#is actually any better than placebo

[polymoth]

Oooh I want to pick a fight with someone spreading some psuedoscience garbage in the neurodiversity channel of a server I'm in but I also really shouldn't rock the boat

[lozmastermm]

"If you smoke weed every day you have an addi-"

Bitch fix the world. Bitch fix healthcare. Bitch fix something before judging from your porcelain personality.

[heavenangelly]

I feel like people are constantly trying to find ways to make the law seem fake. Telling people you’re being delusional, that it’s just a placebo effect, that it’s not real, that it can’t happen, etc. Is it so hard to believe that there is a power within you that can make your life marvellous? That can make you free? That anything you ever desire, can become true instantly? That you’d never have to struggle again? Doesn’t it sound amazing? Because it’s way better than believing any of those limiting beliefs. You have a way OUT with the law. Why do you want to believe otherwise?

All that you’ll ever have to do to “get” your desire is to be the person that already has it / is it. Since you are now that person, it is an assumption. And since the law is literally called, the LAW of ASSUMPTION, that’s all you’ll ever have to do. It’s so fucking simple. And the LAW will never change. It’s been around since humans (possible animals) existed. The only difference is that humans have now become aware. That people (Neville, Abdullah, Edward, bloggers, etc) have started preaching and showing people the truth of life and the power you hold within you.

STOP trying to find ways to prove to yourself that the law is fake. What you seek, you shall find. And in your seeking, you manifest what you’re seeking, so you’ve already lost.

You are always manifesting. Throughout your whole life you have manifested things, consciously or unconsciously (excluding trauma and things you didn’t know about). You have always been a master manifester. You have always chosen to believe/assume things. And it has ALWAYS been reflected. The law never fails.

Actually PRACTICE (consciously) the law and you will see what I mean. Go on your journey and explore your unlimited power. Understand who you are, how to manifest, and why the 3d doesn’t matter. Then, you will be destined to succeed.

And please, stop letting other peoples beliefs become your own. They’re irrelevant and do not matter in your world. You create; so only YOU matter. Become confident in who you are and what you believe in and these measly, insecure, desperate people will fade away. Become confident in the law by applying it. You are God. Wake up.

Another note is, is that none of these bloggers gaf about TikTok’s or some random npc’s beliefs because they have practiced the law and have SEEN their world MELT before their eyes to accommodate them. They know it, they’ve seen it, they believe it. They have no reason to doubt. None of us would lie for shits and giggles.

Do not let the world sway you from your power.

Xoxo,

Heavenangelly.

[dietcokegirly12]

“How Much Did You Eat?”

featuring ranpo edogawa "૮₍ ˶•⤙•˶ ₎ა

⋅ ʚ𖦹ɞ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ʚ𖦹ɞ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ʚ𖦹ɞ ⋅

art credit: @hanotanoha

⋅ ʚ𖦹ɞ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ʚ𖦹ɞ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ʚ𖦹ɞ ⋅

tags: aphrodisiacs, horny!ranpo, unprotected sex, slight handjob, teasing, masturbation

word count: 1.6k

KINKTOBER OCT. 17 (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

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Ranpo loved snacks, chocolates especially. Everybody in the Detective Agency knew this, you especially, since you'd always had kind of a crush on him.

So nobody questioned anything when he walked in from his lunch break with arms full of various candies, boxes and bags alike.

You also knew better than to ask for any, since he never shared so everyone just left him alone, to nurse his sweet tooth by himself.

It was only when you were passing by his desk to deliver some paperwork to Fukuzawa that you noticed something off.

He was currently indulging in a heart-shaped box of chocolates which was weird, because it was September, not even remotely close to Valentine's Day.

You paused, tilting your head. "Ranpo, what are you eating?"

He turns to you, eyes closed and still chewing, his cheeks full like a squirrel. "Mm.. chofclate."

At first sight, you think maybe it's very expired chocolate from last year, so you quickly take the box from him, eliciting a soft protest.

Turning it over, you squint at the label and it's just then that you notice in small, printed letters the words, Gourmet Sex Chocolate with Herbal Aphrodisiacs.

Ranpo peers over your shoulder. "Huh?"

You whirl around, eyes wide as he stares back at you, unfazed as he continues chewing.

"Ranpo!" You hiss. "Did you read the label before you bought these?"

He looks at you quizzically. "No, why?"

You steer him away from the office, lowering your voice as you say, "Ranpo these are sex chocolates."

You wait for his reaction, expecting him to dramatically spit it out, or gasp, or something, but he simply shrugs, reaching for another. You quickly snatch it out of his hand, throwing the box in the trash.

"Hey!" he complains.

"Did you hear what I just said?"

He laughs. "It's funny how worked up you are over this. You realize those are myths, and a placebo effect at best. They don't actually..."

"How many did you eat?" You interrupt, beginning to get worried.

Distractedly, he reaches for a different box of chocolates. "Huh?"

Snatching it out of his hands, you look down at this one to see a similar packaging. "Ranpo! What kind of candy store did you go to?!"

He lifts one shoulder, unconcerned. "I wanted to try something new, and they had a section in the back I've never seen before with all these expensive chocolates. I thought they were exotic or something."

In a panic, you try to come up with solutions to solve the problem at hand, shaking your head in concern. “Oh no. No. It’s too late. You've already eaten who knows how many."

You turn, wracking your head as you try to figure out what to do. “God! I hope you can’t overdose on those, or you’re going to be in trouble. Ranpo, you have to go home right now, and wait for it to leave your system. I’ll tell Fukuzawa you left early because you felt sick, and have Kunikida clock you out of the system..”

Breaking off when you get no response, sensing something off since Ranpo is never silent, you turn back. “Ranpo?”

He’s looking back at you, cheeks flushed and lips parted. His emerald green eyes are half-lidded and he’s breathing heavily. Looking down, you see he’s sporting an impressive erection, the thick outline of his cock straining against his brown pants.

You lift your gaze, cheeks flushed pink. “Fuck! They work fast! Sorry! I'll leave!"

Quickly, you slam the door behind you, leaning against it heavily as you catch your breath, trying to ignore the arousal pooling between your thighs. This was wrong. He was in a compromising situation, you couldn't take advantage of him when he was like this.

You take a deep breath. You needed to go back to work. You had things to do. And Ranpo... well he could deal with it himself.

After a few moments' hesitation, you get up and walk calmly back to your desk, smoothing your skirt down.

The next half an hour or so passes by, uneventful as you focus. Or, at least, try to. You keep finding your mind wandering to what you think Ranpo might be doing in his office right now. Jerking off, probably.

The thought makes you squirm, but you try to pull yourself together and start working on the graphs for the latest mission at the Agency before Kunikida comes and yells at you.

Suddenly, the door to Ranpo’s office creaks open, and you hear his voice, breathy and slightly ragged. “Can you c’mere?”

You look around, unsure if he’s talking to you but notice you’re the only one in the office at the moment. Everyone’s probably out, running errands.

“Ranpo? Are you..”

“Just come here.” His voice is impatient, but there’s no doubting the unmistakable needy, desperate whine in his tone.

Hesitantly, you walk over, and push the cracked door open.

Nothing can prepare you for the sight you see inside, however.

Ranpo, head lolling back and hair mussed up, his normally closed eyes half-open, and his hand wrapped around his cock, pumping furiously.

You stay completely still, taking in the sight laid out before you. His cock was pretty and long, but most impressive was its girth. He was thick, his shaft pointed like a Cupid’s arrow at the top and sticking up into the air, flushed a pale pink with veins decorating it all the way down.

You don’t move, or make a sound, and impatiently he groans. “Are you just going to stand there?”

You swallow. “You want me to help you?”

“Fuck! Yes, I-I can’t.. it’s n-not working like this, just.. come here.”

You do, shyly, your hands twisting behind your back.

His head tilts back further, his eyebrows furrowing. “Touch me.”

Hesitantly, you come closer, reaching one hand out to take his heavy cock into your hand. It feels like velvet, and pearly precum beads out of the slit.

He shudders as you do, hips desperately thrusting up further.

Instinctively, you slowly pump him, your hand sliding up and down, and his needy whimpers and whines leaving his throat only serve to make your arousal grow.

You break off in a gasp as he suddenly sits up, smashing his lips to yours.

“Ranpo… are you..?” you gasp, as his face nuzzles into your neck, pressing himself to you as he rubs his erection on you, humping into you sloppily.

He breaks away only for a second to ask, “s’ this okay?” and as you give a shocked, affirmative nod, practically shoves you backward into his desk, pinning you down and grinding himself against you as he places messy, open-mouthed kisses everywhere he can reach.

You instantly squirm, bucking upward to pant and let out soft cries of his name, as your hands find their way to his soft, brown hair, tugging him forward closer.

He’s trying to mold himself to your body as he pushes your legs apart with his knee and quickly nestles himself in between, his hard cock pressing right against your entrance, covered only by the thin layer of panties you're wearing beneath your skirt.

