrated with being me. Less hopeless about my symptoms. scared of myself, ob being myself, or being alone with her. Less willing to be quiet now that I had a voice, and I used that feeling and victory to move on to the next thing. It made me more me.

It's gruelling work at times, but it's worth it, because you're worth it. You deserve to live, instead of just surviving. You deserve to understand yourself well enough to work with your brain and body, instead of fighting them every step of the way. You deserve to be content and comfortable in your own body.

I've really only just started getting better, a year or two ago now. Right now, I'm trying to remember to brush my teeth every time I take a shower, since I can't remember to do it any other time. I'm finally planning to rearrange my room, something I haven't done since middleschool cause I've never let myself want or care about the space I live in. I got my drivers license, even though it took me four tries, and when I was 16 I thought I'd never drive because I couldn't trust myself not to space out and/or have a panic attack and die. I bout Tangle fidget toys a few months ago, and I bubble with pride at the fact that I can use them at work without stressing too much about it.

I wish there was an easy answer, but if there is, I don't know it. I just know that life is worth loving, and worth living, and worth working hard enough to let yourself do both, despite the unfairness of the situation.

All love, and I wish you luck figuring it out. I believe in you, I really do- but that'll only matter as long as you believe in yourself.

as a neurodivergent teen, adults does it ever get better?

[newhologram]

In 2022, I had an estimated 129 medical appointments. Many times I had 5 appts a week, 3 in a day even.

Here is some of the necessary care I fought for all year but still can’t access:

❌ Surgery to address upper cervical instability and 2 bulging discs in my neck ❌ Physical therapy to address my thoracic pain (it took 13 months to get an MRI) and being unable to sit up for long, as well as for my right arm nerve abnormality. Every referral for PT was over an hour away. I can't sit up to drive that long anymore. They can send the disabled shuttle to pick me up, but that's actually even longer sitting up so it's not helpful. ❌ IV ketamine to manage my depression, C-PTSD, autoimmune disorders, and chronic pain (ended up going with at-home ketamine thanks to GFM donations, but IV would be better distribution for inflammation/pain) ❌An updated sleep study since it’s been nearly 10 years since my type 2 narcolepsy diagnosis and some of my other symptoms such as frequent painful myoclonus and choking in my sleep are now making it even harder to get consistent shut-eye ❌Disability benefits and Medicare as I’m now officially considered a “complex” case and have been dropped by doctors who didn't feel they could help me ❌Endometriosis excision surgery + getting my blood-filled ovarian cyst (red thing in photo) dealt with. After several months of going to multiple specialists to rule out other things, including cancer (being monitored for lymphoma/leukemia now), I was sent to a gynecological oncologist surgeon who does the complete wrong outdated terrible no good surgery. She wanted to just do a full hysterectomy and ablation of endo lesions. ❌An updated 1 year colonoscopy after my disastrous 2021 ulcerative colitis/endometriosis flare up that landed me in the hospital. My mesorectal lymph nodes are a little enlarged and there’s a mysterious lesion in my colon, which is why they sent me to a cancer doctor for bloodwork and PET scan—but I strongly believe it’s just endometriosis invading my bowels, which is why I need the endo surgery so bad as well. I'm at the point where my colon will completely go on strike and the pain from the constipation is ER-level (especially when my period from hell comes). It's also just dangerous. I've never had this problem so intensely before, so I'm being even more careful with food and supplements. ❌Pelvic floor physical therapy to help with debilitating pelvic pain caused by endometriosis and other things ❌ A pain management doctor who can prescribe me Tramadol, which helps keep me out of the ER every month, and that has minimal side effects. Something I’ve taken safely for 6 years with no complications. Instead, they'll only Rx Suboxone, which makes it hard to function and has side effects that can cause colitis or narcolepsy complications. I have to take 1/8 of a dose and I still pay for it later.

I had so many arguments with doctors to correct them when they brought up the wrong treatment, wrong surgery, etc. Not only did some of them already know it was bullshit, but others wouldn’t even try to have an open enough mind to keep learning past medical school.

This year was a lot of disappointment and frustration. I feel so worn down. This kind of medical trauma erodes hope and optimism. When intuition about our own bodies and the hours we put into research means nothing to medical professionals or insurance, it feels like we're at the end of the road. I wouldn’t wish the necessity for this kind of resilience on anyone. I wouldn’t have been able to withstand this year without the ketamine therapy or support from friends and followers. I cannot express what it means to have that, especially when I'm still pretty isolated day-to-day. To manage things on my own, I paid out of pocket for acupuncture, cryotherapy, red light therapy, ketamine, many new supplements, all kinds of new massage/trigger point/gua sha/acupressure tools. I went hard on a self-care/pain mgmt routine that I’m proud of, but I’m still very much disabled by persistent, impenetrable chronic pain/fatigue. I was thankfully able to get some prescriptions that help with flare ups, such as Xanax and Toradol. This is one of my many blessings in 2022. My fight is far from over but I want to go into 2023 with softness.

No more pushing through 16 appts per month while also forcing myself to constantly record and edit new content. I want to recline my floor chair and rest my back while I focus on editing older stuff. I have no idea how long it will take to get through my backlog of projects but I’m going to be putting certain things on hiatus so I can just take it slow.

If you enjoy any of my content at all, please share it and consider donating. Your support helps me afford my supplements and medication to keep managing my symptoms even when I'm not able to work that much. GoFundMe: Help New get relief from chronic pain & illness Ko-Fi: Make a micro-donation (name in YouTube endscreen!) Patreon: Monthly support and access to Hologram Discord server (name in YouTube endscreen!) Thank you for helping me be strong this year, Holograms. I love you all very much.

[imagines-by-cleo]

Hiii

If you still take requests, may I ask for a scenario where reader is frustrated with her family and work and stuff and Erwin, her s/o, distract her by... y'know... eating her out and worshipping her?

It's fine if you don't like to do it, I'm just on an Erwin brain rut right now👀

Sorry to keep you waiting, I was taking a little social media break for a bit while dealing with some work stuff, but I'm glad to be back writing for all my lovely friends!

