#im finally talking to a psychologist

[inthepoemsandthesands]

therapy

it was so easy to blame my parents

for not getting me help

for not noticing that i needed it

i blamed them so i did not have to blame myself

for not advocating

for being scared

for disregarding all the advice i give to other people

but now they noticed

and im still scared

and what i've thought i needed for so long

maybe won't work after all

[nofuckingbody]

guys it’s happening again my codependent friendship is slipping away

[actuallyverynormalbtw]

i dont like to talk about self-diagnosis because i dont enjoy people making assumptions about me, my illnesses, and my diagnostic status. but i will say:

i have self diagnosed and gone on to be medically validated with an official diagnosis. multiple times actually. i was never wrong about my self-diagnoses.

however, i have been misdiagnosed by professionals FIVE TIMES. and let me tell you, a professional diagnosis being wrong is far more harmful than a self-diagnosis being wrong.

if your self diagnosis is wrong, maybe you used the wrong language or put yourself in a box or now feel invalid and whatnot. but if your professional diagnosis is wrong, it can lead to abuse, medical trauma, panic attacks, issues with medication, even suicide.

i was misdiagnosed with BPD when i was 15 by a psychologist that i spoke to for hardly even 10 minutes. this diagnosis was based on my parent's description of my reactions to abuse, and the diagnosis was used to validate and excuse their abuse.

i was misdiagnosed with MDD when i was 12 and put through several different types of anti-depressants. we never found anything that worked, because it was actually ADHD and dissociation, but i did end up with panic attacks and insomnia all throughout middle/highschool!

when i self-diagnosed with autism however, it saved my life. it took me out of active suicidality because i was able to finally able to accept myself after years of feeling like i am just "being a person wrong". i had the knowledge to accomodate for myself and the language to advocate for myself. this was life changing. even if i was wrong, which i wasnt, i dont see how it couldve caused any harm.

my opinions on self-diagnoses arent black and white, and im not entirely settled on them either, but i do think this is important to understand. doctors and psychologists are not all knowing. we live in a time where we can access thousands of dollars worth of university level education on the internet, even the same exact resources medical students use. plenty of people are capable of interpreting themselves and that information to come to a conclusion about what they are experiencing and what might help.

sure, self-diagnosis might be biased. but a professional is most likely going to be just as biased, and possibly less aware of it. its just silly to use bias as a primary argument when it is an inescapable feature of human psychology. there is a reason ADHD is underdiagnosed in women. there is a reason anxiety disorders are underdiagnosed in men.

an incorrect self-diagnosis wont take away resources or your space in your comminities. but professional misdiagnosis can cause real damage.

(i am not trying to fear-monger about professional diagnosis, moreso responding to the fear-mongering surrounding self-diagnosis)

[delulujuls]

birds of a feather | joost klein

hi, its me again. i know its been a hot minute since i posted here but literally i have no idea when the past month left.

anyway, im alive and i finally got a chance to write something, so here it is. its nothing that i used to post here i guess, but i it means a lot to me. while writing this i remembered all of those dark days that i managed to survive. and i guess, joost himself did too.

please, if you struggle with mental health or you just dont feel good at that moment, i do not recommend to read this. feel free to text me if you need to talk to someone.

remember that you are not alone. you can get trough everything as long as you have you.

je bent sterker dan je denkt

summary: joost is struggling with his mental health, but so do reader. but together its a bit easier to go through storm and its even better to look at the rainbow with someone dear by your side.

warnings: struggling with depression, ed, parents loss

pairing: fem!bff!reader x joost klein

Snow fell throughout the night, so the next morning, all of Leeuwarden woke up under a heavy, white blanket.

However, some didn’t get the chance to wake up because they hadn’t managed to close their eyes at all. One of those people was a girl laying down with open eyes in her dark room.

Despite having no desire, motivation, or strength, after a while she sat up in bed more than an hour before her alarm was set to go off. She wrapped herself in the blanket and closed her aching eyes. It felt as if someone had poured two bags of sand under her eyelids.

Her room was in complete darkness, with only the warm, yellow light from a streetlamp filtering in through the uncovered window. The whole house was silent, and nothing outside suggested that anyone else existed in the world but her. She could hear her tear-stuck eyelashes pulling apart with each blink.

She sighed heavily and rubbed her face with her hands before finally getting out of bed. She couldn’t afford to skip class; she had already accumulated too many absences recently. The last thing she wanted was to deal with her teacher, who kept repeating the same thing over and over— that she should talk to her parents, that she would call in a psychologist. Just let me live, woman, she thought. Or better yet, let me die.

With a soft groan of displeasure, the girl pulled off her warm sweats and quickly put on an uncomfortably cold shirt and hoodie. The jeans she put on were also unpleasantly cold and stiff. The chill around her cut to the bone.

When she went to the bathroom and turned on the light, she squinted with a grimace. She shuffled over to the mirror and looked at her reflection. Nothing surprising stared back at her. Puffy, red eyes from crying, chapped lips, and skin irritated from a runny nose. She sighed and looked down, tying up her hair and turning on the tap, trying to make herself somewhat presentable.

When she finished, she didn’t look much better. The last thing she felt like doing was putting on makeup. A shower from the previous evening was the best she could manage. Before going downstairs, she grabbed her backpack and phone, glancing at the screen. Beside the clock, it was empty. Worried that maybe WhatsApp had failed, she opened the app and clicked on her last conversation. Joost hadn’t replied to her messages since the night before. She sighed and shoved the phone into her pocket. She knew she wouldn’t go straight home after class.

Not feeling like eating breakfast, she simply put on her shoes, jacket, and left the house. It was even colder outside, so she pulled her hood over her head and wrapped herself in a scarf. She couldn’t wear gloves—how else would she change songs, she thought, putting her tangled earphones in.

Even more snow had fallen than it seemed when looking out the window. It was still early, so the streets were covered in snow. The walk to the bus stop was exhausting. When she finally reached it, she realized she still had plenty of time to spare. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and took a drag. She pulled out her phone from the other pocket, changed the song, and opened her conversation with Joost again. Nothing had changed.

you could at least read my messages. that way, id know if you were alive 06:50

She typed with frozen fingers, holding the cigarette between her lips. The girl exhaled the smoke and sent the message, glancing at the cracked screen of her phone with faint hope. Nothing.

The phone that received the message vibrated on the bed. Its owner, however, wasn’t there but on the floor. Joost lay on the ground, staring at the ceiling. He tried to focus on breathing. Only on breathing. Only on surviving.

He had no idea what time it was, how long he had been lying there. Had he made it through the night, or was it still yesterday, or maybe already tomorrow? On both sides of his head were small, wet spots from the tears that had spilled from his heavy eyelids. He was like a defeated, fallen Gulliver, his tears carving out lakes.

He didn’t feel the cold, didn’t feel the pain in his back. He didn’t feel how badly his head hurt from crying or the emptiness in his stomach. He couldn’t remember when he last ate something warm, despite his sister and brother's urging, when he last took a shower, or held his phone. When was the last time he actually spoke to someone? A few hours ago? Or last month?

If looks could drill holes, there would already be a small but precise one in his ceiling. Only when he heard a knock on the door did he snap out of it. It was morning, and his room was filled with light. He had survived the night.

“I’m heading to work, want a ride to school?” his sister’s voice came from behind the door.

It took him about five seconds to remember how his vocal cords worked.

“No, I’ll manage.”

“Are you planning to stay home?”

Silence. On both sides of the door.

“I don’t want to have your school on my back, okay? You’ll go back to class after the weekend.”

Joost sighed in relief, closing his eyes.

“Thanks, really.”

“There’s breakfast on the table,” he heard her footsteps fade away. “Eat something!”

At that moment, he regained consciousness. With great effort, he managed to sit up and lean his back against the bed. He rubbed his face with his hands and clenched his fists in his hair. After a moment, he sighed and looked ahead. The clock on the bedside table showed a few minutes before eight. He hadn’t even heard whether his brother had returned from the night shift. It was as if he’d been in a trance all night, focused only on the passing seconds, taking minute by minute, hour by hour.

