#i need to be fucking medicated or something. or i need caffeine to stop going through withdraws. again.

[milo-is-rambling]

Someone tell me how to make me not hate myself and make my family not think I’m a bitch and make me want to see my family or drive back down the coast or stay in strange places or do anything other than kill myself I mean whaaatttt haha what a weird thing to say *stares directly into the camera knowingly*

[dark-twist-fairytales]

"Man, I relate a lot to Frost, I wonder why?"

*suddenly gets hit a dawning fear that I never realized before*

"Ah... That makes sense."

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

Grand Line Crew Modern Au Gang!

i hope yall enjoy, this took a while to get all together, here

ASL post

East Blue Crew post

Friends we made along the way 1 post

Friends we made along the way 2 post

i dont have many additional headcanons for this lot, but i did write a short story with them :) enjoy

Brook only wears the absolute grooviest of clothing at all times.

Brook only wears the absolute grooviest of clothing at all times.

Brook only wears the absolute grooviest of clothing at all times.

That’s just gonna have to be there 👆 tumblr likes to glitch out my posts.

Dont give chopper caffeine. He’ll either have a heart attack or operate on 5x speed, its a gamble every time.

robin and franky love watching home improvement shows, house hunters, how its made, myth busters, and other technical shows together.

When Luffy shows robin memes on his phone, she takes out her reading glasses and holds the phone like a mom does. Ya know that squint. You know.

Jinbei used to be a trucker and had a convoy with s bunch of his truckin’ buddies. They had matching leather jackets with “the sun truckers” embroidered on the back

Franky has a wig closet. It is vast. If you went in there you'd think you were in Narnia or something

Chopper is BEYOND CONVINCED that Sabo is a vampire.

One day, sabo volunteered as an assistant in a medical class chopper was taking. He was acting as chopper’s patient as he was learning the patient procedures of a checkup.

It was all going fine, chopper got all the patient identification out of the way and next was to acquire blood pressure, breath count, and heart rate. But the stethoscope and pressure monitor wasn’t working, and it make it seem like Sabo,,, didnt have a pumping heart,, or blood,,, or really breathed at all(he doesnt take very visible breaths).

Chopper was stricken with fear at this and assumed the absolute worse as he looked in horror at Sabo’s naturally pale complexion and long canine teeth. Chopper simply jotted down the average count of each recording instead of getting new equipment, and tried not to think about it, but

“huh, all of those numbers are usually lower than that. Maybe all that Special Concoction™ i drink is finally catching up to my heart rate.”

“how much have you.. drunk?”

“like for today? Or since I woke up.”

Chopper is fucking horrified. Sabo woke up to being a vampire and drinks blood as a special concoction. He cannot believe this.

”Never mind, I don't need to know, its all normal, you're normal.”

“Wow… that's the first time a medical practitioner has called me normal. My brothers are gonna get a real kick outta this.”

CHOPPER IS FUCKING HORRIFIED. HE HAS BRETHEREN??? Chopper just keeps his head down and finishes up the check up practice as Sabo remarks he has another class in the blood bank, which was lemon in the paper cut for chopper.

For a month or so after that day, Chopper didn’t see Sabo at all, and he forgot about his fear for a little while. However one night as chopper was hanging with Luffy and a few others in the straw hat friend group, there was a knock at the door. Chopper happily said “I’ll get it~” as the rest of the group continued in conversation.

Chopper skips over to the door and when he opens it, he sees the figure of Sabo standing in front of him. Tall and opposing, smiling a big toothy grin with bright blue eyes shining from the overhead lighting. He’s wearing a long trench coat with the collar popped and an ascot was wrapped around his neck.

What chopper was seeing before him.

Was the vampire.

He let out a scream right out of a horror film and promptly fainted.

A minute or two later, he awoke laying on the couch, feet elevated and vest unbuttoned, to his friends looking at him from the foot of the couch.

He goes to stand up, but a strong gloved hand stops his movement and guides him back down

“Don't get up too quickly, little man.”

Chopper looked next to him and saw The Vampire. What was he doing in his house?!?!?

“Are you alright, bud? You opened the door for me, screamed in my face, and then passed out.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Chopper said with the highest voice-crack to word ratio in his entire life.

“Right. Well again, dont get up too quickly, if you need water or anything let your friends know. I just came here to pick up Luffy cuz some family stuff came up. Have a good night!”

“…you too, and thanks for taking care of me…”

“No prob!”

“One last question?” Inquired chopper.

“What's up?”

“Did someone invite you in?”

the end

PS: Sabo's "special concoction" consists of Red Bull and Espresso. He hasn't slept in 72 hours. This will have lasting effects on his health.

thats all for now! thanks for reading~

[corasexigence]

Intox Play Primer

Vet for high risk play. If you don't have the utmost trust in someone, control what you're putting in your own body and know where it all came from.

Check for interactions. Yes, this means sharing complete information about whatever medications the person getting drugged is on. No, the interactions are not always intuitive. Yes, this includes things like alcohol. Ideally, ask your doctor about interactions with whatever you're about to play with- they're trained in spotting interactions, you're probably not. (ETA- @vekarin-striae mentioned that pharmacists are often cheaper, more specialized, and less invasive to talk to about drug interactions.)

If you've checked the interactions yourself, assume you might have missed something. Even if you've gotten your doctor to check, be aware they might have missed something. I once caught a potassium deficiency issue in someone's existing medication that their doctor prescribed them.

ROUND 1- Use it for its own sake before you play with it. Spend the time together and set yourself up for success: easy access to food, water, comfort media, and comfortable places to sit and lie down. Know how long it should last. Get someone who's used it before to tripsit if you can. Don't give yourself any tasks that involve new skills. Be ready to offer yourself or your partner a redirect from negative or anxious trains of thought.

Know what a good time on your drug physically looks and feels like. This is crucial, because things might go sideways in a way you're not expecting. Don't just be watching for specific signs of an overdose (though those are worth keeping in mind too)- if something seems wrong, get help. Seconds matter and you're probably not a professional.

Similarly: if the drug is at all sedative, or a downer, or long-lasting, and they're unconscious before it's out of their system, check for breathing and check for pulse. Also, your risk profile is your own, but I don't fuck around with hard sedatives- there's too fine a line between which body systems they shut down.

Start with a low-to-standard dose, and adjust doses for any relevant interactions (e.g. estradiol approximately halves liver tolerance [alcohol, weed, diphenhydramine], SSRIs approximately double psychedelic tolerance).

In order to avoid dependence issues, I wait a default of two weeks between recreational uses of any drug. (I only count caffeine here if I'm having more than two cups of tea in a day.)

ROUND 2- Play with it scripted and above board before you play with it in an explicitly cnc way. Your communication and mental state will have shifted, and you'll need to learn to accommodate that; make sure you try things out without added communication barriers first. Also, make sure to talk about how everything went afterwards when you're both sober!

If you're going to adjust doses, do it slowly and carefully. Most easily accessible recreational drugs can be incremented by half the standard dose. Some drugs are incredibly sensitive to fine adjustments; this is why Fentanyl, for example, is so dangerous and not recommended to use.

ROUND 3- Don't get comfortable. Try to have as peaceful and relaxed an experience as you want, and keep an eye on things as you play with different emotional states- but DEFINITELY continue to keep an eye on safety. It doesn't stop being a concern because you've done it once and everything went fine.

ETA- Mind how drugs affect things like pain tolerance! You might miss important signals from your body. Also, pay attention to overlap with your neurotype when planning and risk profiling. You might desire or achieve different effects depending on your own specific brain.

[crippleprophet]

rules of engagement before we begin: do not seek the original post out to interact with it negatively or harass op in any way. if i find out about anybody doing that sort of shit i’ll block them so quick it’ll be the fastest i’ve moved all year. ok thx here we go

[image description: three screenshots of a post with the username blacked out. the introductory & closing paragraphs are as follows, & the bullet points will be listed within the body of this post. the introduction reads:

nobody warns you this but addiction happens without you noticing and one of the first things that it attacks is your ability to care. if you find yourself using recreational drugs every day, stop and take one day a week sober. if you struggle with this or if you don't see the point of the exercise, you are likely already addicted and you need help.

nobody ever taught me the warning signs for drug addiction, only that "it costs lots of money and destroys your life!!!1" which is not helpful if you can't recognize a developing addiction in yourself. so here's some things to watch out for with recreational drug use.

the conclusion reads: yes this applies to weed. weed is a drug and you can get addicted to it like any other substance. addiction is not the same as physical dependence; it is psychological and it can happen to anyone. you are not immune to addiction. end image description.]

now! fundamentally why i will never align with this kind of perspective is that i affirm addiction as a social construct, like all so-called mental illnesses, & the psychiatric institution which invents & reifies them as a fucking sham.

answer quickly:

what substances is it possible for one to become addicted to? does this include caffeine? why or why not?

is the claim of sugar addiction legitimate or anti-fat pseudoscience? what, if anything, differentiates this from other addiction science?

what is the harm of the so-called opioid epidemic: access to a safe supply of narcotics, or the lack thereof?

can an autistic person who eats the same dinner every night, for example, be said to be “psychologically addicted” to it if they have a meltdown & subsequent ongoing distress + disinterest in food when it is discontinued?

can you be addicted to psychiatric medication? immunosuppressants? why or why not?

my point is less that these behaviors are not indicative of addiction but rather that that wouldn’t inherently make them harmful. fuck it, let’s take it point by point!

planning your day around drugs e.g "i'll give myself an extra half hour before heading out so i can get high first"

this whole post had me asking “literally what is the problem with this,” starting with this first bullet! why does someone need to leave for the grocery store at 5:30 instead of 6, or whatever? and the other recurring theme: what happens if you replace “drugs” with “pain management”? (chronic pain is not the only valid reason to get high—all reasons for drug use are equally value-neutral—but it certainly still is one.) “i’ll give myself an extra half hour before heading out for my pain management to start working” is the kind of calculation familiar to most people with chronic pain. “stop and take one day a week without pain management” is not a test of whether you “need help,” it’s torture.

now, disregarding one’s priorities or commitments to other people in favor of drugs can happen, & in many circumstances it’s harmful to the other people impacted. that’s not what was said here, & stopping that behavior does not require getting sober.

rapidly switching emotions around drugs. you love them but you hate that you love them so much. you hate the way you feel on them but you hate being sober. feeling guilty after using even when you didn't give a crap beforehand.

do you know what else i love but hate that i love, what else i hate using? my fucking bed. three years ago, my mobility scooter. this is not a logical argument, this is a bullshit argument. my feelings about something do not inherently reflect its harm to others – or to myself, even, though i firmly argue for the right to make “self-harmful” decisions regardless.

you know what people hate being on but hate worse being off? the vast fucking majority of medications.

why might a drug user start to feel guilty when they previously didn’t? being shamed by friends, family, or a fucking tumblr post; surpassing a constructed threshold of “acceptable” use they didn’t know they’d internalized; experiencing new or greater access issues; beginning to probe their morality around drugs & unpack things they were taught; experiencing consequences of criminalization; getting triggered.

caring less about spending money. if you are budgeting for drugs like they are food, you are likely prioritizing them more than is healthy.

“if you are budgeting for pain management like it’s as important as food, you are likely prioritizing it more than is healthy.” health is absolutely useless as a value for me anyway, but: the food’s no good if i’m too nauseous or too dead to eat it.

prioritizing drugs over other people’s financial needs is harmful! this wouldn’t happen if food & drugs were provided to people; some people wouldn’t need as many drugs if their needs were met otherwise; people’s needs being met shouldn’t be dependent on their parent / partner / self not using drugs; this harm is not what the bullet says.

getting high to do household chores and other unpleasant things because it would suck less and be more bearable on drugs

“things should suck. because god wills it i said so.”

feeling anxious or restless while sober, not knowing what to do with oneself, feeling lost or ungrounded.

again just. what’s the problem with that. so what if being sober sucks or is boring or stressful or demanding. so what if someone decides to deal with that sober or decides to use more because of that. who gives a shit.

thinking about doing drugs constantly even while sober. maybe it's the first thing you think of when you wake up. maybe when you're bored or otherwise have free time, drugs are one of the first things you can think of to occupy yourself with.