It's nice to let your comfort characters actually function as a source of comfort once in a while, cause I'm used to writing the rough stuff but Erwin is a man that does both and does them well. I can't stress enough how much I need a large blonde man waiting for me when I get home from working a double.

CW: SMUT, whump, hurt/comfort, teasing, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, dirty talk

The sound of your keys jingling as they unlocked the front door had never sounded so welcoming, signaling the beginning of the end of a day that had gone on for far too long. You found the whole house was dark save for a light in the living room where Erwin was sitting on the couch reading under a lamp. Dragging your tired body across the room, kicking your shoes off in the process, you threw yourself onto the couch resting your head on his lap. He didn't seem to mind, only running his fingers through your hair while continuing his book.

"You're home late, they must have had you working overtime." He commented, only receiving a sigh from you in response.

He smiled down at you, twirling the odd strands of hair worked out of place over the course of the day. The warmth of his body soaking into your tired muscles, releasing the tension built up for hours.

"I've never been this tired." You sighed

"You poor thing." He responded, rubbing his palm over your back. "You deserve better than this job."

That first gasp came out of your mouth quicker than you could have anticipated, soon enough the tears followed along with more sobs as you covered your face in your hands. Sitting up you tried to compose yourself, taking heaving breaths in an attempt to calm down faster. Erwin tossed his book onto the end table not even bothering to mark his page before pulling you close, large arms wrapping securely around your shaking body. Sniffing into his shirt and letting tears stain the fabric

"I swear I'm just going to quit." You sobbed into his chest. "I can't keep working like this all the time."

"Shhh it's okay now, I'm here for you." He cooed, brushing your hair away from your face and leaning to kiss the tears off your reddening cheeks.

"I'm sorry, I had such a rough day I don't know what came over me." You explained.

"You don't have to be sorry." He said. "You worked so hard and I'm very proud of you."

He kissed you again, beginning a trail that lead along your jawline and under your ear. You sighed at the touch of his lips on your sensitive skin and tilted your head to give him access to your neck. Hands dragging across your back softly kneading into your sore muscles, releasing the last of the leftover tension from the workday.

Carefully laying you onto your back while unbuttoning your shirt he began to trail down to your newly exposed collarbone, while you shimmied out of it he moved to undo your belt with minimal hesitation. Your legs draped over his shoulders after Erwin lifted them to remove your slacks along with the panties underneath, then tracing his fingers along your skin feeling the firmness of your calf and the softness of your thighs. Now left bare under him struggling to keep from covering yourself before his head lowered, wishing you had the chance to shower knowing you were about to be seen like this.

Not that that it mattered to him, acting like he didn't notice diving right in between your legs. Pressing a series of soft kisses to your clit while his hands ran up and down your thighs, savoring the first moments of contact with your most sensitive parts. Starting with one slow lick over your slit you gasped at the warm wet feeling of his tongue moving against you, inadvertently rolling your hips into his face at the second touch.

"Just relax, I want to take my time with you." He said in a cheeky tone, moving his kisses to your inner thigh.

You stilled, allowing him to continue like he planned. Tongue moving slow and dancing around your clit, barely touching as he slowly worked his way between your folds. His own saliva mixing with your increasing wetness made a distinct noise that echoed in the room, growing louder as time went on. He groaned as his tongue dove deeper, causing a pleasurable vibration through you core. Almost whining when he pulled away, you watched him licking his lips.

"Do you have any idea how good you taste?" He asked, voice low and strained.

"Tell me." You sighed, throwing your head back onto the cushions,

"It's so sweet." he told you, scooping with his tongue to collect more of your wetness. "And warm."

Licking up all of the juices that leaked out of you was an endless task, he would always create more by massaging your clit with the tip of his tongue. You shuddered when his lips surrounded your sensitive nub as he started to suck, once again struggling not to buck into his mouth. You could feel Erwin smirking at your reaction, but it didn't matter to you how smug he was as long as he kept doing it.

Not realizing how tightly you had been gripping the furniture beneath you until you moved a hand to thread through Erwin soft golden hair, making him hum under your touch. It caught you off guard when he slipped a single finger inside you, the sudden yet welcome intrusion taking the breath right out of your lungs. Clenching around the digit as it slowly curled, your sighs turning to moans in direct response. Shoving it in as deep as possible before pulling it out to simply circle your entrance with his fingertip, leaving you aching for more.

He began languidly trailing his tongue over your slit from top to bottom, the rapidly changing stimulation constantly throwing you for a loop and leaving your mind too fogged to even beg for more. Gently moving your hips you tried to meet every lick, tossing a leg over the back of the couch gave yourself better leverage and him better access. Erwin started to wiggle his tongue deep into your core causing you to twist his hair tigher in hopes he would go faster. You felt him groan through your entire body in response, unsure if it was because you were pulling his hair or because he was enjoying himself. The way he was grinding into the couch gave you the answer, you could imagine he was trying to finish you off quickly because he had new intentions.

That hand you missed so much returned, rapidly rubbing circles on your clit and changing rotation when you least expected. Back arching as your orgasm approached, pressing his face deeper grinding into the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, Erwin." You panted along with a string of babbled pleas. "Don't stop."

Every single muscle tensed and twitched in anticipation, with what little control you had you pulled him closer with the leg sitting on his shoulder. With his free hand he grabbed a handful of your asscheek, keeping you spread and allowing his tongue to reach new depth. His rhythm never faltered, steadily coaxing an orgasm out of you unbothered by tight your grip on him grew. Excitedly he cleaned every single drop that gushed from your core like it was the nectar of the gods, making no effort to do it neatly apparent by the sloppy sound of him lapping at your folds.

Easing your grip as you rode out the last few spasms of your climax you stroked his now tangled hair while he licked you dry. Placing a few final kisses on your clit before rising to wipe his mouth with your discarded workshirt, you listened to him struggle to catch his breath without panting. Staring up at him with half lidded eyes, a content smile spread across your face as your exhaustion returned. He stayed for a moment, taking in the sight before him while you tried not to drift away.