When he managed to climb back into bed, he pressed his cheek against the cold pillow and instinctively reached for the phone lying nearby. In the flood of notifications, he noticed more than ten messages from his friend. He felt a pang of guilt.

He swiped and entered their conversation.

you know we can always talk. you dont have to deal with this all on your own 00:21

i know. thanks 00:46

That was the last message he had replied to.

apparently you dont know, because youre doing it again 00:54

you always shut yourself off and dont let anyone in. why cant you understand that you matter to someone? 00:55

you act like youre deliberately torturing yourself, like you purposely want to take on all the fucking pain and show that only you are suffering. surprise, youre not the only one 01:00

im sorry. i didnt mean it like that. its just been hard for me too lately, and im worried about you. i didnt want to say that. im sorry.. 01:12

i want to help you, but i dont know how. how am i supposed to do that if you wont let me? 01:18

i cant imagine losing you, do you understand? 01:19

for fucks sake, theyd bury us together. i couldnt make it without you 01:20

let me help you, please. or at least dont shut me out 04:29

im worried, joost. please reply 13:54

Missed calls x7

you could at least read my messages. as it is, i dont even know if youre alive 06:50

im alive. im sorry 08:01

He replied, staring at the screen. He read her messages several times. He knew he could rely on her, that he mattered to her. But on the other hand, he couldn’t accept it. Him? Someone cared about him? Hey, wasn’t he just the funny, slightly chubby kid who always told silly jokes and made everyone laugh? That he had problems? What kind of problems could a teenager like him have?

She, however, knew that Joost had been through a lot. Losing his parents year after year can break anyone, let alone someone like him. Since she had met him in high school, Joost had always seemed like an extrovert, the center of attention, telling the funniest jokes with his booming voice. But beneath the surface, which he had built himself, lay an incredibly sensitive boy with a big heart. He was the kind of person children smiled at, and dogs ran up to for a pet.

Joost was like a gentle giant. He could pretend that nothing bothered him, that dumb jokes or words thrown around in laughter didn’t hurt. But every one of those words or situations lodged itself tightly in his mind like a pack of rats that couldn’t be driven out for anything. It was as if his body lacked the receptors for anger or aggression. He wished everyone he knew well, but the feeling wasn’t always mutual.

When he was younger, not long after his parents died, he was often mocked for being an orphan. The mean comments and jabs were so hurtful that he stopped attending classes. When someone pointed out that he seemed to have put on a bit of weight recently, he went a week eating nothing but apples, drinking water and smoking cigarettes.

Now, even though some time had passed since then, and he had been through several rounds of therapy, he still had periods like this. When all he wanted was to be alone and let the cold embrace of sadness surround him. To rest his head on the bony shoulder of depression and weep bitterly.

But it wasn’t to be, as he suddenly flinched, hearing something hit his bedroom window. He realized he had lost touch with reality again and had been staring at his phone’s dark screen for who knows how long.

Thinking he had misheard, he settled more comfortably on his pillow.

The girl squeezed the snow harder in her hands, forming a snowball. She took aim and threw it at his window again. When Joost replied to her message, she knew she had to seize the moment. She had skipped the last two classes and immediately went to her friend’s house. She wasn’t leaving until she talked to him.

She took aim again and threw another snowball at the window. This time with success, as moments later, she saw Joost looking out.

He wasn’t sure whether to believe his eyes, but his friend tapped her finger on her wrist, signaling that she had been waiting long enough. The corner of Joost’s mouth involuntarily twitched upwards, and he quickly went to open the door. He knew that if he didn’t, this psycho would keep throwing snowballs until the window broke, and she’d climb in through the tree. He preferred to avoid that.

He unlocked and opened the door, but before he could say anything, she threw herself around his neck and hugged him tightly. She was cold, and her hair smelled like frost, but she was so alive, so different from the bony arms of depression.

“Don’t do that again,” she mumbled, holding him close.

Joost felt all the air trapped in his lungs release as he closed his eyes. He wrapped his arms around his friend, resting his cheek on her head.

"You're letting the cold in," he said after a moment, trying to lighten the mood as the wind blew snowflakes inside. "Come on, get inside."

A few moments later, the two friends were in Joost's room. It was clear that cleaning up was the last thing on his mind. The girl glanced around and silently began picking up the scattered clothes from the floor.

"Please, leave it," Joost groaned, collapsing onto the bed. "I'll do it later."

"If you're not going to help, then go take a shower," she replied, putting the relatively clean clothes back into the closet and setting the dirty ones aside near the door.

"I'll do that later too," he mumbled, rubbing his face with his hands. Only now did he start to feel how utterly exhausted he really was.

"We both know how that will go," she said pointedly, casting a glance his way. He sighed, feeling her gaze on him.

"I'm too tired. I just can't."

The girl hung up his coat and sat next to him. Joost looked at her face. Only now did he notice her puffy, swollen eyes, sunken cheeks despite the rosy flush from the cold, and chapped lips. He recognized the look.

He immediately recalled one of the messages she had sent him. You're not the only one suffering.

"What happened?"

He furrowed his brows and sat up, studying her face carefully. She knew exactly what he meant. Joost saw the same exhaustion in her that she often saw in him.

She sighed and lowered her gaze.

"I haven't been feeling great these past few days. But you probably know what I mean."

This time, it was his turn to lower his gaze. He didn't know what to say.

He didn't need to say anything.

She moved closer and hugged him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Joost desperately hugged her back, holding her in a bear-like grip.

"I'm sorry," he muttered after a while, still holding her. His voice trembled. "I should be supporting you, but instead, I'm just a burden. It's the only thing I'm good at."

"You're not a burden, Joost," she protested, pulling back slightly to look at him, emphasizing her words. "We should be supporting each other. No one else will understand us better than we understand each other. We're in this together."

At some point during her words, two large tears rolled down Joost's cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry," he said, burying his face in his hands, knowing that those two tears were just the beginning. On top of feeling miserable, guilt now added to the weight. It's not that he was unaware of his friend's struggles with mental health—he knew, just as she knew what he was going through. On most days, both of them were cheerful and lively, the life of the party. But sometimes, for a few days, a week, or even two, their light would go out. Depression was a grim lighthouse keeper.

She hugged him again, holding him tightly. Joost clung to her as if she were a lifeline.

"Everything will be okay," she whispered, stroking his hair.

"Everything will be okay," he echoed. "We'll get through this."

They sat there in silence for an undefined amount of time, wrapped in each other's arms.

"I'm not joking about that shower," she said after a while. "I guarantee you'll feel better."

Joost sighed and pulled away from her, nodding. He stood up and went to his closet, grabbing some clean clothes.

"You don't have to clean up, really," he said, glancing at her one last time before reaching for the door handle.

"And wash your hair too," she replied, standing up and continuing to organize his clothes. She looked at him and gave him a small smile, nodding her head to tell him to go and not to worry about the rest.

"Thank you," he returned her smile and went to take a shower.

When he came back, he looked much better. He also felt better. His room no longer resembled a battlefield. Clothes and trash no longer littered the floor, dirty dishes were gone, and the bed was made. But his friend was nowhere to be seen.

Joost peeked out of the door and, hearing movement in the kitchen, went downstairs. His friend was putting dishes into the dishwasher.

"This is probably for you," she said, pointing to some sandwiches wrapped up on the counter.

"I doubt I can eat anything," he replied, glancing apologetically at her. After a moment, he wondered if she had eaten. She also had trouble with eating sometimes. "But I'll eat if you eat with me."

"That won't be enough for us."

"I know, but we can make pancakes."

The girl smiled at his suggestion and nodded.

A few moments later, the kitchen filled with the smell of frying pancakes and the sound of easy conversation. The kind of conversation that, after a storm, offers a glimpse of normalcy. Joost flipped the pancakes while his friend sliced fruit they had found in the fridge. The warm atmosphere began to chase away the heavy clouds.

