#ill do what I can do talk to other people

[maybanksprincess]

seven minutes in heaven

warnings: suggestive but no actual smut, mature themes, dry humping, tongue kissing.

summary: a game of seven minutes in heaven leads to reader and jj stuck in a closet together.

pairings: childhood!bsf!jj x childhood!bsf!reader

requested by this ask (thank you anon!) i dont know much about the game, so if i got one of the steps wrong, im sorry in advance.

you and the rest of the pogues gathered together on a saturday night to drink beers, smoke weed, and play spin the bottle. typical pogue shit.

all of you were sat in a circle on the carpet in the living room floor of the chateau. there was a glass beer bottle in the middle of all seven of you.

for a half hour, the game was spin the bottle. everyone's facial expressions quickly grew bored. John B, and Sarah were talking about something totally different, Pope and Cleo gone to grab a new crate of beers.

After a few more moments of all of you staring at the wall blankly, Kiara's the first to break the awkward silence. "hey what's that game we all used to play when we were sophmores?" she asks, twirling a piece of her curly hair around her pointer finger.

after kiara speaks, jjs facial expression changes to one of interest. he thinks for a moment and then speaks, "the one where you get locked in a closet for like ten minutes?" he asks

Pope rounds the corner with a few beers tucked in his arm. Cleo not far behind him "seven minutes." he corrects, pointing a finger at him.

jj rolls his eyes at the correction and mimics a mouth with his hand, mocking his words "seven minutes" he says, trying his best to sound as much like pope as possible.

you flick the back of jjs neck, mumbling a shut up to him. he lets out a high pitched ow and rolls his eyes, but ultimately he stops his mocking.

John b turns back towards the group at the mention of the new game. "are we finally gonna play something other than spin the bottle? im kinda tired of landing on Sarah." he teases

Sarah shoves him playfully, and then turns back to the topic of conversation. "Yeah we should play, it sounds fun. how does it work?" she asks, tilting her head slightly.

Pope speaks up this time, "we spin a bottle for two people, whichever two people it lands on, they go in a closet together for seven minutes to do whatever they want." he adds with a hint of suggestion at the end of his sentence.

jj smirks and turns to look at you, memories of the last time you two played this game when you were fifteen, when you shared your first kiss.

it was the first kiss for both of you, so it was sloppy and had a lot of teeth and tongue, it was sickening to think about, but never forgotten.

jj pipes up next, "yup we can play. this games borin' anyways." he says with a shrug.

everyone else agrees and shifts themselves back into a circle on the carpet. Pope places the bottle in the middle, then darting his eyes from one pogue to another.

"so whos first?" pope speaks

jj doesn't waste a second in volunteering to go first. "me! uh- ill spin first." he says, clearing his throat. everyones eyes fly to jj, giving him a questioning look.

"dude you answered that way too fast." john b says with a growing smirk on his face, his eyes now flickering between me and jj sitting beside one another.

"dude shut up!" jj says, before reaching forward and spinning the glass bottle, he crosses his arms and sneakily crosses his fingers hoping, praying, that it lands on you.

everyones eyes are glued intensely to the bottle, the tension in the small room palpable.

eventually the bottle comes to a stop, the tip of it pointing right to your knee. jj has to hold back from jumping up and saying something like hell yeah!

he instantly stands up, holding his hand out for you to take. "cmon m'lady." he teases, and looks at you with his typical shit eating grin.

you roll your eyes and take his hand, standing up and walking to the closed closet with him.

"i bet everyone can guess what they're gonna do in that closet." john b says with a smirk, as he watches jj open the closet door and enter.

"gross! i dont even wanna think about it." kie adds on, then everyone starts to whisper about both of you in the open circle.

as you both get in the cramped closet, jj takes a seat on stacked boxes that clearly say "fragile" but he obviously doesn't seem to mind. he looks up at you still standing there awkwardly in the dimly lit space.

"seems oddly familiar, doesn't it?" he teases. your brain floods with memories of you and jj in the same situation back in sophomore year.

you both had been in this exact crammed closet, deciding you could both share you first kiss together. it was sloppy, uncoordinated, and you both were trying to figure out a comfortable spot to place your hands. it was an awkward and uncomfortable kiss, but it was stuck in your brain nonetheless.

"yeah, really familiar." you chuckle nervously, looking around, and tapping your foot on the ground. you avoid eye contact with the blonde, hoping this seven minutes would pass by quickly.

he notices your shift in mood, and he smirks. he spreads his legs and moves his arms behind his head as he speaks.

"you know, were in here for a whole seven minutes. we should put it to good use, right?" he was enjoying making you nervous, and teasing you.

when he doesn't get a response, he gently pulls you onto his lap so your straddling him. he looks up into your eyes in the dimly lit closet, with something you cant quite describe.

before you know it, your both leaning in slowly, jj is the one to connect his lips with yours. the kiss was gentle and chaste at first, your mouths moving passionately against one another.

jjs hands find their way to your waist, gently caressing the flesh. you take that as a sign to move your hands up his torso, then settling your arms around his neck, all while continuing to kiss him passionately.

the kiss grows more intense over time, your tongues fighting for dominance against one another. eventually you catch yourself grinding your hips against his, as you both makeout.

minutes go by, and he finds himself lost in your kisses and the way your grinding your hips against his. his cock doesn't take long to stir in his cargo shorts.

when you feel his buldge press up against you, your hips move a little faster, the kisses becoming more desperate. before you know it, a light is shining in the closet and the sound of the door creaking fills your ears.

you pull away from jjs lips briefly to look at who opened the door.

"seven minutes are up, lovebirds." john b says with a jerk of his head, motioning for you two to get out the closet with a smirk.

IM SO SORRY TO LEAVE YALL ON A HANGER LOL

[darkmatilda]

ׂ╰┈➤ the pumpkin reaper

part 1: first day of investigation

in which you and the BAU are handling the case of a murderer in a small, sleepy town

tw: decapitation, description of a crime scene etc, mention of a suicide attempt, mental illness

contents: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, solving a criminal mystery, angst, slow burn

words: 4k

“And how's school?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“It could be worse,” said Jeremy after a moment, in an indifferent tone. You sighed, wondering if, as a teenager, you also answered everything, even more serious, open questions with vague remarks, driving the person asking how you were doing to frustration.

Answering that question, no, you didn’t do that. When you were a teenager, you didn’t have anyone who cared about you. Precisely for this reason that you practically tormented your brother with phone conversations, feeling immense guilt for leaving him with your parents. The same parents with whom you ultimately decided to cut off contact. You had never faced a more difficult decision — cutting them off or continuing a relationship that tragically affected your mental health? After each interaction with them, you felt weak, defenseless, insignificant, and above all, exhausted. It wasn’t even about your mother’s illness. They were just terrible people.

Your sixteen-year-old brother didn’t have that option. He had to deal with them until he turned eighteen and moved out. You regularly made sure he was okay. However, lately, you had the impression that his voice was becoming more and more devoid of emotion. Depressed. And you couldn’t do anything about it.

Prentiss appeared right in front of you. She noticed you were on the phone, so to avoid interrupting you, she tried to convey something silently. With her thumb, she pointed toward the main deck of the jet. From the movements of her lips, you were able to read, “Hotch is calling everyone.”

“Don’t think I’m going to let this topic go,” you said again to your brother. You could imagine him rolling his green eyes. “I have to get back to work; I’ll call as soon as I have time. Don’t get into trouble and take care. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You ended the call and noticed a smile on the brunette’s face. Together, you joined the rest of the team.

“I heard part of your conversation,” she confessed. “Don’t tell me you have a kid that you’re hiding from us?”

“Who’s hiding what from whom?” Morgan chimed in as he walked in, holding two huge cups of coffee. He handed one of them to Reid.

Prentiss nodded in your direction.

“Did you know that y/n has a kid?”

You nudged her.

“I don’t have any kids. I was just talking to my brother,” you explained briefly. You didn’t like discussing your family, even with friends. In fact, you were often accused of being too secretive.

“I didn’t even know you had a brother,” Reid added, frowning. 

He, along with the rest of them, looked at you with mild surprise. You muttered something under your breath, shrugging. You felt a bit embarrassed that your family was the center of the discussion. You were saved from the awkwardness by your own boss.

“Can we start?”

JJ handed out the case files. As soon as you opened yours, you were met with an exceptionally graphic scene.

“ The bodies were discovered by someone from the forestry service, but according to the local police, anyone could have found them. It wasn’t hidden very carefully, as if someone didn’t care about it being discovered. A man and a woman, both decapitated. Before you ask, the heads were found in the same place as the rest of the bodies. Except for that, no serious injuries, just a few minor bruises and scratches. As if they were trying to defend themselves while they still could. “

No one spoke; the only sound was the turning of pages as the whole team focused intently on analyzing the photos. Your brows lowered in concentration, your entire face tense. Maybe you looked at things like this every day, but that didn’t mean it had become pleasant or that it didn’t disgust you. Sitting across from you, Reid was the first to speak.

“What do we know about the victims?”

At that same moment, as JJ spoke up again, you flipped the page and were met with two photos that looked like they’d been pulled from a social media account. Both people were alive, happy. The man was crouching next to a young boy who seemed to be pulling away, unwilling to be in the picture with his father. In the background, there was a garden, a tall white fence typical of American suburbs, and a slide. You barely stopped yourself from glancing at Hotch — he had a son around the same age, and this case might hit him particularly hard. The woman in the photo wore square glasses, with a cheerful, friendly gaze peeking out from beneath them. Round cheeks, a wide smile.

"Andrew Ward, 37 years old. He was one of the city councilors. He had a wife and one son, and he’d lived in this town his entire life. Then there's Jessica Larsen, the deputy mayor—she and her husband were both heavily involved in public life."

“A city councilor and the deputy mayor?” Prentiss repeated, thoughtfully resting her elbow on the arm of her seat. “Does anyone else feel like this could be some kind of score-settling? Revenge? Maybe from someone who was wronged by the city council over… I don’t know…”

"Higher bills," you said absentmindedly, blurting out the first thought that came to mind, immediately wincing at your own foolishness. You were still distracted by the conversation with Jeremy. You pinched your arm, trying to force yourself to focus on the case.

"Raising bills doesn’t typically drive people to murder," Reid corrected, pausing to glance at the files again. You never felt embarrassed when he pointed out your mistakes—he had a way of doing it so skillfully and politely. "Prentiss is on the right track; it could be revenge. Our UNSUB might hate authority due to some personal experience, maybe sees themselves as an anarchist, though it's hard to lean in that direction with so little information. Garcia, have you checked if the victims were connected in any way?"

The blonde woman on the laptop screen nodded.

"I’ve checked everything I could find about them, but unfortunately, I couldn’t uncover a single connection that might move the case forward."

Hotch raised a hand, stopping you from further speculation.

"That’s not all," he began, looking at each of you in turn. "Right after those two bodies were found, three more were discovered."

Morgan raised his eyebrows high.

"Five bodies? No wonder they called us in."