"Let's get you to bed." He sighed, returning your smile.

"Carry me?" You asked, holding your arms up and grasping the air like a toddler.

This earned a chuckle from him, he leaned to kiss your forehead while snaking his arms around your back. After he lifted you with minimal effort you realised how numb the lower half of your body had become as he carried you upstairs to your bedroom. The cool feeling of sheets on your skin was a nice relief as you were laid gently onto your bed.

"Get some rest, you earned it." He told you, draping a blanket over your sore body.

"Stay here for a minute." You said, catching his hand before he walked away.

Unable to resist he crwaled into bed next to you, letting you position yourself however felt comfortable onto his chest while you wrapped your arms around him and used him like a body pillow.

"I love you." You mumbled, kissing his cheek before laying your head on his shoulder.

"I love you too." Erwin replied.

Completely forgetting the day you had you drifted off, settled by the soft rise and fall of his chest. The last thing you remember was feeling him once again playing with your hair, lulling you into a long night of sweet dreams.

[babymetaldoll]

"Blocked" (Spencer Reid x Reader) (Blurb)

A/N: This is the more self-indulging fic I've ever written. I'm sorry I haven't written much. I'm blocked and depressed and working on it. I am much better at many things right now, just not at writing yet. Thank you for sticking around.

Word count: 679

Summary: Spencer tries to comfort his girlfriend when she feels frustrated 'cos she can't write a story.

Hardcore fluff

Masterlist

- “I quit!!”- (Y/N) shouted, closing her laptop, resting her head and arms on it.

- “Boo, are you ok?”- Spencer walked into their home office and found his girlfriend basically laying on her desk, face hidden in her arms.

- “No. I can’t do this! I can’t write a word, my stories are going nowhere”

- “Come on, (Y/N). You know what your doctor said. You don’t have to push yourself.”- Spencer moved a chair and sat next to (Y/N). He caressed her hair sweetly, knowing that was something she loved, and it never failed to comfort her.

- “I just don’t feel like myself anymore, Spencer”- she whispered- “Writing is what I love doing the most. It’s what brings me joy and calm. It’s my escape from real life.”

- “I know. Just remember what we talked about, cerebral damage in major depressive disorder patients can lead to weaker cognitive functions. Long-term cortisol hormone exposure causes neuron development to slow or stop, leading to shrinkage. Hippocampus damage leads to memory problems, trouble with concentration, and executive dysfunction.”

Spencer just wanted to make his girlfriend feel better. He just didn’t know how to do it. Explaining the reason why she couldn’t concentrate on writing was the only idea that crossed his mind. But sadly, it didn’t work. If anything, it made her feel worst.

- “I know why it happens, honey. I just want it to stop!”- she bit her lower lips, making her best not to cry, but she knew it was impossible not to let those tears fall. Spencer hugged her, trying to comfort her. He tried to think of something else to add, but he was scared to make her feel worst.

- “I just feel like I am letting people down”- (Y/N) whispered against Spencer’s chest.

- “What? what makes you think so?”

- “I don’t know. I just… there are so many people following me, reading my stories, sharing, and commenting. And now I am not giving them anything. I love writing and sharing my stories. I…”

- “Boo, listen to me.”- Spencer held her chees and pecked her lips once before he continued talking- “You are not letting anyone down. You have the right to take some time off writing to focus on yourself. That doesn’t make you a bad person, and I am sure all your followers will understand.”

(Y/N) nodded and sighed, tears still falling from her eyes as she wrapped her arms around Spencer’s body tight and sobbed.

- “I just wanna be myself again.”

- “And you will. Just let the pills and therapy do their work, and you focus on resting and getting better. Ok?”- he felt his girlfriend nod and kissed the top of her head.

- “I’m so sorry. I hate crying so much”- she whispered against his shirt. (Y/N) tried to move from his embrace, but Spencer didn’t let her.

- “Don’t say that. I’m glad you feel comfortable with me and I wanna be here for you every time you need me. I love you, (Y/N), all of you.”

- “Even the things I hate? like my depression?”- Spencer ran his long fingers between his hair and kissed her forehead.

- “When you like someone, you like them in spite of their faults. When you love someone, you love them with their faults.”

(Y/N) moved from Spencer’s arms and looked into his eyes, with a small warm smile on her lips, still keeping him very close to her.

- “Are you quoting Hermann Hesse to look smart, Dr. Reid?”

- “I’m.”- he answered with a smirk, making her smile wider.

- “Thank you for always believing in me, and loving me so much.”

- “Actually, I might show schizophrenia signs at any day now,”- Spencer said, clearly joking- “So… if things get ugly, you are gonna have to take care of me too”- (Y/N) chuckled and kissed her boyfriend’s lips.

- “The bipolar and the schizophrenic. What a pair.”

- “Yes, we could fight crime.”- Spencer chuckled at his own words and felt his heart flutter when (Y/N) giggled.

- “That’s a story I could definitely write.”

[song-of-the-rune]

so yeah I've been thinking a lot about what Kaz means to me as an OC because I am way more attached to him than other major NPCs and more than OCs I make as deliberate inserts (genre usually reserved for video games, see xyll & co).

And the attachment feels... different in ways I don't know how to explain. Most of my characters eventually develop minds of their own, so this isn't what I'm talking about, I wish I had the words for what's been going on in my head lately. Anyway. I tend to, when I'm not feeling (mentally) well, end up venting through him by writing him venting about his own frustrations. And then it hits me that this character who represses all of his feelings until he can't anymore has... well, more or less my own repressed feelings, warped through the lens of this magical world where a lot of my own problems don't really exist but there's this whole set of new ones.

Anyway, brain, let me paraphrase this monologue, removing everything magical without substituting anything back in.