They weren’t alone. Even when they craved solitude, they weren't isolated. They had each other.

The girl unintentionally glanced at her friend, and noticing his damp bangs falling into his eyes, she pushed them back from his forehead with a gentle hand. Joost smiled at her gesture, unable to help it. She smiled too.

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone Can't change the weather, might not be forever But if it's forever, it's even better

Neither of them said it aloud that afternoon, but in the quiet corners of their minds, they both thought how grateful they were to have each other.

[loveblrrsworld]

CLASSICAL CONDITIONING- m. atsumu

timeskip

[manager y/n pavlov-ed that hoe]

“hello?” a groggy voice answered.

“tooru i need help.” you spoke.

“it’s 4 in the morning.” oikawa replied, slight annoyance in his voice.

“i think i have feelings for atsumu.”

he quickly sits up. “i knew it!”

you stay quiet, phone still up to your ear. “what?”

“god y/n, the way you talk about him makes it so obvious.” oikawa scoffs.

“i talk about him a certain way?” you started to question yourself.

“you talk about him like he’s your husband.” he deadpanned.

“well… i guess we now know why.” you awkwardly laughed.

“so what did you need my help for?” he asks.

“i don’t know, i just need to get rid of these feelings.” you shrug.

he stays silent for a couple seconds. “what?!”

“what?”

“why don’t you just— i don’t know, tell the man?!” he exclaimed.

“well, im not sure if he feels the same way.” you sigh.

he sighs louder. “then there’s only one way to figure this out.”

you stay silent, waiting for him to continue.

“classical conditioning.”

your face holds a confused expression. “that pavlov thing?”

“do you do something to him everyday? like— a good morning or something?”

you think for a second. “well yeah, every time i arrive, i pat him on his arm and say good morning. why?”

“stop doing it for a week. if he notices then there’s a chance he likes you back. but just to be clear im no psychologist so don’t trust me.” he says. “good luck, babe. let me know how it goes!”

“this is so not going to work.”

“oh but it will.”

“good morning guys!” you greet everyone as you enter the gym. they all mutter tired greetings as you walked past each of them. completely walking past atsumu.

he pauses what he’s doing for a second. he looks at you as you’re mindlessly doing your own thing, not even glancing at him.

he ultimately shrugged it off, thinking, “maybe she forgot.” plus— it’s such a small gesture why would he care?

oh but he does.

a week passes and not a single pat from you. a stupid pat you’ve been doing for 5 months. why is he so bothered that you aren’t doing it?

you seem to be talking normally to him. none of your actions scream— “im pissed at you.” so what the hell is going on?

it’s the seventh day, the early morning where it was only you and him alone in the gym, he finally speaks up.

“wait.” he stops you. you turn around, waiting for him to speak. “why’d you stop doing that thing?”

no way. play dumb. “what thing?”

“that pat you do when you greet me in the morning. you stopped doing it.” he says.

you laugh. “i didn’t know you cared that much about those pats.”

he scoffs. “how could i not? im the only one you do that to!” he pauses. “so why’d you stop?”

so, this is the one error oikawa made on this stupid experiment. what the hell are you supposed to say?

“i dunno, i guess i just forgot.” you quickly replied, immediately trying to walk away.

“lies.” he playfully said before getting up and following you. “tell me the truth.”

you stop, turn around and stare at him. “i did tell you the truth.”

he rolls his eyes. “how could you forget a small action you’ve been doing for the past 5 months? hm?”

the smug look on his face only made him look more attractive. he steps closer and closer to you, taking advantage of the empty gym.

“i-“ you breath. “i don’t know.”

“oh c’mon y/n, tell me!”

you bite the inside of your cheek, hoping it holds you back from saying the truth.

“fine. if i tell you why im so bothered, will you tell me why you stopped?” he proposes.

your eyebrows furrow as you slowly nod.

“okay. well— i like it. i like it because im the only one who gets that pat. i like it because it genuinely is something i look forward to in the morning, and i like it because it gives me hope that you possibly like me back.”

your eyes widen at the last couple words he spoke. “say that again…” you said, a little breathless.

he chuckles at your expression, holding a small smile. “i like you y/n. everything you do, i look forward to because i like you.”

you don’t say anything but move forward, stepping closer to him, grabbing his collar and intertwining your lips with him.

and of course, he doesn’t protest.

his lips melt perfectly into yours as you wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands mounting themselves on your waist.

you both pull away after a moment, a little breathless.

“i like you too.” you say with a smile.

and then you hear a throat being cleared.

you both look to your right, seeing the whole team with a look of “finally.” on their faces.

“about time.”

“well your experiment worked. congrats doc.” you laugh as you ponder about the events earlier.

“i can feel your ugly smile through the screen.” oikawa jokes.

“no congratulations?”

“congrats! hope its a boy!”

“ugh! tooru it seriously felt surreal…”

he laughs as you continue your small tangent about your newly found reciprocated feelings with atsumu.

about time.

[possuir-se]

i finished heartbreak high. let's talk about it

as usual, i'm brazilian, my english is shit etc etc

theres no order here, only chaos

i missed amerie with malakai SO MUCH they are so cute and funny together, but here is my problem: why the writers can't have one couple last? there is always SO MUCH DRAMA around it, for christ sake. when malakai was sure about amerie she wasn't and when she was he wasn't. my fear is that they will do like sex education, and they won't be together in the end (like when they weren't in the finale). they only gave us crumbs, CRUMBS of malakai+amerie and i'm not ok with that.

spider and missy??????????????? i didn't know that i needed that? they were SO cute i was kicking my feet watching them. His mother sucked btw (WTF was that?), jesus. but the whole buildup was awesome. i liked the way was handled the whole ''i can't get it up'', she was so kind all the time, and i get, it takes time to trust someone. i posted last time that nobody had asked for them together, now i'm asking for more!!!!! (AND THE REDEPTION ARC FOR SPIDER?????? I FUCKING KNEW IT)

quinni? they didn't much with her? i'm kinda of disappointed? her arc was that everything was changing? she was crucial for the investigation, but? just that? i hated that

(almost) ZERO DUSTY? THANK U

ca$h and darren, it was so toxic in some moments. i was really sad. they fought a lot and didn't understand each other most of the time. their scenes together were awesome, but i don't know. i wasn't a fan. don't get me wrong, i love them. but it was missing something for me.

i'm actually a certified psychologist, so i can talk about rowan for hours, but i won't. just gonna say psicosis.

im gonna wrap this up

the origin of ca$h??? i cried, not gonna lie.

malakai in bed crying for the breakup had me LAUGHING MY ASS OFF

spider going down on missy is going to haunt me in my grave

we had bi malakai but at what cost???????????????????

i LOVED harper and ant, and loved haper's arc

i wanna see stories on ao3 LET'S GO PEOPLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[shibalatte]