“thinking about getting better pain management constantly when you’re in pain”

i feel like you’re gonna tell me the only thing that can really take my pain away is jesus

again like. what is the problem with doing drugs because you’re bored. why do i need to occupy myself, what, fucking productively?

going to work or school while under the influence, especially if it happens regularly and if you're seeing your performance suffer as a result.

what’s wrong with going to school high. derailing a class discussion is a dick move, maybe, but that’s not inherent to being high. work & performance are both very broad terms – a surgeon or someone operating heavy machinery not being sober is putting others at risk of harm in a way a cashier is not.

the idea of taking a 'tolerance break' sounds good to you until it's actually break time, at which point you can come up with 20 very reasonable sounding points to explain why it wouldn't benefit you actually and you should just keep doing drugs regardless.

y’all think this is incredibly circular logic too right? “drugs are bad, so telling yourself drugs are not bad is proof that they’re bad.” took me right back to the sunday school classroom and i wish i was fucking exaggerating. it’s an argument founded upon the inherent wrongness of trusting yourself – what you want to do must be wrong because you want it. this is one of the points that’s a more solid indicator of, like, “congrats! you’re now in circumstances doctors are salivating to psychiatrize as XYZ Use Disorder,” but that doesn’t make it any less nonsense as a moral argument.

even if you succeed at quitting the drug, you keep your dealer's number on your phone "just in case"

so what. what’s wrong with giving yourself the continual autonomy to choose whether or not to do drugs. what’s wrong with quitting drugs for a while and starting using again.

you pretend to be sober when you aren't. you worry about other people noticing how much time you spend high. you make efforts to hide your drug use or minimize how much other people think you're using. you're scared of other people's judgement if they were to find out.

this one might be the most ludicrous to me, which is really saying something. “if other people being bigoted towards drug users makes you pretend to use less than you do, that’s your fault & not theirs.” cool! thanks for the quick heads up to not believe a word you say!

you have mood swings laced with self-hatred, regret, financial worries, and guilt. these mood swings are then very quickly wiped away by feelings of "but it doesn't matter, i can do what i want, and clearly i'm doing just fine while using drugs frequently". news flash, if you are rapidly switching between feeling numb-ok and hating yourself more than anything because of your drug use, you are mentally ill.

again, “the norm knows you better than you know yourself, you can’t listen to yourself, the body is wrong, wanting is wrong, pleasure is wrong, you are wrong wrong wrong.” but god, what a beautiful example of how oppression is psychiatrized: it’s not enough for the oppression to have worked, the system must then convince us that the effects of it working are our own fault. it’s not enough to just kill us with us fully aware of the knife, it’s gotta convince us we’re bleeding out for no reason. if you want any moments of pleasure during your miserable godforsaken little life you’d better put your nose back on the goddamn grindstone and repent. everything around you for your entire life has told you to hate yourself for your drug use but if the combined force of that violence works you are mentally ill, and that is the worst crime of all.

according to this post, when is it okay to use drugs, then? well, not planned into your day, and not at work or school, but not when you’re bored or have been thinking about it too much, and not if anyone who’d judge you or you don’t trust knowing you’re high or you just don’t want knowing is around, and not if you don’t want to quit, but also not if you’ve quit already. you have to hate your drug use otherwise that’s proof it’s attacked your ability to care but hating your drug use is proof you should stop. #JustSayNo

[rubin-therubix-loverofblorbos]

TF2 INCORRECT QUOTES: ULTIMATE EDITION

Medic: I hate taking off my glasses, because without them, my vision goes from Full HD all the way down to buffering at 240p and I just can't handle that.

Sniper: Are you good? Spy: In what sense? Sniper: Generally. Spy: Oh, definitely not.

Scout: You think that’s cringe? Moms around the world wait 9 months just to end up naming their kid Dell. Engineer: Hey, fuck you.

Soldier: The waiter at Olive Garden has been grating my cheese for 6 hours now, waiting for me to say when. Customers are screaming. Three people have died. Soldier: I will not yield.

Engineer: Still not over how yesterday when my flight landed, our pilot said we arrived 50 minutes early because they took some "shortcuts". Engineer: Excuse me, we were in the sky, what do you mean???

Spy: Okay, who's turn is it to give the pep talk? Medic: It's Soldier's turn. Soldier: Don't die. Medic, wiping a tear away: Truly inspirational.

Scout: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends. Pyro, Muffled: … Your what? Scout: My friends. Engineer: Are they saying “friends”? Heavy: I think they're being sarcastic. Soldier: No, no, no, this is delirium, they've cracked from being awake all night. Hey, Scout! All of your friends are in this room.

Heavy: If I say I love you, will you say it back? Medic: Yes. Heavy: I love you. Medic: It back. Later Scout: Why is Heavy crying face-down on the floor?

Demoman: What happened to Soldier? Engineer: They died. Demoman: They what? Engineer: They died, but they’re okay. Demoman: …Can you please clarify? Soldier: Clarification is for the weak.

Engineer: Medic, Heavy, I love y’all and all, but can I ask what in the hell are you doing? Medic, trying to stabilize a tower of folding chairs that Heavy is sitting atop: Oh nothing much. Heavy: I love you too :)

Engineer: Caffeine no longer keeps me awake while I work, so instead I have Medic periodically send me texts saying ‘we need to talk.’ Engineer: It gives me the right amount of adrenaline and fear I need to keep going.

Medic: tapping fingers on table Soldier: taps fingers back furiously Sniper: …What’s going on? Scout: Morse code. They’re talking. Medic: -.-- ..- .-. / - …. . / -.-. ..- - . … - Soldier: slams hands on table YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

Soldier, to Demoman: Why is Scout not talking? Demoman: I'm playing the silent game with them. Soldier: Well, then you just lost. Demoman: I lost two hours ago. I gave them ear plugs and told them to close their eyes. It was the only way I could think of to get them to shut up.

Spy: casually taking four stairs at a time Sniper, falling behind, taking two stairs at a time: Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fu-

Engineer: Here are two pictures. One of them is your bedroom, and the other is a garbage dumpster. Can you tell which is which? Scout: Scout: This one is the dumpster. Engineer: They’re both your bedroom.

Engineer: Stop setting things on fire because you're curious about what will happen. What will happen is fire. Medic: But what if something else happens just this one time. -Pyro giggling in the background-

Demoman: I’m having salad for dinner! Engineer: Demoman: Well, fruit salad. Demoman: Actually, it’s mostly grapes. Engineer: Demoman: Okay, it’s all grapes. Demoman: Fermented grapes. Engineer: Demoman: Engineer: Demoman: It’s wine. Demoman: I’m having wine for dinner.

Medic: Truth or dare? Soldier: Truth! Medic: Do you- Engineer: I dare you to kiss me. Soldier: kisses Engineer Medic, to Heavy: They said “truth”, right?

Scout: When I get murdered, can you make sure I become an unsolved case? Sniper: wHat? Scout: I want to be on Buzzfeed Unsolved. Sniper: Can we go back to the part when you said "when I get murdered"?

Heavy: Where’s Soldier? Spy: Around. Heavy: Around? Heavy: You don’t have any idea, do you? Soldier, dropping down from above: Did you know there’s a space above the ceiling?

Soldier: Do you think I’m ugly? Engineer: It’s not about looks, Soldier. What’s valuable is on the inside… Soldier: Engineer… Engineer: For example, someone's heart. Soldier: Aw… Stop it- Engineer: It could be purchased for more than a million dollars, you know. Soldier: Seriously, stop.

Demoman: In alcohol’s defense, I’ve done some pretty dumb shit while completely sober too.

Sniper: How many children do you have? Spy: Biologically, legally, or emotionally? Because there is a difference.

Demoman: What are your adjectives? Spy: …You mean my pronouns? Demoman: No, I know what your pronouns are! What are your adjectives? Spy: …I dunno. What are yours? Demoman: Noisy and chaotic! Spy: I’ve never had something go from making no sense to making complete sense so quickly.

Heavy: Unpopular opinion, not all dogs are good boys. Soldier: Blocked. Heavy: Sometimes, they’re good girls! Soldier: UNBLOCKED!

Soldier: I’ve been here in jail so long I think I’ve lost my mind. Soldier: The days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months. Soldier: How long have I been in here now? Almost a year? Medic: This is Monopoly.

Spy: Goddamn it, the printer broke while printing out Sniper's birthday invitations. Soldier: Well, what are they supposed to say? Spy: "Sniper's birthday". Soldier: So, what do they say instead? Spy: "Sniper’s bi". Soldier: Soldier: Works out either way.

Demoman, clearly drunk: Spy, hit me another drink… wooOO HOOoo… Spy: I think you need a therapist and not a bottle. Demoman: I think yooOOoou need to shuUT YOUR MOUTH! Medic: Spy isn’t answering my messages. Sniper: Allow me. Medic: I tried 6 times, what makes you thi- Spy: replying to message Hello.

Soldier: I think it’s time I get my life in order. Engineer, narrating: But they did not get their life in order. In fact, they got drunk last night and befriended a raccoon. Scout: Sniper! This soup is flaccid! Sniper: LITERALLY WHAT THE FUCK DOES THIS MEAN?! Medic, on a random band name generator: Oooo! They Might Be Depressed Horses! That about sums up my friend group. Scout: Helpful grammar tip: “farther” is for physical distance, “further” is for metaphorical distance, and “father” is for emotional distance! Demoman: My favorite part about Megamind is that he literally grew up on Earth around humans but is still confused about human culture and etiquette. Zhanna: So did I. He's not special. Engineer: Guys where did Scout go? Medic: They got arrested. Engineer: How the hell- Scout: *bursts in through the window* The cops are after me, I thought it would be fun to steal crackers and throw them at people. Miss Pauling: Soldier, we tried things your way. Soldier: No, we didn't. Miss Pauling: I did it in my head and it didn't work.

Demoman: I like your top, Sniper! Spy: I have a name, you know. Sniper: Sighs Why. Why are you like this? Demoman: How do you tell someone that you wanna have sex with them in a polite way? Sniper: Excuse me Lovely. Would you give me the honor of indulging in sexual activities with you? Miss Pauling: What the fuck is wrong with you two? Heavy: Is the Grinch his name, ethnicity, or job? Scout: It's a slur. Scout: *in a jail cell* What about my Miranda rights!? You’re supposed to say I have ‘the right to remain silent’”! NOBODY SAID I HAD THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT! Engineer: *in the cell next to them* You have the right to remain silent, what you lack is the capacity. Pyro, Muffled: Do you know the ABCs of first aid? Sniper: A. Bone. Coming out of the skin is very bad. Engineer: Engineer? Yeah, I'm enginEERING MY FUCKIN' LIMIT! Soldier: Heavy has no idea I’m high. Heavy: You’re high? Soldier: Oh, I’m sorry. Soldier, leaning over to Medic: Heavy has no idea I’m high.

Zhanna: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming? Spy: Can everyone in this godforsaken group please learn the skill called "Think Before You Speak"? Heavy: Ya know... it might be. Engineer: The smell of Home Depot is cathartic... Fairies live in the lights and chandeliers section, gnomes live in the outdoor gardening department... Spy: Stop romanticizing Home Depot. Engineer: Pixies live in the paint aisle. Fuck you. Engineer: Oh, fiddlesticks. Sniper: Look, I understand this is a tense situation, but let's watch the fucking language. Engineer: Why is it that I always lose things as soon as I need them? Sniper: Actually, it's not that you lose things when you need them. You lose them a while before. It's just that you LOOK for things when you need them. Engineer: Okay yeah thanks Sniper, that's great but WHERE'S THE FUCKING FIRST AID KIT? Applebee's Waiter: What would you like to order? Pyro: I'll take the apple. Applebee's Waiter: We don't actually sell apples. Pyro, visibly frightened: Okay then... I'll have the bees... Medic: Make her pussy wet, not her eyes. Spy: Make his dick hard, not his life. Scout: Break her bed, not her heart. Pyro, Muffled: Play with her boobs, not her feelings. Sniper: Get on his dick, not his nerves. Soldier: Always salt your pasta while boiling it.

Scout: Which country has the most birds? Scout: Portu-geese! Engineer: That's a language. Scout: Portu-gull? Engineer: Good recovery. Medic: I think you mean good re-dovery. Spy: TURKEY. HOW DID WE MISS TURKEY? Zhanna: Okay, if we can't do it by sheer force, we'll do it my way. Spy: But your way is sheer force! Scout: Pokemon is trying to slowly convince us Pikachu was always fluffy and I for one accept this future. Heavy: Did you think the mouse was just smooth and had yellow skin like a little simpsons demon?? Scout: Scout: Maybe. Demoman: What are you drinking? Engineer: Vodka. Demoman: Straight? Engineer: No, gay. Why? Soldier: *Kicks the door open, looking panicked* Engineer: What did you do?! Soldier: NOBODY DIED! UNFORTUNATELY! Engineer: WHAT KIND OF ANSWER IS THAT?!