"I'm repulsed and betrayed by the changes this body has gone through and the way it will age to the point that I refuse to care for it because I can't stand to confront what it is, but I also feel too much a sense of obligation not to upset the status quo because I feel a sense of duty to people in my life who will not understand. I honestly would rather die in the body I was supposed to have than live in the one I have now, but even that is completely unacheivable. My bodily functions distress me, and when I get upset, it initiates a feedback loop that causes me to notice more the things about my body that upset me. I know there are people who always expected me to become what I am, which I won't even name out loud because it causes so much dissonance, but I miss an earlier time where I could pretend that maybe it wouldn't happen. Ultimately, I am mourning the life I'll never get to have. I'm trying to learn how to make the best of this body because it's the only one I get, but I'm so overwhelmed with despair at this point and all I want right now, at this moment, is to give up, because I don't see how I can ever be what I was supposed to be."

FINE I GET IT BRAIN YOU'RE NOT FUCKING SUBTLE

Help I was having fun writing and now my brain is calling me out on personal issues

[lethargicsunlight]

Dabi X SpookyQuirk!Reader "I Want to Know You" (Part 9)

I'm still behind at work, but I got hit with the itch so I stayed up stupid late to finish it oops

(This is also not proof read, so please forgive ;n;)

You can find the other parts of this series at my directory: LINK

It it isn't evident already, I'm not following any specific timeline here. I'm going with the flow, and writing what feels.. natural. And Good.

That said,

WARNINGS: SFW (but a little spicy early on, so rated TEEN), MHA manga/anime SPOILERS, spooky vibes, PTSD THEMES (very little)

"Hey."

The voice startles you, causing the sketchbook to snap against your legs as you look up to him.

"Woah, woah." Dabi offers you a broken and amused grin, "Does something have you spooked?"

Imagine that.

"Sorry," You straighten up and relax, "Didn't get as much sleep as I wanted. Put me a little on edge."

"Mm." His grin fades and you miss it already. "Is everything alright?"

His voice is more... threatening then sweet, and the tone matches the deadly look in his eyes. You realized then, with absolute certainty, you could name something or someone; and he would probably harm them for disturbing you.

Ironic, considering he was the culprit.

"Yeah, I'm good. I think it's just.." Your eyes catch on the staples next to his mouth, and they linger there before traveling along the puckered skin of his jaw and his chin. It's like a punch to the stomach, realizing you knew where those scars might have come from--and that you were still too scared to mention it.

He, on the other hand, interpreted your staring to mean something entirely different.

"Hn." A confident noise tumbles from his throat, and his lips are turning up into a grin again. As you open your mouth to continue verbalizing the same excuse you had given Kurogiri the night before, you find a finger being pressed to the ridge of your upper lip. Instinctively your mouth slams shut.

He leans forward, his free hand supporting his weight against the couch armrest while the other traces your cheek before he places it behind you. He's bent at the hip and looming, leaning, closer.

Your heart stutters.

"Am I the reason you can't sleep..?" He asks, breath fanning over your nose while his lidded eyes flicker between yours. When his gaze drops to your lips for a second, your breath catches in your throat--it was a full system malfunction. You felt as though he was lighting you on fire--except this felt really, really nice in comparison to the flames that engulfed you in those dreams.

Which, was barely more than a distant memory right now.

"Y-yes--I MEAN, no..?" You quickly re-learn how to force your body back to function, and try to look away from him so you can ground yourself. Your hands curl into your sketchbook; afraid to touch him. "It's not--just--I uh--"

"Shh, hey.." He leans more into the armrest and blocks out your vision again, "It's okay. I'm not going to push you into anything you don't want to do.." his features are softer, and it reminds you of laughing ghost children and how he tasted like cold seawater and smoke at the cemetery.

His constant misinterpretation of your reactions was both frustrating and intoxicating. Thank goodness the rest of the League was still conveniently elsewhere, or you would also be embarrassed.

"Although.." His voice drops, quieted by the proximity. "That look on your face.. makes it a little hard to resist."

Oh god--"D-Dabi, wait a second--"

"Hm..?" He hums inquisitively, innocently, still inching closer.

"There's something I need to discuss, we need to.. discuss.."

"Mmhm?" Darker, more purposeful.

"We.. I uhm.. Dream.."

"Yeah..?"

You could've said anything really. It wouldn't have mattered.

You were out of it, sucked into his gravity as his lips brushed against yours. Unlike the kiss out at the cemetery, this one was warm and coaxing. An invitation seemed to roll from him to you as his movements quickened, and you felt the cushion dip next to your thigh as he presses his knee unto it.

It felt dangerous.

It's like adrenaline running through his veins, but deeper. It's a compulsion he can't ignore--he can't be close enough. For so long, the scarring bothered him little. He didn't care how it looked or how it felt. But now, as you find some bravery in that caring and perfect vessel of a body to reach out and touch his face; he just wishes he could feel it better.

"Ugh, I'm starving.." "I'm barely hungry at all."

Your eyes fly open as a voice comes out from the hall going upstairs. Dabi grunts a sound of displeasure against you, giving just one more pull at your lips before he drags himself away. "Always something, huh..?" He whispers quietly, letting his disappointment show on his face before giving you a wink.

You're dazed, barely more sentient than jell-o after that charming wink; and you can't stop staring at the beautiful and boyish way his eyes light up afterwards. Wait.. shit, shit, shit! He's moving too slow!

"Huh?" Twice opens the door and catches Dabi still removing himself from the couch.

"Hey Twice."

"What was that?" Suddenly he smacks both hands to his cheeks, leaning forward. "OOOOooooh!" He begins pointing from Dabi to you and back again feverishly. "It finally happened?!"

Your eyes bulge and you slink further into the depths of the couch cushions. Dabi just straightens his stance and crosses his arms, unmoved. Damn him.

"What do you mean 'finally happened'?"

"You--and them!"

Dabi just shrugs his shoulders, "Yeah, what of it?"

Twice places his hands on his hips, "Hahhah! Knew it." "I didn't think it would happen."

Sobering quickly, you mentally groan. Realizing Dabi could manipulate you so easily was a little daunting. Hot, but daunting.