whatevr ill post my stupid baby bill poem nonsense on this app

i hold my son close to me. we just went to our first eye doctors appointment. his big round eye is closed as he sleeps. he clings to me as he naps in my arms. i look at the medication they gave me. the bottle doesnt even seem to have proper dosage. i sigh. ever since my son has started his diagnosis journey, i've worried for him. all the doctors flock around him when he starts looking up nobody has ever seen what he calls up, it perplexes the specialists, the teachers at school, his peers. and yet, i feel like there has to be someone who has there has to be more like him, correct? today's my baby billy's first day of second grade hes grown so big from when he was in his baseball sneakers. i measure him from angle to angle, hes grown somewhat taller. he beams. i walk him to school, he tells me about the stars once again. how they glitter and glow. i tell him that even if i can't see what hes talking about, i see him, and always will. he smiles with his eye i tell him he'll have his silly straws clean when he gets home billy has started telling me he can't see. i check his medication. they've upped his dose from 2 sips to 3. i yelled at the doctor for not even giving me a proper dose for him. they told me not to worry, that they know best. i dont believe them. i have stopped giving bill his "eye medication" it turns out that it wasnt helping him at all, the doctor who gave it to us was outed as a fraud he looks at me with that round eye and wonders why ive stopped i tell him he'll be safe this is billy and i's first appointment at a psychologist. billy looks at me with worry in his big round eye. he's never had to have an appointment where he has to talk about himself. i tell him he'll be safe and that i'll hold his hand through the whole thing. they were perplexed to say the least, but they were helpful they told us to come back for an assessment they said they might have the answer the psychologists have a diagnosis its a thing they dont know a lot about, hes the first one to be officially diagnosed the doctors want to name it after him but i insist they don't. i don't need my boy to be the center of his condition he looks at me in the car with fear. i tell him that everyone is still learning, even doctors. he smiles with his eye again . i make him a sandwich with the crust cut off when we come back, he beams years later, the diagnosis has been named silly straw syndrome its considered a neurological conditon that effects the way someone sees the world. people are still scared of my son when he looks up at the stars but we're getting somewhere, the world of shapes is making progress. bill brought home a friend im overjoyed, hes never had a friend over and for once, i see a kid other than my own look up at the stars with him! and i finally see that my son is understood! i tear up, my beautiful boy is finally understood by his peers. i dont have to worry. im at peace. my son will be ok in the world, there IS people like him! i cry, i sob. my son is finally finding a place. hes finally ok.

[amberinn]

okay thoughts 👏

not a lot of emotionally charged moments

love the little davwhit and charwhit interactions

Whit is actually SOSOSOSO smart and I'm so thrilled to the core as a Whit fan that his thinking process is shown

Like he is SO UNDERSTANDING and good and amazing I love it

Levi is a psychopath 100%

I made a rant about Whit being a sociopath, but he doesn't fit that criteria because he lacks in exploitation behaviours/anger

I'm SURE he has some sort of hidden disorder (Whit) we haven't yet really talked about

im not a psychologist though

let's leave it to that one person headcanon diagnosing Veronika with asocial personality disorder or whatever I do NOT know what that is!

I fucking love this cast, but it's so mentally ill to the core.

Like so many of those fuckers have something wrong with them I can't stand it (affectionate)

Arei and David interaction??? Let's go

They could've been such good friends and Arei is so sweet forreal.

Eden with the fucking fork.

Fucking hell, oh my GOD.

I love the transitions in scrum debate, they're scrumbtastic and I fucking love and hate how they represent things like, hanging, getting thrown and then breaking your neck, the swinging... fuck it makes me sick

Areden could have been so real

Arei's friends being David and Eden... yeah

It could have been good

I hate the parallels between how David got extended that hand to take--- Xander, Arei.

I've an animation idea between the three od them and this is just slipping so well into my understanding of their dynamic (I'm not really analyzing it too deeply thinking of it though... I guess I should)

I'll get to know the real you, I love you, I will be your friend.

I know you for who you are, it makes me relieved, I guess we're both bad humans huh?

But does a good person really exist?

We'll look out for each other... I could be your friend.

Like fuck drdt is David Chiem nightmare especially that "only someone so fucking naive, stupid, jdk, jekcus could have fallen for such an obvious trap" feels like grief

he's just lost another fucking friend of his

scratch that your outburst is reasonable, or maybe I misremember shit

I would also go insane if anyone who was ever willing to love me got murdered one by one

All you ever do is gain and lose people, just like in "Therefore you and me"

As a result of acquiring as a result of losing, huh David Chiem?

It makes sense for him to want to extinguish that

Everyone looks forward to seeing tomorrow, but what are you gaining by it?

Friends you're losing

Maybe it's even harder for him, because Whit has a friend (Charles) he gets to keep, while David keeps on seeing his get murdered over and over again.

It never ends.

That fucked up little glint when Teruko told her secret >>>>>>>>>

ALSOOOO ALSO

whatever drama was going on between Ace and Levi

Levi IS an insanely fucked up person, and I keep thinking over and over about how for me at least there is not one person I could ship Ace with

like damn mf 🙏 he alone af

I want to give Ace Markey such a big hug, like he is a bitch and has teeth which cut through you every 3 seconds, but girl.

girl you DO NOT DESERVE ALL OF THAT 😭😭😭😭

any of that

Ace Markey is like, subtly circling upwards on my favouritism lists he's my wet kitten you don't get him like I do

He's had a friend before who was a guy

something something---

The fact that I even considered thinking of anyone over here as my friend really just tarnishes his image.

He cares about his friend SO MUCH.

It might be STUPID for me, but this reads as gay.

Ok just trust me in on this I'm a boykisser with a similar situation at hand.

girl lover as well, how do you THINK one person figures out that?

I just feel like Ace Markey might've discovered his homosexuality via that friend

that best friend one might say which makes me sososoo insanely CURIOUS about who it was

yk why

bcs id finally get an Ace ship I actually fw

hell ya let's go homies

also I need to add---

I feel like something has REALLY happened with his friend

might be a bit stupid, but I feel like that friend is dead

"tarnishes his image" huh Ace? Ace what does that mean, why would that image be able to be tarnished

did you say had Ace or am I not remembering it?

are you so afraid of everything, because your best friend is dead Ace?

it's kinda a stretch still though, a leap of faith on a suggestion I'm willing to argue about

[shygirl4991]

SMG3 Sussy Notebook

ima tag smg3 sussy notebook spoilers and have the pics of the notebook under read more so you can pick if ya wanna see the notebook! These are highlights and not every page!

now that we have the pw for club penguin we can all log in and get all the cool skins, honestly i feel if mario just guess the password it wouldnt take him long to get it xD be faster then stealing the notebook and all

ah yes the start of the worlds longest slowburn its a super funny thought that right out the usb he gets his notebook and goes this bitch here ima make him my life rival

oh shit shout out to these two that showed up in SMG3 Gauntlet of gloom

suuuure buddy keep telling yourself that, seems even tho SMG3 marked him as his rival and hated him over what happen in college he still wanted to hang out with 4 and be friends but its not like he cares or anything...baka!

lmao the censor on what happen in the igloo ah yes nothing but hugging happen there nothing to M rated xD im guessing the real book in universe might have it a bit more detail given the big deal it was for wotfi 2023

we really dont talk about that hug

did...did i call it in my fic that this man legit is crazy about beans and hot sauce im dying i guess when your the bad guy with low budget for food you get use to the good classic beans and hot sauce

oh honey thats not how that works xD this man is smart but also oh so dumb i think he gets that from his avatar that and he is a few years fresh from the usb Update: @alianarepasa let me know its from a mad max episode i manage to miss it was a fun watch and now i understand what this means xD these peeps really went wild without internet poor toad

pifft im guessing he has masters degree specialized in psychology? other wise idk how he is a psychologist and he seems to be a good one from what we have seen but who knows he could be bullshitting his way through how evil xD

both our boys are ready to ride forklifts into the sunset someone draw this please xD

im laughing i guess SMG3 isnt much a fan of boopkins but seems he really enjoys being with the crew he wont say it but im sure he is a happy bean to finally be with the cool kids after years of being jealous.

he says but give this man eggdog or eggdog memes and he becomes Tari in a second

hey lads we found the page from SMG4 We Dont Talk About What Happened in the Elevator

he wants a castle but ended up with a sick lair in a coffee shop i think thats better!

okay putting my shipping heart away this is so interesting to me like he starts off thinking 4 is a loser and makes him his rival then gets jealous he has these friends and he isnt apart of them. We know SMG3 is lonely and lost as he doesn't know his purpose before becoming lord of the graveyard now being apart of the crew and now knowing who is he, SMG3 is much happier and closer to the crew. But the way he writes this feels like he likes the close contact with 4 and while he doesnt want to admit it could it be he legit does have romantic feelings? idk i feel these past episodes and this part really gets me thinking they have something here to really make smg34 canon naturally and not have the way they act with each other be to different might go more into this later.

this sparks joy thank you for including this and thats it for my ted talk thanks for reading again this is just my highlights i dont want to post the whole notebook here just stuff that gets my mind going!