In one harsh tugging motion, Ranpo rips them off, and is back on you in a second. "M' so fucking horny. Could cum just from this." He desperately grinds against your drenched cunt, his cock leaking precum and making a mess all over you, as you squirm, arching under him.

At this point, he's so desperately impatient for you, he can't hold out any longer. With messy, uncalculated movements, he lines himself up against your entrance and sloppily thrusts all the way in, wedging himself deep inside you.

You gasp, trying to adjust to the sudden intrusion as your legs automatically close around him, trapping him.

“Fuck baby.. open your legs. I need..” he pants softly over you, his dick twitching faintly.

You can’t help but want to tease him in this state, keeping them locked firmly around him. “Or… what?”

“Fuck!” He cries out, trying to move. “Please I.. oh fuck don’t clench like that.”

You can’t help it as your pussy convulses and flutters around him at his whiny words, trying to suck him in further.

“Pleaseeee!” His dick throbs inside you, and finally you relent, parting your legs slightly, and he wastes no time, nudging them fully open and holding down your thighs with his hands to expose your dripping cunt stuffed full of his cock, and keep you still.

He begins a relentless pace, thrusting into you so hard the desk is rattling, his dick plunging in and out, filling the room with lewd, squelching sounds.

“R-ranpo..” you gasp, clutching onto him tightly as his eyes shut, adjusting himself to a new angle to hit your sweet spot every time, forcing himself deeper into your tight, warm walls. “S-slow down..”

He grunts. “C-can’t.. fucking aphrodisiacs. Never thought.. ah..”

You can feel your stomach tightening, so close you can practically taste it, and your hands come to grip in his mussed-up hair with a moan, cunt clenching desperately around his veiny girth.

“Fuck.. baby you’re.. mm close?”

Before you can even say anything, you feel your clit twitching as the coil in your tummy snaps, warmth drenching his cock as you tighten and spasm around him, your hips twitching up.

He groans, feeling the warmth of your arousal washing over him as he follows suit close behind, spurting thick, warm ropes of cum into you.

For a moment, you just lay there, still trying to process all the events that had just transpired, and the stickiness between your thighs.

Just as you’re about to get up from his desk, you feel the warmth of his hand pushing you back down.

“Ah ah. The aphrodisiacs haven’t worn off yet.”

tagslist: (ask to be tagged!) @kissesmellow21 @rosebluuod @sakui1 @sayyestoheaven00

[probablyasocialecologist]

The methodology for the Cass review was established by a team from the University of York including Tilly Langdon, who has previously been involved in promoting Gender Exploratory Therapy – an approach which, despite its neutral-sounding name, discourages children from identifying as trans and has been likened to conversion therapy. Her approach included setting a very high bar for evidence to be considered in the review, ruling out 100 of the existing 103 studies into the use of puberty blockers and hormones to treat trans children. The reason given for excluding all these studies was that they did not incorporate a double blind approach – in other words, they did not involve giving puberty blockers to some patients and placebos to others. This might sound like a reasonable objection on the face of it – until one considers that puberty is a dramatic physical and psychological process, and people can easily tell when it’s happening to them, so a double blind simply wouldn’t work in practice. The Cass review called for more research and, again, few would disagree with this. The suggestion that treatment should be withheld in the process, however, is not neutral. It presupposes that the harm done by puberty blockers (demineralisation of bones, which is usually temporary in the short-term treatment recommended and is similar to what occurs in pregnancy) is more severe than the harm done to a trans child by going through the wrong sort of puberty. The latter is linked to high rates of self-harm and suicidal ideation, together with the need, in many cases, for extensive surgical procedures. Confusingly, the review states that children taking puberty blockers showed “no changes in gender dysphoria or body satisfaction”, which suggests that the author didn’t actually understand what puberty blockers do at all. They don’t make children feel better – they just delay a process that makes them feel worse. This is one of several oddities in a report that lacks internal consistency. It states that there is no established definition of social transition, for instance, and does not offer one, but goes on to talk about it as if there were. It also talks about autistic ‘girls’ identifying as trans in increasing numbers, treating this as mysterious and as cause for concern, despite acknowledging elsewhere that more and more girls are being diagnosed as autistic, so one would expect more diagnoses to be present within any subsection of the young female-assigned population.  Perhaps the most worrying of the review’s conclusions – which should concern people far beyond the trans community – is the suggestion that as far as NHS treatment is concerned, trans people should be treated as children until they are 25. The rational for this is that 25 is the age when (on average) the brain stops developing. As any neurologist will tell you, the brain is in fact never static, and within ten years or so of that age, it begins to shrink. Deciding who has the capacity to make decisions based on brain age could have unintended consequences for the likes of Cass (64).  That aside, what would setting the age of true adulthood at 25 mean for everybody else? If we couldn’t allow people to consent to medical treatment at 24, should we ask them to risk dying for us? If not, then at a stroke we could lose a quarter of our armed forces. Likewise, we would have to give serious thought to what to do about a third of parents who might not be considered competent to look after their newborn children.  And then there are issues like contraception. Right-wingers have long contended, on one pretext or another, that teenage girls shouldn’t have the right to take the pill without their parents’ consent. This is where the review’s suggestion starts to look less like a double standard and more like the thin end of a very nasty wedge.

[sleuthie]

Do you like the official wayne family adventures? It has everything any batfam fan would want.....But sometimes I feel like they all kinda have the same personality.....shouldn't dick be with titans or starfire....why is he back with Bruce?

EDIT: REMINDER THIS IS MY OPINION. IT IS NOT A DISCUSSION OR ARGUMENT.

It’s what tumblr fanon fans who actively go out of their way to shit on comics wants. To be precise. I’ve been shitting on the behavior of some truly awful people on here for like several years so if anyone reading this is surprised and offended. I don’t care.

No I really don’t like it. The better personalities are the girls really. But even then it’s not great. The boys and Bruce especially are full copy and paste. But honestly that’s the only way they can get what they want to work without digging too deep

That’s kinda the main problem I have with it and many others who do that it’s very surface level fluff rather than actually challenging the “angst” in the comics. I’m only putting it in quotes because to some angst is when it isn’t sunshine and rainbows all the time.

I don’t think it has a good argument, for lack of a better word (still works I just want a different one that I can’t remember rn) for being what it is. And also creating that weirdly rancid, occasionally violent and pretentious fanbase that accuses comic fans of doing that no matter what they say or do. Like some people suck but you dont need essays when people point out flaws in WFA. Of which it has some pretty obvious ones. Aside from batfam characterization their Talia characterization just rubs me the wrong way. Like I know it’s been worse but it’s just not giving what it should.

I think dickbabs is supposed to be canon there or at least people act like it. Idk a lot of their reactions can still read platonic which is why WFA readers try to say it’s batcest. If that answers your starfire question. Technically this should be set at a time where dick wasn’t fully friends with the titans again. Although it’s an au, they could probably just fix that for their obscenely happy go lucky attitude

But if you’re asking why starfire and Roy should be far away from the outlaws title, you’d be right. You can call me dramatic but it was lowkey shitty of them to include them considering the damage it did to their characters. Especially Kory.

Yeah dick should be actually independent. But again it’s family fluff over solid characterization so the umbilical cord isn’t cut yet

It’s negatively effecting comics too. Pushing that coffee Tim bullshit, “feral” Damian, and emotional support dick. The Damian one pisses me off most of all because they really had him pull a knife in a formal affair out of annoyance when that boy was raised an AL GHUL until he went to Bruce. Like if he’s drawing a knife it’s for a formalized duel. Not on an unwitting old woman. But even then I’m not sure I’m forgiving.

Oh and DUKE. Duke gets his own paragraph. Jesus fucking Christ did they do him dirty. Absolute boring cardboard cut out of a child. That also gets mildly sidelined for a comic that began with his narration. I get it’s a group thing but like why did some chapters seem to forget about him completely when they stripped him of every ounce of personality to turn him into a reader insert? God I hate it

There’s a lot of problems with it but apparently when you talk about it you’re in for a “let people enjoy things” lecture from someone who doesn’t actually let people enjoy things. I mean some WFA stans cry webtoon if you talk about the slightest amount of negativity. Claiming they need to be healed. Idk with what because WFA is basically a placebo of a comic

[0blobthefish0]

Partygirl Part 2

leighton murray masterlist | main masterlist

Part 1

Leighton Murray x Female Reader 1769 words

a/n - finally, it is here! i literally had this all written out except for the last part before the 17th, but I am incapable of writing cute date scenes, so this'll have to do 😅

You stir awake and your mouth falls open in a silent scream as you screw your eyes shut. Throbbing pain was incessantly stabbing at your brain, there was no way you didn't have any nerves in there because all you wanted to do was take the damn thing out. What the fuck did you drink last night, the whole bar?

Letting out a defeated sigh, you slowly opened your eyes and brought a hand to your head in an attempt to soothe the ache. Wait..