Their banter fades into the background while you contemplate how the hell to come back from that. You really needed to discuss those dreams with him, even if it meant ruining his earlier assumptions referring to you... thinking about him at night.

Not that you didn't think of him, but that sort of paled in comparison to dreaming of being burned alive on three different occasions. By his particular brand of fire.

"What do you say?"

"Hm?" You look up to Dabi as his voice interrupts your thoughts for the second time that morning.

"We're thinking about a quick brunch before Crusty gets back."

"Oh, sure."

------

"Sooo.." Twice leans in awkwardly against the low-sitting picnic table, his trench coat almost dusting his brunch. "Now that you can like, make them do things.. I mean can they hurt people?"

"I've never tried it." You say quietly, "They still have minds of their own. Asking them to just.. shank someone seems a little inappropriate."

Dabi chokes on his coffee, trying to stifle a laugh.

Twice bellows aloud, flamboyantly gesturing to the metal firebrand at your side. "Wow, you made him laugh! That's a superpower in and of itself!"

"Keep it down Twice, we can't afford to attract attention." He seethes in a hiss of a whisper, all but hiding his amusement behind the lip of his paper cup.

Aggressively overexaggerating his new instruction, Twice places a hand next to the area where his mouth should be and continued speaking in a very ragged whispering voice. "You do know we're villains right? We don't have to be appropriate! Just be yourself."

His words catch you off-guard.

Just be yourself.

You lean in, playing on his behavior, and whisper back. "Well considering they're dead and all, I kinda don't want to be mean to them, ya know?"

"Fair, fair." "That's a poor excuse."

Dabi feigns a little sigh, a hand bracing his temples as though he was exhausted by your little antics.

But the two of you only continue--within reason, and when no one was around.

Short-talk about big topics, mentions of other League members, the occasional scathing input from your partner; it was more an outing with friends than with co-workers. Pleasant, if unusual. You and Dabi were experts at deciphering Twice's mind-mangled speech, and had accepted it fully without judgement. His split personality was as mundane to you now, as the buttons on your coat or the label on Dabi's cup that said: Warning! Contains Hot Liquid.

By the time the three of you began walking back to the base, you had formed a stronger bond with Twice. Like you, he had been estranged by society--an unacceptable variant. Perhaps not for his quirk, but who he was internally; and like you, he searched for acceptance. A place to freely be himself.

It wasn't spelled out directly, but you picked it up throughout. If anything, being among the League had really improved your perception of people--and at one point, you had unabashedly used your quirk at his request. You'd left it on since, and allowed it to help you conform your responses. More out of politeness than being nosy.

Though, your sneaky glances at the man beside you were definitely nosy. It always made your insides flutter to find that edging of green jealousy in his aura. You made sure, in those moments, to shift a little closer or brush your elbow with his.

He seemed reluctant to initiate any public affections, but considering the kiss--kisses now, you suppose--and lack of having really placed a name on the relationship, you didn't want to rush it. In fact, you were quite content to just.. exist. Quiet moments like that at the cemetery and this little jaunt were rare, and you were sure that whatever Shigaraki had planned ahead would leave you wistful for these sacred hours of peace.

Don't ruin a good thing while you have it.

----

"Dabi, there's something I need to tell you."

You had no idea what kind of panic the simple sentence caused him.

Things had indeed turned bleak, just as you had expected. Now, the two of you sat high up overlooking battle-beaten sky-scrapers and damaged complexes. It'd been a blur--the three of you suddenly being called into action, as the League's mettle was once again tested.

Endeavor had been there.

"Yeah, what?"

There's venom in Dabi's voice, but it's half-hearted. His voice is ragged, and you can smell the taint of burnt flesh from where you sat beside him.

You couldn't hear what they were saying. The chaos was too loud.

You ran. You didn't know what it was you were running to do--you couldn't fight a pro-hero. You could barely fight at all. It made no sense! You knew that getting involved would make it worse, yet something within begged you to move. To stop him.

Stop who?

Your mind blanched at that.

Dabi stood several feet away from a pro-hero, Endeavor--Japan's Number Two Hero. There'd never been such a threat to his life in your presence. Most days, that raven-haired man seemed invincible. Unconcerned about death, even; like the reaper wouldn't dare to touch him until his work was done.

But now, all you could fathom was how you weren't ready to lose him. How you didn't know him, but you knew you loved him.

You couldn't get close enough, however, as Dabi sent out a spiral of azure flame that encased him and his adversary. Within inches of it, you lurch to a stop--the heat wave sending your mind rushing back to the visions within your dreams.

You were vibrating again. All over. You could hear the boy's voice in your head, you could feel the anger and resentment and sadness. It was like an overwhelming bass at a club, and it threatened to explode from the chasm of your chest.

"Dabi!" You scream, but the sound is blanketed by roaring fire. "Shit.."

Just when you thought  your body might split in two from the intense vibration, you feel something intrude your mouth from the back of your throat. It's gross, but familiar--and then your vision is blackened by One for All's teleportation quirk.

Dabi's first instinct was to assume you were going to say something negative. It didn't matter what it was, really; anything could tip the scale for him at that moment. He'd been so close to his father--so close to ruining him--but also too far.

He knew it would have been a losing battle, but the disappointment still pisses him off.

Instead of seeking you, he had withdrawn. Once teleported to relative safety, he'd simply existed in your presence. You didn't know, still, who he was or what that conflict meant for him. And for once.. he almost wishes he had told you.

Then he wouldn't have to fear whatever it was you were about to say. How you regretted your decisions, or how you wanted to leave, or...

"I've... had some dreams recently." There hadn't been time for you to rehearse this, but it was happening now. You weren't going another minute without telling him, without at least some form of closure.

"Dreams?"

"Well, they're more than dreams. I think." You shift, marginally closer to him. The altitude caused a bit of wind to buffet through his and your hair. "I think they're visions. Something to do with my quirk, but I haven't been able to figure out how."