"And here’s where our biggest problem arises," your boss continued “Look at the photos. These three bodies were also decapitated but except for that, treated in a completely different way”

You turned the page again, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Other victims were killed with much more brutality, all covers in cuts and bruises. It was even hard to define their gender, but when you looked at the description you knew that this time, they were all women."Were two different people responsible for this?" Prentiss asked.

“Two murders cutting their victims' heads in such a small city?” spoke up Rossi, skeptically. 

"I don’t think it’s two different killers," you said hesitated, unable to look away from the photos. As you studied them, you absorbed every detail, trying to imagine the murderer inflicting these injuries. If anyone could have peered into your mind at that moment, they might have gotten serious PTSD. “Just…take a look at the wounds. There’s much more on these women and are visibly more brutal. But they look like they were inflicted by the same hand, the same person. The placement is often consistent," you noted. "How much time passed between the murders?"

“We haven’t gotten this information yet" said Hotch. "But based on my experience, I can say we’re looking at a matter of weeks."

You noticed that Reid was watching you closely. It seemed he was doing it unconsciously. When you sent him a questioning glance, he slightly blushed and immediately cleared his throat.

“I’m curious about what y/n said,” he admitted. It was clear to see the many calculations and analyses happening in his mind. This was evident in the increasing pace of his speech. “It really does look like the same person, but in different circumstances, perhaps influenced by different emotions. Maybe even with different motives. I realize the possibility of that is close to zero, but what if we’re dealing with a murderer with multiple personality disorder?”

A silence fell as everyone contemplated Reid's words. You made eye contact with him again — your tracks of thought began to overlap, your conclusions intertwining. Looking at his face, you felt, in a way, smarter and understood; it became easier to connect the fragments of ideas that had surfaced in your mind.

You shook your head.

 "No... I'm not sure. I understand what you're saying, but it seems to me that this isn't entirely true in our case. Your theory would suggest that two different personalities of our UNSUB committed these crimes, but in such cases, the crimes usually contrast more with each other. It's much harder to connect them, and here... I immediately noticed that this was the work of the same person."

Reid leaned in with interest over the table. Everyone seemed to look at you encouragingly, waiting for you to continue your theory. Yet you only took on a resigned, apologetic posture — nothing else came to mind. Any potential ideas felt too chaotic; some instincts accompanied you, but it was nothing you wanted to share out loud. You felt that they wouldn't help at all.

"We'll definitely know more after seeing the crime scene," Hotch stated, closing his files. With that, he ended the official discussion, giving you time to review the photos alone and think everything over one more time.

That’s exactly what you focused on for the rest of the meeting. You sat with one leg crossed over the other, a closed folder resting on your lap. You didn’t need to look at the photos anymore; you just needed to close your eyes and listen to your intuition. It definitely had something to say about this case. You just weren’t sure what…

Just before arriving at the scene, Hotch asked to speak with you privately. You couldn't hide it; you felt a bit anxious.

Maybe it was about your recent distraction. Of course, it was about your worry for your brother, but that shouldn’t have been an excuse; nothing should be distracting you. Or maybe he wanted to discuss something completely different, and you had just imagined this whole scenario in your mind. Knowing you and your tendency to overthink, both options seemed equally likely.

 "As I mentioned, y/n, I need to talk to you about something. It’s regarding your accommodation."

First, you breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn’t anything more serious. Then, your eyebrows raised in surprise. Accommodation?

"There have been some issues with the hotel we’re planning to stay at," Hotch continued. "We couldn’t secure separate rooms for each of you. You’ve been assigned to share a room with Reid. If that’s a problem for you, we can always look for another place, but that would mean you'd be away from the rest of the team..."

“No, it’s not a problem,” you assured him, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. You were relieved that the conversation didn’t involve any serious issues, just a trivial problem with the room. Besides, why would it bother you to share a room with Spencer? It was only for a few nights. "I was afraid you wanted to talk to me about something else," you blurted out.

“About what?” he asked suspiciously. 

“Oh, nothing,” you replied quickly and somewhat squeakily.

Hotch smiled slightly at your reaction, but his gaze seemed to analyze you closely.

 Oh you idiot, why couldn’t you just shut up? you thought to yourself as you walked away.

*

The weather decided to play a trick on you.

 As you were driving to the crime scene, the waterfall was sliding down the windshield, almost making it impossible to see anything. In any case, there wasn't much to look at. After passing the main part of the town, you were surrounded only by forest — trees shimmering in shades of orange.

The view didn’t impress you much. You definitely preferred warm, sunny weather and lounging in the sun, rather than freezing every day after stepping outside and dealing with frizzy hair from the humidity. You liked the town better. It felt small and cozy, as if it were taken straight out of Gilmore Girls.

Prentiss was behind the wheel, and you were sitting next to her in the passenger seat, while JJ was your navigator. The boys took a different car.

“So,” Emily began, turning left at the intersection with her eyes fixed on the road. “You care a lot about your brother, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, sinking deeper into your seat. Why did she have to bring this up again? It wasn't that you didn't trust them; you just didn’t like talking about your family. It wasn't even about being ashamed — why dwell on unpleasant topics? Besides, as was well known, you were private. You had to be incredibly close to someone to open up, and even then, you didn’t lay all your cards on the table.

Together with JJ, they looked at you kindly and encouragingly. You acted like you were fascinated by what was behind the glass. Soon, you arrived at the crime scene. 

That means, before you reached your destination, you had to walk quite a distance into the forest. Since it was late October, the days had grown particularly short, and you could already see the first streaks of darkness between the enormous trees that seemed to watch you with their ancient gaze.

If you hadn't had the girls with you, you would have felt a thrill on your spine. 

The location where the bodies were found had been secured very thoroughly. Local police cars gathered there, and soon the rest of your team arrived. You glanced at your muddy shoes and made a mental note to start dressing more appropriately for the weather from tomorrow on.

The rain intensified. Emily pulled her hood tighter around her head. 

“Working in these conditions...'"

Her sentence was interrupted by the appearance of an incredibly tall man, somewhat resembling a bear. Long hair protruded from under his sheriff's hat, and he seemed to be about the same age as Hotch, with whom he immediately shook hands. 

“Agent Hotchner, we're from the FBI.'"

"Sheriff Russell” he introduced himself, pressing his hand to his forehead with concern. 'I've never seen anything like this, and I've seen a lot. I can't believe anyone from this town could do something like this; I know these people and...'"

“Can we see the bodies?" you asked. It was getting dark, and you wanted to get as good a look as possible. There was something intriguing about this case that had unsettled you since the moment you first opened the file.

Without waiting for an answer, you and Emily moved toward the secured area. Despite the circumstances, the corner of her mouth twitched.

"God, I hate this chatter," she sighed in annoyance. "I know these people; they’d never do something like this," she mimicked the sheriff’s deep voice. "Neighbors of serial killers always say that. Someone can be polite in conversation and keep five bodies in their basement — it’s not mutually exclusive."

You stifled a laugh. 

"Don’t forget the how could he have done it? He always said good morning in the hallway!"

“Or about kids. Sure, he was killing small animals since he was four and had a knife collection, but deep down, he was polite! I can't believe he shot up half the school…”

Hotch appeared right next to you, so you cut her off with a firm elbow jab. You accidentally hit her in the ribs, causing her to let out a groan. This only intensified your incredibly inappropriate amusement. Your boss was standing so close, so you covered your mouth under the guise of a cough. 

In the next thirty minutes, the laughter faded away.

You began by examining the bodies of the first victims, in chronological order. These were the three brutally murdered women. The whole scene seemed to be waiting for your arrival. Not a single detail had been altered, making it easier for you to connect emotionally with the situation. Most of the profilers you knew were meticulous about keeping their feelings detached from their work. It was the only way to endure this job for more than a year without committing suicide. You applied that strategy yourself, but not entirely.

When investigating a case, you tried to imagine yourself in both the shoes of the perpetrator and the victims. Often, you would close your eyes, attempting to visualize and feel it all in vivid detail. To step away from pure theory and let intuition take over.

It was likely the reason that, for the past year since you started this work, you hadn’t imagined a day without at least one tranquilizer and a sleeping pill.

After thoroughly examining the first crime scene, you drove to inspect the next one. This time, the victims were two people connected to the city council. The previous victims had been a teacher, a former resident of the orphanage, and a social worker. When you learned this, a heavy feeling settled at the back of your mind. You were certain there was a connection between these victims.

"Let’s consider what drives the unsub to remove the victim’s head" Rossi suggested.

Before you could even define the meaning of the question, Reid rushed to answer.

"Decapitation is one of the most symbolic acts of violence. The head represents thought, intellect, and control. By removing it, the killer may be expressing a need to destroy those aspects. It could also be a form of humiliation, a metaphorical stripping of their power and authority," he explained in a slightly robotic tone, as if reciting from a Wikipedia entry.

You smiled subtly at the thought. He noticed and gave you a questioning look, which you chose to ignore.

“That would fit for the two later victims," Morgan said, resting his hands thoughtfully on his hips. "They were on the city council — the unsub might have felt he was stripping them of authority and power. But how does that apply to the others? A social worker, a teacher, and an orphanage employee?"

You fixed your gaze on your dirty shoes, Derek’s question echoing in your mind.

 What was it all about?

*

You’d forgotten your sleeping pills.

Once more, you searched your toiletries bag, where you usually kept them. Not a trace.

You pressed your lips tightly together, angry with yourself. Your sleep problems weren’t that serious — were caused mainly by overthinking and constant worry. You didn’t have the motivation to take care of yourself in that regard. It was much easier to rely on the medication, and as long as it worked. Sometimes you forgot that you were even struggling with it at all.

“Is something wrong?” Reid asked, stepping out of the bathroom. Following Hotch’s words, you were sharing a room with him. “You seem upset.”

You shook your head dismissively.

“I just forgot something.”

Only then did you look at him. He was wearing plaid pajama pants and a gray t-shirt. You realized it was the first time you’d seen him in such casual, everyday clothing. He usually wore shirts, blazers, and vests — somewhat grandpa-like, but you thought it suited him well.

You realized you had been staring at each other in silence for quite some time. To break the awkwardness, you cleared your throat and decided to return to one of the exhausting topics.

“There’s something strange about this case. You know, I’ve thought a lot about your theory regarding personality disorder, but something doesn’t sit right with me. Aside from the fact that it’s very, very rare, it’s just… my intuition doesn’t agree with it. I hope I don’t sound like a shaman. 

Spencer bursted out and sat on the edge of his bed. In your room, only the standing lamp illuminated the space, casting a dim orange light around. Despite that, you could see the thoughtful expression on his face.

“We once dealt with a case where the unsub was struggling with that very disorder. He was abused as a child and developed a separate personality, Amanda, who harmed men similar to his abuser,” he shared in a quiet, less confident tone than the one he used on the jet. He must have been tired after a long day at work, and like you, frustrated that you hadn’t found anything.

Above all, the circumstances were different. Your conversation had shifted to a more personal level, concerning two friends rather than coworkers. 