[ewyband]

EWY BIG Q&A

hi!! recently i did a q&a on instagram about SLAD. unfortunately (or fortunately?) there were too many questions to answer purely on instagram stories without spamming. here's the ones i couldn't answer on instagram, answered here!

MERLOT, both in terms of my favourite composition and performance

my partner and i were on a break whilst they were studying abroad ("we're only on month 1 of 4"). I just kinda word vomited my feelings. I was feeling pretty depressed at the time I wont lie.

yes i DID!!! this EP was MADE for fun. i wrote the songs specifically to make fun songs to play live. (aside from HOLLOW DRUG)

"And I could be displaced from my home And it could be seen on all your phones Is it real? Or is it fake? Look close, do my arms look like legs?"

probs the most lyrically dense I've been?? i'm not sure.

first of all, thank you so much!! second, some songs i write it all in one day but others can take a week or so before i'm fully happy with how its sounding. that being said, i always end up changing something before recording (usually around a month after writing, but in the case of MERLOT, that was recorded only a week after writing).

if i had to just name one, it'd be Nirvana. I wrote a 3000 word essay on In Utero for uni and that genuinely inspired me to make these songs. I really loved how Nirvana performed and I thought 'man, if only I had songs like that where I'd have an excuse to go crazy' other influences would include Jeff Rosenstock (my #1 fav artist) and PUP (greatest live show I've ever been to) btw, thank u sm!!

yes,,, very much

unfortunately i havent learnt proper scream technique so all of my screams were done at the very very end of my recording sessions. i think it worked out because that meant i had a lot of pent up frustration

i will start by saying my uni lets me hire out all of these microphones for free (if you don't count the student loan) vocals: SM7b & RE20 (only on sociopathic leech) guitar: AKG C414 matched pair (acoustic and electric) bass: my takes were originally done with an RE20, pretty sure fern just DI'd drums: Audix DP7 + SM57 (for hi-hat) + C414 for room mic's

i'll try get this done tomorrow!

i was in a guitar lesson at uni and we were talking about chromatics in the blues scale. my guitar teacher suggested i try to make a riff using the blues scale and particularly the chromatic part. that riff ended up being the middle 8 section of RIGHTS TO MY WRONGS. the rest of the song basically acted as a vessel to transport this breakdown middle 8 section. hopefully it doesn't come across that way !!!!!! but that was the main idea.

it felt very natural. i'll probably continue to go this direction in my future releases.

its mainly a reference to SOCIOPATHIC LEECH! 'i could beat you with a bat'. i just wanted something that felt visceral and angry and i feel like izzie really captured that.

yes and no! brett romnes is a super nice guy and very fun to work with. i obviously had my own mixes so he could see what i preferred and essentially made it better. i think there ended up being 4 drafts before we reached a final master.

these were my original mixing notes! i think the only thing that really got lost in translation was i added some really subtle vocal distortion at the end of HOLLOW DRUG in my original mix. in the end, i feel empowered by brett because he made it sound like what i felt it should sound like in my head (DOES THIS SENTENCE MAKE SENSE!?)

after i wrote SOCIOPATHIC LEECH and RIGHTS TO MY WRONGS, i was like 'okay, this is the style we're going for, lets do some sort of project in this particular style' i was pretty dead set on an EP since i'd just done an album. so to answer your question, yes and no!

i wish i could put something significant here. im sure theres some psychologist out there who could tell me that the song represents something about me. i was feeling alienated at the time, hopefully this helps? "confess your sins to the crowd, no-one can hear you when you're talking so loud" is definitely about my frustrations with song meanings though

hi mikey!

this person was the GM for a cyberpunk TTRPG game i played in. i wanted to write a cyberpunk themed album at one point but i guess that one merlot line is the closest we'll get.

i have semi answered this question but I WANTED TO WRITE SONGS THAT WERE FUN TO PLAY LIVE !!!!! and i think it worked out in the end

THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO WROTE IN !!! MY ASKBOX IS ALWAYS OPEN!!!

[doumadono]

Emergency Request.

Hi author, i finally have the courage to share this. These past few years, I've been dealing with academic pressure, means im expected to be in the Honor's list. Every single morning i get yelled at especially when i didn't wake up early (my class starts at 12 noon till 6:30 in the evening) im really tired and yesterday morning, my mom threw a chair at my room because i wake up late. My heart was really really heavy that time and so i decided that i had enough. So while my mom was taking a bath, i stole money from her wallet, just wiped my body with wipes and got dressed. She thought that I'll be heading to school early so she didn't mind. When i left my home i got to my phone and searched 'psychologists near me'. It took me 3 hours to find a clinic that was open for people who didn't have appointments. Fast forward, hours later i arrived at the clinic and got consulted by a psychologist. Before the psychologist ask me what's wrong, believe me or not i already cried hard, cried and cried and told him all the unspoken pain i kept for years. To sum it up, they called my parents and consulted them too. I was a minor that time and it was already late so they really had to call my parents.

I only went to this route since i had no one to talk and cry on. With that being said, can i request todoroki comforting someone? Maybe the reader had the same situation as me but had no one to turn to except todoroki?

(This happened last year when i was at the 11th Grade. I finished my medications months ago and feeling more happy :))))

Embrace of warmth and chill - Shoto x Reader

A/N: it takes incredible strength to open up about such struggles, and I commend you for taking that courageous step. Remember that seeking help is a sign of resilience, not weakness. I'm glad you reached out to a psychologist, and I hope the support you receive brings you the understanding and guidance you deserve

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

In the quiet sanctuary of his room, Todoroki Shoto sat on the bed, contemplating the gentle dance of shadows on the walls. The soft glow of his desk lamp provided a muted atmosphere, and his mind lingered on the words he had just heard. The door creaked open, and there you stood, a silhouette worn down by the weight of unspoken pain.

His heterochromatic eyes caught the glimpse of your eyes, mirroring a storm of emotions. Without a word, he gestured for you to sit beside him. The silence lingered for a moment, heavy with the unspoken burden you carried. Finally, you broke the quietude, your voice barely above a whisper as you began to share the weight you had been carrying.

Todoroki listened intently, his expression a canvas of empathy and understanding. The warmth of his presence enveloped you, providing a sanctuary in the storm that raged within. As you recounted the struggles, the academic pressures, and the desperation that led you to this very room, he remained a steadfast anchor.

"I… I just needed someone to hear me out," you admitted, your voice cracking with vulnerability. "It's so, oh so hard, Shoto…"

He nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the pain you had endured alone. "I understand," Todoroki responded, his words carrying a genuine sincerity that reached the depths of your weary soul.

A subtle touch of his hand on your shoulder offered comfort, a silent reassurance that you were not alone in this moment. "Sometimes, it's okay to let others share the burden," he said, his voice a soothing balm to your wounded spirit.

In the quiet of that room, Todoroki found the right words, a delicate balance of empathy and strength. "I may not fully understand what you've been through, but I'm here for you, always," he affirmed, his stoic demeanor softened by the genuine concern etched across his features.

As the weight of your confessions lifted, tears streamed down your face, an emotional release long overdue. Todoroki handed you a tissue. "It's alright to cry. It doesn't make you weak," he reassured, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that transcended mere sympathy as he rubbed your shoulders.

Through the tears and the shared vulnerabilities, a connection blossomed. Todoroki, often reserved, found himself opening up in return. He spoke of his own struggles, the internal battles that defined his journey. The vulnerability he shared created a bridge, a connection that went beyond words.

"You don't have to steal moments of solace. There are people who care about you, who want to help you carry the load. And I'm among them."

The air in Todoroki's room seemed to shimmer with a subtle blend of warmth and chill as you found yourself wrapped in his embrace. As his arms enveloped you, you couldn't help but marvel at the duality of his touch. One side of him radiated a soothing coolness, while the other emanated a gentle warmth. It was a sensation that defied logic, a tangible representation of the conflicting elements within him.

You nestled into the crook of his embrace, your head finding a comfortable spot against his chest. The coolness seeped through your clothes, sending a refreshing wave across your body. Simultaneously, the warmth from his other side cocooned you in a comforting embrace, creating a delicate equilibrium.