You froze.

Where were you? You questioned as your eyes adjusted to the dark. God, did you actually follow through with a one night stand? You could now hear, and not to mention feel, the soft puffs of someone breathing. You chewed on your bottom lip, nervously, as you wracked your aching brain for a solution. You nearly choke on a gasp when you feel a pair of arms tighten around your waist, pulling you flush against the other person.

Your eyebrows furrow - boobs? What the hell happened last night? And you almost feel proud of yourself until, you realise that you're still fully clothed, and now you feel horrified; how did you half fail a one night stand?

God, this was so embarrassing.

But then, you smell something familiar, expensive, and you finally pull yourself together enough to take a peek at the mystery person.

You hear yourself squeak and a hand flies to cover your mouth and you can't tell if looking was a good idea because, somehow, your heart is beating faster than it already was. You feel her hand slip from your waist and you feel as if your soul has lifted itself outside of your body.

"Y/n," you hear her croak out, her voice thick with sleep.

You let a stretched-out moment pass before replying, "Yes?"

"You okay?" She whispers softly, and you move to lay on your back.

"Yeah, I just- I wasn't expecting to see you there," you explain and Leighton can hear the nervous smile in your voice.

"You were pretty drunk last night," she recalls and she sees you wince in response. "There's some aspirin outside, if you want."

"Ugh, yes please," you say quickly.

You're sat on the sofa when Leighton passes you a bottle of water and an aspirin before taking a seat next to you. You pop the pill into your mouth and take a swig of water, smiling softly to yourself when you find that the bottle was already open. Your pounding headache seemed to dissipate instantly, it may just be a placebo effect, but you were thankful for it nonetheless, and you turned to her with a relieved smile.

"Better?" She questioned and you nodded your head. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, just listening to the quiet through the darkness that no longer seemed so dark.

Leighton couldn't help but be thankful that the room was still dark, otherwise you most likely would have picked up on the pink tint that was dusting her cheeks. The image of you pulling her in close, your hands on her face, the way you looked at her with those drunken eyes and your voice when you called her pretty was all that she could think about. Goosebumps began to litter her arms as she shook herself out of her daze.

"I should probably get going," you announced quietly and Leighton turned to see you hugging your arms.

"You could always stay y'know? I'm sure your roommate wouldn't be too happy with you," Leighton inputted, "and you do live in the other building." You had to fight the hopeful feeling from growing as you turned to look at her; did she want you to stay? No, she was just being nice, anyone sane would offer the same.

"Really, you don't mind?" You smiled sheepishly.

"No, I wouldn't have offered if I did," she shrugged and got up from the sofa to stand in front of you. "But you need to wear something more comfortable first cause," you watched as Leighton eyed your outfit before lightly shaking her head and gave you her hand to help you up from the sofa.

Quietly, the two of you made your way back into the bedroom and you stood beside her as she rifled through her draw for something for you to wear.

"You can get changed in here, or step outside if you want," she whispered to you as she passed you a pair of neatly folded clothes. You nodded your head in reply, quickly spinning on your heel as soon as you saw Leighton reach for the waistband of her jeans. You took a moment to collect yourself and settle your nerves before swiftly slipping out of your dress and pulling on Leighton's shirt and shorts.

"Done?"

"Yeah," you whispered quietly and turned to see her slipping into the bed.

Leighton watched you as you moved closer to her; something about seeing you in her clothes was making her stomach erupt with butterflies, you looked cute. She didn't know why she did it, maybe it was the time of night, or maybe it was an unconscious decision, but she opened up her arms - inviting you in closer - and to her relief you accepted and crawled into her.

"I meant it, y'know?" You confessed and let out a slow yawn.

"Meant what?"

"Nothing, sorry, I'm just tired," you whispered sheepishly, your one second of courage quickly leaving you as soon as those words left your mouth. What you wanted to say, was that when you had drunkenly told her that she was pretty, you were being earnest. You felt Leighton nod her head above you and then the two of you slowly drifted off to sleep once again.

---

You saw Kimberly send you a small smile and you made your way to their table, food in hand.

"Speak of the devil," you hear Bela sigh out as you place your tray on the table and taking the empty seat next to Leighton.

"Why are we talking about me?" You questioned.

"Bela's in a mood-" Whitney began before being promptly interrupted.

"Why didn't you two fuck?" Bela nearly shouted accusingly.

"Woah-"

"Okay! No need to be so crass."

"Just because we both like girls, does not mean that we automatically want to jump each other's bones," you defended with a hushed voice, hyperaware of the people around you.

"Speak for yourself," Bela mumbled, upset, taking a not so discreet jab at Leighton.

"Hey," Leighton gaped, "you're the one that encouraged me!"

"Yeah, I guess I did. I'm just mad, my ship needs to sail; like you literally have all of the materials, get to building!" You shook your head at that with a slight laugh and soon enough the conversation drifted away from the two of you.

You took a forkful of your lunch before turning to Leighton, the movement catching her eye.

"How'd your quiz go?" You asked her.

"Uh- yeah! It was um," Leighton was struggling to hide her shock, she had only mentioned the quiz once, maybe twice, a week ago, "it went well," she nodded with a smile on her face.

She couldn't remember if you said anything after, too concentrated on the way that she was feeling and the way her face was heating up, so much so that she had to turn away and focus in on the conversation at the table.

---

The following week flew by quickly. You were resting on your bed, the relief of finally sitting the exam washing over you, when you felt your phone vibrate. You felt for it and at seeing the caller ID you squinted suspiciously.

"Leighton?"

"Hi."

"Are you.. okay?" You questioned with confusion; Leighton never calls you.

"Yeah, I- is your roommate there?"

"No, she wen-"

You stared, dumbfounded, at your dark screen. She hung up.

knock. knock. knock.

The fuck?

Almost cautiously, you get out of bed and tip-toe your way to the door before cracking it open ever so slightly and then swinging it fully open.

"Leighton? Are you sure you're okay?"

Standing before you, in all her glory, was Leighton Murray dressed to the nines like she always was whilst you stood in pyjamas. It wasn't even necessarily late, possibly just half-past six, but you enjoyed living in comfort.

"Of course, never better," she replied, moving into the room after you turned to the side to let her in.

In reality, Leighton had never felt so anxious in her life. If she hadn't called you on a whim, she most likely would have been back in her dorm by now. She spun around as you closed the door and, were those her pyjamas? She had let you keep them that night, and just seeing you in them was giving her whiplash to last weekend.

"I want to ask you out, on a date," she stated. "I know you said that thing a few days ago about how just because we both like girls we aren't automatically attracted to each other or whatever, and that other thing of people in a relationship should be in different friend groups, which was basically a big fat sign saying 'we're just friends', but you honestly make me feel insane and I can't stop thinking about you like all the fucking time and maybe, hopefully, you like me back or maybe I'm just crazy and delusional and all the signs are just figments of my imagination."

You stared at her with a growing smile as she ranted and now she was partly out of breath as she searched your eyes, and swallowed nervously.

You nodded your head tentatively and Leighton took a small step toward you. 

"I need you to say it," she whispered softly, the words barely passing her lips, her wide, Bambi-eyes on you. She needed to know it was real.

"Yes," you nodded again, "I'd love to go on a date with you." You saw as she visibly relaxed.

"When are you free?"

"Umm.." you began as you sifted through the busy days ahead for a potential gap.

"Now?" Leighton offered and your eyes snapped to her.

"I mean- yeah?"

"Great." You felt Leighton take your hand and begin to lead you out of your room.

"I'm not changed."

"You don't need to be, plus you look cute in my pyjamas."

"Yours? They're mine now," you grinned as the door shut behind you and the two of you made your way out of the building.

"Do you have a plan?" You questioned as you stepped outside.

"Drive."

[drbased]

So much of mental health advice feels like grasping into the dark: when I did CBT I did all these various exercises and in hindsight so much of it feels like the placebo effect, and I can see why people get sucked into cults. Not saying therapy is a cult at all, but when I think about how one of the exercises was to imagine a manifestation of my bad thoughts and then physically close the door on it - what was that supposed to achieve, exactly? The buzz of motivation you get from these therapies can seem like progress, but a lot of the real value - the honesty about yourself and what you value - is entirely lost through gimmicks.

And it's really sad because in my experience, actual acceptance can be incredibly quick, so much so that it feels like a cheat code, a 'life hack' if you will. But acceptance is what 'mentally healthy' people do all the time - that's why two people can go to the exact same job and one can be chill whilst the other is depressed. As a depressed person who never understood the former type, I was always curious at exactly how those people lived - I assumed they must be vapid, that they couldn't be as deep with me, that any problems they had in their life were much more trivial than mine. I was fascinated by people who, when going through experiences I considered life-ruining, would shrug and say 'it is what it is'. I assumed once again that they must just not be as deep as I am, or feel as strongly. The deeper assumption was always that there's something fundamentally different to my make-up that separates me from the 'normies'. The narcissism of this is not lost on me; I used to flip-flop back and forth between 'I'm right' and 'they're right'. I now understand this to be value system that my depression was built around, and I don't have that maddening argument in my head anymore.