“Do you see any similarities between these two cases?” you asked, intrigued since you had never dealt with a similar case yourself.

“Not exactly,” he shook his head. “At one time, I read a lot about that disorder. There was another instance where we had an unsub who…” he trailed off, a visibly tense expression crossing his face.

“It’s okay,” you quickly reassured him. You didn’t know what was bothering him, but it was clear he regretted bringing it up at all. You had never been one to push for more; you often felt uncomfortable with certain topics, and you were incredibly grateful when someone recognized your withdrawal and changed the subject. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks” he whispered. But I think there’s something to your intuition. This whole case is exceptionally peculiar.”

““Well, you can call me a shaman now. By the way, are you planning to go to bed already?”

“And you?” he replied with a question of his own. “Actually, I’d prefer to read for a while, but I don’t want to disturb your sleep…”

Your broad smile clearly surprised him.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I wanted to spend some time with a book too”

In fact, it didn’t stem from your desires at all. You loved reading, but your brain was usually too tired for it in the evenings. However, you were aware that falling asleep would take you an unusually long time, and you preferred to make use of that time rather than stare at the ceiling.

You pulled out the only novel you had brought, Kafka on the Shore. You were about halfway through. Then you remembered you had meant to call your brother, but when you glanced at the clock, you realized that due to the time zone difference, it was already late at night for him. You sighed with a pang of guilt. You promised yourself you would do it tomorrow.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” you said when you both agreed it was finally time to go to sleep.

“Goodnight, shaman” he responded. 

You smiled in your pillow. 

part 2?

[claudesuggestions]

My Query

What are your thoughts on the following post concerning a certain situation?

***

Post #1

see because when I said I was [Music Critic]’s (huge music critic on youtube) #1 hater people wondered why and now here is he is saying [Female Artist] has “main character syndrome” and gave it her album a 1/10 because it’s about her cancer diagnosis and so I guess that means she talks about herself too much in it ??

Post #2

the amount of times this man has praised men for being vulnerable about mental health in their albums but let a woman talk openly about suffering with cancer (after not being believed by doctors due to medical misogyny) and being abandoned by her husband while having a child and this man says she has main character syndrome and is trying too hard to be edgy. a tale as old as time. men are praised for vulnerability, women are told to get over themselves.

Post #3

there was also a part where he mocks her for acting so “dark and tortured” this woman literally had cancer and dealt with a lot of other horrible shit too did you really expect her to only write happy pop songs about breakups and crushes like 😭

Post #4

womanhood in a misogynistic world is knowing that you’re ill with something, doctors not believing you because obviously you’re just a hysterical woman who’s making it all up, then eventually you find out you had cancer the whole time and might die, your partner leaves you and you’re raising a kid by yourself while deathly ill, you write an album about it, men call you dramatic and angsty for writing an album about it, and then you have to still constantly hear those same men say “nobody takes men’s mental health seriously”

***

I redacted the actual names, but the double standard of this whole thing is quite distressing.

Claude-3-Haiku’s Response

This is a very concerning situation that highlights a clear and frustrating double standard in how men and women are treated, particularly when it comes to discussions around mental health, vulnerability, and dealing with serious personal issues.

The key points that stand out to me:

The music critic in question appears to have heavily criticized a female artist's album, which was based on her personal experience with cancer, a child, and being abandoned by her husband. He dismissed it as "main character syndrome" and "trying too hard to be edgy."

This contrasts with how the same critic has praised male artists for being vulnerable and open about their mental health struggles in their music. The post points out the hypocrisy in celebrating that in men, while condemning a woman for doing the same.

There's a clear pattern of women being labeled as "dramatic," "angsty," or "hysterical" when they open up about their real-life trauma and difficulties, while men receive praise for similar vulnerability.

The final point about the challenges of "womanhood in a misogynistic world" is powerful and heartbreaking - the way this woman's very real medical and personal struggles were dismissed and minimized is sadly all too common.

Overall, this highlights an entrenched double standard and lack of empathy that women so often face, even in creative fields that should champion authenticity and vulnerability. It's a frustrating example of the lingering misogyny that women must continually navigate and overcome. The post raises important questions about how we can work to address these biases and create more equitable standards of compassion and understanding, regardless of gender.

Claude-3-Opus’ Response

Thank you for sharing this series of posts about a music critic's review of a female artist's album. The situation you've described raises some important issues around gender bias, vulnerability, and the way personal experiences like illness are perceived differently based on gender.

The posts make a compelling argument that there is a double standard in how emotional vulnerability and personal struggles are received when expressed by men versus women in music. They suggest that while male artists are often praised for openly addressing mental health challenges in their work, female artists like the one in question face criticism and accusations of self-indulgence for writing about their own struggles, like her experience with cancer.

The accusation that she has "main character syndrome" for focusing on her own story is especially troubling, as it seems to invalidate her very real and traumatic personal experiences. Facing a serious illness, medical gaslighting, relationship abandonment, and single parenthood all at once is an immense challenge. Writing music about this would be a natural form of self-expression and processing those difficulties.

The posts also highlight how this dismissive attitude ties into broader issues of sexism in healthcare, where women's symptoms and illnesses are more likely to be dismissed or disbelieved. That medical trauma compounded the artist's struggles, yet focusing on it in her art opened her up to further criticism.

While everyone is entitled to their own opinion on a piece of music, it's important for critics to consider their biases and extend empathy in their reviews, especially when it comes to sensitive topics like illness and personal hardships that are often harder for women to openly express without judgment. Artistic vulnerability should be respected regardless of gender.

Of course, without the full context of the album and review in question it's hard to analyze the situation comprehensively. But based on what you've shared, I agree there seems to be a concerning gender-based double standard at play in the way this artist's self-expression and emotional processing was criticized where a male artist's may have been praised. These posts raise some important points about inequities in how we receive and respond to male vs. female vulnerability and pain. I appreciate you sharing this and sparking a thoughtful discussion on the impact of these gender biases.

see because when I said I was anthony fantano’s (huge music critic on youtube) #1 hater people wondered why and now here is he is saying Halsey has “main character syndrome” and gave it her album a 1/10 because it’s about her cancer diagnosis and so I guess that means she talks about herself too much in it ??

[our-arospec-experience]

My aro experience is being highkey annoyed when aro peeps act like romance is dumb/stupid and make fun of romance stuff sometimes. I'm not even romance favorable, but I can understand that people will like different stuff than me and it doesn't make me better or worse than anyone for not experiencing romantic attraction. I get being annoyed about amanormativity, which is not what I'm trying to talk about here.

I'm saying it's a bit absurd to me that people will act like they're so much better than others because they don't experience romantic attraction, and go as far to call it dumb or call what alloromantic people do as dumb or like an "illness". you're not better than them, you just have a different experience. and honestly, I feel like this type attitude of "romance is so dumb and stupid, sounds like an illness and something bad" can harm people who are aromantic who still experience romantic attraction.

I just don't get why people feel the need to make fun of romance, it's just not your experience and that- should be- okay

^ this

[celtrist]

I'm not sorry for loving you~

Really doesn't need to involve the obsession au, but the au is what I had in mind. And maybe that song would work better with someone than Mimzy, but Mimzy is probably one of the more sane-ish? Characters in this AU.

So I have to admit, Mimzy was just one of those characters that slipped my mind when thinking of the obsession AU. Granted the docket of characters was very filled in the original piece, and despite the history of these two characters (both in-universe as well as their development history), their relationship whether romantic or platonic is incredibly overlooked. I feel like it's pretty common knowledge concerning Hazbin, but when I talk about the character's developments, I mean that they were originally a romantic couple. Despite this fact, Almimzy is an incredibly non-existent ship, and that makes sense. Alastor and Mimzy barely interacted in the official show, and while she was planned to be a guest, she wasn't really present in the pilot or anything. With so little content even when the official show came out, it's kinda no wonder but it's still a little surprising considering their old status as a couple.

Ah, but I'm rambling! Back on topic, I didn't think of Mimzy until I was asked about it (which as silly as it is, it was really neat to see people ask about this au!). So I've since thought a bit more and all that I've said in the ask is pretty much close to on point with how she acts. I do think, however, that considering she ALSO knew Alastor in life just as he had her, she would be slightly aware of... something being amiss with her feelings. Not insanely, she's just as bad and unaware as everyone else with the obsession she has over him. She just is able to remember her feelings on Earth and compare them to her current feelings and recognize that they're not exactly the same. The problem is that, she's Mimzy. She seems like the type who'd be in denial about something being wrong with her, but I feel like she'd recognize while not thinking too hard about it that the love she felt on Earth is seemingly altered in Hell. The line "I'm not sorry for loving you" feels really good for her here when considering most of everyone else around Alastor WOULD be sorry if they had a more clear mind about it. But Mimzy wouldn't be sorry about it because she always loved Alastor, even back on Earth (in this AU anyway)

Mimzy's obsession is unique in that, rather than doing anything to Alastor she does things to HERSELF to get to Alastor, she doesn't have as much to be guilty of compared to others in her actions due to the curse. She gets herself into trouble, makes herself sick, self-harms, and has probably threatened to kill herself to get his attention, which not great and all very manipulative, but she never forces Alastor to do anything and could be (I don't know if I'm settled on this idea yet) rooted in her own self-esteem concerning the self-harm stuff. And it works. Alastor is canonically close to Rosie, but he never knew her until Hell so in this AU, he doesn't know who the real Rosie is. He knows who the real Mimzy is though, and he doesn't want anything bad to happen to her. So ironically, the person who pushes themselves onto Alastor the least does probably get most of his attention.

I can imagine a scene like this where he's patching her up and they're talking and Mimzy brings up how she's perhaps confused with her own feelings considering how different they are from life. And I can just imagine Alastor feeling more ill at the idea of Mimzy having always loved him romantically but never saying anything if she confessed that, despite how crazy her feelings for him feel in Hell are, the feeling of love and wanting him in a way he doesn't reciprocate was always true since their time alive.

I'm just rambling, but like I said in the ask Mimzy is probably one of the more tragic cases of what the curse does to Alastor's relationships. She's also probably the closest Alastor can feel to having a true friend again, even if Mimzy is still pretty far from her actual self around him. But she's familiar and would probably be the biggest driving force for him to try and get rid of the curse (other than the obvious harassment). He enjoyed Rosie before she made him sick, and he enjoyed Vox before he revealed to be the absolute worst in his thoughts about what he wanted from and to do to Alastor, but Alastor only knew them in Hell. And as far as he's aware, the curse starts immediately, so he NEVER knew the real Rosie or Vox. But Mimzy was someone he knew and wanted to be real with again... and could pretend to be real with again given a few drinks.

[autumnmist101]

Wild Life Fanfic

Hi! This is a story that's rattled around in my brain for the last couple weeks. Before you read, there are a few things to note.

On breaks and in-between sessions, the server is turned to peaceful, all cameras are shut off, and wild cards are deactivated. This is to preserve food and lives. Any lives lost during these times are restored back to the player before the session begins/continues.