Pyro, trying to comfort Sniper: What's the problem? Anxiety? Low self-esteem? Obsessive thoughts of random arson? I've been there. Sniper: But MuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUuuuuuuum... Medic: Can someone translate this? I don't know Australian. Scout: I'll do my best. Ahem. AY YO MA. Scout: Yum, thanks! Kidnapper: *puts more tape over their mouth* I said stop eating it. Medic, barging in: Syphilis! Engineer: Medic: Engineer: Pardon? Zhanna: I have no respect for this Santa character. Don’t sneak in through the chimney and undermine my authority by bringing my family presents. Walk in through the front door and fight me like a man. Engineer: You can't wake up if you never got to sleep. Sniper: Scout, remember when you said you weren’t going to interfere with my love life? Scout: No, that doesn’t sound like me at all. Engineer: I have a problem. Soldier: Kill it. Engineer: Can you chill for like, two seconds?

Zhanna: Are you okay? Heavy, crying: Yeah, it was just the onions. Zhanna: Picks up an onion What the fuck did you say to my brother? Sniper: Our relationship is strictly professional. Spy, sitting on Sniper’s lap: Absolutely. Only on business. Pyro: Do you ever think? Because I do not. Soldier: Screw lactose intolerance! I will consume as much dairy as I want! Soldier 2 hours later, crying on the floor: WHY DOES IT HURT SO MUCH?! Heavy, to Engineer: If Scout doesn't say "I'm King of the world" within an hour on that boat, I will give you my next pay check. Scout, within 5 minutes of getting on the boat: I'M KING OF THE WORLD!!! Zhanna: You know, I used to play back in my gory days. Demoman: You mean glory days? Zhanna: Ah, that too. Medic: Heavy, do you love me? Heavy: Of course I do! Medic: Would you still love me if I did something bad? Heavy: Well, of course I… would… Medic: I mean something really, really— Heavy: Medic, what did you do?

Engineer: Come on, Spy. Nobody actually believes that Soldier is in love with me. Spy, to The Squad: Raise your hand if you think that Soldier is helplessly in love with Engineer. Everyone raises their hand Engineer: Soldier, put your hand down. Pyro, Muffled: Dude, we can get mythical animals! Maybe I’ll get a penguin! Medic: Penguins are real. Pyro, Muffled: That’s the spirit, Medic! They’re real to me too! Miss Pauling: double checking supplies in the boat Compass. CB radio. Sunscreen. Pyro, Muffled: Hot dog costumes! Miss Pauling: I’m sorry, what? Pyro, Muffled: You know, in case we get lost at sea, and one of us, probably Soldier, goes mad with hunger, we’ll put these on. Soldier hates hot dogs, so they probably won’t eat us. Miss Pauling: Are you saying that Soldier would rather eat us than hot dogs? Soldier: I do hate hot dogs. Demoman: So, how long have you and Engineer been together? Soldier: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Engineer and I are not together. No. No. Demoman: Really? Sixteen ‘nos’? Really? Scout: I bet you can’t make a sentence without the letter “A”! Engineer: You thought you just did something there, didn’t you? Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but numerous sentences could be constructed without employing the first letter of the English lexicon. Demoman: Fuck you. Heavy: Uh, Engineer? Demoman is in the pool and I don't think they're waterproof. Engineer: What? Zhanna: I think they meant, Demoman is drowning. Engineer: WHAT?! Meanwhile Demoman: is drowning Miss Pauling: OH MY GOD, DEMOMAN! KEEP SWIMMING! Demoman: I can't swim, dumbass— sinks Miss Pauling: DEMOMAN!

Sniper: is hugging Engineer Zhanna: Hey! It's my turn to hug Engineer! Zhanna: grabs Engineer Demoman: kicking down the door What do you mean, "yOuR tUrN"? We agreed now is my time slot! Sniper: No, It's still my turn! Engineer: suffocating Guys, I love you, but just because I'm the smallest doesn't mean you can be huggin' me constantly! Zhanna: But we need the moral support! Sniper: And you're small! Which is cute! Demoman: If I don't hug you right now I think the depression will kick in and my body will stop functioning. Engineer: close to tears Well- I, I guess. Miss Pauling: Well, you know what they say: Can’t bake a pie without losing a dozen men! Pyro: No problemo! Pyro, internally: But it was all problemo. Miss Pauling: Are you sure this is safe? Soldier: Safer than Flintstone vitamin gummies in a bottle. Soldier: Keep twisting, junior! All you’re gonna get is clicks. Scout: I'd roast you, but my mom says I can't burn trash. Scout: slow-mo walks out of the room

AND ON THAT NOTE, YOU'VE {somehow} REACHED THE END OF THIS ATROCITY!

[lastoneout]

So my neurologist actually did something right for once and gave me some ambien to help me sleep while I'm on the steroid pack since I already have insomnia and steroids make it WAY worse, and I was really excited because this is legit what I've been wanting a doctor to do for like over a year now...but it didn't really help me sleep, at least not as well as the weed does.

I could possibly just need a higher dose(I am known to be very resistant to these sorts of meds, it takes like twice the normal dose of propofol to put me under) or maybe the steroid is just so powerful the meds can't make a dent in it(which I'd believe since I'm really sensitive to steroids and the weed ALSO doesn't help me sleep as well when I'm on them), and also it's really hot and humid right now which makes it hard to sleep in general AND I just got my bc implant put in which is making it hard to sleep since I have to be careful with my left arm and I like NEED to be able to switch what side I sleep on cuz my shitty arthritic joints don't like staying in one position for too long...but this is a bit of a let down ngl. I was really excited to be able to sleep and then maybe use this as proof that I can be trusted with sleep medication and I could finally stop having to spend damn near $100 on weed gummies every month and a half just to Sleep At All but like...hnnnn.....

Idk, when I see my primary I'm going to beg her to send me to a sleep specialist again bcs the weed is NOT sustainable it's already expensive and on top of that I am absolutely building up a tolerance which means I have to take more to sleep and thus spend more money and it's so fucking annoying. I've already made a lot of progress in the trauma department too and that hasn't really helped me sleep better which leads me to believe this is def a result of one of my other medical issues, I def think a sleep specialist is the best bet rn.

The plus side tho is she gave me 15 ambien and I only have three days of the steroids left, and my arm should be healed better in the next couple of days, so I should have a chance to test the ambien without the dual whammy of the arm pain and steroids wrecking my system, and if even that fails well that's a 15 day T break for the weed which honestly I really do need so like there's that.

Also since I have a bunch of new followers quick FAQ/rundown before anyone gives advice:

I have bipolar disorder type II and adhd and severe chronic pain from fibromyalgia, arthritis, and hEDS. The adderall for my adhd isn't the problem, I actually sleep WAY worse without it. I don't drink that many caffeinated beverages and I especially don't drink them basically at all when I'm on steroids so that's not it either. At least a little of my insomnia is due to trauma and not having a dog currently, but I can't adopt another one right now for numerous reasons, and EMDR has helped the trauma nightmares/anxiety let up quite a lot but that hasn't helped me sleep. I can't take CBD it makes my brain feel like I'm hooked up to a car battery. I also can't smoke bcs asthma so unfortunately I am stuck buying edibles which are very expensive. Insomnia isn't on the medical marijuana criteria in my state so I can't even make it cheaper that way. Melatonin does nothing. Benadryl also does nothing. Exercising before bed also does nothing. I can't do yoga(hEDS) or meditate(adhd). Cutting down on screen time before bed doesn't help and I already spend as little time in my bedroom as possible during the day so my brain keeps associating being in there with sleeping. Listening to music/a podcast doesn't help. Sleepy teas and nice baths and all that before bed doesn't help. I have a weighted blanket which does help a little, but sucks bcs it traps heat like a motherfucker, but I'd sleep worse without it so yeah. Also I can't make my house any cooler/less humid because I'm renting and it's old and shitty and doesn't have real air conditioning and the little portable ac unit + dehumidifier is trying but like...it's not enough I'm still hot and sweaty all night.

I am on hydroxyzine and nortryptraline and they don't make me even a little tired. I cannot take SSRIs or SNRIs on account of the bipolar and the fact that I'm just really sensitive to stuff that messes with my serotonin, even when I'm on a mood stabilizer, and the only med that I can stand that does serotonin stuff is the nortryptraline and it's also the only thing that helps my pain so switching it to something else isn't an option. I build up a resistance to seroquel really fast which makes my insomnia infinitely worse in the long run so I don't see the point in taking it. I have tried basically everything my psychiatrist can think to give me outside of narcotics, which led to her straight up telling me to my face she just can't help me before clarifying that apparently narcotics are somehow worse for me than not sleeping so she won't prescribe them even if they might help. I don't snore or wake up gasping for air so I know I don't have COPD or sleep apnea.

Literally the only thing that has ever made sleeping easy is weed(and opioids but those don't help my pain and have so many hoops to jump through so I don't wanna take them anymore), specifically indica with CBN, but it has to have THC in it I've tried pure CBN + CBD gummies and they don't make me tired they just make me feel weird 'cuz of the CBD.

So yeah. I am up shit creek without a paddle and I really quite desperately need to see a sleep specialist. I appreciate advice but like believe me, I've tried just about everything I can think of and none of it helps. I just naturally have really bad insomnia. And it sucks.

[tenpintsofsundrop]

Spencer Reid + Migraines

(Chronic pain as a metaphor for emotional baggage or emotional blocks in media)

TLDR; I hate it when media uses pain (especially irl chronic pain conditions) as a metaphor for emotional trauma and allows a character to be healed once they have gotten over their trauma.

So this is a rant I've had building up for a while now, especially because I've seen quite a few people on my dashboard talking about Maeve/the Maeve storyline, and how she was introduced to the show as Spencer's doctor who magically "cured" his headaches with vitamins? Apparently (I don't remember the details because I haven't seen those episodes in so long, but yikes).

I am a chronic pain sufferer and I have been formally diagnosed with chronic migraines. Because of a medication used to treat chronic migraines, I haven't had an attack in more than three years (save for one outlier).

Migraines are an intensely serious medical problem, and it's weird to me that Spencer was clearly having migraine attacks on the show and they didn't address it as it's own medical problem? They just acted like he was having some light headaches and needed to ignore it and get over the problem or "find the root cause" - aka stop being sad and then your brain will get better???

When I was originally watching the Season 6 episodes where Spencer starts struggling with his "headaches", I have never related to something more in my life. Especially because at that point in my life, I was still have 2 or 3 migraine attacks per month, and seeing him wearing sunglasses indoors, aggressively bouncing his leg to try and distract from the pain while sitting in a hospital waiting room, rubbing his eye sockets, flinching at the light - that was and sometimes still is my life.

When the doctors determined that he didn't have epilepsy, didn't have a tumor, etc. I was like "okay, so they're gonna treat him for migraines and acknowledge that migraines are a really detrimental chronic pain condition."

But no. They just have him the whole "idk. You're not dying so the pain must be cause you're like... sad."

And I totally understand Spencer not wanting to take medication because of his past with Dualdid, but there are so many non-narcotic options for pain treatment. Especially because his character is very into science, it would have been interesting to see him exploring alternative (very traditional) medicine like acupuncture or massage, while acknowledging his past drug addiction as a problem and saying that he doesn't want to relapse.

Hell, it would have even been nice for them to acknowledge that his caffeine addiction could have been affecting his headaches and for there to be a little subplot where he was super irritable because his doctor asked him to quit coffee to see if it made his headaches go away. (Because one of the first migraine treatments is quitting caffeine, chocolate, or alcohol - common trigger foods.)

But instead, the show presented his headaches as a physical presentation of his emotional pain. Which is something incredibly common for shows to do - the other example I can think of is Weeds. But in general I fucking hate the idea that chronic pain is just an embodiment of emotional trauma, and once you get over that emotional trauma, you are "cured". (Because it was narratively implied in the show that part of the reason Maeve was able to cure his headaches is because he was in love with her, not because of the weird pills she gave him.)

For once, I would like to see a show acknowledge chronic pain as a problem that is 100% out of the control of a person, and even though it's not life threatening, it still fucking sucks. And while it might be treatable, it is incurable. Like HELLO

Don't treat it like some emotional arc that the person has to get over and not a problem that people have to realistically battle for their whole lives. I HATE the metaphor that pain is just a manifestation of negative emotions and it will go away once you acknowledge your trauma or battle those negative emotions.