The depression was always both the cause and solution: there always had to be a justification for my sadness that was more than simply 'I don't like this' - that way I could cling to it; I could defensively make it a part of me, whilst secretly embarrassed that other people would be able to handle a similar situation better than me. The key to acceptance is to face that embarrassment head-on and say, actually the reason this thing bothers me so much is because I value it not happening more than I value my happiness and comfort. The point of acceptance is where I realise that my happiness is something I can choose internally regardless of my external circumstances; that that's what everyone else has been doing this whole time and therefore I am not a freak nor am I the messiah. I can be just like everyone else and it's not embarrassing to be a mundane, alive human being. But also, I have to overcome the embarrassment of being miserable under a sunk-cost fallacy - so for that, I have to, once again, understand why I valued the narrative justification so much, and so I can accept that too, all as valued, loved, and cherished parts of myself. It's all about understanding and acceptance at every stage, at every layer of the psyche.

And from that acceptance I can recognise that my depression was a noble goal in some ways; a core facet of my belief used to be that I'm just one person, and everything else is everything else, so my value system should logically be skewed outwards. But I now understand that martyring myself for the 'greater good' is a thankless task and also, whilst everything else is bigger than me, I'm the one who experiences that everything, so my value system should be focussed on me. Feeling good feels good, and that's enough.

I understand that the process of true acceptance is a really tough thing to do, and it's cosmically upsetting how unfair it is that people who never have a mental illness (or have one that is so accepted by society that they never have to consider it one) don't ever have to do this manual process of self-reflection - but at the same time, my honesty about myself has become something I now value greatly as it allows me to make meaningful choices to demonstrate self-love and rebuild trust in myself after a decade of believing that 'because I want to be happy' isn't justification enough. And since I discovered this whole process, so much of mental health advice just seems to me like the equivalent of putting a jelly bean on a paragraph in a book to incentivise you to read to that point: you're a fully grown adult and you're not stupid, so eventually some part of you is going to go 'but I can eat the damn jellybean at any time!'

From having learned just how much the brain is paying attention to everything I do, it's hard to justify doing these typical therapy exercises knowing that the value system they espouse is entirely the opposite to my own: they're fundamentally dishonest and kick the mental health can down the road, treating your psyche as an inconvenience and an obstacle to achievement (which is implicitly believed to be 'real'). Slamming the door on my negative thoughts:

Creates a symbolic narrative that through this I can be 'cured'

Posits that my negative thoughts, despite being a product of my literal brain, have nothing to do with how my brain works

Posits that those thoughts can be severed from me (with one dramatic gesture)

Looking back, this such a patronising way to approach my own personhood; this qualified mental health practitioner was agreeing with the mental illness that brought me to him in the first place that I am fragmented and that parts of me are 'wrong'. Acceptance says that no, no part of me is 'wrong' because that's an entirely false concept: there are only actions and consequences, and I decide if I value those consequences. The only 'reason' I 'shouldn't' have those negative thoughts is because they hurt me - but also, as they are a part of me, they can be addressed and they can be reasoned with. Accepting their point of view as my own has done so, so much more for my mental health than treating that point of view as a terrifying aberration on my psyche to be forcefully removed.

Society is always surprised at how people who commit atrocities rarely have a mental disorder; but that's that implicit belief about 'mental health' in action. There's a societal need for mental health to be some reflection of logical and moral 'correctness'; after all, there is existential terror in the realisation of of psyches as floating entities, universes isolated from material reality. I, too, feel this terror, but as someone who used to feel a great need to be under the scrutiny of The All-Knowing Watcher who could justify all my behaviours, thoughts and feelings under some objective standard, there has been a paradoxical freedom in recognising that I alone am responsible for constructing my morality and value system. Those 'mentally healthy' people who commit atrocities simply have a value system that does not care about the harm they have done; and, as a result, they have accepted themselves (in a way I couldn't even accept about that Portal 'Companion Cube' plush I bought for £30 over a decade ago and immediately regretted yet still can't throw away). This can be hard to swallow for people who need to believe that we all live under the same objective standard and that mental illness is merely an aberration. The idea that I'm more mentally ill than a murderer feels wrong; from this alone it's clear that the whole idea of what mental illness/health even is is still in its infancy - and mental health treatments - which have undergone much revision, making it possible that nobody does that CBT exercise anymore - are reflecting that dearth of understanding.

[lovejosephquinn]

Imagine it’s like your third/fourth date with Joe and he decides to have the date at his so he can show off his mega cooking skills. Everything is so cute and fluffy and saccharine and then it’s the first time the two of you have sex. But it’s all adorable and sweet rather than the (wonderful) filth that you usually do!! I feel like I don’t see enough first time fics anymore :(

I GOT YOU. One fluffy fluffed up imagine just for you bestie 🥰

Under 18's DNI. Word Count: 3.5k

There was something different about Joe, the absolute charmer of a man that you had never witnessed before in anybody else. It was something you couldn't quite pin point and if you had one guess it would be that you had never been treated quite like the queen that others had told you that you oh so truly deserved.

It hadn't took long for Joe to break down the walls in which you had held up as much as you could from previous relationships, but he had it all, not just the looks that were an extreme bonus and you felt like you could jump him every time you saw him but also the persona he only really kept for people that was worth it, the whit and the chaotically beautiful and quite frankly funny yet brutally sweet and caring nature of him had shined through by the time your second date had come around.

Basically, to put it bluntly, he was your definition of perfect and it was something you couldn't possibly refuse to let go.

It was proving an impossible task to not fall in love with this human so quickly. It was cringeworthy to admit, but he was the first thing you thought about in a morning and the very last thing you dreamt about at night, it was a puzzle piece in your heart that was missing and he somehow completed it by walking into your life at the time he did.

Not to say you didn't meet the way most courting adults do nowadays, through the wonders of dreaded hooking up dating apps. You had felt like a teenager with a massive crush staying up until 4am the first time that you ever exchanged messages, talking for hours in pointless conversation, sharing memories and exchanging pleasantries and the general chit chat to get to know one another. You just clicked. What seemed too good to be true turned into texting every single day, calling each other when you both had a spare minute, sharing the occasional face time just to be able to say hello at the closest face to face you could finally get a chance to meet; and then it happened.

Date one: a simplistic meal at an authentic Italian restaurant, suited and booted, a grand first impression of a gentleman if any. Your first kiss. Sensual, slow and heartfelt.

Date two: Driving out to a lake which was situated around the lovely grounds of a valley, you held hands pretty much all the way around, giggling, sharing ice cream, feeding the ducks with over priced bread and laughing at Joe nearly falling in the water when he leaned to actually hand feed the duckling, resulting in him almost looking like a drowned rat and being branded an accidental murderer forever.

Date three: Another meal at a fancy five star French restaurant in the heart of London, followed by drinks in bars that Joe insisted he needed to take you to as they did the best martini's you'd ever tasted. He wasn't wrong, you fucking hated martinis until that night, maybe it was just a placebo due to the fact he enjoyed them, so you made yourself like them too, you had to impress him to right? You'd made out in the taxi all the way back to your flat, Joe dropped you off not insinuating that he wanted to take it any further as it was clear you both didn't want to rush something that was going so well and risk it failing over sleeping together too quickly.

Date four was tonight. You had arranged a quieter more casual meet this evening. Joe had shown great determination in getting you to his home to cook for you, vowing to you over and over that he was a way better chef than those of the restaurants you had eaten at together on dates in the past. Even though it was less formal affair, you still made yourself look presentable, sporting an oversized jumper dress with a more relaxed approach to stick to wearing trainers, it wasn't like you would have them on long anyway. Minimal make up and a nice up do, packing your over night bag as you had the bright idea that you would stay over the night so that you didn't have to rush through the time you had together; you could take your time.

You packed pyjamas, why? Because you didn't know how comfortable you would be to sleep in your underwear next to a male who you weren't sure would want to see such a thing. He's a man, of course he fucking would; but you didn't want to come across eager.

It was about a 25 minute drive to where you needed to be, you were still nervous to see Joe after already seeing so much of each other in the last few weeks, it was still fresh to you but you knew as soon as you were together, the comfortability would kick in pretty much when you arrived and shared your first glances.

When you got to the front door, it opened before your fist had even touched the object. You stood there with it mid air, a small wolf whistle followed by the sweetest smile, his sweetest smile, teeth and all. Joe of course was dressed to the nines, shirt and trousers but as you looked down to check the full variety of what you had to stare it, you noticed the cute pink socks sticking out like a sore thumb underneath the foot of his trousers. You couldn't help but snigger a giggle.

"Real men wear pink." Were his first words.