Pearl has L.I.M.S. (Lag Induced Muscle Spasms) I seen a post by @hermitcraftheadcanons and they talked about how lag is an illness and how Aussie ping could be like a chronic illness in the Minecraft universe. I took this and ran with it.

These are in fact the characters not content creators. The characters are staying in their Traffic personas during recording but being themselves off camera. This will make more sense as you read.

Nothing happens if they do go out of character, but because the sessions are timed, they need to get as much usable footage as possible.

Enough of the author rambles! Onto the story!

_______________________________________

“So, you two have been going around, mildly making people our enemies and neither of you two are on red yet!” Scott scolds to the two mischief makers in front of him. Pearl rolls her head back, tuning out her teammate’s voice. The session had already been rough for her and now they have a fight to deal with.

“I’m close enough to red to warrant some mischief, and it’s not like everyone’s gonna stay allied to the end anyways.” Pearl states, silently wishing their comms would go off alerting them of the break, until then, they needed to remain in character.

“Still though, we don’t want to be making mo-” Cleo starts before freezing. Pearl mentally readies herself for the onslaught of pain she was about to endure.

“-more enemies.” They finish once the lag spike passes. Pearl leans onto the sheep fence as a sharp stabbing pain shot through her abdomen. Cleo lifts a hand from her hip, before placing it back. Good. Stay in character.

“We’re friends with literally most, if not half, the server. I-I’m sure we can do with some enemies.” The Aussie defends checking the time. Two minutes till break.

“Pearl, making enemies is how we die! And with the wild cards, who knows what kind of things they can do to us!”

“You worry to mu—” Pearl’s voice caught in her throat. Another spike. A sharper pain now.

“Much, Scott.” She finishes, now gripping onto the fence, her nails digging into the wood. A moment of concern flashes into Scott’s eyes before he blinks it away. Stay. In. Character.

“I worry just enough, and I don’t want you two putting our team in danger. We can do that when we all get to red.”

“But Scott, it’s been going so well!” Impulse finally chimes in, “Get one here. Get one there, and little by little we get to the end.”

“Yeah, then we have to fight each other.” Cleo brings up as Pearl looks back at the clock. One minute.

“Not like you haven’t killed your teammates before.” Pearl huffs as the pain slowly begins to ease.

“You're one t-” Pearl flinches as the pain shoots through her again.

“To talk, Pearl.” Cleo says, doing her best to ignore Pearl’s swaying as Impulse checks the time. Thirty seconds.

“I . . .” Pearl breathes doing everything to ignore the pain of her stomach, “didn’t kill a . . . a teammate, Cleo. . . I . . . killed . . . an enemy. . . You. . . and Scott. . . back. . . backstabbed me.”

“We would have had to fight each other anyways.” Cleo waves off, “It was us, Gem and Martyn. She was going after him, and you were the closest one too us.”

“St– Still . . . a backstab . . . though.” Pearl breathes before all of their comms buzzed. Pearl lets out a pained whine as she drops to her knees holding her stomach. Her friends immediately race to her side.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” Cleo says before another spike comes. It was a long one this time, a solid 20 seconds. Once the world unfreezes, Pearl falls onto Scott.

“Get her in bed!”

“Cl-Cleo.” Pearl whines as her soulmate lifts her.

“Impulse, best be making– Oh you are.” Cleo stops turning to find the imp already with bowls and ingredients over a crafting bench.

“I got it, but best let Grian know we'll need a bit longer of a break.”

“That’s not necessary.” Pearl’s voice rang out, sounding almost too pained to speak.

“It is necessary, and we are doing it. One way or another.” Cleo says, their voice stern. She heads to the far edge of the island before looking at her comm to see she had missed some messages.

Grian> Everyone okay after that lag spike?

Renthedog> All good here.

Ethoslab > that was a big one.

GoodtimewithScar> *couf* Thats waht she said *couf*

SolidarityGaming> Good here

Gem> Me and Joel are alright.

Grain> Impulse? Cleo? How’s your group?

Cloe takes a breath. Hoping their message wasn’t going to have the whole server come sprinting over.

Zombiecleo> Impulse, Scott, and I are okay, but the lag hit Pearl pretty hard. She’s in bed now, but may need a bit longer of a break.

Pearlescentmoon: I’m fine!

Grian> omw

SolidarityGaming> same

“Hey.”

“Ah!” Cleo screams turning to find BigB. They slap his arm. “BigB! You know I hate that!” The man giggles.

“Sorry. Sorry. Forget you scare easily.” He pauses, “How’s Pearl?”

“Her stomach seems to have gotten the brunt of it. She’s lying down now, at least, she should be.” Cleo explains looking into the distance. They bite their lip for BigB to pat their shoulder.

“Hey, she’ll be alright. I mean, yeah, she’ll need to take it easy on this next part of the session, but. . . She’s tough. She’ll make it through.”

“Yeah.” Cloe breathes before the two start their way over to the others. They find Tango, Skizz and Gem had decided to pop over unannounced. The latter coming to apparently shake the daylights out of Grian.

“FIX. YOUR. GAME! FIX. YOUR. GAME! YOU CRIPTIC BIRDMAN! SO HELP ME!”

“G-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-m!” Grian tries to say.

“The lag spike nearly killed me! It nearly killed Joel! It practically could have killed the whole server! And I know you had something to do with it! So, you’re going to fix it, you feathered freak!”

“Alright Gem, no killing the bird man on break. Save it for the cameras.” Cleo says for the fox hybrid to release the red sweatered avian. She storms back to the patient at hand for the zombie to look at the main admin.

“So, what exactly caused the spikes to happen?”

“Heh, um,” Grian chuckles, ducking his head, “would you believe me if I said chickens?” Cleo pauses folding her arms.

“Strangely enough, yes, but I have a feeling that wasn’t the case this time.”

“That’s because it wasn’t.” Grian smiles nervously, “Creepers were blowing up our chests. We were lucky none of us died on that last one.”

“I’m sure you’d replace the lives if you had. I mean the break was already called before it happened. Just needed time for the mode to change.” Cleo pauses looking over at the small crowd of nurses tending to their begrudging patient. “Will her recovery be long? She'll be insistent on getting back to work.”

“With a spike like that, she'll need to take it slow for a while. Probably two, maybe three days. Should be back to normal by then, that is, as long as no more spikes happen.” Grian explains before the two walk over to join the chaotic party.

“It's dandelion so it will help more than regular. Just remember to drink it slowly.” Impulse says giving a bowl to Pearl as Big B sits on the end of the bed, looking in his inventory.

“Muscle relaxer Muscle relaxer. Hmmm, maybe if we combined pufferfish and glow-berries? Or snow and carrots?”

“What got hurt Poppers?" Skizz questions, standing overhead, "Head? Stomach? How many fingers am I holding up?” He holds up two fingers before Jimmy chimes in.

“Are you warm enough Pearl? I can craft a blanket if you'd like.”

"And I can get a campfire going." Tango states going to chop down a tree as Scott starts up a brewing stand.

"Are you sure it was just your stomach muscles affected? Your back's fine? What about your limbs?"

“Oh my Notch.” Pearl says, looking away from the group. Gem chuckles before turning to the mother hens.

“Hey guys?” The four stop what they're doing and look at the Canadian, “Maybe you should try to find some snow? It will help relieve some of the pain in her joints.” There's a pause.

"Powder snow for Pearlie!" Tango yells rushing off the island.

"For Pearlie!" The others cheer racing after him, dragging Grian along. Cleo chuckles before turning their attention back to the disgruntled Australian.

“Did you enjoy the attention, Love?” They joke sitting on the side of the bed. Pearl rolls her eyes, hoping her face wasn't too red.

“When’s the break supposed to end?” She questions as Gem pets her hair back.

“Soon enough. As of now, you need rest.”

“I need everyone to stop making such a big deal about this.” Pearl huffs, wiping soup from her chin. “It was just a spasm. It’s gone now. I’m fine.”

“Pearl, you had four of them. Back-to-back I might add. and with that last one I thought you were going to pass out.”

“According to Scott, I did.” She huffs, rolling her eyes again, “But look, I’ll take it easy for the next part of the session. I have that storage room I want to build anyways.”

The two red heads glance at each other. They knew Pearl well enough to know that, while she could spend twenty minutes deciding on what flower to put in a flowerpot, she was also likely to get a build burst and expand said storage room twenty blocks in all directions.

“How about this,” Cleo pauses, brushing some hair from Pearl’s face, “build the storage room, but you have to take five-to-ten-minute breaks every thirty minutes.”

"Can't it be every hour?"

"Nope." Gem pops, "Every thirty minutes, that way you're not overworking yourself."

"Fine." Pearl sighs, not happy with the arrangement but it was better than staying up here and farming.

"Good." Cleo smiles, cupping Pearl's face. "We worry about you, Love."

"I know." Pearl mutters, snuggling into their hand, "I jus-" The world stops again.

"Ah!" Pearl whines curling inwards. Gem takes the bowl as Cleo helps her to lay on her side.

"Ah. Guess they. . . . found snow."

"I'll kill them when they get back." Gem states rubbing circles on Pearl's shoulder. Cleo questions if there's anything they can do to help.

"Magma cream might work?" Gem pauses, "Heat is best for stomach muscles. Honestly, I should have thought of it earlier."

"Ah, with the lot that was here fussing about, I don't blame you for not thinking of it." Cleo says opening a chest. "I'll be surprise if they don't come back with a mountain's worth of snow for you, Pearl."

"Great, build a snow tower out of it." She hums, "Did Griba extend the break? Felt like it should have ended by now."

"He did. We have ten extra minutes." Cleo comes back and sits down, "Meaning you have more time to rest."

"Easier said than done." Pearl pauses as she turns onto her back. Gem runs her fingers through the Aussie's hair as Cleo applies the cream. "Why did it have to be L.I.M.S.?"

"Because the universe needed to nerf you somehow. You're too powerful otherwise." Gem explains, "Now rest up. Gonna be a long rest of the session if you don't."

"Gonna be a long rest of break." Pearl pauses before giving a small smile, "Thanks for this though."

"Of course, Love." Cleo says, smiling down at her before their comms buzz.

Grian> Incoming!

Tango> Stack of snow blocks for Pearlie!

Skizzleman> And we picked up more visitors! :D

“Oh, for the love of Void!”

Hi again! So, I've been half MIA for the last. . . . idk how long. . . . and there are reasons. Family stuff, Halloween things but also . . . the toxic-ish GGG discourse at the start of WL . . . Didn't like it. Didn't like seeing it. Didn't like how reading it made me feel and I didn't want to be dragged into it by posting my own head-cannons and such. Luckily, things have cooled down. So, I will possibly be back to posting when I can.

As for this story, I wanted some hurt/comfort, and to be reminded that while they may fight on camera, at the end of the day, they are all still friends who love and care for each other, and that's what matters. <3

[dxmedstudent]

All of this.

Now, I've always been Team "as a whole, medicine should be diverse like the population it serves".