I so badly wanted them to acknowledge Spencer as a chronic migraine patient and treat him as such.

But anyway. That's it

[alwaysmychoices]

Screaming at a Reflection

Synopsis: After receiving the shocking news that Charlie intends to resign and leave Edenbrook, Ethan searches for a solution -- talking to everyone but the one person that matters.

Chapter 39 of the “with and without” series

Previous Series: “a weekend with dr. ramsey”

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC (Charlotte “Charlie” Greene)

Words: 4.7k

Rating: Teen (language)

Also available on AO3 & Wattpad (link in Masterlist)

Ethan had been awake too long. The exhaustion showed on the creases of his face and the sharp edges of his voice. If desolate Ethan was a nightmare, then sleepless Ethan was something worse.

It had been two weeks.

Two weeks without Charlie in his bed.

And two weeks without a proper night’s sleep.

Not that it mattered, Ethan thought. Sleep was for the weak. Ethan didn’t need sleep as long as he still had his work and a consistent supply of caffeine. She wasn’t coming home, and he would survive. Whether or not he would thrive would was immaterial.

He was never going to “thrive” without her. Of all the ways this story could have ended, thriving was never one of the possibilities. All things considered, Ethan considered himself lucky. Exhaustion and empty nights were bearable; with time, he might even find peace.

But right now, there was no peace. No relief. No respite.

Everything was a fucking marathon, especially sleeping.

Her pillow stopped smelling like her shampoo, which was somehow worse than sleeping next to her memory.

Ethan had been awake when he received Naveen’s one A.M. email requesting a meeting, and he’d still been awake when he stumbled into Naveen’s office at six A.M.

Naveen heard rumors of Ethan’s state. By all accounts, he was a shell of himself – lacking all warmth and embracing all bitterness. Naveen hadn’t quite believed it, but now, he saw it was much worse than he’d imagined. Ethan looked horrible – tired, rumbled, and sharp around the edges. A shell of himself.

A steaming cup of coffee sat waiting for Ethan. Ethan flopped into the chair nearest the mug, and with a grunt in thanks, he grabbed the cup and gulped the steaming liquid – a shame for such a well-crafted cup of coffee.

Naveen reflexively gasped, “You look horrible.”

“Thanks,” Ethan mumbled.

“Did you go home?”

“Yes.”

“And shower?”

Ethan rolled his eyes, “Yes.”

“And sleep?”

Ethan remained silent, staring at his half-finished coffee and avoiding his friend’s gaze. Ethan was many disappointments, but he didn’t intend to become a liar.

Naveen frowned but gave no express disapproval. Another time, it might have been helpful to give his protégé tough love. He might have even forced a leave of absence if necessary. But the ghostly apparition of loss lingered around Ethan. It made him fragile and dangerous. The wrong breath could shatter him.

Comforting himself with his own cup of chai, Naveen pondered his friend's state. He hadn’t known Ethan was this bad. If he had, he would have waited to give this news.

“Did you call me in to say I look like shit? Because, if so, I will remind you that I am paid to give medical treatment, not smile in the hallway,” Ethan scoffed, but really, Ethan wouldn’t have been shocked. All week, Harper tried to do the same by planning lunches and dinners – all of which Ethan declined. Even Tobias had asked if Ethan wanted to talk, which was a particularly bad sign that Ethan wasn’t handling the grief as well as he thought.

“No one has ever accused you of being too friendly in the halls, Ethan.”

The dismissive sound coming from Ethan’s throat was a mix of a scoff and a grunt. Even his rebellion against authority felt tired.

“They have, however, accused you of being a dick this week.”

“And that’s new?”

“I’ve had three crying residents in my office this week.”

“I’m teaching them. That’s my job.”

“Is that what you call it?”

“I’ve been too easy on them this year,” Ethan frowned, “And my method has never bothered you before.”

“Before, your anger was about the medicine.”

“It’s still about the medicine.”

Naveen cast a dubious stare.

Another silence.

Another moment where Ethan and Naveen both quietly wondered if Ethan was faring even worse than he appeared.

“Are you alright, Ethan?”

“Yes.”

“Have you spoken to Charlie?”

Ethan bristled, and Naveen’s heart sank.

“She is the Diagnostics Team Fellow,” Ethan crossed his arms.

“She’s more than that,” Naveen offered tenderly.

Ethan frowned, “She’s my resident.”

Naveen tapped his fingertips on the desk, resisting the urge to push the issue. He knew who Charlie was to Ethan, even if neither had ever breathed a word of their “secret” liaison. Naveen had proudly watched as Charlie reshaped his friend into the better version of himself, and now, it was heartbreaking to watch Ethan revert to his worst traits and emotional self-harm. It was all so unnecessary and disappointing. Yet, Naveen hesitated to intervene.

Charlie and Ethan were the same, both on a path to self-destruction. One wrong move could be a fatal blow. Naveen had once been like the pair, and he’d seen firsthand the capacity of a human being to ruin their own life.

In the silence, Ethan grunted, “I’ll be nicer to the residents.”

Accepting the small victory, Naveen smiled.

 “So, we’re done here then?” Ethan chugged the remainder of his coffee as he stood. He was eager to leave, though he had nowhere particular to go. The only thing that waited for him was his work and Jenner, the latter of which spent much of his day waiting at the door for Charlie to return. Ethan was beginning to think that Jenner would gladly abandon him for Charlie, which Ethan couldn’t blame him for.

“Unfortunately not,” Naveen frowned.

“Are you going to tell me I look exhausted again?”

“No,” Naveen shook his head, though his expression lacked the typical mirth such a sarcastic comment would usually garner, “It’s business, I’m afraid.”

“More intern complaints?” Ethan wondered if he really had been too difficult with his students. Was this an HR issue now?

“As head of the diagnostics team, you are entitled to notice when a team member announces their intention to leave,” Naveen began the well-practiced speech.

Ethan perked up with intrigue, “Oh? Did I finally drive Tobias away?”

“Dr. Carrick intends to stay.”

“Harper then?” Ethan frowned. Maybe that’s why she’d offered all those invitations – so she could share her desire to leave before giving her notice.

Naveen sighed. He’d hoped that Charlie would have told him.

“No,” Naveen’s voice was hardly a whisper, and it made Ethan’s heart stop.

Collecting himself, Naveen donned a professional yet grim expression as he shared, “Dr. Greene has requested a leave of absence from her residency and intends to resign from the Diagnostics Team.”

“What?!” Ethan’s outrage echoed off every surface in the office.

Ethan paced furiously, muttering, “We can’t let her do this,” over and over until it felt more like a mantra than a demand.

“I tried,” Naveen offered diplomatically.

“Tried? That’s not enough! We can’t let her throw away her entire career because of….” Ethan stumbled, only to regain steam to add, “You’re the chief of staff. Do something.”

“As I told you, I tried,” Naveen explained, “Charlie anticipated every challenge. She studied the policy, found an enriching activity for her sabbatical, named a qualified replacement for the team, and premised her request on the need for mental and physical recovery from her trauma last year. Even if we found a way to keep her from going, we’d never survive the public outrage from denying her request. It’s untenable, Ethan, and you know it.”

“We can’t let her destroy her career on a whim!”

“It’s her career, Ethan.”

Ethan’s head snapped back to Naveen, his words a ghost of a fight long gone with Charlie.

“But it’s a stupid choice,” Ethan snarled, “She’s done all this work just to race back to the startling line.”

“It isn’t our choice to make.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” Ethan asserted, “It’s our job to train her. You always said that training me was half medicine and half stopping me from fucking myself over.”

“That was stopping you from telling all the other attendings they were stupid—”

“They were,” Ethan interjected.

“This,” Naveen stressed, shooting Ethan a warning stare for the interruption, “This is Charlie’s life. You know she deserves the right to decide how she lives and how she works. You were allowed to make those choices, and you can’t stop her from doing the same.”

Ethan dropped Naveen’s gaze, feeling properly chastened by his mentor but nonetheless undeterred. Naveen was right, of course. Charlie was no less deserving of autonomy because Ethan disagreed with her, but Ethan caused her suffering. He had been her downfall, and he was uniquely responsible for mitigating the damage.

“So, I’m just supposed to let her throw away her hard work? What do you suggest I do?” Ethan sputtered.

“I suggest you talk to her,” Naveen answered.

Ethan didn’t meet Naveen’s calm energy. Ethan was angry. Furious, even. Anxious. Concerned. Terrified. And fucking heartbroken.

“I sure as hell will,” Ethan huffed, learning into the outrage because it was the easiest emotion to embrace. He scooped up his belongings and chucked his empty cup into the trash.

Just as Ethan was about to cross the threshold of the office door, Naveen called out, “And do so nicely!”

Ethan offered a noncommittal grunt in response. He moved through the halls like fire spread through kindling, causing passing residents to turn around and duck down corridors to avoid him. Not that any of them mattered today. Only Charlie and her reckless resignation mattered.

Ethan found Charlie easily.

She’d come in early to chart – something she’d started doing over the last two weeks to avoid spending time in the Diagnostics Team office. Had Ethan not looked so terrible, the hospital rumors may have centered on her – how the spark had faded from her eyes, the life leeched from her smile, and the interest everything else waned. She would be the prime target for idle gossip if anyone paid attention. But Ethan took up all that space, just like he took up everything else.

Despite all his respect and admiration for her sense of self and her work, Ethan didn’t leave much room in this hospital for her. Once a comfort, his grandiose now suffocated her.

She felt his presence before he said a word.

But he made it known nonetheless.

“What the fuck?” Ethan greeted abruptly.

They weren’t alone. A nurse at the end of her night shift was just down the hall, mulling on a chart, and an eager surgical intern was tucked in the corner, studying for her rounds. Both looked at the couple when they heard Ethan. The nurse, exhausted from her shift and disinterested in their drama, moved locations. The intern hesitated but ultimately left when Ethan shot her a deadly glare.

“Good morning, Ethan,” Charlie didn’t look up.

“Charlotte,” Ethan seethed.

“Ethan,” Charlie echoed flatly. She was the picture of disinterest, but Ethan didn’t believe her.

“You gave notice?” Ethan demanded, holding out hope that it was all a misunderstanding.

“I did.”

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“It’s been a difficult year,” Charlie began her well-practiced speech, “I think I came back to work too early after the attack and my illness. I need time to heal, and I received an excellent opportunity to contribute to medical research at Duke during my absence.”

Sure, Ethan thought. It would fool some people. Even if someone had doubts, they wouldn’t be brave enough to question a survivor about her trauma. But Ethan would.

“That’s not why.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the truth.

Charlie sighed, finally looking up from her chart and meeting his haughty gaze. She looked exhausted – physically and emotionally. She was a ghost of the woman who first entered these doors, and Ethan knew it was his fault.

A bright young star came into his orbit, and he’d stolen all her shine.

“It’s part of the reason,” Charlie shrugged.

Ethan’s chest squeezed.

He didn’t like seeing her defeated. He didn’t like knowing he’d been the one to beat her.

“You’re making a mistake, Charlie,” Ethan’s voice softened – shifting from an irate command to a tender plea. He just wanted her to understand. To stay, even if she never warmed his bed again. To reclaim the place in the stars he’d stolen from her. It was as much a plea for her future as a desperate search for absolution.

It probably was a professional mistake. Charlie wasn’t too stubborn to admit that. Abandoning her current success and branding herself a victim was likely to carry a mark for the rest of her career in an unforgiving profession. The old Charlie would never have considered it. She would have endured anything just to stand in these halls, let alone be part of this team.

But the old Charlie was gone. That unbreakable tenacity and self-destructive ambition had been beaten out of her – either by her own mistakes, the harsh reality of her time at Edenbrook, or the act of falling in love. Charlie could stay at Edenbrook, but it would break her. And she was tired of merely surviving. She didn’t know how many grand reinventions she had left. How many times could she watch her life shatter and put it back together again? At what point was she the sum of the tragedy rather than being surrounded by its parts?

He should have begged last week, Charlie thought. Then, she was on the fence. Now, she was certain.

“I’m going, Ethan.”

“You can’t,” Ethan heard the panic in his voice before he felt it. And fuck, when he felt it, it was unbearable.

“Excuse me?” Charlie repeated incredulously.

“You can’t go.”

“Is that what Naveen said?” Charlie cocked an eyebrow, daring him to acknowledge that she’d cleverly evaded every loophole. She’d covered her tracks before she made her getaway.