"And you're looking sincerely sexy in those pink socks Joe." You both chortled out a bark of laughter as Joe gestured for you to come through before closing the door behind you.

Once you were no longer in view of the public, you were met by Joe's hand clutching around your waist, bringing you in to close the space between your bodies. You leaned upward to receive a content little peck on the lips, your hands placed on his chest to keep you steady as you brought your feet back down fully to ground level.

"You look beautiful, darling." Joe cooed.

"Oh stop it." You patted his chest as he hummed a chuckle.

"Thank you would be a better answer." He tilted his head to one side, unknowingly surprised with you reaching to share a more intimate kiss this time. As you pulled back, Joe sighed almost peacefully, the way you did when you had butterflies flipping around your stomach. The feeling was definitely most mutual.

"Okay you win, that was a perfect response." Joe took your hand once you had rested them back to your side and brought you into the kitchen/dining area where he pulled out your seat for you. You thanked him as you looked around to see how classy he had set out the cutlery, a small plate, a dinner plate and a wine glass. A jug of water in the middle of the table in case you needed it at any point throughout the meal.

"Smells divine in here." You gazed around the messy kitchen, the sign of a good hearty meal being cooked as well as it could be showed that he was pulling out all of the stops.

"I hope you're hungry, I made a little too much pasta." Joe pressed his lips into a thin line, furrowing his brow and shrugging his shoulders slightly at you.

"I meant you, the food smells good too."

"Oh stop it." Joe mimicked you, covering his hand over his mouth in a pathetic and quite frankly over dramatic attempt to pretend he was embarrassed over your compliment.

Joe poured the wine into your glass, insisting that you taste it to make sure it was the one that you had said you liked beforehand. Great memory. Perfect for the pasta dish that you were about to consume. The indeed heavenly smell of prawn tagliatelle with various vegetables was dished out in front of you. You ate everything, even went in for seconds, it was a good job you didn't eat much today and you had to all intents and purposes starved yourself so that you would be ravenous by the time you had your dinner date.

Was this man ever wrong in his assumptions? Nope. He was a sensational cook, his mum had clearly taught him a lot and he was well trained in the kitchen, perfect as you were up for a dinner date like this every night for the rest of your life if this was the quality of food you would receive.

To top it all off, he had also prepared dessert, an affogato served with home made pistachio ice cream, an eye rolling, taste bud tingling way to finish off your meal indeed. You had polished off the wine too quickly for your liking, the combination of wine heated your cheeks along with the warmth of the house and also being sat across from Joe probably didn't help the matter.

You had retired to the living room after helping him clean up. Joe had insisted that you were his guest and wouldn't lift a finger but after a playful and most valid argument between you, Joe accepted your point of it would get done faster if you did it together. Putting on a movie seemed like the best option to end a solid ten out of ten evening together, a romantic comedy that you had seen at least thirty times in your life. You downed the last of your wine in your glass and set it in front of you on the coffee table, snuggling into Joe's side, he caught the hint pretty quickly and lifted his arm to let you sink into him further. His hand stroked the bare skin of your shoulder where your jumper had faltered a little, sending goose bumps raging their way through your skin.

It wasn't long until the movie was forgotten about, a deeply passionate kiss provoked by Joe himself. He had smoothly managed to push his finger tip toward your jaw, putting enough pressure to make you look up toward him where his free hand came to cup your cheek, bringing you forward to softly connect your lips together. You lifted yourself up with the help of Joe to sit yourself directly on his lap, tongues now involved as begged at your bottom lip for entrance. The kiss became intense, your fingers ran through his untamed curls which were soft and a little frizzy from the humidity of cooking whilst your other hand was wrapped in the chains around his neck, pulling him to be as close to you as possible. The dimmed lighting added to the voluptuousness and your whole body was screaming with desire to be touched in anyway he would dare to.

The kiss broke intermittently as you both panted for just that little bit to regain the oxygen your lungs had lost in the last few minutes.

"Shall we go get a little more comfortable, love?" Joe offered, stroking his thumb over your cheek giving you a smile that could heal the world.

"I'd love to." Joe kept you in his grasp, lifting himself up off of the sofa and you instantly obliged to wrap your legs around his waist. He carried you upstairs and into his bedroom, using his elbow to switch on the light before he slowly set you down on your back onto the foam mattress that you immediately thought was going to be a great nights sleep from the instant comfort you felt. Joe rested himself by the side of you, propped up on one elbow as his hand magnetised itself straight back to your cheek. He examined your features for a moment, staring through into your soul, your eyes following every muscle that worked in the doe eyes that sparkled towards you.

"Just to be clear you do want-" Joe whispered shyly, but before he could finish it was a response you didn't even have to think about.

"I do, I really do." He knew you were on the same page, his lips coming back to join yours in the most gratifying and pleasurable kiss. Electricity was shooting it's way down to your core, followed by anxiety that he may not like what he saw underneath your clothing.

You broke the kiss this time, pushing all doubts out of your mind as you sat up to remove your jumper dress, leaving yourself in your matching underwear, slowly looking up to witness his reaction.

It was very much worth it.

Joe's eyes had grown lustful, extremely excited to see you looking so vulnerable for him. Joe pushed his hands towards the back of your bra, stopping for a second to look at you for reassurance.

"May I?"

You giggled. "You may."

Joe touched you delicately like you were made of porcelain, not wanting to break you but at the same time really wanting to feel every ounce of you. He massaged your breasts in the palm of his hands, lightly pinching your nipples and gaining a whimper from the sensitivity that it caused.

"You like that, baby?" Baby. That was the first time he had called you that and you hoped it would not be the last.

A stifling yes was all you could manage, his touch riling you up good and proper as he laid you down back into an easier position to access so that his mouth could taste where his fingers had just influenced.

Soft moans were making the erection in Joe's trousers twitch as he worked his way down with unhurried yet deliberate little embracing kisses down your body. His hands following where his lips had just caressed until he was knelt down before you, placing your feet at the edge of the bed, reaching upward to slide your panties down and fully off. You were stark naked and his bush baby eyes had never shimmered brighter than they were, his jaw could of fell to the floor the way his mouth gaped open looking down at you.

"You're so fucking beautiful, I am so lucky." There was that sigh again, oh so delightful to observe.

Joe planted more kisses along your thighs before working his way towards your slit, guiding his hands to open it up so that he could start by licking a small stripe down to the base of you with the tip of his tongue. A louder moan escaped you this time.

"Relax darling, I want to make you feel so good."

When he got into a more focussed position, his hands reached for yours, intertwining your fingers together as you both gave a little reassuring squeeze to let each other know it was okay. His muscle massaged against your clit, making the muscles in your legs twinge each time he slipped it over a particular spot. He pressed succulent kisses against you with each taste, humming and breathing in the scent of you.

"That feels so good." You mewled.

"Mmm." Joe answered, he was in too deep for a truly more accurate reply.

His movements got a little faster and heavier against your bud, your body squirming around the sheets, your fingers pressing harder into his knuckles before he let one of your hands go, your instant reaction was to massage your boob and play with yourself a little. Joe surprised you by pushing a finger inside of you, the cold metal of his ring touching your entrance when the entirety of his digit made it's way up. He added another shortly, curling them upwards but keeping the pace gently measured to really make you feel even better than you could have ever imagined.

It all ended too quickly as Joe pushed himself away from you, ridding the contact from his fingers and wiping the back of his hand over his mouth to dry himself off.

"Why did you stop?"

"I can't take it anymore, I need to feel myself inside of you, you feel too good like this, god knows how you'll feel like that." Joe undressed himself and you watched his defined figure unravel before you, gawking from his neck down, not too toned but just right. His cock stood to attention, leaking pre-cum from being so heavily turned on from his time during his little cunninglingus fun. You were impressed with everything he had to offer, why wouldn't you be impressed with the sheer just above average size he was packing.

"You are perfect Quinn." You bit down onto your bottom lip, hypnotising him immediately with the way your eyes clung to his.

"No baby, that's you." BABY. BABY. B A B Y.

Joe lined himself up over you, not letting you move from your previous state, silently insisting that you relax whilst he continued to make you both feel incredible. He rubbed his cock between your slit, gaining some of his own spit and your slick to lube him up for easier access.

"Are you sure-"

"I'm sure, baby." It was your turn to mock him whimsically but he seemed to drink it in as you did, the pet name in particular. Joe pushed himself inside of you slowly, inch by inch filling you, your walls instantaneously clenching around him sending a ferocious groan straight from Joe's mouth.

"Just as I thought." He said.

You giggled a little too suddenly. "What?"

"Heavenly."

Joe began to rock his hips back and fourth into you, the girth alone sent your back arching as he leant down, the muscles in his arms flexing to keep him hovering above you, his chains dangling around your chin as he thrusted back and fourth. Sharp breathes and the heat of passion were strong between the two of you, a rush of new found energy had you both singing each other's names like a prayer. The movements were sloppy yet so eager, fiery yet heartfelt. You looked into each others eyes with promise and sensibility. If you weren't mistaken, the look of love. Too lost in your thoughts, you were brought back down to the present to see Joe's lips moving, your hearing came back into play once you had stopped being so caught in your brain.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Never better."