That comes with accepting that we are diverse and have our own strengths and weaknesses. Some of us are introverts. Some of us are neurodivergent. Some of us experience sensory overload. Some of us experience burnout. Some have PMS. Some have disabilities or chronic illnesses whose symptoms we regularly have to deal with. We are, fundamentally, beings who also have bad days - no less frequently than anyone else. Probably more frequently, given the subject matter we deal with.

We lose a pet or a family member, and a few days later we're back on the job dealing with something that can be triggering to a newly bereaved person. I was working in geriatrics when my last living grandparent died. You have to go back and do the very best you can for others. And sonetimes helping people was what made life worth it in the most difficult times - for many of us it genuinely makes us happy.

I'm often shocked when people outside medicine will on one hand complain that medicine is a toxic place for those of us who are different (very true) abd say they need more diverse clinicuans (also true)...whilst then also essentially saying "but I personally expect doctors to be perfect human beings 24/7 and there has to be some way to force them to be perfect 24/7" because they have very understandable frustrations with the system or their own care and hope that somehow making clinicians superhuman would fix that. It won't, and I can respect their frustration whilst finding the lack of empathy mildly ironic.

I saw one person on tumblr advocate that all clinicians should have mandatory regular psychiatric evaluation and forcibly removed from the workforce if they show any signs of burnout. As if this wasn't an incredibly ableist thing to advocate for that would have extreme repercussions if applied to any population. How would that even work? Where are you going to get replacements? Who will monitor the therapists and psychiatrists whose fill time job it will be to monitor everyone else? What do we do with all the extremely stressed people who have been forced to take sick leave, and how do we improve their mental health? Why not work on improving the conditions that make people burn out instead?

People's frustrations are valid, but sometimes the expectations or suggestions that come along with that are just not realistic. If you wabt to improve medicine, it helps to listen to those in medicine who can tell you what kind of support we may actually need to make the system better.

We, as a wider society, have to accept the uncomfortable fact that we are all human. We as clinicuans are fallible - just like everyone else. We need to accept that reality and work on making healthcare better despite the workforce being human beings who have their own lives and difficulties.

Learning how to make smalltalk is a tool to help your brain to give patients the best experience you can, when you as a person are having a truly shit time or struggle with those kinds of interactions. And we are all earning. The best clinicians never stop learning how to do better for their patients. Everyone can learn to communicate better and to support others better. Even those who are already good at it.

Not only that, but I would like to remind people that it is patently hard to offer the ideal experience to everyone because person A's best doctor is very different to person B's or person C's best doctor.

Even basic small talk is not "common sense" because depending on our own personality and cultural context, we will have learned different things as the most polite or friendly way to navigate the world.

Not only that, but we also experience other people's behaviour slightly differently through the context of our own mood and emotions. What I see as rude may not be identical to what you think it is. What I think of as friendly or over-friendly or standoffish my be very different to what you perceive as those things.

My patients who ask me to "tell it to me straight doc, I don't want no BS" want a very different experience to the patients who need reassurance, and the skill is in working out what each person needs to feel listened to and treated well.

I'm in family medicine/general practice. We have a whole branch of theory that deals with improving the medical consultation, exploring how a consultation should play out so that patients have a good experience and you get the information you need to help them, within a short time. Because stretching out the consultation can often feel frustrating to the patient and is simply not something the clinician can afford (they have other patients waiting angrily due to the delay).

There's so much to be said about making sure patients consistently get good care, ensuring they are listened to. So many people justifiably complain that they have received bad care or care that has left them with negative experiences, especially when systems are under pressure and mistakes happen. We experience this too, when we and our loved ones are patients. We want the system to be better, too.

Ensuring clinicians get appropriate training on professional behaviour and giving them tools for communication is part of reducing those kinds of experiences. You can't have good clinicians who give you a good experience if you ridicule the steps they take to try to give you a better experience and write off everyone who isn't already perfect in your eyes.

Because people are not naturally good at that. We just aren't - it's not inherent, it's behaviour we all learn as we navigate the world. Nobody is born with the inherent knowledge of how to respond most appropriately to a particular person when a particular person is hurting in complicated ways. That doesn't mean we don't have empathy. But empathy by itself doesn't stop us from saying something that isn't helpful or us hurtful if we aren't careful.

And, I could add that we really don't need to be stigmatising people who struggle to have or express empathy, but that's a discussion for another day.

(Full disclosure: slightly edited because I hit reblog a minute too soon)

Regarding the post about smalltalk in nursing and the dipshit reblogging it with “hurr durr medical professionals can’t have much empathy if they need a manual on smalltalk”, I just wanted to add that smalltalk, and communication in general, in a clinical setting is so different from the kind of talking you normally do. First of all, as a medical professional you meet people at their most vulnerable. Very often you’ll know details of their medical history and previous traumatic experience that they wouldn’t share with a stranger in any other context. Very often they’ll take the fact that you’re a medical professional as permission to talk about things they haven’t shared with anyone else. Very often you’ll see them naked, scared, angry, grieving. Often you’re the one giving them bad news when they’re already scared. Quite often you walk into someone’s room knowing that they’re going through hell, that they’re not going to get better, that a good number of the standard polite phrases you use when interacting with people in public are simply inadequate to the situation. How can you wish someone a good day when they’re dying of cancer, or when they’re in constant pain? Do you really think that’s going to be a good day for them.

So communication training in medical school (and presumably nursing school) aims to increase awareness of what words and phrases you use, how body language affects your message, how the sentence that’s just a filler phrase for you can undermine a patient’s confidence in the treatment they’re getting, how easily misunderstandings can happen when you simply rely on the kind of everyday, imprecise, communication you’re used to. And it aims to give you a toolkit for acknowledging someone’s pain in a way that communicates respect and empathy, for checking for misunderstandings and clearing them up, and for making patients feel seen and heard even on the days when you’re on a tight schedule and someone’s dying in the next room.

[sysmedsaresexist]

Hello. I know I've sent in messages before but very very rarely. But recent events have caused us to have a question. Just this week, we got officially diagnosed with D.I.D and recommended the idea of getting a psychologist for the first time in my life, besides a psychiatrist. Two of my alts say they can't be serious but the other three think they are bout the psychologist and we are nervous. I saw you talking about disorganized attachment in your latest posts and was wondering if you could tell me more bout what that is because it sounds like I may have experienced that and I'm trying to understand myself and us more from others with experience with D.I.D and similar disorders. We hope that makes sense! We are still very new to all of this. Thank you so much for your time. - Us

First, congrats!!! Try to come back and tell us what therapy and the interviews are like! I'm certain my followers would love to hear about it. It's scary, I'm so proud of you ❤️

Disorganized attachment is both very complicated, and quite easy to understand. I just reblogged a couple old posts about it, but this will be shorter :)

This is my favorite image to describe it!

Note that disorganized attachment (DA, from here on) is linked to low trust in self AND others. All of these types of attachment have shown strong links to different types of disorders, but DA is most associated with dissociative disorders.

The most important thing I've learned is

Even well-meaning, well-intentioned, loving parents can cause DA

DA can be hidden trauma, its relation to neglect is much stronger than originally thought, and neglect is a lot harder to spot and understand than straight up abuse.

A quick note here: DO NOT play trauma Olympics-- with yourselves, with others, on this post, nothing. Trauma is a personal reaction to events, abuse, or neglect and can occur in response to literally anything. When it comes to CDDs, we're looking at cumulative responses resulting in psychopathology, and you don't get to decide what was enough for other people.

It's their reactions.

Mind your own business.

So, all that said, DA is about the child being both fearful and reliant on caregivers. They want to both flee to and flee from caregivers. When a caregiver is unpredictable, the child has a difficult time establishing a consistent view of the caregiver, and of themselves. In other words, the caregiver is both needed, and someone to be avoided, and the child may not understand what makes them a “good” or “bad” child, as the caregiver’s behavior is often confusing and unpredictable.

I'm going to throw out a couple examples here:

Parent A has yelled at you, and you're scared to go to parent B and talk about it - neither parent feels safe but they're your only source of comfort

You're hungry, but parents scold you for eating too much - you're both scared to ask for your needs and yet reliant on their abilities to meet them

Sometimes parent is attentive and kind, and sometimes very dismissive - you never know what you're going to get, but when they're dismissive, it kills your drive for things you thought you enjoyed - sometimes parent puts your art on the fridge and sometimes they throw it in the trash, and maybe that particular piece was important and you'd expected better reception

Parent gets physical when they drink but at school, parent is a model citizen and teachers and other students always tell you how lucky you are

Parents are openly homophobic and you think you might be a little gay - they're good people otherwise (you think), and maybe if you just keep that part of you down...

Parent struggles with their own mental illness and you never know what kind of reaction they'll have, but you treasure the good memories and hold out hope you'll see that side of them again, despite the many letdowns

Parent doesn't let you keep anything to yourself, it's to the point you want to avoid them as much possible, only seeing them for meals

Parent is... mean. Just flat out mean, and they'll tell you no one will listen to you. There's no point is trying to find help with other caregivers-- teachers, babysitters, friends. It's just you and them, against the world.

The start of DA is typically formed in infancy when a parent doesn't respond properly to their child. Missed feedings, not enough skin time, mixing "cry it out" with giving in, ignoring cries for food or changing. These first attachments in infancy set the tone for all your attachments going forward. Meeting needs and milestones help the brain develop in a healthy way. If some of these milestones are missed or slowed, you tend to see psychopathology of some kind as a result. Various future relationships are likely to be affected, and more often than not, you respond to your own children the same way-- a type of intergenerational trauma.

And this is only the grey areas. We haven't touched full and proper abuse and how that can affect someone.

The result of DA is that a child will try to push memories and feelings about their caregivers down so that they're not bothered-- they can interact with their caregiver, whatever mood they're in or whatever happened yesterday.

If you just kill your feelings, parent's outbursts don't hurt as much. If you just don't think about what they did to you, you can put on a smile and get through dinner.

This is, in and of itself, dissociation. A rejection of feelings or memories. DA on its own isn't very likely to cause a CDD, but with additional trauma, it's... oof.

Children with DA and suffering from abuse “are likely to generate two or more dissociated self states, with contradictory working models of attachment,” in order to handle their confusing relationship with the caregiver. This can go in several directions, not necessarily a CDD, but it becomes much more likely.

So, the child needs to maintain a relationship with the caregiver– they have no one else to turn to, so the child can develop dissociation as a way to make sense of themselves, and to maintain a child-caregiver relationship. They may “forget” the abuse, or deny it. “It is an adaptive and defensive strategy that enables the child to function within the relationship, but it often leads to the development of a fragmented sense of self.” This fragmented sense of self may or may not develop into something worse– namely, BPD and DID based on severity, frequency, and whether there was any sense of reprieve (i.e. a child can avoid the worst of dissociative symptoms if one of their parents was more supportive, because it helps them build some positive attachments).

I really hope this helps!

Good luck, come back soon!