“Don’t you understand what this will do to your career? You’ve worked your fucking ass off for this. You almost died for this,” Ethan evaded the question, taking himself back to their hardest moments – the nights when he’d sworn to do anything to protect her.

“No, I almost died because I loved my friends,” Charlie bit back, “I went in that room to save my friends.”

“You went in because you’re a doctor. And you’re a fucking good one.”

“Don’t use the death of my friends against me, Ethan,” Charlie warned, an edge creeping into her voice.

“I promised to make you the best doctor here. You made me promise you. I fucked up, but I’m not letting you fuck up, too.”

“You’re not?” Charlie’s eyes narrowed, “Well, good luck stopping me.”

Charlie slammed her chart shut, gathering her things and sweeping past him.

Even in her hasty exit, she instinctively paused beside him, expecting some small, tender display of affection that she’d come to expect from their proximity. But when Charlie realized what she was doing, she walked away faster.

Ethan watched her go with a frustrated grunt. He didn’t care if she hated him. He just needed to stop her from being punished for his sins, and he’d burn every bridge to do it.

His first stop was Kyra’s office. If she couldn’t do something in her administrative role, she could at least convince Charlie that she was making a ridiculous decision. But Kyra beat him to it. On the door were two sticky notes – the first addressed to her colleagues to explain her absence for the morning and the second addressed to Ethan. He flipped over the lime green sticky note to read the message.

I already tried. She’s going.

Ethan groaned, crumbling the note and depositing it in the nearby trash can on his way to his next potential ally.

Jackie was second. She took one look at Ethan barging through the halls toward the resident lounge, and she held up a hand, rebuffing him with, “Absolutely not. I’m not participating in this.”

Accordingly, Ethan left the lounge without a word. Jackie was sensible and willing to call anyone out on their bullshit, including Charlie, but her support was always a longshot. Jackie was fiercely loyal and unlikely to betray her friend by siding with the enemy.

Bryce was the third target, and out of them all, he was the most likely to join Ethan’s cause – if not because he genuinely believed Charlie was in the wrong but because he’d always considered himself a friend of Ethan, too. He was probably the only one who would be happy to play mediator between two quareling lovers.

Nonetheless, Charlie was Bryce’s best friend. Out of the two, Charlie would always be Bryce’s priority. Personally, Bryce questioned the decision, and he believed the whole debacle could be resolved if Charlie and Ethan had a genuine. But Bryce wouldn’t be the friend who abandoned Charlie in her time of need, even if he took no enjoyment in rebuffing Ethan.

“She’s making a mistake,” Ethan skipped the pleasantries, cornering the surgical resident in the locker rooms. Admittedly, it wasn’t the best time to talk. Bryce was fresh from the shower, half-dressed, and running late to a meeting with his attending, but ever the loyal friend, Bryce said nothing of the inconvenience.

“Maybe,” Bryce squirmed, tying too many knots on his scrub pants to avoid eye contact.

“She won’t listen to me,” Ethan pushed, hoping Bryce would offer before he had to ask.

“Hmm,” Bryce swept away invisible lent from his shirt.

“She would listen to you.”

Bryce gulped. He still hadn’t looked Ethan in the eyes, which was a bad omen.

“She’s really upset,” Bryce finally spoke, “She’s my best friend. I care about her. When she said she wanted to go, I shared my concerns, but ultimately, it’s her call…. And this could be good for her. She’s been through a lot.”

Ethan frowned. He’d expected rejection, but hearing about Charlie’s suffering took the wind from his sails. A reminder of the permanence of his harm.

“You should talk to her,” Bryce added as Ethan started to leave.

“I tried.”

Bryce tilted his head dubiously, “I mean really talk to her.”

Ethan frowned, but before he left, he murmured, “Thank you, Bryce.”

“If you need me, I’m here for you!” Bryce called out after him, ever the supportive friend.

Ethan said nothing. In the back of his mind, a voice said he should take the offer – any of the offers from his friends and family to lend support. But Ethan couldn’t. He didn’t feel worthy, and accepting support was a muscle made weak by lack of use. Talking about her leaving made it final in a way he wasn’t yet capable of enduring.

Harper wasn’t helpful either. She thought Ethan should be more understanding and supportive of Charlie’s trauma, and Harper believed that Charlie deserved her time away from work. She was so supportive that, at the end of the conversation, she pledged to help Charlie mitigate any ill consequences from her leave of absence. After Harper’s kind but ultimately unhelpful speech, Harper again asked if Ethan was okay and invited him for coffee. Implicit in her request was, What the fuck is wrong with you? Tell me what we’re all guessing. Let me help.

Ethan rejected both the implicit and explicit offers by politely but firmly asking for a raincheck they both knew would never come.

Tobias was slightly better. Overall, he supported Charlie’s decision, but as a ruthless ladder climber, he had a unique perspective on what could happen to her career when less understanding employers skimmed her record. He promised to speak to Charlie and renewed his offer to talk things out. Again, Ethan said no.

For the rest of the day, Ethan looked for a miracle – a policy preventing the move, a coworker to talk her out of it, an opportunity so good that Charlie couldn’t turn it down, or Naveen finding some solution during one of their many calls.

Ethan was losing hope by the time he ran into Sienna.

Of all the allies Ethan could have sought, he never intended to find Sienna. Their last conversation made it clear that Sienna recognized Ethan’s responsibility in this affair, but Sienna’s sole priority was protecting her friend. It didn’t matter if she personally doubted the propriety of their many escalations and immature miscommunication. All that mattered was that Charlie was okay, and Sienna saw through Ethan’s declarations and platitudes. He loved Charlie, but as he stood before her today, he wasn’t good for Charlie.

Truthfully, Ethan had avoided Sienna because she was the one person who saw what Ethan desperately tried to deny. Ethan’s mistakes had consequences, and those consequences included Charlie’s suffering. Sienna placed blame where it belonged – with Ethan.

Despite their best intentions, Ethan and Sienna found themselves alone together that afternoon, having been abandoned by all their unsuspecting coworkers. Once they realized their solitude, an uncomfortable silence followed, but neither left.

“I heard you’re on a crusade to stop Charlie from leaving,” Sienna was the first to speak.

“I don’t think she should go.”

“Why not?” That question was a test. It wasn’t enough that Ethan recognized that this was the wrong ending. It mattered why it was wrong and how he intended to stop it.

“She’s worked too hard to throw it away because of my mistakes,” he admitted, shocked by the vulnerability in his voice.

“She’s taking a leave of absence, not dropping out,” Sienna prodded. She wanted Ethan to be ready. She wanted him to be the knight in shining armor. She wanted Charlie to stay. But he had to earn it.

“She’ll give up all the privileges she’s worked so hard for. She’s brilliant, and you know what people will do when they see this. Edenbrook may understand, but we don’t know that the rest of the world will. She deserves to begin her career at the top, not knocked down because someone sensed weakness in a file they already wanted to throw away,” Ethan responded. It wasn’t his real answer. It was a version of the truth, only part of the story. Ethan wanted Charlie to stay because his world would stop moving if he left. She deserved to stay. She deserved more than running away from a disappointing man and losing her friends and career in the process. She earned her day in the sun, and selfishly, Ethan didn’t want to be the cloud blocking her glory. He wanted her with him, but if he couldn’t have that, he would settle for proximity so he could proudly admire her achievements.

But Ethan said none of that.

He didn’t know how.

“She has an amazing record. With or without a resume gap, she’ll do well.”

“But she deserves more than well. It was my job to prepare her for her career, and I know what she can do. This is my fault. I ruined everything. I am the mistake. She shouldn’t spend the rest of her career – or any of it – paying for me.” This was the closest he got to the truth, but it was only a glimpse.

Sienna paused. A long, thoughtful pause.

It was a good speech, but it wasn’t enough. Even if it had been, Ethan needed to prove that to Charlie, not Sienna.

“I told her to go,” Sienna confessed.

Ethan’s head shot up.

“I know that you love her, maybe even more than I do, so I think you know this version of Charlie isn’t our Charlie. She’s not happy. She’s exhausted, and frankly, she has every right to be. If she keeps pushing herself, she will break. And I don’t want that for any of us.”

Ethan knew Sienna was right. Still, he studied her words – looking for a weakness he could use to save the day. He never found one.

With a voice so small it was nearly unrecognizable, Ethan asked, “Is it me? Why she can’t be here, I mean. Is it me?”

Sienna averted her eyes, both to save herself from his grief and to swallow her shame in delivering the news. She nodded quietly.

A gasp of despair left his chest, leaving a longing ache in its place.

“She loves you,” Sienna explained, “You love her, too. I understand that’s why you’re doing this. I think she knows that, too. But this isn’t working for either of you. You’re talking to everyone but her, and she’s hiding behind everyone else to avoid you. Neither of you are going to change what you want or what you’re willing to compromise. I don’t know… maybe this time will be good for both of you. Maybe time will cool things down, or maybe you’ll be healed enough for…” it didn’t feel fair to raise his hopes for reconciliation, so she said, “Right now, something needs to change, and this seems like the only option. And even if it isn’t, it's Charlie’s choice, not ours.”

There was nothing left for Ethan to say, so he didn’t bother trying. He offered a quiet thank you and excused himself. Sienna didn’t say goodbye.

Ethan moved through the halls like a ghost, unsure if he was haunting himself or everyone he loved. Back in his office, Ethan was useless. All he could think about was Charlie and the gravity of his mistakes. He paced the room, increasingly frustrated with dwindling hope, mounting guilt, and inconsolable loss.

It could have been hours or minutes when Ethan fished out his phone and sent a desperate text to Charlie.

Ethan: Don’t go.

Nothing.

More of nothing.

Finally, the message turned to read.

Then three dots that she was typing.

Charlie: . . .

Then, the dots disappeared, and nothing followed.

Ethan stared at the screen, willing the dots to return. Begging the universe for something. Anything – a hate message, a vicious attack on his heart and soul, or a disinterested dismissal. But the universe – and Charlie – shunned Ethan in the face of his prayers.

When Ethan had nothing to hold onto anymore, the despair he’d been running from finally caught up to him. It gripped him firmly, swallowing every nerve ending and stray thought until all he could feel and think was his grief. A sob built in his chest, but he didn’t know if it ever came out.

This wasn’t right.

This wasn’t how things ended.

Ethan had played the villain in many stories, but he refused to live in Charlie’s memory as the arsonist burning their happy home. It was a betrayal to everything they’d shared and all the love he still felt. Charlie was the love of his life, and the thought of losing her was only made worse by the knowledge that his memory would haunt her.

He could be the mistake.

He could be the worst thing she’d ever done.

He could be the person she hated most in the world.

But he wouldn’t cost her this career.

He wouldn’t take that from her.

Because she was his other half. She was his mirror image. He knew what this meant to her. He knew who she could become and what he could achieve. Charlie deserved autonomy in her career and personal life, but someone had to stop her from making the worst mistake of her life. This was his atonement, not hers.

Despair shifted to anger and back again, circling him in nauseating indecision until the storm settled to resolve.

Convincing Charlie to stay was like screaming at his own reflection. At their core, they were stubborn to a fault. Self-destructive in their self-sacrifice and idealism. Emphatic in hiding their uncertainty in pride. Vulnerable in their greatest displays of strength.

Charlie would never listen to him, and frankly, Ethan wasn’t listening to her either.

A stand-off neither wanted yet neither could avoid.

When diplomatic ties severed, the only remaining path was mutual destruction. Escalation answered with escalation.

Ethan didn’t give himself time to think. He didn’t need to. The idea had rooted. It was this or nothing.

He stormed into Naveen’s office, ignoring the receptionist begging him to wait, and as soon as he crossed the threshold, he announced, “I solved it.”

“You talked to her?” hope rose in Naveen’s voice. Maybe peace was still an option.

“No,” Ethan didn’t acknowledge their fight in the hall. It would have been a lie to call that a real discussion.

But it didn’t matter. Because he’d fixed it.

“I know how to get her to stay.”

“How?” Naveen furrowed his brow.

“I leave first.”

[abronzeagegod]

ETS WIP Chapter 8: The Time Between

Aeth took two weeks off. They needed and it, and honestly after everything that had happened, they just wanted to be without technology more complicated than their microwave for a while.

Part of the problem was the dreams.

The hospital had medical grade wards against dreams and outside interference. Along with the drugs, they prolonged the subconscious torture that Aeth always seemed to save up for themself.

The first long stretch of their time off was just fixing their sleep schedule, trying to get rest, and letting the nighttime horrors play themselves out.

It was a less than ideal situation.