A weird thing to admit now, he thinks. His eyes dance over your face and shoulders, eyebrows slightly taught. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

"I was afraid."

"Why?"

"Because the visions are about you."

About him? "What do you mean?"

"I keep.. I go into it feeling.." You sigh, a little frustrated. "It's hard to explain. It starts with feeling as though I'm burning alive. It's all blue fire, I'm in these woods.. someone's supposed to be there, but they didn't come."

His breath catches. Hell, his whole body feels iced over.

Sure, you had a habit of surprising him with your quirk. You could see, speak, and manipulate ghosts of all things. But to see... his past? To experience his past? Did you fabricate this somehow?

You're too embarrassed to really notice his reaction, your head tilted away against your arm. "Obviously, I don't know. It could be nothing. But it's happened three times now and when you were fighting with.. It's like I was having the vision all over again."

You weren't fabricating it.

His chest heaves once, breathing out the air he'd held within. There's no use in hiding it now. Nor would questioning you or your abilities help anything--no one knew. And he didn't care. He didn't care how it worked or what it meant.

"He's my father."

"What?"

"Endeavor. Enji Todoroki." He says the name with wavering vocals, disgust tied to the way he pushes the words through his teeth. "My real name.. is Touya Todoroki."

With the fire-related quirks, that had been one of your guesses; and perhaps why mentioning Endeavor felt so weird around him.

"That fire happened when I was a kid. I wanted to show him how well I had developed my quirk." There's a flex in his face much like a snarl, his lip curling against the restraint of the staples in his cheek. "But of course, he didn't come. He had his new prodigy and I was.. obsolete."

Your hand reaches out then, touching his arm. His first instinct is to bat it away--to push off your sympathies and remind you he isn't weak. But you knew that. And your expression, he realizes upon glancing at your face, is more that of encouragement.

"Please tell me." You say, fingers tightening on that part of his sleeve.

"I want to know you."

[beingatoaster]

When I was young (like, up until about ten or twelve) I believed that everyone but me was psychic, they read each other's minds by making eye contact, and no one had told me because they felt bad for me. Eye contact felt so bad because I was getting one-way mindread and couldn't do it back (which was only more incentive to avoid it). This was why people could look at my face and sometimes tell things about me that I hadn't said out loud, and they got frustrated when they couldn't because it was normal for them. A lot of books I read around that age had "saw [emotion] in their eyes" as a commonly-used phrase, which bolstered this theory.

When I was, I think, twelve, one of the most trusted adults in my life, who never softened things out of pity or kindness, told me that she could never tell if I was sad or happy because I didn't make expressions, and that it bothered her a lot. I considered the number of books I'd read that also described expressions. I considered that maybe these 'expressions' made more sense than a vast conspiracy to hide everyone else's psychic powers from me to keep me from feeling bad. I found some science articles about 'how we interpret facial expressions' and studied them, copying the pictures, until I could make them on cue, and some even became automated as I, I don't know, activated the pathways? I'm not a neuroscientist. I automatically smile when I'm happy now more often than not, and that does matter.

(I could never get 'anger' right. I still can't get anger right. I have gone through life hearing variants of 'you never get angry' and the even worse 'you're not really angry' because the signals won't send, even when I'm boiling with rage. It's very frustrating.)

As a side-effect I learned how to read other people's faces, at least to some extent. I'm still not great at it, but parsing expressions and body language is an ongoing project of mine. At least I no longer feel like I have to be psychic to understand other people; even when I can't read the metadata, I understand that it's there.

Anyway I never didn't know I was autistic because my mom always said "she's high-functioning autistic" to explain me to people when I embarrassed her, but actually starting to understand what that meant in my early twenties made me feel a lot better about myself. I'm not diagnosed because Mom fears psychiatrists and their ilk and I haven't ever had the combo of energy, motivation, and resources as an adult, but I am pretty comfortable with my mom-dx/self-dx, given the above. I can check off every criteria on multiple "autism in girls" checklists for my younger self. It all tracks! And it's nice to know I'm not just unbearably weird without cause.

[slashbitch2]

The Very Nosy Neighbour

this fic was 100% inspired by this one here , but I mean it practically wrote itself I couldn't resist

NSFW

You can't remember much past waking up in an unfamiliar room- though 'room' is really a sugarcoated description, as in reality it qualifies more as some kind of cavern. You're sitting in a chair, ankles and wrists bound by an indistinguishable material. Whatever the binds are made of feels strong, so any attempts to struggle against it are futile. Yet, in spite of what really should be an extremely stressful situation, you find yourself completely relaxed. You briefly wonder whether you've been drugged, but with every sense feeling fully operational, that theory is soon dismissed.

Instead of choosing a more logical response to the circumstances you've found yourself in, you decided to focus more on your surroundings: not to form any resemblance of an escape plan, but simply out of curiosity. Although, the investigation is equally as ineffective. You're unable to name anything around you except for stone walls, strange (glowing?) vines and weird symbols carved above a few archways. Everything beyond that is either entirely lost to you, or shrouded in darkness.

With little else to do, you start to think back on the events that led you there, trying to glean any useful information from the blurry memories. The clearest image, therefore the most recent, is the smirking face of a woman, Agnes you realise. Though the malicious glint in her eyes doesn't quite match your perception of the nosy neighbour. But where is she now? Is she also in danger? You may not have known Agnes for very long, but are reluctant to let any harm come to her regardless.

With a clearer head, you consider calling for help, but a small voice at the back of your subconscious warns you against this. And the voice sounds smart, so you elect to listen to it. But what should you do instead? Where did this voice come from? And most importantly, should you trust it? Luckily, you aren't given much time to overthink the decision.

While trying to tune into this voice, footsteps echo in the distance, gradually drawing nearer. You hold your breath as the sound suddenly stops, leaving your eyes scanning the vicinity for any movement. The unpleasant reality dawns on you all too quickly: the footsteps were approaching from behind you.