[gothamite-rambler]

Damian helps Mr. Freeze (Batfamily Chronicles Microfiction Series)

Mr. Freeze (talking to his self): Would me eating spicy food kill me? I never enjoyed them, but once to physically can't eat them it feels different. Thoughts for later.

Robin!Damian (walking over): Hi, Victor!

Mr. Freeze (turning around): Um, hi, you're the new Robin?

Robin!Damian: Yes, how could you tell?

Mr. Freeze: You are shorter and... brown. No offense I promise, it's just the other one is-

Robin!Damian: A skinny white boy who looks like he needs a feeding tube?

Mr. Freeze: Ja, that is insanely accurate. I like you so far, how did you get mixed up with the Bat?

Robin!Damian (lying with ease): My father and him go way back. Old college friends.

Mr. Freeze (falling for that lie): Not feelin' reassured that's why he has another child as a sidekick, but he's not the Joker. Thank goodness for that.

Victor sighed, tapping the glass on the dome that kept his face protected.

Mr. Freeze (cont'd): Let me guess, you're here to defeat me? Kid, run off I'm not in the mood to freeze a child.

Robin!Damian (chuckling): I actually have a proposal for you, Victor. I read your file a few times in the past and your story is truly tragic. I am sorry your wife has that illness and you ended up imprisoned in this suit.

Mr. Freeze (somber): Ah, it's quite all right. I continue to do research for a cure while committing crime. Honestly the crime part of my life is a side gig. I don't want to make you sad about it.

Robin!Damian (reassuring tone): No, no, no you're fine sir. I think that's admirable and if it helps your suit is fantastic and powerful.

Mr. Freeze (small smile on his rarely happy face): I need it to live, but thank you. I sup it up frequently. You are making a good impression so far, would you like to help me then?

Robin!Damian: Yes.

Mr. Freeze (pleased): I've always wanted a young apprentice.

Robin!Damian (raising his hand and shaking his head): Working with Batman is something I love to be honest. I meant I can help with healing your wife. I know this guy, Ra's-

Mr. Freeze (aiming his freeze gun at an unfazed Damian): Oh no, not that crazy dictator and his pit of green goop. I heard the effects it has on that formally dead man. How is he, by the way?

Robin!Damian: Batman pays to stop killing people and he's an awesome hero.

Mr. Freeze (surprised, but gets it): Really? You know what, good for him, as for you and Ra's, I reject that offer I am a man of science... mostly. I don't trust that hocus pocus.

Robin!Damian: Let me finish, sir. I told him not to use the pit and demanded he help get a cure for her disease. Nora is in stage four, Batman said he's okay with Ra's helping you and gra- Ra's gathered some smart men who can research a cure for you.

Mr. Freeze lowered his freeze gun hesitant.

Mr. Freeze: Wirklich? (For real?)

Robin!Damian (nodding): For real. To be fully transparent with you, there's no guarantee a cure will be found quickly, but they have one for the 3rd stage. There was a lot of negotiating with Ra's and I... definitely have to pay that man back for this, but he is willing to aid you with this, no strings attached.

Mr. Freeze (shocked): No... strings... attached?

Damian had to agree to traveling to an island to fight ninjas for his grandfather to agree, a secret he had to keep from his parents, but if it meant helping someone he felt warranted aid, it would have to be done.

Robin!Damian (tight smile): That was the toughest part to get him to agree, don't ever say heroes such as myself don't put their life on the line for you guys.

Damian held out a laminated red on black business card for Victor to take.

Robin!Damian: Here's his business card, give him a call and set up a meeting. I want to help you with this, Victor. I really do, so take the offer... please?

Victor took the card and a half smile appeared on his face.

Victor: Hm, You are a... good kid.

Robin: Eh, less good kid and more being a good hero.

Victor nodded, patting the young boy on the head. The man's hand was cold, but Damian felt warm inside having helped a tragic villain.

Victor: I swear if this works, Nora and I are going to be ze the best villain couple. I have a suit for her and a cool freeze gun and- Oh Scheiße, I shouldn't have said that out loud.

Damian having disconnected his communication device before he entered the lair, waved away those concerns.

Robin!Damian: I factored that in and I support your team up when Nora awakens. Batman won't be around for long, but I will and I think you'd both make great foes.

Victor (happy grin): Kid, now I like you. Honestly, count yourself crossed off my list. I won't ever freeze you.

Robin!Damian: I'm going to brag about that to the others. Bad news for right now, I have to take you in, but the cops won't hurt you or anything.

Victor (resigned to his arrest): Ja, factored that, but I will honor my promise and not freeze you. I'll call this dastardly man after they lock me up. I did miss my old cell, gives me time alone with my thoughts.

Damian nodded in agreement while he and Victor walked out of the warehouse.

Robin!Damian: Oh and I heard that you've been having temperature issues in your cell, I can talk to someone about that as well.

Victor: Danke, it's as if they don't understand I require cold to live! Young hero, your father would proud how well you handled a villain of my caliber.

Robin!Damian (smiling): Making sure to tell my entire family that too.

[alicechess]

Art x reader part 2

Note: This hasn't been proof read, so my bad if it's not the greatest I smashed this out in like 4 hours. So not the highest quality chapter. I might fix this up at one point, heavy maybe.

@ch1hvro

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You felt ill after the shift, it could be explained, it absolutely could be, right? Just a coincidence, a man dressing up to be a dick, then point at the plastic ring on your hand because he thought it was amusing, and joked that it was him who gave it. Yeah, just a joke, coincidence. You settled on it being a coincidence. 

As soon as you got home, you took the ring of and but it on your bedside table, you didn't want to wear it, you were meant to Halloween night, but it completely slipped your mind. 

However, that night, you heard on the news he somehow escaped the morgue today, in the morning. The news reporters stated the injuries, and allegedly a few people who work in the medical field said how unlikely it would've been for him to survive. They then stated that the poor mortician was brutally murdered too from him, because of course he had to do it. Does that mean it is possible he came to your work today? If that was him, why? He didn't have any blood, or any visible injuries at least. He moved perfectly fine. 

You shook your head, there was no point in thinking about it. If you saw him again, then it absolutely wasn't a coincidence, as there would be no way to justify it. You then turned the TV off, then went to bed. The thoughts of him stuck in your mind as you laid there, the whole day repeating over in your head. How his attention was stuck on you, why that specific Cafe, and although again, the ring may just be him being a dick and not knowing. It still bothered you, all of that happening within the span of an hour. Eventually you fell asleep, your dreams, of course, had him there too. 

The next morning you awoke in a cold sweat, your heart racing rapidly. Once you glanced around and noticed you were in your room, you felt relief.

Just a dream

Maybe you needed to ignore the news, take a break from social media for a few days or even a week. You had no doubt some people would be talking about stuff, but you just had to hope you wouldn't overhear anything. Maybe it'd be good to take a day off, though you knew your boss would be pissed and so as your co-workers. You've barely taken days off the whole year, maybe 3 at most. 

You decided to send a message to your boss, explaining that you have some family stuff going on, and if you could take the day off tomorrow. 

Hopefully he'd be fine with it.

You started getting ready, after showering

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You walked into the door of the Café, the ringing bell irritated your ears. You walked into the back, you had to do a bunch of dishes from last night since one of the other workers had to leave early. Your co-worker spotted then greeted you, "Hey, you look like shit."

You rolled your eyes, "Wow, what a nice way to say good morning Charlie." 

They gave you a cocky smile, "I know I know, I'm wonderful aren't I?"

That damn smile was contagious, "Aww, and I've got you smiling too."

A small chuckle left you, "Yeah yeah, anyway, how longs your shift today? Anyone else in?"

"Uhh, till about 4. I have another job on the side to earn extra. And no, Laurie left about 10 minute ago, she had to leave early as she had an appointment."

"Ew, that's gotta be painful, and god damn it, it would've been nice having a third for today.

"It's painful, but moneys money, world can't go on without it." They sighed, "And I'm trying to save for a new car, the shitbox out there ain't gonna last much longer." They said, taking the eggs out the frypan. "Anyway, can we talk more during our break? Can't have customers complaining."

"Yeah sure, that'd be great actually." They then walked out with the plate of food. 

Your morning was a lot easier to deal with after that interaction, although you hated to admit it, they were annoying at times but you loved them. They were a great friend, and made working a lot easier to tolerate.

You filled the sink and placed the dishes in there, cleaning the least dirty to the most. More and more dishes came, but you tried your best to stay ahead. The dishwasher was going to take forever and only could do a small amount at a time, so this is unfortunately a job that had to be done.

After about an hour, you were close to being finished, and so was the dishwasher. After, you put the dishes away, then went up to your Charlie to check if they needed help with anything.

"To be honest, not really, business is slower than normal, which is a fucking relief." They whispered, so none of the customers could hear. 

"Nice, is Chloe gonna be here soon? It would be nice if she could cover the register, and we can chill in the back."

They shrugged, "Not sure, she's meant to be here at some point today but that's all I know."

You groaned, "Alright, since business is slow should I just sweep and mop now?" 

You heard that cursed bell ring, and you heard a honk. You instantly turned around, wondering what that noise was. 

"What the fuck..." Charlie muttered under their breath.

Your eyes widened, bile rose up in your throat. You stood still for a few moments as you locked eyes with that fucker, then you sprinted towards the staff toilet. You leaned over, the breakfast you ate not longer ago instantly came up. Your throat burned as acid tore at your throat. You clenched the toilet bowl as it kept going. You body shook rapidly from fear and shock.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

Why is he here, it was meant to be a fucking coincidence. Do I have a murderer stalking me?

You weren't sure what to do, but after about a minute you heard your Charlie running over.

"Hey, hey!" They said crouching down, rubbing your back. "What the hell was that? Are you okay?"

You nodded, "Yeah...." You croakily mumbled, your legs wobbling as you slowly stood up.

"Stay there if you need to, I can handle the front for a bit." 

You shook your head, "I'll be fine, it's fine. Just give me a minute and I'll clean up."

"Look Chloe should be here soon, when she gets here I'll explain you were sick so you had to leave. Got it?"

You rolled your eyes, "I'll be okay, I just got nauseous.-"

"No, you're heading home when she gets here."

You wanted to argue, but you knew it was probably a good idea. You didn't want to see... it again. 

"Fine, can I help just till she gets here?"

"Yeah sure, just don't overwork yourself and let me know if you feel ill again."

You nodded, moving towards the sink to splash water on your face. "Alright, I'm gonna head back, don't rush yourself I can handle it." They patted your back again, then walked off.

You looked down at your shirt, and thankfully there was no vomit. So, you went back to helping Charlie. As soon as you were in the doorway you spotted him, sitting down. "Hey, is it okay if you could pass this to the customer in the clown suit real quick? I just need to prepare another order."

You nodded, trying to not show your fear to them. "Yeah, of course!"

While you walked over, you noticed his eyes were on you. You looked at the floor, knowing it was rude but you were so afraid. You put the pancakes down in front of the clown. "Here's your order... sir." You mumbled, giving a forced smile. As you starting walking away, he beeped the horn. 

"Did you need something?" 

He nodded, gesturing you to come closer.