They saw Lyta a few times over the extended break. She still had to work, and Aeth was terrible company in the beginning when they still weren't fully sleeping. She would drop off some food and stuff for Aeth, but left them to their own devices and spaces.

Lyta knew when to pull, when to push, and when to leave well enough alone.

Eventually, Aeth did start to feel better, to sleep better, but they were stuck in their routine of feeling bad for themself and not doing anything.

The routine that had helped them recover from the events their went through had started to become the crutch that was holding them back.

Finally, what broke them out of the habit of feeling bad for themselves was a phone call.

Aeth reluctantly answered the phone.

"Hello, this is Jer Ollowollu, you assisted me and my family with our computer and the small god we had in it," the voice on the other side of the phone.

Instantly Aeth's mood shifted. "Yes, I remember. How is everything going?"

"Well! We're actually expecting our little god to be cleared in the coming days. In the meantime we're looking for a computer to put them in. Something stable and we can use for a while without having any work or maintenance or upgrades we'll need to do. We hoped you would have a recommendation for us, and maybe help us put everything together with the Lance Corporal returns."

"Of course, I can send you a couple of recommendations tomorrow," Aeth said. "And we can get an install and tutorial set up for a few days from now, so that everything is ready."

They set up a time to install a computer and quickly sent an email of some good computers that the company had on hand that would fit the needs of the small family.

After that was done, Aeth sent an email to their boss. They would be back to work tomorrow.

<run-script-timejump></script>

Returning to work felt odd.

It wasn't that they had finally broken out of their routine of mild depression and were forcing themself out and into a new routine. It was that everyone at work was behaving oddly.

One of the first things Aeth noticed when they got in was that their coworker Yir was at the fridge pulling out a canned triple espresso drink. Which was something she had sworn off a few months ago because it was very badly effecting her mood and sleep since she had found herself drinking too many a day. Even her doctor had told her to slow down on the high caffeine drinks.

"Yir, you OK?" Aeth asked as they put their things away in their locker.

"Great, what's it to you?" she snapped.

"You haven't been drinking that stuff in a while, I was concerned."

"Thanks for being my parent, I'm so glad you're concerned. Fuck off."

Yir stopped off, drinking their caffeine down at a pace that seemed unhealthy. Aeth was left feeling attacked and like today was going to be a long day.

Aeth already found their mood souring and it was hard to not reflect the general feeling of animosity back at everyone.

They worked really hard to keep their customer service voice calm and steady on the phone but even the people calling in were being rude, mean, and demanding impossible things.

Sure enough it was a very long, very tiring day.

As Aeth was clocking out and getting ready to go, they found Lyta coming back in from being out in the field.

"These dumbasses!" Lyta loudly yelled at her phone, her anger was radiating off of her, almost turning up the room's temperature.

"You too?" Aeth asked.

"What?" Lyta asked looking up from her phone finally.

"Everyone seems to be having a day today and it's exhausting."

"Yeah, it's just a good day to be mad at shit," Lyta said. A moment later she finally put her phone away. "How was your day? Was it good to be back?"

Aeth shrugged. "Fine, but people everywhere have been really annoying."

"Let's go find something to eat, and then we can sit in front of the TV," Lyta offered.

"That sounds good."

When they found themselves at Lyta's place with some takeout, watching the first episode of a new scripted show, Aeth's mood hadn't really improved.

Lyta was back on her phone, watching short videos that were causing her to yell things or curse at them, and even worse, leave terrible comments.

Eventually, Aeth reached over and took her phone out of her hands.

"Give that back!" Lyta snarled.

"You're not paying attention. You wanted to watch this with me," Aeth said. "You're not watching."

"I'm paying attention!"

"Watch with me, or I'll give you the phone back and go home," Aeth said firmly.

Lyta crossed her arms and pouted. "Fine!"

By the time the episode was over (they had to restart it), without her phone to distract her, Lyta was back to herself.

"Sorry," she apologized when Aeth was starting to head home. "Sometimes it just feels good to be angry, even if it's not actually good for me."

Aeth just nodded. They didn't have anything really to say, so they just accepted the apology and went home to shower and try to find a moment of solace in the day that was too long and too annoying.

Their apartment was something of a refuge, finally a safe space away from all the nonsense and people that were making this day so much harder and stupider than it reasonably should have been. The shower washed away the remains of the day, the last of the nonsense went away down the drain with the dirt and the grime that came with it.

Aeth was feeling this day more than most other days. This whole week, month, year had been nothing short of a fiasco.

Really, they were just ready for it to be over.

Or for something to change.

There was a sigh that came from them while they were still in the shower. It was the kind of sigh that came from the base of their spine and in the depths of their guts that built until it touched every nerve and then the release was long, slow, and robbed them of every inch of breath in their lungs.

Aeth was ready for something different, for some catalyst to cause a change that pushed them into something hopefully better.

When they got out of the shower there was a message from Lyta.

They looked at the message, even if they didn't feel the energy to respond.

It was a link, and another apology.

"Sorry. You had a day and I didn't make it better. Wish I could make your days better instead of worse ;(" the text said.

The link sent Aeth to a site, since their phone did not have whatever app this was sent from it took them to the website mirror.

Eventually there was a video of an absolutely adorable void-cat trying to absorb an entire tuba which resulted in a series of very funny noises, both from the tuba, and the very distressed tubist. It was a very cute video and it did make Aeth smile.

The algorithm and whatever driving force behind the app automatically started playing "exclusive content only on the app" and considering that Lyta sent them a video of a void-cat there was no shortage of cute animal videos.

Aeth didn't respond for several minutes because they were sucked into the world of the app and the animal videos they kept showing them.

Eventually they did respond a short message.

"It's always better with you. but going from worse to bad ins't the best"

"but i appreciate you"

It was with only a small reluctance that Aeth downloaded the app Swwarm.

i have a kofi where you can read chapters early

[deathsbestgirl]

so some of my medical history:

lyme disease when i was 10

mono right after (one kid i was never near in the county had it)

a weird ass contagious skin disease that was very contagious so i couldn't go to school (easily treatable) that no one else in the county had

diagnosed with a type of arthritis when i was 15 (the "treatment" didn't help)

i've had 4 surgeries for cysts (ganglion cysts both wrists, left side lypoma, cholestiatoma in my left ear)

tubes in my ears 3 times

2 surgeries to replace the bone in my left ear (i'm HOH)

MRSA my freshman year of college (not allowed at school)

junior year? i started getting treated for chronic lyme (controversial) was on multiple antibiotics for 4 years, went gluten free, no sugar, very little caffeine, got cdif (colitis) (almost died) had to stop that route. tried chinese medicine (garlic & herbs) was taking chlorophyll with too much copper, got copper poisoning & almost died (when my dad was first diagnosed with cancer no less) stopped that course too. (also did a whole miserable diet that i can't even talk about bc i really like food & that also almost killed me bc i didn't want to eat ever)

did acupuncture for years, that was the MOST helpful. she improved my period, helped make my diet tolerable, improved my pain & migraines by leagues, etc etc

pretty sure i have pots, maybe eds but i haven't tried to get diagnosed because ... i hate doctors with a burning passion. my biggest problem now is fainting & allergies lol and liquid iv & compression socks have actually made the biggest difference. used to survive on gatorade & pedialyte. and i need to go back to acupuncture

i'm always in pain (muscles, joints literally all of them) but you learn to live with it. and my very helpful doctors told me to ignore that pain when i was 15 & said fatigue was normal. so um. yeah

i feel like i've buried most of the memories, like they were years ago at this point but they feel like another life sometimes.

it's so isolating and if i didn't have two really good friends at home when i left college, i don't know how i would have made it. they would come over basically everyday and we'd watch tv & hang out, they'd make sure i ate & help me clean etc etc (i had the downstairs apartment if my parents house most of the time and *thankfully* my family was always helpful & understanding, my mom fought so hard for me) my mom & my friends could tell how i was feeling without my having to saying a word about it.

it absolutely kills me every time i read about what others deal with when they have chronic illnesses because that just. is not how anyone should be treated when they're sick & in pain. i remember being 15 and the whole world telling me "you can't be sick all the time" like literally yes you can you dumb fucks. again, thankfully i had some great teachers who made so many allowances for me (letting someone leave class early with me because i couldn't walk or carry my stuff but i had no aids or plan with the school. sometimes teachers that weren't even mine let a friend leave their class. one teacher didn't make me read a tale of two cities because i missed the whole unit) i had another friend going through hell. she has crohn's disease and she almost went blind and it took a long time for her to get diagnosed too.

one of those days i'm just mad at the world. this post doesn't really have any purpose other than to say listen to disabled people, especially the ones in your life. and if you can help them then you should. it's isolating & exhausting & painful in so many ways. people shouldn't lose friends because of their health. they shouldn't be guilted because of their health. health isn't an achievement, it isn't something you can control even if you do everything you possibly can. some things we just have to live with.

[ghostlycorvid]

So I have been dealing with constant exhaustion for years and years. Ever since I started college I’ve struggled to stay awake in lectures, and even after college it’s been a struggle to stay awake at work. If anything it got worse at work, especially when I got promoted to full time mid-pandemic. I started having an energy drink every school and later work day, just trying to keep myself awake.

For a while I thought “well hey, I started taking melatonin when I started college because I struggle to fall asleep, so maybe thats it”. Stopped taking it for a month, only change was that it got progressively harder to fall asleep again. :’)

Then I realized that Hey. Maybe this is an understimulation thing? Because classes were structured differently in grade school, then went much more lecture heavy in college. Which was a great hypothesis, but I continued to be on a non-stimulant treatment for adhd that still wasn’t working.

But there was also the issue that I was this exhausted even at home, in calls with friends I would be literally falling asleep while trying to hold a conversation, read a post, or watch something with them. Things that should be stimulating enough, and on my weekends when I should have enough sleep to be awake. Plus I always had headaches.

Last week after a year of being with my current psych, we finally managed to get me started on a low dose of Adderall!

Of course this meant stopping my energy drinks, so I wasn’t mixing two stimulants. I don’t need a caffeine induced anxiety attack thank you.

And I did notice an immediate change at work! Yes I was tired, yes I was headachey, but I wasn’t fighting for my life to stay awake! Even in boring 2 hour long meetings with the lights turned low for a presentation, I kept my eyes open the whole time! I was even having an easier time with starting tasks when I realized I needed to do them! (Compare to literally just that Monday where it took me an hour to get myself to go downstairs to chop some potatoes I’d already washed for cooking)

But goddamn did I feel exhausted and like total shit. It took me until day 4 to realize that my current problem and the reason I was always so exhausted on my weekends were one in the same.

This fucking idiot was going through the start of caffeine withdrawal every week when I got my two days off work and didn’t drink an energy drink. 8′)

It’s now been almost a full week since I stopped having energy drinks at work and I have never felt this awake and alert on my weekend. I ALMOST felt the need to crawl back into bed for a nap yesterday, but it passed and I did manage to get some stuff done.

For now I’ve been instructed not to take the medication on my weekends when I don’t “need to work” (lol, lmao) but at least not being in caffeine withdrawal is already doing wonders for how I feel on the weekend.

[thepet-clownboy]

As someone who has been addicted to multiple substances, I've seen many sides to this.

When I was hooked on pills, I was dehumanized and demonized. I was a criminal, I was a bad person, I was unworthy of help because I did that to myself it was all my fault. I was "too far gone", I was hopeless, I was someTHING no one wanted to even attempt to see as human. I still wake up every day and have to choose not to go back because I want them so fucking bad and it's so hard to know that in people's eyes I'll always be a junkie, so in my eyes I'll always be a junkie.

When I was smoking 2 packs a day, I was unhealthy. I was a disappointment, I was a statistic, I was gross, I was ruining my body. Everyone had something to say, but no one had any advice. Just stop. Just stop. Put them down. I have dreams where I sit outside and smoke a whole pack of cigarettes and I wake up feeling guilty and disgusting because that's how people made me feel.

When I was addicted to caffeine, I was a joke. I was funny when I shook so hard I couldn't hold anything, I was silly when I stopped breathing because I couldn't walk and breathe at the same time without overload, I was great at cleaning. I was overreacting, I was being ridiculous, I was just being a bitch about it. My cardiologist reminds me every appointment how dangerous caffeine is for me. My cardiologist sees that my heart rate hits 150 when I roll over in bed and is horrified and scared for me when I tell him I've started drinking coffee again.

In reality, when I was addicted to every substance I've been addicted to, I was sick. I needed and deserved help. I was self medicating. I was trying to scrape by and everyone else was stepping on me in some way.