"Did you hear what I said?" Joe pushed into you a little harder this time making you gasp.

"Evidently not." You breathed out a distorted moan followed by a chuckle.

"Be mine." Joe repeated himself hoping that you heard him loud and clear this time.

"I already am." You smiled as soon as he did, his lips crashed against yours, your heavily beautiful kiss moving in time with that of his hips, stopping sporadically to take a breath or to get out the breathless whimpers you needed to let escape.

The knot snapped inside your stomach when he hit one final thrust, sending you both over the edge together. Your bodies tingling from head to toe, the sensation you wished would last a lifetime and more from the stimulation and pure feeling you were eating up at this very moment.

"That was-" Joe was left stuttering so much that he had to pause.

"Amazing?" You finished.

"Exactly." Joe leaned down to kiss you one last time before pulling out, your orgasms rid to their full potential, it had made it all the more zealous to have reached your peaks together.

You ran to the bathroom to flush out what you needed to, cleaning yourselves up before returning to Joe's bed, the pyjamas long forgotten about that you had packed, a comforting thought that you now would be able to sleep skin to skin, happy and tranquil. Joe rushed downstairs to turn the tv off, not long after returning and making a huge leap towards the bed to which you jumped out of your skin when you realised he was almost about to crush you the same way he could have done the duckling on your second date.

It was all laughter and mind numbing chatter for the rest of the night, you laid in Joe's arms, your ear just resting above his heart which beat steady and relaxed.

"You meant it?" Joe mentioned and you looked up at him dazed and confused in your exhausted state.

"Meant what?" You asked.

"That you were mine." Joe looked deeply into your eyes, looking for the answers before you spoke them.

"Always."

"Perfect." Joe planted a kiss onto your forehead, his fingers making light work stroking up and down the top of your back.

"That's you." You nestled your face into his chest.

"Sweet dreams then, my darling girl."

You laid in the same position until the sun rose and the light dimmed it's way through the corners of Joe's curtains. A new day had never felt so good, especially beginning it in the arms of your man. Perfect.

[niphredil-14]

ROTTMNT With a Witch! S/o

Just a quick reminder that requests are open!

Leonardo:

- we all know that Leo is a magic nerd, though he may have a slight preference for stage magic over the actual, less show-y magick.

-i feel like Leo would love to have a witch as a partner, and would probably get into some basic, low energy types of spells as a result. He would be your biggest fan, and would want to help with most of your spells.

-he will be devastated if you say no, but sometimes it's just easier without this tease-prone ball of energy inside of the circle, you know?

-will BEG for you to do spells for him!! even for the smallest issue, he would be kneeling at your feet giving them the biggest puppy eyes with a matching pout.

-i can see him getting into glamour magick as a primary form of magick for him.

-all the magick-themed pick up lines. anytime you do anything he just tells you how you've enchanted him and how he's completely under your spell, how he's convinced that he must have drank a love potion, etc.

Donatello:

-not a fan for a good long while. will go on about his "science is fa superior to your little dumdum magic!!" until you hit him with the "magick's success and cause and effect has stood the test of time, people would not use it if it did not work. and btw magick is just science that we don't yet have the technology to understand."

-after that he would be like "okay challenge accepted!" and would probably conduct a ton of experiments on the movement and manipulation of subtle energies, and how the placebo affect effects spellwork, etc.

-i feel like he wouldn't participate in any spellwork outside of his experiments, at least not until he got his ninpo, at which point he would do a ton of studying about the occult.

-he'll warm up to it eventually, but i don't think it would ever be something that he ever really found a passion in.

-i could see him combine some of his chemistry knowledge with your occult knowledge to help you with potions though!

-he might like tech magick, or adding spells/sigils in with his tech, but i don't think you'd ever find him doing any more than that unless you get him to.

Michaelangelo:

-IS ENTRANCED

-loves magick, loves mystics, loves you

-would take any and every oppurtunity to engage with/ help with your magick! He wants you to teach him everything you know, and I feel like he would learn a whole lot on his own, and the two of you would just bounce ideas off of each other.

-we all know that Mikey becomes a super powerful mystic, so with you by his side?? power couple!! (everyone is afraid of the two of you.)

Raphael:

-supportive but does not understand. like at all.

-will bring you every crystal he sees, every rock, every branch, every flower, and (if you're a vulture culture kinda witch) every bone.

-he likes to watch you do magick if you're comfortable with it, but wouldn't dare try to participate in the spell. he's just a big ol' fanboy.

-i feel like he would love protection magic, it's very important as someone with a job as dangerous as his. if you were to make him some kind of protection amulet, he would probably cry. He's the oldest, he's used to having to protect everyone else, he's not used to anyone trying to protect him. He would never take it off, and if it ever did it's job as much as it could, and finally broke, he would cry, please make him another.

-he would probably crochet some blank poppets for you, that could easily be customized.

April:

-SO FUCKIN INTO IT

-(please help her make fun and flashy assignments that won't backfire like Donnie's tech does!)

-I think she would love to help out in your spells as much as you'll let her, but knows better than to overstep. This is your thing, she understands that you're the boss when it comes to mystic stuff, and just enjoys being along for the ride.

-would pay you to do spells for her, she isn't a fuckin freeloader (like LEO), she knows that it's a craft, and that the hard work you do deserves to be compensated, and if you don't let her paay you for spells because you love her, then she'll just insist on paying for your next date, or buying you that trinket you've had your eye on for a while. you can't stop her.

Cassandra:

-she only cares if you can do spells to help her conquer the world (and if you can hex her enemies c:<)

-no but forreal i think she would love to have a witch lover, and would want to participate, she'd be the BEST at raising energy for spellwork and ritual!

-i think she'd actually make a super powerful practitioner once she learned how to direct her energy

-she would 100% collect bones, so if you're the type of witch to like that, then she may just give you a few from her collection.

-bitch would SLAY at baneful magick

Casey Jr.:

-an alt boy and his witchy partner, is there a better combo than that?

-seriously though, I feel like he would love to just sit around while you were doing magick, he likes to watch, and likes it even more if you teach him anything.

-i feel like he would really only ever use magick for others though. Like if he was struggling, the thought of doing a spell to help himself doesn't even cross his mind, but one of his friends or family members has even the slightest issues and he's jumping for his athame (he would def mainly use an athame, a pretty basic and minimalistic one though).

-another one who just brings you anything he can find that's even slightly related to your craft, and brags about how amazing you are to everyone, all the time.

-please teach him how to use tarot, he wants to commune with the spirits. he'll be responsible, he swears c:

[beesmygod]

a study came out that might indicate that the benefits gained from medical ketamine are a result of the placebo effect (or as the article makes a purpose of highlighting, "having hope") rather than any specific mechanism unique to hallucinogens. but the way they did the study was really interesting, as they make the point that its nearly impossible to do blind studies of a hallucinogen because its REALLY obvious whether or not you have a placebo.

additionally interesting is the way that researchers discuss and reframe placebo as a mechanism with actual biological impact instead of its general perception as "haha you got tricked into feeling better for no reason dipshit!" in hindsight it makes perfect sense that there's actual chemical stuff going on under the hood

“In some ways, none of this is new,” said Boris Heifets, the study’s corresponding author. “Placebo is probably the single most effective, consistent intervention in medicine, full stop. It’s seen in every trial, and we should probably be paying more attention to the factors that give rise to it.” [...] “Saying ‘it’s just a placebo’ is really a disservice to what placebo is,” Heifets said. “It isn’t ‘I’ll feel better if I say it enough times,’ and it does not imply that there was nothing wrong with the patient.” The researchers settled on the physiological resonance between the placebo effect – which they describe as hope – and how ketamine exerts its effects. Studies have shown that both affect the brain’s mu-opioid receptors, which process pain. “There is most definitely a physiological mechanism, something that happens between your ears when you instill hope,” Heifets said.

article here

probably the same stuff that makes it seem like people improve from prayer. pretty neat!

[dat-lil-shark]

I just realized that fireworks are probably the best weapon most humans can have against decepticons. Better than guns and rifles.

While they can’t probably kill the con but they can buy you a whole lot of time. Other than just creating smoke and sparks to block the con’s vision, like a giant smoke bomb, they can sends the con into shock. All the con would see is that there is suddenly a big explosions and there were sparks everywhere, and since they are used to associate massive explosion with massive damages, they would panic. (Not to mention that some might think that THEY were the only who had exploded just then). This placebo effect could actually send them into intense psychological distress and pain. And if lucky, it can buy you up to hours of time to escape or hide. Not to mention that if you actually managed to hit one of their optics, it might actually do physical damages to them.