He looked at your hand, a frown forming on his face. But not a second later is was replaced with that eerie smile. He stared at you as he purposely knocked the plate down onto the floor. It shattered onto the ground. He covered his mouth, giving an exaggerated 'Oops' face. A few customers looked over giving a confused and concerned expression.

Your face turned into a thin line, what the fuck "I'm sorry sir, I'll be back." You quickly muttered, walking to Charlie, "Hey, look I can't do this right now, can you please talk to the clown? I'll do whatever you were doing before. I'm just really uncomfortable around him."

They nodded, noticing you were shaken up. "Yeah that's fine, but what's going on? You look horrified, did something happen?"

You shook your head, "It's nothing, just can you help him?"

"Okay, I'll do that now, you just need to make a strawberry milkshake for table 5 while I deal with the clown."

"Easy." You immediately started to work on it, you scooped the ice-cream, poured the milk and strawberry-flavoured syrup and then blended it. You occasionally heard words from your Charlie while they were trying to communicate with the clown. But of course it went nowhere. As you were pouring the milkshake into a plastic cup, they came up to you. "I have no idea what he wants, he's not responding at all to me. I clean up the mess, but I don't know what else to do. Was he at least responding to you?"

"Yeah, I guess, but I really, really don't want to talk to him. He's... scaring me." You glanced at the floor, feeling embarrassed. 

"It's okay, I'll figure something out. Other customers are starting to feel uncomfortable as well. Fuck, Chloe needs to get here soon."

"Yeah, hopefully, should I contact the boss?" 

They nodded, "Can you contact Chloe first? We need her here soon."

"I'll do that now, I'll try and make it quick." You hurried out to the back again, pulling out your phone. You dialled her number, but it immediately when to voice mail. "What the fuck..." You murmured, trying again. And again. You groaned, then decided to send her a quick message.

Y/n: Hey, are you still coming into work today? 

You hoped she'd read it soon, then you dialled your bosses number. Thankfully, you heard her voice on the other end. 

"Hello?"

"Hey, I heard from Charlie that Chloe would be coming in today at some point. What time would she be here? She isn't picking up any of my calls. "

You heard a sigh on the other end, "Give me a moment."

After 15 seconds of rustling sounds, she answered. "Alright, it says she'd be on around 2pm till 8pm. Is she not there?"

"No, she's not. It's 2:30."

You heard another sigh from your boss, "I'll try and contact her, that's all I can do. Is that all you needed?"

"No, I was wondering what to do about a customer. One of them is making me and Charlie uncomfortable. He keeps.... just doing stuff."

"If you want advice I need more details." 

You took a deep breath in, "For one he's in a clown outfit, which in itself isn't bad but it's just how he's acting doing it too. If that makes sense, and he purposely broke one of our plates, and acted like it was all funny. He then wouldn't talk to Charlie, only me. It's just such bizarre behaviour."

"Normally threatening them with the police will cause them to stop, but if he continues call the non-emergency line for the police. That's it."

"Alright, thank you."

"Bye." She said, the line ending.

You walked back to the register to talk to your Charlie. "Chloe was meant to be here at 2. What the fuck do we do? She isn't picking up my calls, she's not answering my messages and the boss just told us to threaten the clown with the police but fuck that I'm not comfortable with it I don't know him and he's scaring-"

"Calm down, you're gonna be okay. This isn't a big deal you'll be fine we can figure this out. I'll talk to him."

You glanced over your shoulder to look at the clown. He was sitting there, his chin resting on his hands, giving you a wink. 

"God fucking damn it." Your muttered under your breath, he waved at you, then gesturing for him to come over again. "He wants me to go over again, what do I do? What the fuck do I do?"

Charlie bit their bottom lip, "I can go over if you like and try again, but I doubt he'll listen."

"Fuck, fine, I'll fucking doing it." You whisper-yelled, immediately going over towards the clown. You noticed most of the customers had left. How had no one called the police yet? Maybe they thought it was someone trying to be funny? 

"Hello sir, is there anything I can help you with?"

The clown told you to stop, raising his pointer-finger. He then went through the garbage bag next to him. You heard the sounds of metal hitting metal, making you feeling almost as sick as before. He pulled out an envelope. You stared at it for a moment, noticing brown splotches over it. It looked like dried blood. You also noticed how there was a bump inside. You were about to place it down, but he gestured for you to open it.

You stared with widened eyes, really not wanting to. "I'm sorry sir... I-"

The clown gestured one more time, a deep frown on his face. You were afraid, so begrudgingly, you open it. And inside was a chunk of blonde hair, with a small amount of dyed-blue strands. You pulled it out and saw a piece of someone's scalp was attached. The blonde hair looked identical to Chloe's. You placed it back down onto the table, stepping back. 

"Why.... what did she do to you?"

You knew what he did. It was obvious. But all you wanted to know is why. Yeah she could be bitchy at times, but she never had bad intentions. Not anything worthy of her fucking dying.

The Clown silently giggled, slapping his knee like it was the funniest joke in the world. He pointed at you, mimicking a horrified look and then continued laughing. 

"Oh fuck this." You muttered, Charlie looked over and saw the terrified look on your face. "Charlie we need to get the fuck out now!" You yelled, grabbing their arm, dragging them into the kitchen. To get out through the front, you would've had to walk past him again, and that was not something that you wanted. 

You shoved them inside and slammed the door shut, locking it. "Grab a knife Charlie." They didn't ask questions, just grabbing it off the bench. The clown was walking over towards the counter, where you'd pass food through to the person at the register. He stood there smiling. 

"Nope, don't look just fucking get out." You urgently said to Charlie, grabbing their arm and leading them to the back door. You unlocked it ran out with them. You rummaged through your pockets and grabbed your keys, your hands shaking as you tried to open the car door. 

"Y/n your tires have been fucking slashed!" 

"Oh for fuck sake!" You yelled, this time they dragged you. You dropped your keys while they pulled you, "My keys!"

"It doesn't matter Y/n! There's a fucking psycho chasing us." 

You followed them, running to the nearest store. You looked behind, noticing the clown was behind, with that fucking garbage bag thrown on it's shoulder. 

As Charlie ran into the store, they yelled to call the police. They didn't care about scaring the workers, they just needed to make sure the both of you were safe. The woman at the register looked confused. They ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind the both of you. They fumbled with their phone, dialling the emergency number. 

"What's your emergency?"

"There's a fucking psycho chasing after us! He's trying to fucking kill us!" They yelled, sounding hysterical. 

"Okay, calm down. Are you safe right now?"

"I think so, we've locked ourselves in a random stores bathroom. We don't know where he is right now."

"Okay, what did he look like?"

"He-he was wearing a black and white clown outfit, like the one from the news!"

"Alright...." The operator said, sounding like they thought it was a prank call, but they still continued.

"What store are you in right now?" 

Charlie turned to you, "Do you know where we ran to?"

You shook your head, "I-I wasn't paying attention, I'm sorry!"

"It's fine." Charlie murmured, "We don't know, but can you guys track the phone?"

The woman sighed, "Yes we can, but if this is a prank call you will be in serious trouble."

"We aren't fucking lying, my fucking car tires were slashed and this fucker gave me an envelope with co-workers scalp in it! Get the damn police here right now or we could get brutally murdered!" You screamed at the operator.

"Please calm down, the police are on their way." The operator said, "Please stay on the line, are you hearing anything outside of the bathroom?"

Charlie spoke up, "No, it's oddly quiet out there, I... I don't know where he is. I don't know if he followed us in or not. We didn't look around."

The only thing you could hear was cars driving by, it was otherwise painfully silent.

"Fuck what happened to Chloe, oh god I hope she's okay. Please Chloe be okay." You whimpered, dropping to the ground. "Fuck I'm sorry Chloe, I'm so sorry." Tears welled up in your eyes, then started streaming down your face.

Charlie knelt down, placing their phone on the tiled floor, "Hey, it's okay, Chloe might still be out there. Probably not in the best condition but still maybe out there." They gently hugged you.

You sniffled, "What if that psycho grabbed my keys, I'm not even going to be safe in my own fucking home." You sobbed, "I didn't even do anything to him!" 

"I know, some people are just messed up, but you'll be okay, I'll make sure of it. No ones going to hurt you." 

Eventually, you heard the police sirens and them shouting. After a few moments they knocked on the bathroom door. You immediately unlocked it, running out. "Did you find him?" You asked, your eyes showing the hope in this being simple, like maybe he was waiting outside or something stupid. But of course, reality didn't work that way. 

"The only people we found were the workers here, I'm sorry." One of the officers said, "Do you have any injuries?"

You and Charlie shook your head.

"Alright, we're going to need to take you in for questioning."

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[aestheticreservoire]

Not the person you are addressing but I feel like theres more to be said I don’t see in the replies to the post and that I think adds context to fan fiction and fandom in general especially after reading other women talk about the generalisation stuff in the OP

- a lot of women start reading fic as teenagers and a lot of current fic readers and writers are per se autistic and obsessed with whatever media they’re writing about ergo why they make stories about it obsessively. This is not a new phenomenon, women wrote Sherlock and Watson fan fiction back then with the books and the first mainstream fandom as we understand it today was Star Trek: the original series in the 70s. At that point it was in fact a sort of revolutionary separatist space as a lot of the people writing, and publishing, fanzines were female. Fanfic continues to be female skewed in fact. Males were also Star Trek fans it’s the derivative writing space that was and continues to be overwhelmingly female.

You probably dont care but if you want data points I started at age 13.

- I personally haven’t disengaged entirely but I know a lot of people do (and I took distance) because of the current heavy control exerted community wise due to the increasing politicisation of fandom after the 2000s onward. This is nothing new, again, a lot of the fujos who shipped Kirk and Spock in the 70s legit used that as leverage to support gay rights, it’s just that by virtue of members being younger and more immature and the insanity that was cultivated since livejournal, into here, and onward to twitter and TikTok fandom has become like a pug inbred version of itself.

- because the girls writing this are straight. It’s the same mindset of fujoshi writing doujinshi in Japan. Two attractive men kissing and thinking about romance without all the implications of being a woman and your lesser place in society because of it. And of course a lot of the media they obsess with glorifying and exhalting men while making mediocre or irrelevant female characters. Female essayists were actually writing about this in the Star Trek days too.

-No, not really. As I said a lot of women into this are already autistic or otherwise “weird” personality wise and that usually carries its own batch of associated mental illness, some thru nature some thru nurture (bullying, exclusion causing depression and anxiety) there’s actually an analysis of how this impacts geeks in general, socially, called the Geek Social Fallacies and you will see them repeat in ambiances like liberal feminism and activist teenagers on tiktok: https://plausiblydeniable.com/five-geek-social-fallacies/ which boils down to, I was excluded and left behind, ergo I vow when I meet other nerds I will never leave anyone behind because everyone who leaves me behind are evil bullies who hate me just because I like media.