One addict is not so different from another addict. Why are we separating ourselves as if we're some kind of special "better than you at least" addict? Why aren't we standing by each other and recognizing the pain in each other's eyes and extending empathy and understanding? Why are we throwing our addictions in the ring like a dog fight? This is getting us nowhere. Our experiences ARE different, of course, but we're all still addicts.. if no one else will stand by us, we should at least stand by each other.

sick of people acting like there’s some kind of hierarchy of addictions, where caffeine is at one end and crack is at the other. different addictions are different. different substances work differently. but we’re never going to win by distancing ourselves from other addicts, and pushing other addicts under the bus

and this goes in both directions. I see my fellow alcoholics distance themselves from drug addicts, and dehumanise other addicts in the process. I also see my fellow alcoholics turn to people with “less extreme” addictions and undermine their suffering. we’re all stuck in this big long chain of who has it better and who has it worse and who deserves to be seen as fully human

someone who is addicted to an illegal substance will have different experiences to me. someone who is addicted to something very socially acceptable will have different experiences to me. but the point is that we’re all in this together, and we need to stop squabbling over the scraps of respect the non-addicts toss our way

[foxs-howl]

Something I've learned about dealing with adult ADHD is that even if you don't have the resources to get the medication you need, you can learn to work with your brain instead of against it. It's not a cure or a complete fix, but it helps.

For the last several years, I've been fighting my brain like its the enemy just to do anything at all. I used to be a reader and writer. To the point where that was what I did with probably 80% of my free time. But then sometime after I left school, I just. Couldn't anymore. I couldn't get my brain to focus long enough to do either. And I think in large part, it's because it was no longer a habit. My brain forgot what it meant to focus at close to full capacity for more than a couple minutes at a time.

But then I just, stopped trying. I stopped trying to force myself to sit down and read for hours on end. But I knee i could read during 15 minute train/bus rides. At least sometimes. So I started there.

I started with fantiction because that felt like less commitment, and I just read for however long my brain would let me. When my focus started slipping, I let it. I stopped fighting my brain, and slowly, I started being able to read for longer and longer periods of time until I was reading actual books again. And then I was reading books for hours again.

I also learned how to self medicate with caffeine if I needed to focus on less captivating things (like administrative work at my job). I figured out that if I took a caffeine pill and started working on something that didn't need a ton of focus, like making a spreadsheet or planning tasks for the day, my brain would already be in work mode when the caffeine kicked in. And then I could actually focus properly and take care of the things that needed it.

And then, eventually, I was able to come back to the book I've been trying to rewrite for years. And with all the habit building, I was finally, finally able to re-plot the whole thing, fix the plot holes and narrative issues I had been having the first time i wrote it, and take care of all the preliminary research i needed. And then, suddenly, I was actually writing again. On paper, instead of on a computer because something about that seems to help.

I've been intentionally keeping it low pressure. I set aside an hour to write 3 times a week (with room for more time if i get in the zone), because thats the amount I know I can do. And if I go down the rabbit hole of researching everything there is to know about one particular topic even though I really just need to know the proper wording of a single phrase, then down the rabbit hole I go. If that means I write less than I had intended, that's OK. I'm enjoying the process again.

Truly, learning to work with my brain instead of against it has made such a difference. Would I be doing better on proper medication? Sure. Are there days I still can't get my brain to do what I want? Absolutely. But I've learned to accept that.

I'm able to do so much more of what I want now that I'm not wasting energy on trying to do what I think I should be able to amd cant. It's taken me over a year of actively trying to rebuild neural pathways to get to this point, but fuck, it's worth it. I'm enjoying reading and writing again and feeling more myself than I have in a very long time.

[lost-in-wond3rland]

I had two 12oz redbulls and a 16oz monster today and I'm alive out of pure spite

TW for: food relationship, depression, self medication

So maybe I'm not just alive out of pure spite but it sounded more fun that way lol I'm mainly alive from riding the Eras Tour high (thank you Seattle and Taylor Alison Swift) (no, I don't live in Seattle but I did fly there).

So I haven't slept since Thursday.

Not entirely true, I mostly slept last night and the night before so really I hadn't sleep Thursday-Sunday but Sunday night was chill.

I did overly pump myself with caffeine today and it did exactly z e r o help at work which sucked.

I have therapy on Friday and I'm 95% sure I'm going to cancel. I don't think I like my therapist.

It's been a couple of sessions and:

Talking about myself is uncomfortable as fuck (yes, I realized the irony of this as I am semi journaling on a public platform but bffr, no one is reading this and if they ARE I have know way of knowing)

I'm not against natural remedies persay but e v e r y t h i n g she suggests is natural remedies? Tea for insomnia, roots to eat to help focus for the possible ADHD (on top of the fact that I've asked more than once to see a psych to at least get a diagnosis to know for sure if I have it, especially since I apparently check most of the boxes? But then she asked why I would want them? Um... cuz I wanna know? And I'm going into grad school and don't have time to be fighting my brain all the time?), exercise to raise serotonin to help depression (which yes I understand the science there but TW ALERT I have some... food and body issues we shall say that turn into spirals v quickly of I will go to the gym for two hours and only eat a singular granola bar for the whole day. So like. Yeahhhh when she said I might be depressed because "maybe you need to exercise more" that was fun lol Especially when I know I obviously don't look like I have said issues in the stereotypical sense)

So like. You could see why after a few sessions I'm not too keen on going back. I've been on a bit of an up swing anyway so like *shrug*

The reason I started going to therapy again was because things were... not ideal. Not that I was actively gonna do something. But also like. If I fell into an eternal slumber, I wouldn't necessarily have been mad about it typa deal. Kinda hoping for the whole eternal sleep thing but not doing anything to cause it, ya feel? But now things are fine and I can't help but feel like I was being dramatic because like. I'm fine. Everything is fine. And I really have nothing to complain about. So like. Dramatic, ya know?

It feels silly to me a lot of the time. People have real issues and real trauma, and I haveeee. A trip to London and Paris coming in the fall... so like. What the fuck do I need to be in therapy for? It just. Feels kinda fake. Like I'm being dramatic.

I feel like sometimes I build shit up in my head too much and then I stop and I'm like. Why. There are so many other things happening, so many other people with real life issues, and then here I am. I don't like it.

I was smoking a LOT of weed for a LONG time to just kinda coast ya know? To either feel something if I felt nothing or to feel something else other than what I was feeling. Which is great, and worked, but with my job if I get caught I will no longer have said job. Also the fact that like, weed sleep is a THING and where as not being hungover is great, I'll loose half the day knocked tf out (which considering the sleep situation might not be the worst thing so maybe I should go to the local dispensary lmao but then it makes me eat a bunch and then I feel awful the next day and cycles and cycles and cycles). So unfortunately/fortunately that is a no go cuz work and I gotta be awake enough to do hw man.

So yeah. I'm kind of in the "fuck therapy, I'm fine" mind set lately. Yeah, I get some intense lows but they haven't been consistent like they were plus I don't even know what fucking causes them. Somedays I just wake up and it's like, "oh cool, I'm floating in an abyss today". Some days I know if I spend too much time alone, my thoughts will suffocate me. Some days I wake up normal, and halfway through they day a switch flips out of nowhere and I'm just exhausted and don't want to exist. Sometimes I'm so numb or out of it I know I just shouldn't be driving because I feel nothing or feel out of my body.

But lately there's been none of that, and I've been good. So.

Yikes, this shit is not linear at all lol It's going in any and all directions. And there really is no point to it either. Just. Wanted to talk to myself about some things in my brain. But either way.

Therapy on Friday. Be there or be square! 98% sure I'm gonna be square because I just simplyyyyy do not want to go, nor do I see the point of it at the moment.

I also probably really need sleep. Or at least more sleep since I did in fact sleep pretty decently last night.

Oh! I'm also kind of in love with Taylor Zakhar Perez. He's so pretty it's irritating lmao He's also gonna play Alex in the RW&RB movie and I can't wait. I'm watching it with Lex on Saturday (Aug 12) since she has D&D on Aug 11 (cries in I wanted to watch it that night but I GUESS I'll fucking wait lol). But yeah. Hashtag daddy

-Seven

07.26.2023

[ohraicodoll]

Figment | Chapter 2

(gif credit: sic-vita) Chapters:  2/7 Fandom:  The Sandman (Comics & TV 2022) Rating:  Mature Relationships:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Female Character, Dream/Reader Characters:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Original Female Character, Matthew the Raven, Lucienne Additional Tags: Mix of TV Dream and Comic Dream, Spice a little later, kinda enemies to lovers, Cause Dream likes when people backtalk to him, lots and lots of tension Summary: She had only been able to enter other’s dreams two years ago, but she knew the rules.

Don’t interfere with the dream. Don’t create anything in another’s dream. Don’t destroy anything in another’s dream.

But then she stupidly broke one of those rules and the Lord of Dreams does not take kindly to others messing with his domain. Chapter Summary:  Nightmares and Dream Kings. Read Here on AO3 Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Chapter 2

I was being paranoid.

The first week after seeing the mystery man I downed whatever caffeine drink I could find. Just an ungodly amount of caffeine and sugar that kept me up late and then had me crashing hard. Forcing a crash meant I didn’t dream as much and if I didn’t dream, maybe my little transgression would be forgotten about or unnoticed.

When my body started to get used to the caffeine and I found myself nodding off while typing, I started googling things like intermittent sleeping and if sleeping medication staved off dreaming. The answer was no. So I took to napping a couple hours at a time for the next few weeks, but never a full night's rest.

I was thinking about the mystery guy too much and because of that, I kept seeing him in the brief dreams I did have while napping. He peered into the glass window of the café I sat at while a cat served me coffee and a human girl napped on the floor. When I walked across the branches of 100-foot-tall trees, I could feel those black endless eyes following me from far below on the forest floor. As I walked on the ocean floor with a large jellyfish chatting my ear off, I could have sworn it was his reflection I saw on the surface of the water, large and looming.

Thinking too much about something could bring it into the dreaming and since I was so anxious, he was going to appear of course. Right?

The intermittent napping wasn’t working unless the goal was to give me bags under my eyes the size of a bean bag chair. Another downside was that I was an adult that needed to work an adult job that required focus, which was not something I had.

After sending the same email to the wrong person three times in a row, I gave up and decided to take a sick day halfway through lunch. A girl had to eat and getting fired for fucking up an important document and emailing the wrong vendors wasn’t going to help the situation. I was going to have to sleep. This wasn’t sustainable and it’s not like that was actually the Lord of Dreams!

Of course not.

I splashed water on my face in the bathroom to try and shake off the increasing numbness I’d been feeling. It was disconcerting how much I’d been feeling this way in the past two years. Almost like the real world was the dream and vice versa. I felt like a shadow and after the few weeks of restless days and nights I’d been having, I wasn't even a solid shadow. I was thin and flimsy and my skin was looking a bit more faded.

My coworkers were chalking it up to the breakup but honestly, I hadn’t even thought of Thomas that much. Which probably said something in itself about how attached I had been in the relationship. He’d tried to stop by the office since I’d blocked him but luckily, we had a receptionist who gave me the heads up and he was told I was out of town for a conference. Jennine was a real one.

Hoisting my bag on my shoulder, I began the walk back to my apartment fifteen minutes away. The plan would be to go home, get some sleep, and if I dreamed I would stay strictly in my own. I hadn’t gone into anyone else’s since Thomas because no way was I risking that, but maybe if I was being watched I could act like I was completely normal and he’d move on.

Completely normal and not able to go walking around people’s dreams or remember them during the day or able to break your ex-boyfriend’s dreams out of drunken anger. Normal. I could do that. I had years and years of practice before two years ago, I could totally do that.

Pausing at the crosswalk for the lights to switch, I ran a hand over my tired face. Everything was a blur around me, barely registering, and the combination of heat and humidity from a passing Summer rain pressed onto me.

I was exhausted but anxious, the two pulling my brain in every direction. There was no telling how long I could keep this up. If that was the dreamlord and he was onto me, he was far more powerful than I was. He was already outlasting me. But what exactly did I do wrong? I didn’t ask for any of this.

A loud bird caw right above my head made me jump, startled, a few seconds before I realized my foot had slipped off the curb and into the street right as a semi-truck passed by. The world came back into loud, sharp focus and the truck blared a honk as it drove passed and my heart raced.

Blinking, I looked up to find a very large raven perched on the streetlight above me. It’s head quirked and then it fluffed up its feathers.