His breath, a gentle rhythm, whispered against your hair, and you closed your eyes, savoring the unique symphony of sensations.

Todoroki's grip tightened ever so slightly, as if he sought solace in the physical connection just as much as you did. His usually reserved demeanor melted away in this shared moment, replaced by a silent understanding that transcended words. "It's okay. I promise that brighter days lay ahead."

[ilovespec]

GENDERBEND !!! THE MOST DANGEROUS DEATH ROW CONVICTS × FEMALE READER.

characters : Kaioh Dorian (Kaioh Dorianna) , Ryuukou Yanagi (this name is unisex) and Spec (yea , im stupid.)

words : 930

brief description : your acquaintance with 3 muscular , strong and dangerous women 😳😳

TW : mention of murder , stalking, smoking , obsession , big age difference , big height and size difference , literally escaped killers lol.

Ryuukou Yanagi :

You stood quietly and smoked leaning against the wall. The sky is quite beautiful and cloudy today.. You took a drag on your cigarette and let the smoke out of your mouth. Then you noticed a faint movement with your peripheral vision and looked at this "object" out of the corner of your eye. She is a woman of 40-45 years old with Asian features. She has medium height , tanned skin , brown and almost black eyes , black hair combed back rather short , melancholic and tired features and ... Pretty big muscles. Maybe she's just doing some kind of sport.. Her dark eyes look calmly into yours, and you instinctively handed her a cigarette. She seemed to you that for a second, she smiled slightly and nodded slightly as a sign of her appreciation. She took a lighter out of her pocket and tried to light it, but it didn't even give a spark.. That's why you lit her cigarette yourself. And in response, she grinned noticeably this time, and lit a cigarette with gratitude on her face.

"Hmm... Thank you. You, as I suppose Y/N Y/L...? How do I know...? Just heard it somewhere.. To let you know, I'm Ryuukou Yanagi. And... thanks for the cigarette."

And then Yanagi left, but you don't even realize that Yanagi has been following you for a month, and has known your name for a long time and not only...

Kaioh Dorianna :

You're calmly walking home from work. It's been a hard day, like grocery bags in your hands. Which almost outweigh you . Finally, you are already approaching your street, when you feel that someone huge and strong is crashing into you, and because of this you almost fall, but a strong hand nimbly picked you up and put you on your feet.

"Oh.. I'm sorry, young lady. I didn't notice you."

You turned around and saw the one who knocked you down. She is a tall, strong, muscular and obviously an adult woman of 50 - 60 years old at most. She has shoulder-length gray hair, combed back gray hair with a couple of strands coming out, pale skin and sky blue eyes. Her hands, though strong, are surprisingly soft on your shoulder.

"As I see it is quite difficult for you to carry these packages, do you need my help?"

You hesitantly agreed, and her big and warm palm left your shoulder, and taking the bags in one hand, walked with you to your house. Getting to know you along the way.

"Hmm? Y/N , Y/L you say your name is ? A beautiful name for a beautiful girl like you.. I am Kaioh Dorianna."

When she brought the bags to your door, you opened the door and she even held your door for you to enter. And you, as a sign of your gratitude, stood on tiptoe and hugged her slightly, and wished her a good night and left. And Dorianna, blushing, somehow forced herself to move away from your door and left in the night. Already imagining how cute you look in your sleep..

Spec :

You adjusted your tie around your neck. Your boss told you that you, as a psychologist in a women's prison, would need to talk to a new inmate.. This woman, in her first days on the outside.. Yes. She escaped from the last prison, which was UNDER WATER and managed to kill more than 10 people.. And judging by the rumors and the "description ", she is a former karate master , a good fighter and just a mountain of muscles. That's why you waited warily for her to be brought to you. And finally the door handle creaked and 5 guards entered your modest office from the front. And when this prisoner was brought in, 5 more guards, as you saw, were guarding the exit. With slightly trembling hands, you took a notebook and a pen and asked the first basic questions. Her voice.. Low and frightening... And he has a strong southern accent. Her muscles and height are just frightening.. She has to hunch over to be standing up and finally she sat down. She has slightly shaggy gray hair, gathered in a barely noticeable bun due to the fact that it is too short, she has brown eyes, tanned skin and also tattoos on the backs of her palms..

"My name? Spec. Why did I kill these people? For fun of course!!!"

After these words, she just broke the handcuffs with one movement of her hand, and clasped them behind her head in a relaxed manner. And one guard almost cried and said. "This is the fifth handcuff of the day... What should we do to make you stop breaking them...?"

"Hmm... I don't even know.. Oh, the idea! I will stop breaking your handcuffs, for kiss from this cute kitten!!!! XD"

And then she stood up (and before she could react, she bumped the top of her head against the ceiling) and pointed at you. And a second later, machine guns were pointed at Spec, and she cackled and sat down with a grin.

"Okay, okay. I'll stop breaking your precious handcuffs, maybe."

After a couple more questions, she was dragged to the exit and handcuffed again. And when she left, she winked at you with a grin and they took her to the camera. And the thoughts in her head were no longer about escape or murder.. And about you. Perhaps, or even definitely..! She wants not only your kisses , but also your heart ;)

+ Fem !! Yanagi >3

And silly original Spec >^<

[lumosandnoxwriting]

tale as old as time || Fred Weasley

Title: tale as old as time Pairing: Fred x Reader Summary: Y/N knows she’s the problem, and she’s afraid of the day Fred realizes it too Warnings: probably a very bad representation of what therapy is like but whatever im a writer not a clinical psychologist. A/N: im back baby!!!! im going to be totally honest, this is the only fic in the anthology where i really struggled to come up with a basic concept for the storyline when I was brainstorming. The lyrics in this song are less direct in what their meaning is in a lot of ways. Obviously the overarching message is this fear of being alone, this fear that your insecurities and anxieties will drive away the person you love the most, so that’s really what i tried to focus on here. 

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

“It’s alright, sweetheart. It’s just a dream,” Fred soothes as he strokes Y/N’s hair, letting her burrow her face in his chest. 

She takes a shuddering breath in, tears leaking down the sides of her face as her heart pounds in her chest. Y/N racks her brain, trying desperately to remember what exactly scared her so much. What happened in her dream that had her waking up in screams once again.

The dream is never the same. Sometimes she’s at Hogwarts, the final battle of the war raging on around her as she runs. Running, running, running - but she never stops, and Y/N is never quite sure what she’s running from. Other times she’s in the living room of her and Fred's flat, heart pounding in her chest as she tears the place apart searching for something. Though it’s never really clear what exactly she’s looking for. 

Then at some point they shift, and she’s in a dark room where the only sound is her heavy breathing. But she can feel something looking at her, looming somewhere in the shadows. And as she turns in circles trying to find it the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, the feeling getting closer and closer and closer. 

And that’s usually when she wakes. A scream caught in her throat as she shoots up in bed, frantically thrashing to try and fight off the unknown creature. That’s usually when Fred wakes up, strong arms wrapping around Y/N as he murmurs soft words into her ears. He holds her as she comes to, letting her cry in his embrace for as long as she needs. 

Fred always makes sure to reassure Y/N, reminding her that it’s just a dream, and that he’s got her. He holds her tight once she’s calm enough to try and fall back asleep, not daring to shut his eyes until she’s back in a deep slumber. 

Though what Fred doesn’t know is that sometimes Y/N isn’t asleep at all. She knows he worries, so she shuts her eyes and slows down her breathing, pretending to sleep as her mind races. Because she knows Fred can only put up with so much, that eventually he’ll be tired of her and all of her problems. That one day she’ll wake up and he won’t be there. 

Fred doesn’t know that those are the dreams that scare Y/N the most. 

-

“And what do you think those dreams mean, hm?”

Y/N rolls her eyes as her therapist asks the same question he does at every session. Therapy was something a lot of Wizards and Witches enrolled in after the war. Even those that didn’t actively fight sought treatment, finding it helpful to talk to someone about what happened and how to deal with the fallout. But now, almost two years out from the final battle at Hogwarts, Y/N feels like she’s getting nowhere.