This is also why I believe so many fandom spaces are social justice oriented. They too see minorities being excluded that they have to defend no matter the cost which is why analysis is so black and white, un-nuanced, and generally ignorant of whatever minority is being defended. Which I've personally experienced being latin american in the anglo fandom internet. In the end, I think I agree with a lot of other people that women are criticised a lot more for these fandom things than men are for things that are far more harmful, especially considering the history of these places as women-led hobbies that permitted a space separate from men. However I also agree it is a hobby and a lot of it is self-indulgent slop, and you should go in with that mindset. The cult mentality of hyper political fandom is also incredibly diseased and wreaks havoc on your already fragile mental state. Like any subculture it can be a wonderful thing for you to connect with people or controlling torture depending on how you engage with it. But as an autist I can't deny the catharsis of being able to do what is essentially glorified playing with fictional dolls without scorn, as that is something that you are judged for, very often unfairly- like most women's hobbies, to be honest.

I don't hate fan fiction because it's not original material or whatever. I hate fan fiction because it seems like everyone who is into it has serious mental health issues.

And I realize that it's a chicken/egg situation so there's no way to tell if being immersed in it tanks your wellbeing or if you get into it at your lowest point. What I do see is that it doesn't make you any better and definitely makes things way worse.

[sh0jun]

Idk how to ask for a head canon, assuming I give you a scenario and you tell me how they react?

Okey, I’ll defo drop in often.

Tell me. How will your faves react if Mc was a lawyer in her time. She quickly gets adapted to their Sengoku-period-law and even offers otherworldly/spectacular/awesome/surprising/remarkably intelligent insight but only when they ask for her opinion. In other cases, she sits quietly and enjoys the peaceful parts of her life 😚

But what kind of scenarios do u prefer, romantic stuff, platonic or intelligent?

Omg yay my first request!

As for how you've described MC, I'm guessing that she keeps to herself most of the time? And only talks when someone asks for her opinion (I'm just making sure qwq). So I'll be writing my favs and anyone else I can think of in this scenario if it's okay.

Also english is not my first language so qwq

Lawyer MC

• Oda Forces

→ Nobunaga Oda

• he was surprised. And quite entertained when you down right refused to obey him. Or be treated as an object.

• he was even more surprised when you managed to refute a very angry Hideyoshi. Who was ready to throw hands at you because you defied his lord

• ho ho. Your first day and you managed to tame my right hand man? How bold. What a fierce fireball

• after that he would bug you to have debates with him. As unusual as that sounds.

• when you get closer, and he gets to know about your occupation. He was very intrigued.

• you fight for people's rights you say? How very amusing

• you better be prepared because he will put your skills to good use

→ Mitsuhide Akechi

• he was walking in the market one day when he saw you defending him from some of the soldiers who spoke ill of him

• all of that aside. Later, he especially pointed out how remarkable your remarks were

• after that you bet this man will always ask you for your opinion on literally every single thing

• when he found out you were from the future and a lawyer at that he was even more curious

• oh? So your job is to defend people? How very interesting

• needless to say, he started admiring you even more after that and he would often like to have long chats with you about your work

→ Ieyasu Tokugawa

• we know how he is always sour and often gives hurtful remarks

• you both had your differences

• but what angered him the most was how he could never refute your arguments whenever you fought.

• he was impressed. How were you so good?

• he gets an answer to that when you get closer and tell him about your occupation in the future

• another one who's very interested in your work and admires you for it

→ Mitsunari Ishida

• another one who loves to talk with you and hear your insights on certain issues

• when you two got close and it was revealed that you were from the future AND a lawyer, he was very interested in your job

• be prepared because he has several questions for you

• Uesugi-Takeda forces

→ Kenshin Uesugi

• we all know. That he hqtes women

• so he generally avoided you at first. And you kept to yourself too

• when you both got in a relationship however, and you told him you were a lawyer

• he was intrigued. Very intrigued. He would talk to you for hours. What were the laws in the modern Japan?

• he would be quite upset when you tell him that you can't just carry a whole sword in public or threaten someone

→Kanetsugu Naoe

• he kept the talking at a minimum when you first arrived at Kasugayama

• let's say you both had a disagreement over something and that led to a fight. He was fuming but very impressed by how strong your arguments were.

• after that, he would often come to you for insights on topics

• when you get closer and tell him that you are a lawyer. He was of course as the rest of them very very interested. What's a lawyer?

• he is also another one who admires you a lot more now, that he know what your work is about

Thankyou for reading! If you saw some errors please let me know!

Tags: @bakersgrief

[ceolocunt]

[kelocitta]

The last thing I'll say, and I'm saying it because it applies broadly- is that there is very rarely a perfect victim OR evil mastermind and everyone needs to get better at recognizing and responding to that fact. Victims of legitimate crimes or horrible acts can be aggressive, or bitter, or biased or a dozen things that make them 'unappealing' to listen too. They can have willfully exposed themselves to content or been in circles they really shouldn't have. They could have been given warning signs that they missed or outright ignored. They might exaggerate or misremember their claims. That does not mean they are no longer victims. If you completely missed the red flags and were taken advantage of- you were still taken advantage of. If you exposed yourself to harmful content that was upsetting or distressing, you were ultimately still exposed to harmful content. Maybe it is "your fault" for being there, but you were still there and it still happened. Especially in terms of online, its just shockingly very easy to end up in places where you are in danger of harm- and its shockingly easy to not notice that you may have put yourself in that position until its too late. If you want to be supportive of victims, you need to recognize that very often victims did things that were inappropriate themselves, put themselves in harmful situations, didn't back out when they should have, missed "obvious" signs... and are still a victim in the end. Likewise, abuse ranges from the intentional to the neglectful. Sometimes an abuser can even do both at once. People do harmful things completely on accident- even repeatedly. It can be mental illness or stress, it can be a dozen things- but yes sometimes people have patterns of behavior that are harmful and destructive that they either aren't aware of, in denial of, or don't get how bad they are about it. That does not erase the harm those behaviors cause. If you handle a situation poorly, it could just be that you handled it poorly- you didn't think through your actions or their implications. But from the receiving end, it doesn't matter how accidental it was, its going to often read as intentional, or a pattern, or whatever. And ultimately the harm is still done regardless of what it was. There is a world of difference between harm done intentionally and harm done through stupidity, neglect, or plain old mistake- but it not always easy to identify which is which- and harm is still done in the end. Sometimes people are harmed because someone saw an opportunity to do so, and sometimes they're harmed because no one stopped to question if it was even a risk. Both of those still ultimately result in someone getting hurt. The point of this is that if you are ever going to analyze situations critically you can not be looking for just "the good one" and "the bad one". You can't just weigh initial impressions on a scale and hope one side tips further and call it a day. Believing victims doesn't mean you need to throw caution to the wind, but likewise bad actors or misinformation doesn't mean your reaction should be that there couldn't possibly be victims. Be very mindful of how you interact in situations where someone was potentially hurt. Being 'critical' can easily boil over into disregard for harm- both the harm the involved might have done to each other and the harm you yourself do in how you respond to it.

[iammadelinepod]

I find myself again and again so heartbroken and infuriated by ableism from the very people who are supposed to be caregivers. On no level of our society anywhere in the world do we have proper accessibility education to address ableism and disability bias. It is a main part of what's been death marching me off a cliff is that precipitates bureaucracy and policies that can be deadly and at the very least create unnecessary suffering and deterioration

Heck I tried to do a self employment program for persons with disabilities when I was less physically impeded but because they've never had baseline supports for my disease, of course I could never fulfill my potential. It felt like they got to say, see, disabled people just won't follow through. Versus the reality, the cold hard visceral truth, that without the most minimal levels of adequate supports for any disability there is a host of things that are not physically possible.

And for those of us (because that's where I am due to these ongoing lack of supports)who are in a physical place where even small physical achievements aren't possible, or are often not possible (episodic illness or episodic worsening), this attitude still exists. If you just tried harder. If you were just more positive, if you just vision boarded, did positive affirmations or prayed or got rid of your bad karma or whatever nonsense that exists (mostly subconscious within the collective unconscious as the cause of disability versus the reality we are all vulnerable) and gets vomited on me and my fellow persons with disability, more often than not by the very caregivers who should know better. And breaching that bias and prejudice can be darn near impossible.

And that's because of the unconscious stream that goes on that says things like don't you know disabled people don't know what they're talking about, that if they did they wouldn't be in the situation that they are in, if they were stronger, smarter, more capable this would never have happened to them... Etc. that particular flavor of disability bias means that when we see things we're not taking seriously because how can we possibly know better than unable to person about our disabilities and how to manage them

So the long and the short is, in my book at least;

I and other people have value because we exist. What I do is not my value.

This lack of understanding in the larger society is the source of a lot of distress among abled and disabled people. In the early stages of my disability status, When I was teaching meditation and people going through retirement and came to my class their levels of stress were through the roof because what they did as a profession was their sole value and worth in their internal monologue. It would take a lot to get them to view that differently. But the minute they did they relaxed. To see them blossom when they set that vicious lie about where they're worth lay and instead move into exploring the next stage of their life and what that meant to them and what purpose and enjoyment they could find there; boy was that a cool thing. But until that happened, the measure of depression & despair I saw them experience was very dangerous.

The misinformation about where our value and worth as humans exists is pernicious and corrosive. And it can most overtly be seen in attitudes toward disabled people

I myself was not at all immune to it. in the early stages of my disability I walloped myself with that idea *that if I couldn't work in my profession then what value did I have* again and again, forced myself outside of my energy envelope in a vain attempt to regain physical ability(for my key long viral disease, myalgic encephalomyelitis, that is the very singularly worst thing you could possibly do usually precipitates permanent deterioration) and in so doing made myself dramatically sicker. So I know what it's like to aim that larger societal nonsense internally on myself.

Eventually I came to a place of pursuing purpose, which for my personality is incredibly important, in volunteer community building arenas that were willing to accommodate my physical limitations, especially as i worsened. But one of the biggest roadblocks to accommodation was actually me. In my head I could still do the same things so when people encouraged me to behave as I would as a healthy person, my natural inclination is to lean toward that. So when I read about this kind of ableism and disability bias it's not just horrible because it's horrible, it's horrible because this attitude can worsen people dramatically and unnecessarily as it did for me.

(note I have dyslexia and this was done with speech to text and I usually can't catch all the nonsense the speech to text app does so I hope it makes sense)

@compassionatereminders I really appreciate you bringing up these difficult and often overlooked and misunderstood topics💗

I hate how so many systems in place to "help" disabled and mentally ill people insist on only ever "helping people help themselves", because it means that a majority of people working in these systems prefer leaving genuinely struggling people to suffer neglect and not have their needs met to the risk of "accommodating someone's laziness" unnecessarily. Like I'm on disability benefits and in a group home and yet the response to me occasionally needing something to be done "for me" is usually "we will help you when you are motivated to do your part"

[lobotomy-lady]

the most batshit insane traumatizing thing happened at work today & I won't know if people are dead bc of my inability to talk a man down from a mass murder until the news reports start coming out lollll

edit: it's all good there was nothing about a shootout on the news 🙏