My heart was hammering and hands shaking from the close call, but I couldn’t help myself from staring at the bird. For a second, I wondered if I was dreaming and the raven had been trying to warn me.

“Thanks for that,” I muttered under my breath then shook myself, starting to walk forward as the walk sign turned on.

I needed sleep. I had thanked a bird. And I definitely had most likely hallucinated it bowing its head with a look of understanding before it took off into the sky.

_________

The forest was cold and foggy, the treetops so large and encompassing that I couldn’t even see the sky if I tried to in the utter darkness. My breath was coming out in ragged breaths, small puffs of white blowing in the cold.

I was in a nightmare. I hadn’t had one in so long, but the sleeplessness and exhaustion had probably brought it on.

My heart was thumping loudly in my ears and the sounds were so loud around me. Tiny snaps of branches. The chittering of bugs and night creatures. I swallowed and tried to calm myself. I couldn’t wake myself up if I wasn’t calm.

Something was watching me. I could feel its eyes on my back like heat searing my skin. I knew I shouldn’t turn, shouldn’t look behind me, but I couldn’t help it. Holding my breath, I slowly turned my eyes to look over my shoulder into the darkness of the forest. For a second everything was quiet and still except for the soft rasps of my frantic breathing.

Then eyes appeared and then more eyes, hundreds of eyes and dozens of mouths smiling dangerously in stark relief against the black void. I could see the slight inky movement of tentacles reaching and grasping the trees around it.

And then it started to run or whatever version of running a giant mass of eyes and teeth and tentacles could do, grabbing whatever it could to pull itself forward. It was so fast, so very fast and cackling and it rushed towards me.

I took off running.

The monstrous thing laughed, trees breaking under its grip as it bulldozed forward. I flew, hopping over broken logs and dead leaves. My feet were bare, each slap against the forest floor like sharp spikes through my heels, and all I had on was what I had passed out in, jeans and an oversized shirt. The cold stung and the small branches easily tore through the thin fabric and sliced up my skin.

It was gaining on me. I knew it. I wasn’t a runner, never had been, and even in this dream world I could feel the sharp ache in my sides that reminded me of that fact. I tried to choke out a cry for help but the cold ate the words away. There were eyes in the forest, eyes all around me, pressing in against me in the darkness. No moon, no stars, only a void and the cold.

There was a door ahead in the distance. I almost sobbed in relief and tried to force myself a little farther. If I reached it, I’d be safe. It couldn’t follow me through into someone else’s dream. There were rules to the creatures that inhabited the dream world and unlike me, they had to follow them.

Tears stung and I could feel the sharp bite of a dozen little cuts all over my body.

Just a little bit more. The monster laughed louder, closer, teeth gnashing.

My body slammed into the wood of the door, the impact reverberating through me and my own teeth slamming together as I desperately reached for the door handle. It turned easily but when I opened it, my stomach dropped.

It didn’t lead anywhere. The frame stood on its own and the other side was only more forest except now there were rows and rows of doors on either side like a hallway without walls. I shook, sobbing, and ran through grabbing the next door’s handle on the left.

Empty. I grabbed the one across. Another empty frame. Another and another. Each one led nowhere but gaped wide back into the dark forest like a never-ending taunt. There was no escaping.

The monster was so close and I could see the thrashing of its tentacles whipping around in the darkness. It was so big, impossibly huge as it came closer. I screamed in frustration and fear as one by one the doors led nowhere. Closer and closer, the mouths talked in a chorus of echoing voices, calling my name and mocking me.

Could I die in a nightmare? I had heard about some that were so scared in dreams that they gave themselves a stroke. I had heard of sleep paralysis and then there was dying in your sleep from unknown causes. And I was more aware in dreams, could feel the echoes of them in the real world. Could it kill me?

I shook another door knob in rage and screamed at it, watching it swing back into the open air.

Tentacles wrapped around the frame of the main door that had led me here, no longer running but curling slowly and dragging its body through. So many eyes, wet and roaming all over its body and taking me in. The mouths were fanged and sharp and grinned at me.

“...so ssssscaaared….soooo aloooone…” its mouths whispered, the voice sliding along my skin like thick, sticky tar.

I backed up, staring at this monstrous creature with disgust and terror. I couldn’t even feel the pain of sticks stabbing the underside of my feet, the small droplets of blood welling up and staining the forest floor.

It was only a few yards away now, grasping empty door frames to pull itself forward, body squeezing and filling the narrow corridor between doors.

I kept stepping backwards, away, but not sure where to run or if I turned around and tried more doors it would grab me and rip me to shreds with all its teeth. Wake up. Wake up! The words pounded through my head. My back hit wood and I could feel another door at my back. End of the line. I desperately reached for the doorknob blindly and let out another sob when it didn’t even open. Locked.

Of course.

“...nooo…where…to..runnnnnnn” the monster hissed mockingly, chuckling as it towered over me.

It lunged. I screamed.

The door opened behind me and arms yanked me back harshly, my body falling backward.

I was still screaming when the door slammed shut and dissolved, leaving me in nothing but an empty black void.

There was no light, no sense of ground or sky or walls, but I could see perfectly. I was shaking so badly. The arms wrapped around my waist let go unceremoniously and I fell to my knees, heaving in deep breaths and shuddering with how hard I was sobbing. It took me a while to understand that I was out of the nightmare, that I was safe. I think. But finally, shaking and face completely wet with tears, I forced myself to sit upright and look over my shoulder at the person who had grabbed me.

The stranger. There he was, standing in the void, towering over my hunched form.

Instead of a peacoat this time, a long inky cloak flowed around him like flickering shadows, flames dancing along the edges. He blended in with the void, made of pure darkness and moonlight. His skin was so pale, like marble, and his hair was a mess of black surrounding a face sculpted sharply from porcelain. But those eyes. Black, pure black, with twin stars staring directly at me, drilling into me. It hadn’t been a trick of the shadows back in the bar.

“It’s you,” I whispered breathlessly.

“So it would appear,” he replied, soft but powerful, like silk in thunderstorms.

The momentary relief halted, fear returning to flood my veins. I wasn’t sure if I should stand, stay kneeling on the ground, or make a run for it. But where could I even go? He quirked his head almost like he could read my thoughts. Could he read my thoughts?

I settled for slowly pulling myself off the floor, my legs weak from the effort. My clothes were torn and shredded from dirt and blood and the dew of the fog, hair matted to my face and neck. But I tried to at least stand with some dignity even if my feet felt like they’d fall off.

“You-,” I licked my lips and could taste coppery blood, “You’ve been in all my dreams lately.”

His face was an unmovable mask as he peered at me with those black eyes, “I have.”

“You’re the dreamlord,” it came out a shaky whisper, as if speaking it out loud would cause the door to burst open and the monster to come in. But he heard me, the barest twitch of a raised eyebrow.

“It seems you do, in fact, know of me,” he replied, almost mockingly, “So I can also assume you are not as ignorant as you try to seem about what you have been doing in my realm.”

I winced, hands balling into a fist at my side. I was scared and nervous and intimidated but there was this feeling deep down of indignation that I wasn’t sure about, “I vaguely know of you, but I didn’t think you were real. Just nonsense adults tell kids.”

“I assure you I am very real,” his words held weight as he took a step forward, “I am Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, and Lord of the Dreaming. And I believe, little dreamer, it is time we had words.”

I blinked and suddenly, my clothes were back to normal. No sign of damage or blood or dirt from my run through the forest. I couldn’t feel any of the scrapes and cuts anymore, though there was still a ghost of pain from where they had been. I was whole again, in one way at least.

Morpheus stepped forward, a good head taller than me and radiating a power I could feel all around me, “You interfered with another’s dream- a dream you should not have been able to access in the first place. And now you seek to hide from me.”

I swallowed, staring up into those bottomless eyes, and tried to find my voice, “I…did, but not on purpose!…I- I mean not the interfering part, I did enter another’s dream and I did try to hide but-”

One of his eyebrows raised as I bumbled my way through an explanation, “I did intend to enter the dream but I was drinking and I was upset and it wasn’t my best moment and before I knew it I was breaking things and-”

“Enough,” he cut me off. “You knowingly entered this man’s dream?”

Shrugging halfheartedly, I sighed, “I didn’t know it was going to be his, but I did know it was someone else’s dream. It’s…something I’ve been able to do for a couple of years. For some reason, before that, I couldn’t even remember my dreams, much less mess around with them.”

His jaw clenched and eyes danced away, a move so subtle I probably wouldn’t have noticed it if he wasn’t hovering over me. “There were…circumstances that kept most away from the Dreaming for a long time. Even thus so, a dream walker has not entered this realm in centuries and for good reason,” Morpheus spoke.

The term dream walker rolled in my head, settling in as if to yes, “Yes, yes, that’s what we are.”

But I frowned, the fear and tension starting to become an even tenor, almost like my body was getting used to being high strung and therefore it was less intense. Afraid but not as much. Dream was intimidating and powerful, but something itched in the back of my head that whispered, “He’s only a man.”

Dream walkers had been around though. My grandmother had said she had the gift when she was a kid and that it ran in the family. She wouldn’t have known about it unless she had done it herself so that was a lie.

“Or maybe they all learned how to not get caught,” I mumbled absentmindedly before realizing I had said it out loud. The implication that he’d been outsmarted, that they’d been under his nose and he didn’t even know it.

His eyes instantly returned back to mine, a flicker of anger in them as the twin stars burned red. And that pleased me for some reason. Like I, a mere mortal, was able to get a reaction from him.

“I am the Dreaming,” he practically growled, “This is my realm and you deliberately have broken my laws. Mortals cannot traverse through other’s dreams.”

“If that’s so, why can I?” I snapped back. It was like an out of body experience. The exhaustion and anxiety and frustration from the last few weeks of pushing myself to the limit to hide from him had it all rearing up. He’d caught me, there was no more hiding, but is what I did so reprehensible?

“I didn’t ask to be able to do this. It just happened and you know what, I’m not sorry,” I bit out, straightening myself out and standing taller, “Yes, I did go into another person’s dream but I didn’t know it would be Thomas’. But even then, that asshole deserves to have his little fantasy smashed to bits.”

It had to be delirium that was propelling my mouth, because I’d gone insane. Morpheus’ lips pursed and those twin stars flashed in his eyes as he stepped closer, bearing down on me.

“You dare-”

“For two years, I’ve been a good girl and didn’t interfere once,” I cut him off, anger roaring in my ears, “I do it one time and you’re acting like I might as well have killed someone. So how about we call that fucked up little nightmare that tried to eat me a slap on the wrist, I agree to not mess with anyone again, and call it a day because I am tired of turning around and seeing you in every corner of my dreams.”

He stepped forward again, so close I could feel his breath on me. Power rolled off him, his cloak whipping around our feet angrily. The flames from the inky fabric did not burn as they danced off him and brushed against me, the cloak sliding along my skin whispering of dreams and nightmares and stars and shadows and stories so ancient. In the vastness of the black void we stood in, he seemed darker than the mind could fathom.

The Dream King glowered, otherworldly and beautiful and full of fury, and glared down straight into me with hot anger, “You deem to tell me what I should do, little dreamer? You have no idea the games you play. The Dreaming is not your playground to do as you like and I am not yours to command.”

I raised my chin, “What is dreaming if not a place where you can play out your fantasies? I didn’t hurt anyone and I don’t see how I’m yours to command either so we’re done here.”

The corner of Morpheus’ lip twitched in unamused humor. “Impertinent little thing,” he whispered coolly, so close to me I could feel it.

“Well you’re really going to hate this,” I muttered, craning my neck to stare back directly into his eyes, almost a challenge.

I could see Morpheus knit his brow as he tried to guess at my words but by the time his mouth formed the shape to yell at me, I’d already quickly whispered out my command.

“Wake up.”

There was no melting away. One second, I was staring up at an angry ancient being and the next, I was jolting upright and breathing hard. My hands gripped the bedsheets, straining to ground myself in some way in the real world. I was awake, the room was whole and empty. No cuts on my feet, no swirling black cloak. No black void, no angry Morpheus. Safe.

I cupped my face in my hands, groaning loudly as my skin settled into normal gravity. I could still feel that anger roiling inside me but reality was taking hold, dousing it quickly in ice as the realization of what I’d done settled in. I hadn’t been drunk this time, had only been fueled by exhaustion, sleep deprivation, and the fear from the nightmare. But still, I had yelled at the Dream King.

I had essentially yelled at him and then shut a metaphysical door right in his face. What was wrong with me?

I was so fucking dead.