Fireworks probably work the best on seekers that are in flight, too, cause the confusion, traumatic trigger, and bewilderment could make them crash or collide. And even if the firework didn’t hit any of them directly, since Seekers usually travel in three, they would mistakenly assume one of their companions just got struck down, and again, sending them into panic and distress. Especially when they can’t even see who and where their attacker is.

Like imagine, if you are chasing down a little hamster, and the hamster randomly throws you a little paper ball that recreated explosion of big bang itself, you are not going to get up in three second to continue chasing the hamster.

[bangtangalicious]

placebo (m) masterlist

⇒ pairing: jimin x f-reader, namjoon x f-reader, slight jungkook x f-reader

⇒ summary: he's your soulmate. but he's everything you hate

⇒ characters: bikergang jimin, uni student jungkook, doctor (phd) namjoon, student reader (ft. cameos from other members)

⇒ genre: 18+ romance, smut, soulmate!au, academia!au, vigilante/gang!au, love triangle, strangers to enemies to lovers, forbidden attraction, romeo-juliet typa shit, opposites attract, hurt/comfort, fate versus destiny, dystopian backdrop

⇒ series warnings: s is for smut (specific warnings per part), a is for ANGST baby, judgmental society, social class dynamics, dystopian regime

⇒ a/n: hello!! im super excited to write a ROMANCE for once lmao. this will be a limited series - so not super long or anything <3 feel free to ask any questions!

► part 1

you're assigned a soulmate backed by science of compatibility that hopes to promote healthier, long-lasting, loving relationships. you'd always hoped it would be jeon jungkook - your lab partner of three years who is smart, sweet and knows you better than anyone else. until you meet your real soulmate, park jimin, who is the exact opposite of you. a member of a notorious resistance gang, he doesn't believe in science, love, or the state.

► part 2

betrayal, heartache and confusion follow you as you try your best to fall for jimin despite him trying to get you to give up. while doing this, you come across evidence that your soulmate assignment was a placebo to see if the science was actually accurate or if simply thinking someone was your soulmate was enough to promote better relationships

► part 3

demanding answers, you seek out the scientist behind the experiment, the mysterious and infamous dr. kim namjoon. everything you thought you believed about love gets challenged when you run your true compatibility experiment and you find out your real soulmate was someone you held dear all along

► part 4

⇒ a/n: hello!! im super excited to write a ROMANCE for once lmao. this will be a limited series - so not super long or anything <3 feel free to ask any questions!

|| ask box || full masterlist || wanna join the taglist? reply or send an ask!

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XVI. “sweetener”

parts: previous / next

plot: after months of rejections, a certain offer crops up with such sweetener you can’t possibly resist… though you wish it was under better circumstance.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, talk of death, grief, cancer, angst, unintentional weight loss

words: 3.9k

The next two months were a blur. Your days melted together, only distinguishable by doctor's visits and which job rejected you that day. The economy was in shambles; going on Indeed you were seeing hundreds of applications to a single Dunkin' barista job. You tried your best to forget about Bruce Wayne, and kept replaying the conversation over and over in the week following. His promise not to hurt you, the vague sense of safety and danger you got when you were around him... but it was soothing knowing that he was all the way on the other side of the US. This relief went away when it was deep into the night and you remembered he had all the money, all the tech, all the opportunity to hunt you down if he wanted to, but you did your best to trust the humanity he fronted with. You kicked yourself for forgetting to bring up the loan thing, adrenaline having been coursing through your veins blocking out any real coherent thought outside of the direct moment. It couldn't have been him, it could've been another donor. Maybe it was even Alfred checking my texts when I’d gone to the bathroom or some shit.

The days still blurred together however, and secretly you relished not knowing what day it was; not knowing meant you didn't know how close the draw was. Your mother's clinical trial started beginning of August, and would be a biweekly shot... if she was accepted. At each and every appointment leading up to that fateful day the staff engaged in tempering assurances, albeit assuring hardly anyone would make it into that trial. For a split second whenever a doctor or nurse mentioned it at the end of her appointments you felt a white-hot rod in your throat that froze you in your tracks. The doctors said this was her only hope. And only if she avoids placebo.

Walter was growing increasingly anxious as well. Walter refused to leave her side to the point you had called the office to see if they would ever make an exception to bring a cat inside. No. Allergies. Your dad had taken to staying home with him, otherwise he would go on a food strike. It would take hours of petting and cooing to him to make him comfortable enough to eat again if your mom ever got out of his sight. It was better with your dad there, though. Instead of three hours of cuddling, it might take two for him to eat again. You tried not to think about what would ever happen if your mom's battle ended... poorly.

Your dad started going back to work, only part time. You made sure to spend all the time possible out in the living room with your mother and Walter while she knit and pulled pieces of yarn from Walter's teeth, and watched some sort of romcom. When your dad came back you would all start cooking dinner, then eat, engage in some sort of discussion (your dad had taken to downloading an 'icebreaker' app and would pull one question each day from it) and then you'd spend the rest of the night submitting job apps. It was monotonous, a bit draining, but also sweet. It was such a far cry from Gotham that at just over a month gone from the city, you'd started to wonder if you'd dreamt it and you'd actually been here with them all along... until the day before the clinical trial announcement when you'd woken up to a particular email.

Dear Miss Y/L/N,

It is at the referral of Gotham City University President Dr. Janay Vry that we extend to you an offer of employment in the position of JOURNALISM DEPARTMENT ASSISTANT for the academic year of 2024-25. This is a part-time position requiring 20 hours of on-site time per week including outreach of no more than 5 hours per week. Duties include management of a public column in the Gotham Gazette and various office responsibilities as-needed. Compensation includes a housing stipend of fifteen-hundred dollars per month and an hourly rate of forty-three dollars and forty-five cents.

Please respond before Friday, August 2nd at 5pm. There is a mandatory meeting on Monday, August 5th at 12 noon in Challey Hall, Room 245. Flight and one-week hotel stay will be provided upon acceptance.

We look forward to hearing from you.

Gotham City University Faculty Administrator

You stared at the screen as if you'd seen a ghost. For weeks you hadn't had to worry about Gotham; the crime, the sleazes, Bruce Wayne. I'm balls deep in rejections and now Gotham sweetens the deal. You kicked the sheets off of you then paused, horrified, before remembering Walter didn't sleep in your bed anymore.

Breakfast was as usual. Your dad made omelets and the three of you made small talk about the happenings of the day ahead. Today your mother was getting a visit from Debra, her old friend from the Y back when she volunteered there on weekends. Your dad was working the same shift—10am to 3pm—and would put steak on the grill when he got back. "Looks like it might hit a hundred if we get lucky."

"Y/N," She asked after taking a sip of coffee. "Can you make sure Walter's water is filled? I think I might go to Debra's to get out of the house." You looked under the table to see Walter slurping up the last puddles of his water and rose to fill it. You grabbed a few ice cubes so it could stay cold just the way he liked it; a sobering thought of leaving this for Gotham threatened to sever your spine. After pouring a few cups into his bowl and giving him a proper pet, your dad followed up on your job search. "Any luck on those applications?"

More than anything you didn't want to tell them about Gotham. But as your parents had talked, the more you began to mull over the money in your mind. Free housing. 1500 would be enough for a good studio. 800 a week. A plane ticket's 200 round trip. I could visit, easy. I would visit. It would only be temporary, I wouldn't probably last the whole year before I got offered a position at home. What if Mom doesn't get into the trial? What if she does and she gets placebo? How long does she have? Will it be painful? Do I need to think about a job right now? It would look fucking great on a resumé, which would increase odds of getting ahead of the job seekers in WA quite significantly...

"Hun? Any offers?" Your dad turned to look at you and you blurted out the contents of the email. A second of silent surprise then an uproar of celebration. "Thank heavens, that sounds wonderful! Did you already accept?"

You looked back at them with shock, your mouth hanging slightly open. What? Walter finished his food and brushed against your legs as he wandered to your mom, looking pitifully up at her slices of bacon. "Well, no. It's Gotham. I thought it was too dangerous." You guys nearly prohibited me from even going to Gotham in the first place...

"That was before we visited!" Your mom was ecstatic; she rose to come and give you a big hug, and your dad tried to swat Walter away from jumping on the chair to sneak a bite. You wanted to think it was cute, but your mind raced. How could they be so supportive? Unquestionably? "It's Gotham, Mom," You took her hug not in celebration, but in an effort to commit the feeling to memory.

"How much is the pay?" Your dad pulled in the chair so he couldn't jump and walked over to the sink to put his plate away. You shut your eyes and hid a sigh. Once they know how good the pay is they won't let me stay. "Good, I guess."

"What, 15, 16 an hour?" Your parents eyed you expectantly and you shrugged. "A little more. Than that." You followed the linoleum's vertical lines to where it met the carpet. "And a housing stipend." You cringed. They weren't going to let this opportunity go.