“Aren’t you supposed to tell me?” she responds, annoyance apparent in her tone. “That’s why I’m here, right? So you can tell me what’s wrong with me and how to fix it.”

Her therapist gives her an amused look. “Sure, I can tell you what’s wrong with you. But if you’re not ready to hear what I have to say, nothing is going to change. It has to come from you, not me.”

Y/N scoffs, shaking her head. “So then what am I paying you for then? If my breakthrough depends on me, it seems like you’re not really needed in all of this.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” her therapist starts, scribbling something down in his notebook. “But I’m here to listen, offer guidance when you need it. And when you finally hit that big breakthrough I’ll be here to help you through it.”

 When Y/N seems to settle back down her therapist continues. “So those dreams, what do you think they mean?”

Y/N shrugs, picking at her cuticles. “I don’t know - that I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” He prompts, giving her an encouraging nod. “Afraid of Voldemort?” When she doesn’t respond he continues. “Afraid of dying?” When Y/N shakes her head he scribbles something down. “Afraid of what, then?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N answers honestly. “There’s never anything in the dreams. Just a feeling. Like something is watching me, I don’t know it’s hard to explain. It’s not a real threat, it’s like the idea of a threat.”

“So what might that mean?” Her therapist prompts when she stops, leaning forward in his seat. “You’re by yourself, facing an invisible threat - what is it that you’re really afraid of? It’s not the thing lurking in the dark - so what is it?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N repeats again, voice firm.

“Yes you do,” he insists. “You do know what it is, Y/N, you just don’t want to admit it.”

“No, I really don’t,” she pushes back. 

“Yes, you do. You’re standing, in a room, all by yourself. No one but you and some invisible threat. It’s not the threat you’re afraid of - so what is it?”

“Being alone!” Y/N finally admits, anger coating her words. “I’m afraid of being alone, are you happy?”

Her therapist settles back in his seat, a grin etched on his features. “Now that’s what I call a breakthrough.” 

-

The revelation in therapy leaves Y/N feeling quite raw and exposed for the rest of the day, making her quiet and reserved. Fred of course doesn’t push or pry, letting her have the space she needs. Which in turn only makes Y/N feel even worse, her mind working overtime as she worries that her quiet and aloof behavior is only going to push Fred even further away than her nightmares. 

She’s terrified of falling asleep that night, so she simply lays in bed until Fred falls asleep - waiting for his soft snores to fill the room so she knows it’s safe. Y/N ends up creeping out into the living room, letting her exhausted body sink into the sofa. She doesn’t bother with the big light, instead snapping her fingers so a few of the lamps in the room come to life, giving everything a soft glow. 

But the lack of light also creates shadows, and she can feel her paranoia start to creep up the back of her neck. So Y/N does what her therapist had suggested towards the end of their session. She closes her eyes and takes some deep breaths, trying to remind herself that nothing is there and Fred is only a room away. Her sweet, sweet Fred that would do anything to make sure she’s okay. 

In fact, it had been Fred who suggested therapy all those months ago. When Y/N’s assurances that the dreams would go away on their own started to sound less and less believable and the bags under her eyes were deeper and darker than the night sky. It only made her love him more, knowing that Fred was looking out for her wellbeing and that he worried for her. 

Now it only seems to fuel her fears, that the therapy not working is just another thing that is going to have Fred walking out on her. 

“Stop, stop,” Y/N grumbles, palm smacking her forehead in frustration. “If only I could get my brain to shut the fuck up.”

“Baby?” 

Fred’s sleepy grumble startles Y/N, and she looks over her shoulder to find Fred standing at the entrance to the living room, rubbing sleep from his eyes. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Y/N apologizes, stomach sinking. She swallows thickly, her throat suddenly dry as shame washes over her. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Fred shuffles towards the couch, mouth opening in a yawn. “No baby, you’re okay. I rolled over and couldn’t find you is all. I tried to fall back asleep but the bed was too lonely without you.” He joins her on the couch then, grabbing a blanket from their basket so he can drape it over them. 

Y/N lets Fred pull her into his side, resting her head in the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes again, though she’s not really sure what for. Maybe for leaving him alone in bed, or for making him come out here, maybe even for being a shitty girlfriend who constantly needs the reassurance that he’s going to be there for her. 

Mainly for that last one. 

“Nothing to apologize for,” Fred promises, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s okay to need time for you, love. I know therapy days aren’t always your best days and you find it hard to fall asleep after. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Her chest feels as if it’s been cracked wide open, all of her worries and fears and anxieties on display for Fred. She knows it must be exhausting for him, always having to deal with her and her constant reassurance that everything is okay. And yet at the same time Y/N needs that validation, almost needs it more than her lungs need air. 

Hence the trouble sleeping. 

It’s that need that prompts her to keep her eyes downcast, voice only above a whisper as she asks, “Promise?” She needs to know that he really means what he says. That he’ll always be there for her, no matter how weird or crazy or anxious she may be. 

“Promise,” Fred confirms. “You’re stuck with me forever, I’m afraid.”

“Forever,” Y/N whispers to herself, needing that extra reassurance. Forever.

-

“Godric, what the hell is wrong with me?” 

It’s a question Y/N has asked herself a lot over the past few weeks, but this is the first time she’s said it out loud in front of someone else. This is the fifth night in a row she’s woken up screaming, thrashing against the bed sheets as she tries to fight off her invisible attacker. 

Fred had tried to comfort her as usual, but this dream was a particularly vivid one, and Y/N had a hard time deciphering between what was real and what was her dream as she balanced in the no man’s land between being unconscious and awake - causing her to punch Fred right in the face as he tried to wrap her up in his arms. 

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Fred assures, the sound of his voice distorted from the bag of peas he’s holding on his face. “You thought you were still asleep, it happens, love.”

His chest is covered in blood from how his nose gushed after Y/N’s strike, and her stomach is a pit of self loathing. She’d been the one to hit him, and yet as per usual Fred was the one doing all of the comforting. It’s pathetic. 

“I made you bleed, Fred. There certainly is something wrong with me,” Y/N insists, nervous energy making her start to pace back and forth. “I’m 23 years old and I wake up screaming more nights than I don’t, and instead of being a normal person and thanking my boyfriend for being a lovely person and comforting me, I sock him in the face and break his nose.”

“Bruised maybe, love, don’t give yourself too much credit,” Fred jokes with a chuckle, desperately trying to cut the tension in the room. When Y/N just continues to pace he lets out a sigh. “Baby, stop, please. I’m fine, it was an accident. It’s not something to get worked up over.”

“But it’s not just this one incident,” Y/N starts, finally stopping her  pacing so she can face her boyfriend. “I’ve been having nightmares almost every night for two years now and therapy seems to be doing fuck all to help stop them. And despite the fact that you have been the most supportive, lovely boyfriend anyone can ask for, I'm just getting worse and worse.”

She pauses to run a ragged hand through her hair, exhaling sharply in frustration. “And I know deep down that someday you’re going to get sick of me and just leave and I don’t blame you, I really don’t. But the thought of not having you around scares the shit out of me and no matter how hard I try to be a better, more normal person for you I just can’t get my fucking shit together which just makes me even more panicked and worried and anxious, which just makes the nightmares worse and it’s a neverending cycle and I’m exhausted.”

Fred is silent for a minute, letting everything Y/N has just word-vomited all over their kitchen floor sink in. He tosses the peas onto the table, standing up so he can start to slowly approach her. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me? I thought your nightmares were about the war, love, I had no idea.”

“They were, at first,” Y/N admits. “Mostly about when the wall fell and it almost crushed you. They were all about you dying and me being alone. But then as time went on and the anxiety got worse they sort of just changed. Instead of me watching you die and leave me, I was just there, alone and fighting some kind of invisible threat. And I’d try to run, try to find you and I would just be running endlessly and whatever it was that was there would catch me - that’s usually when I’d wake up screaming.”