“Well, well, well.” Someone says playfully, then snorts as they start walking closer. "Sorry to be a total cliché. I couldn't resist." It's Agnes. She narrows her eyes and smirks, folding her arms as she examines your constrained form. Subjected to her scrutiny, you find yourself swallowing, but your throat is too dry. Other small discomforts also become noticeable; your cramped limbs, aching back and the bruises on your hands. Well at least you put up a fight. The more rational part of you, however, realises that your hands are no longer bound. You stare down at them, flexing each finger as if checking they were all still fully functional.

Something suddenly knocks into your head and you grimace. Left reeling from the impact, you realise that you're slightly nauseated. Though not enough to stop you from reaching out to grasp the floating cup of water. The fact that the glass is suspended in mid-air doesn't go unnoticed, rather ignored, since there's too much happening simultaneously to comprehend any of it in sufficient detail. You swirl the liquid round, hesitant to drink, unwilling to trust your captor's apparent mercy.

"Drink up, dear." Agnes drags a chair forward, which seems to have just appeared out of thin air. She sits backwards on it, legs spread and arms resting on the back casually. "That's all you're getting until we're done here." The tone of her voice is both threatening and teasing. You're reluctant to admit it's quite a turn on.

One glance up at her prying expression and you relent, downing the chilled water way too quickly. Though you aren't given a chance to mourn your impatience, as with an effortless wave of her hand, Agnes refills the glass. While you sip at the water, she refuses to tear her eyes away from you for even a second. It's slightly disconcerting.

“Now," She claps her hands, startling you. "I assume you know why you’re here?”

“Not really.” You confess, unable to pinpoint why anyone would go to so much effort to kidnap you, especially Agnes, who up to this point had been an eccentric yet kind neighbour.

She sighs, more for show than anything else, and rubs at her temple. "Come on Y/N, let's not play dumb now."

Embarrassingly, a heat begins to pool deep in your gut, but you quickly dismiss the unwarranted lust. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh really?" She quirks an eyebrow, sitting upright. "You really have no idea?" The inquiry is ridiculing, and you can see that your naivety is starting to annoy her.

All you can do is shake your head and pray the sincerity is reflected in your eyes.

"Okay." She slams her hands down on her thighs. "I guess we'll have to go about this the hard way then, toots." A sharp gesture and your hands are bound before you once again.

By the time you're looking up, she's striding toward you with purpose, which does nothing to ease the building heat between your legs. Her hands clasp on the armrests either side, essentially trapping you, not like escape would've been possible without the extra precaution. Up close you finally recognize this isn't Agnes- in fact it never has been. There's a feral yet wise appearance to her, the facade of nosy neighbour dissolved in an instance to be replaced by a deranged, frighteningly powerful woman (or witch, you're undecided).

Despite your better judgement, you're unable to stop yourself from asking. "Who are you?" Your voice barely breaches a whisper, but she's standing close enough that nothing less intimate is required.

She looks mildly impressed, the corner of her mouth twitching almost indiscernibly. "Agatha Harkness." She extends a hand, smirking upon realisation that you're a little too tied up at the minute to reciprocate. "Lovely to meet you."

You swallow again, finding your throat to be a little less dry. "Likewise." Then decide to take another risk. "So what do you want from me?"

“Wanda's true identity.” She replies so quickly that you almost miss it, looking at you with an eagerly expectant expression.

Agatha's question confuses you further. “I don’t know what you mean.” Although your answer is honest, something at the back of your mind hisses lies.

"There's no need to lie here." Her patient humour had disappeared. "Trust me, no one will hear you, so drop the act."

For some unbeknown reason, her accusation angers you. "I'm not putting on an act, I don't know why I'm here or what you want from me." The bravery dissipates all of a sudden as you remember that you're not exactly in the position to command such authority. "Please, stop this."

Agatha purses her lips, stands up and turns away from you. She calmly moves forwards a few paces, and in the short amount of time you manage to convince yourself that she's given up. Until in a completely unprovoked move, she swings her hands to the left, sending her chair crashing into the wall in frustration. Whether this is part of her interrogation performance or not, it works. Your heart starts racing, and confusingly, the awkward heat between your legs pulses.

She runs a hand through her hair, still facing away from you. "Don't make this any harder harder than it needs to be." You can practically hear her grinding her teeth, but don't doubt that she was getting some enjoyment out of the situation.

"I can tell you that Wanda is my sister and only real family, that I moved to Westview with her and that I couldn't live without her." You start listing off some basic facts, desperate to prove to Agatha that nothing is hidden. That you're normal.

"What about your brother?" She swivels round, clicking her fingers as she tries to recall something. "Pietro!" She exclaims.

"Pietro..." You falter. Why does the name sound so familiar? The nausea worsens. You shake off the feeling. "Never heard of him."

“Liar.” In one swift movement, Agatha is right by your ear. The feeling of her lips brushing against your skin causes you to close your eyes. The close proximity was becoming overwhelming, and your body had chosen to react in a rather unfortunate way. Admittedly, you'd always had a thing for Agnes, but Agatha was on a whole other level. You dreaded to open your eyes, worried that she'd noticed your current state. Instead, you internally begged for mercy.

“Don't go all shy on me now.” She pushes your shoulder into the chair, compelling you to open your eyes. "If you don't want to talk, I have other methods." Her hand raises, a purple flow emanating from the tips of her fingers. It crackles and sparks, as if the power was barely contained, yet as she shifts closer to brush the hair out of your face, you don't flinch. One finger remained touching your forehead, then traced down to your jaw, and finally along to grasp your chin.

While the vaguely sinister movement terrified you, it also forced you hold your breath and grip onto the armrests for dear life. Why you'd decided this was hot was beyond you considering the many connotations of her words, yet your thighs pressed tighter together as she drew closer. You attempted to turn your head to the side, longing for distraction, but her hold on you kept your head still.

"This won't be much fun for you, dear." She sighed in mock pity, her breath hot against your skin... Which just tipped you over the edge. As hard as you tried to stifle the noise, a broken moan escaped your lips. You'd definitely hit a low point here. Too ashamed to face your apparent arousal, you screwed your eyes shut. Although, at Agatha's silence, you relented and opened them barely a minute later.