She swallows around the lump in her throat as Fred comes closer, putting a hand out to stop him from gathering her in his arms. This is something she needs to say, and the moment Fred puts his hands on her all of her courage will melt away. 

“And I know that it’s not easy for you to deal with all of this,” she continues once his hands are at his sides. “I can see how exhausted you are in the mornings after I have a nightmare. And I can see the worry on your face when I come home from therapy when I’ve had a bad day. It’s hard for me to deal with all of this, so I know it’s hard for you too. It would be so easy for you to just walk away from all of it, from me. You don’t deserve to be burdened with all of my problems, but the thought of losing you makes me sick to my stomach.”

“Baby,” Fred coos, fists clenched to resist his urge to reach out and comfort the woman he loves. “Burden me, please. I mean it when I tell you that I’m here for you no matter what. Woman there’s nothing in this world you could ask for that I wouldn’t find a way to make happen. That’s what people who love each other do, yeah? They support each other no matter what.”

“And of course I worry about you, because I care about you and I hate to see you hurting. But that doesn’t make me want to leave, it makes me want to stick around. To be there for you in any way you may need. Even if that means letting you punch me in the face every once in a while.”

Fred takes the breathy laugh that Y/N lets out as permission to step closer, and when she doesn’t protest he wraps his arms around her waist. “You have me, Y/N. Anxiety, and nightmares and all. You’re my everything, and I am going to be here with you every step of the way.”

“Even if the nightmares never go away?” she asks timidly. 

“Even if the nightmares never go away,” Fred confirms, leaning in to press a tender kiss to her forehead.  

When they end up back in bed together later that night, Y/N’s tears dry and Fred’s chest free of his blood, she lets herself be wrapped up in Fred’s embrace. And as his breath starts to even out she finds her eyes fluttering shut for real. Y/N lets sleep consume her, no longer feeling the need to pretend to be okay. Because she’s not okay, not really. 

But she will be, someday. With Fred by her side, anything is possible.

[chorusofkhonshu]

Theory of Numbers in LN

I guess I will explain myself slightly. While researching the the podcast, it got me wondering. Noone has had a part of herself in Nowhere, a part that hides secrets from herself, something that when in the waking world she says she feels a part of her is missing. So I wondered what part of her is missing. Not her body, not her mind, not her soul. The Ferryman needs her to accept Nowhere so that all of her can go thru the Halfway Point. If it was her soul crossing over then there'd be no need for her to physically cross. So I looked for a fourth option. And surprise surprise there was a fourth option. A theory posed by a rather famous psychologist who was alive during the time period that I estimated TSON to take place during. His theory was basically the same as Otto's professor, all of them in the same line of work. And like Otto's professor, his theory was dismissed because it leaned to far into mystics. If you look hard enough you can find this. The fourth option presented was called The Shadow. There are two shadows, the personal shadow and the collective shadow. I may talk about personal shadows in a later post, but lets skip to the collective shadow. The collective shadow is the dark side of humanity, all coming together to form something almost like a place. He called this place, this hypothetical world of the worst of humanity Unus Mundus which translates to One World, a place where past, present and future all meet. A shadow, a thing that when asked if it exists, the answer is no, but you can see your shadow! Its something that exists and yet doesn't. And how is Nowhere described by Noone? Below is a description of the Collective Shadow and world of LN before the podcast.

After that brief introduction I can finally move on to the numbers! The collective shadow was something that you could dream into, is what is stated briefly. Now in these dreams, time has no meaning in the collective shadow is what the old professor said, and in Nowhere time has no meaning either. The clocks in all games are all wrong, they are either going faster, slower or the numbers aren't even in the correct order. Go ahead and look. The clock in episode 1 of TSON, the numbers are all wrong. So then........whats the use of numbers? Numbers in dreams, have symbolism attached to them. Each number having an Archetype attached to it. I am not going to go thru them all but I'll go thru 2 of them for now. Number 1 Archetype- Known as the Child, the Divine or the Innocent. This is Mono, whose name can mean 1. One who has trouble willingly growing up, who is innocent not in the fact that they are good, but that they are naive, with child like tendencies. How does the Divine aspect come in?

Mono developed the ability to somehow tune the Transmission, that is his "Divine" nature of his Archetype. Moving on to Six Number 6 Archetype- The Rebel

Does this not perfectly encapsulate Six? Her description is

She's split in two, goes to the Maw, kills the Lady, takes her power, heals herself. She overturned things without powers, now that she has some, whose gonna stop her? She is a rebel. I wanna go on more but its sleepy time for me. These late night insanity sessions be doing numbers on me. If you interested look of Jester and Archetype number 9, or number 3 and 5. Pls let me know if im crazy.

[socialskilledmysanity]

missing my mom...

about 4-years ago i decided to get out of the closet oficially about being trans.

my gender journey started way back during my childhood when i was interested in barbie movies, clothing ''girly'' clothes in ''feminine'' colours.

i was always very feminine regarding the way i talk, act, think and move.

wich my mom says she didn't ever really notice (wich is odd since she knew i was obsessed with the animated barbie disney moves during the early 2000's)

howerver she was shocked by the news and couldnt really handle it since we are from culturally muslim and she started becoming more and more religious during hat time period after living her entire life as a 'non practicing muslim' .

her first instinct at that time was telling me she would disown me. wich really hurt my feelings cuz my mother has always been my closest friend whom i told everything. i never really kept any secrets from her during my youth.

back to topic: i wasnt living with her during the time I came out so we had a couple phone calls where she was trying to convince me its just a phase and im just confused. as we kept talking about it she sounded more and more like she was starting to accept the situation and told me she would like to meet me soon and if she can stay over at my place for a couple days in the city i was living back then (3 hours away from my hometown).

i agreed and she came over during the time i was staying at the mental hospital because i had a recent suicide attempt.

i gave her the keys to my apartment wich wasnt too far from the psych ward so she visited me everyday for the time she stayed. she wanted to talk to my psychologist in my absence i agreed to. everything was looking like she finally accepted me as her daughter and she even stopped calling me by my dead name.

a couple days pass and she visits me a last time we hug eachother goodbye and she leaves my city and travels back to our hometown.

she gives me a call a week later (she probably thought and contemplated a lot in the meanwhile) to tell me she will be disowning and cutting me off forever or until i accept the fact im not a women.

4 years later and she visits our home country where i decided to live during covid decided to stay until today.

we haven't spoken to eachother since she cut me off and while im at work one of my aunties calls me to tell me ''your mom and your siblings are in the country at the moment. they will arrive in our city tomorrow and she would like to meet you.''

i told my auntie that i had no interest in meeting my mom but i'd be down to meet my siblings in abscence of my mother.

at this point i have evolved in my gender journey and i now identify as non binary/demi-girl/transfemme but my mom doesn't know about this.

until today...

i got ahold of her phone number and texted her stating that i miss her and im sorry for what i said about not wanting to meet her etc. i wrote a bunch of messages wich if added up would probably be the length of this here text im writing rn.

she has been writing for 15 minutes now and im crying wondering what her answer will be...

[pupinsanity]

weird rant thing

had a first meeting with a psychologist who specializes in CDDs and childhood trauma. he's a little old, he's nice, and he was a good listener. we cracked some jokes and had a good meeting overall.

i talked, a lot, and at the end i asked what he thinks it is.

he said "it sounds like DID."

i don't believe that entirely. he gave me a wonky definition of the differences between DID and OSDD, saying: "if the alters take control over you its DID, if they dont its OSDD."

i know thats incorrect. but god, im pretty jarred about the clear answer. its somehow validating. even if it's not DID like he said, its gotta be something, right?

there's still a part of me that is convinced i lied through my teeth in this appointment. i know i didnt, but i still can't believe its real. that we're real.

super confused. this is not an official diagnosis whatsoever, but it seems to have some impact on how we're feeling.

will see a psychiatrist soon to get a final answer. the denial is creeping into my mind like a disease.

or is it denial, if i might not have anything in the first place?