To your relief, or perhaps dismay, the woman was grinning like a maniac. Her eyes flickered down to your parted lips as she chewed on her own. Then carefully, as if she were testing the waters, her fingers began to rub against your jaw, and upwards to your mouth. Your breath deceives you by hitching as her thumb slips between your lips, stroking your tongue. At the contact, you can't help but arch into the touch. Agatha chuckles.

"I take it back." She murmurs, removing her hand. "This will be fun." Although the intimidation factor prevails, there's a certain desire mirrored in Agatha's expression which cancels out any remaining common sense. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and even if you wanted to, there was little you could do to stop her. So, you give into your yearning, sighing as she climbs to sit on your lap. Immediately, her hand switches to gripping the back of your neck as she slams her mouth onto yours. You willingly indulge by opening further, allowing her tongue to slide between your lips. Her other hand lowers to grab at your chest, like she were trying to tug herself impossibly closer.

Without removing her lips, the hand massaging your chest shifts to your thigh. She still keeps her lips firmly pressed to yours, and with the lack of oxygen, you can feel yourself growing lightheaded. It almost feels like a challenge, one which you're determined to succeed at. Though when she eventually does break away, her hand suddenly slips between your thighs, and your breath is stolen from you once more. Wasting no time, she massages you through your clothes, dragging out an inevitable whine. The touch is both too much, and not enough. But judging by her malevolent smirk, that was exactly her intention.

Even though you were currently incapable of producing any reasonable thought, you still noticed that Agatha wasn't entirely unaffected. Her breathing was laboured, hips occasionally jerking against your thigh and eyes struggling to stay open. The influence you were having on her only encouraged you to moan louder, craving to see her equally dishevelled. Your plan seemed to momentarily fail as her hand retreated. But you'd certainly earned her attention.

She licks her lips, then abruptly changes her expression to look disturbingly like that of Agnes. "You wouldn't leave me out of the fun now, would you dear?" Her voice is high pitched as she basically sings her words. Although the question must've been rhetorical as doesn't await a response, instead you find your hands unbound, flung behind your back and bound together all in a matter of seconds. Then, she shifted her position, yanking your bodies closer so that your crotches were pressed together. She grunts, heaving forward to rest against you for a moment and regain her composure. And finally, without warning, starts to grind your hips together.

It doesn't take long for her movement to become more frantic, accompanied by her hair spilling onto her face. She remains impressively quiet, however, or perhaps you were just comparably loud. With the little pride you have left, you decide to take matters into your own hands, and start meeting each thrust with equal vigour. Miraculously, it works. She throws her head back with a remarkably loud moan, proceeded by change in strategy as she starts almost bouncing on top of you, hips losing their rhythm, pleasure overwhelming her. Startled by her lack of self-control, the heat in your stomach begins building exponentially fast. Your eyes slam shut.

A hand grasps onto your face. “Look at me!” She growls, then emphasises her demand by rolling her hips torturously slowly. The movement ceases. She leans her forehead against yours, staring directly into your eyes. “Come with me.” To your surprise, there's an audible plea in her voice.

At a loss for words, you nod. The pleasure had been building for so long that you knew it'd only take a few more grinds to push you over the edge. With your confirmation, Agatha resumes her thrusting, though soon succumbs, throwing her head back and uttering an exceptionally loud, high-pitched moan. She arches her back, pressing herself so far into you that the pleasure peaks. You groan, lurching backwards in a moment of pure bliss. All you can feel is Agatha, all you can think about is Agatha. Coming down from the high, you sigh and collapse forward to bury your face in the crook of her neck.

She tenses slightly at the contact, but soon relaxes into the strange embrace. You gently press your lips against her skin and feel her shiver, confirming your suspicion that it'd been a while since Agatha had received such affection. Motivated by a new, more innocent desire, you continue to pepper light kisses across her throat and behind her ear, simply enjoying the unexpectedly intimate moment.

Agatha finally breaks the silence, leaning away from your touch to look down at you curiously. "Wanda really has you under her mind control too, huh?"

Although still stuck in a post-coital haze, you muster enough brainpower to consider her words. "Mind control?"

"Oh, right." She smirks, a slight sadness perceptible in her eyes. "Forgot to mention." Before you can say anything, she swings one leg to the side, stiffly sliding off your lap and clasping her hands together. "You might want to reconsider where your loyalties lie, dear." She glances at you, then ambles to the opposite side of the room. "That's one fucked up family situation right there." Her voice teasingly calls out.

You feel yourself flush, strangely offended by her comment, and annoyed by her vagueness. "Like you can talk." Your response is a total shot in the dark, but must've hit a nerve since she slowly turns back to you, a suspicious expression upon her face. "Just a guess." You add, unwilling to know the details of whatever sensitive topic you'd just touched upon. Agatha easily shrugs it off, leaving behind a stifling silence. Eventually, it's a mixture of your own boredom and concern that prompts you to end the lull in conversation. "Are you still planning on interrogating me about something I know nothing about?"

"Oh, no I read your mind." She waves a dismissive hand over her shoulder. "Got all I needed."

Again, you're left suffocating in the confusion her ambiguity provokes, with nothing else to ask except. "How...?"

The inquiry must've been exactly what Agatha wanted to hear as she immediately dropped what she was doing to turn around and lean on the wall, arms folded in a casually smug pose. "Sex leaves you vulnerable." She smirked. "All I did was take advantage of the opportunity- but I'll spare you the boring details." With a flourish of her hand and a flash of purple, the binds holding your ankles and wrists disappeared. "You can go now. First door on the left."

Without sparing you another glance, she busied herself with some witchy task, allowing you to see yourself out. Massaging your wrists, you stood slowly, watching her expectantly. Surely she wouldn't just let you leave? Yet as you sauntered over to the door she'd directed you to, she made no move to stop you. "Bye then?"

Agatha looked up at you and winked. "See you around, neighbour."