"Wowza, honeybee!" Your dad called you that when he was particularly pleased, which only served to coil your stomach lining. Gotham? Gotham. This was over Gotham. The place we got into screaming matches over me going to only a handful of years ago. "I don't know,"

"Why not? It sounds perfect." Your mom was a foot away from you boring her eyes into your soul. Does she really have no idea why I wouldn't want to leave? "Mom,"

"If this is anything about my cancer," So she did.

"Don't say that," You tried to play it off and stuttered something about how you didn't particularly like Gotham anyway, you could keep looking for jobs here, but she wasn't having it.

"No no. I want you to live your life, sweetie. This is a spectacular opportunity!" Her singsong tone was back and you suddenly wanted to throw up. You wanted to blurt HOW MUCH TIME IS LEFT WITH YOU?? I CAN'T MISS IT! But, you didn't say anything and walked out of the kitchen back to your room. You didn't quite slam the door, but didn't make it silent. While your mother's selflessness was admirable, it was also frustrating. I only get one mom. You sat on the edge of your bed with your head in your hands. Whispers wafted from the kitchen but you couldn't make them out. The sound of footsteps, a pause, and then knocking on your door. "Hun, let's talk." It was your father.

"Dad, no, I'm tired,"

"You just woke up honeybun, I'm not buying that." He sat beside you on the end of your bed. It sagged a bit, not used to the extra company. He placed a hand on your shoulder. "What you're feeling about your mother, I've felt it too. I had the same conversation with her before going back to work.”

"I'm sure she was receptive." You rolled your eyes. He squinted at you. "Now, where is this attitude coming from?"

"I don't want to tell her because it'll make her sad. But. I. I have no idea how much longer she has left. And working would just take time away from her."

"Have you thought about how that might make your mother feel? Her life has changed enough. She's already reminded enough about her... illness."

"Cancer, Dad. Cancer." He never said the words. He shuddered but continued on.

"Her life has been turned upside, over, and back around. She does not need more reminders of how sick she might be."

"How sick she is." You shot a glare at your father, just then realizing how much contempt you felt toward him. It came rushing out of you. "You didn't even think to tell me her mobility changed. I had to see her frail and in a fucking wheelchair,"

"Now, calm yourself!" He snapped at you and took his hand off your shoulder. You scooted a little further from him, annoyed. Your voice was softer but the rock in your chest remained. "You didn't even tell me. She's lost so much weight. Her hair changed. You didn't even tell me. You won't even say the word 'cancer'." Your voice was starting to raise and he stood up. "Talk to your mother."

"Why? Didn't you say that'd just add extra stress? Remind her of her 'illness'?" You stood up and watched him walk to the door. "You weren't in the room with the doctor when he told me. He said it's this trial or fucking nothing."

"Don't use that language in my house!"

"It's my house too." By this point your mind was racing and your palms were sweaty and clammy and head hot, hands shaking. "If she doesn't get into this trial and this medicine doesn't work she's fucked."

He paused with his hand on the doorknob. "If you brought it up to her... maybe you'd see she's come to more peace than you have about it." With that, he left.

At 1:13pm the next day the phone rang. You hadn't talked to your mom about it as she was already headed out the door to see Debra, and didn't come back until late in the evening when she was visibly exhausted. Your dad helped tuck her into bed and she fell asleep quickly. Breakfast the next morning was fine, but tense; you were all anxiously awaiting this phone call. Your dad had stayed home from work just in case, and now your mom picked up the phone. "Yes, that's she. Yes. Yes, that's correct." And just by some small miracle, she'd gotten in.

Debra joined the party that evening. After a tearful raucous she was the first one your family called. Not ten minutes later she had arrived with a pie. "I baked it this morning. I figured we'd want something sweet no matter what."

The logistics were as-follows: your mom was going to be receiving her first shot of the drug (or, terrifyingly, a placebo) the following Friday. She would keep a diligent record of any side effects, even if they didn't seem related. Two weeks later she would receive her second dose and turn in the side-effect sheet, and that would continue for the following month until switching to once a month injections for the rest of the year. The first week of the new year your mother would get another scan, and that would be the first check-in. "They told me if everything goes how it should with the medication, I could not only see growth stunted, but be on the road to remission." Seeing how happy your parents were the rest of the evening only made the offer in Gotham more inviting; she'd been accepted, and if the results were, god forbid, horrendous in the new year, you would come home and help with the money you'd saved.

Clutching the laptop with white knuckles, you sent the acceptance email at 4:50pm the next day, ten minutes before the deadline. Half an hour later you were booked for your flight that Sunday at noon. Saturday was filled with laundry and packing bags; now Walter didn't want to leave your side. That night you hardly slept, staying up to pet him on the couch while your parents nodded off to a TV movie. The phrase mutually assured destruction came back to haunt you—you hadn't meant that to be a threat, but what if it was? You'd planned on never having to see him again... but the city was big. You could avoid him. And if you were going to trust him, he had said that even if you had written the exposé he wouldn't have hurt you.

You planned to come back once a month, leaving Thursday night and returning Sunday night. It fit well with your mom's trial schedule for the latter portion of the year, and you'd be able to come with her to her appointments. When you got on the plane and tucked your carryon under the seat it didn't feel so terrible. It felt less like leaving and more like a weird vacation. But as soon as you woke up in Gotham a rock hit the pit of your stomach. Fuck. I'm back.

The W was the hotel Dr. Vry had set up for you, only a floor below where you'd stayed with your parents the last time. You had one week to find an apartment, and Dr. Vry said to list her on any applications to 'speed up the process'. While waiting on the Uber to pick you up in the airport you'd sent one application to a place in North Gotham, a gorgeous gem of a spot with a full-size tub and in-unit washer dryer. Just as you pushed the key into your room at the hotel, you received a confirmation email with the date to retrieve your keys. Fuck, they made it too easy.

With a lot of time on your hands and a new neighborhood to explore, you abandoned your room and wandered around the blocks surrounding. You went more north this time, to avoid any fleeting memory of Bruce and whatever the hell he'd been up to.

Northern Gotham was certainly more family-friendly. You saw couples taking their babies out on walks instead of throngs of people clustering around the various clubs on every block. There was only one club you'd seen so far, and that one allowed minors until seven pm. You'd lived more downtown, central city, and never had reason to go further north until now. The apartment you'd been in was less than a thousand a month, which made sense how riddled it was with crime. It wasn't even close to Washington, but this didn't quite feel like the Gotham you knew close to campus.

You noticed a cute themed coffee shop on the corner ahead and went in. There were a few people and a couple sitting around the small room, working on their laptops or reading a book. It really felt like it wasn't Gotham, like you'd been transported back home for a quick moment. You went on Maps and saw that your new apartment was only three blocks east of the cafe. Safety. Serenity. Never thought I'd find a crumb of it here. You resigned to coming here as often as possible. You ordered a macchiato and sat on a leather loveseat as you waited. Your jeans bit into your stomach and you adjusted uncomfortably, the leather loud as you wiggled. I guess this is why this seat was empty. You were called up for your drink quickly and thanked them as you walked out back from whence you came. Though you hadn't been in the store for five minutes, it was already raining. Even Washington didn't rain in August, but you couldn't be too pressed. The rain was nice when it wasn't forcing you to be locked in the city mansion with the... no.

Bruce doesn't own this city. There's millions of people here. With your coffee in hand you made the trek back to the hotel, and after hopping into the giant bed you sat with your thoughts for a moment. Challey Hall... that wasn't the journalism department. The term started three Mondays later, and alongside the fifteen-hundred stipend for rent and utilities, Dr. Vry had emailed you with an extra thousand in the form of a digital check. In her words it was a 'settle-in fee'. Monday would be the meeting and then Dr. Vry would give you a tour of the places you'd be frequenting. You'd receive your schedule, and Tuesday through Sunday would be reserved for settling into the apartment and getting items for it so it wasn't an empty box. Why are they being so generous with the money? It didn't feel right, not when there was so much inequality in the city. You'd make sure to cut some costs and offer whatever was left after your first paycheck to the houseless people around campus.

As you walked back you couldn't help but think about how gigantic the city was. When considering whether or not to accept the position, you had vastly underrepresented the impact of the sheer size of the city on your psyche. It made you feel completely unimportant and equally as lost. It only served your insecurities, making you feel like even more of an outcast than you already felt in your small town just outside of Seattle. Mar. You could call Mar. She could come over, and you could tell her about Bruce. That would be a good icebreaker. Open up to her about why you'd been so MIA, about your mother's cancer, about why you left and why you came back. You needed someone to talk to.

An hour later you and her were sitting on the hotel bed eating takeout noodles. "So you're saying you stayed in Bruce Wayne's HOUSE, then he helped you pack up your apartment, then dropped you off at the airport," Her face was scrunched together, deep in thought as she recounted the last hour of conversation. Some broth from the noodles was on the top of her lip. "Then he was the commencement speaker at your graduation, he talked to your parents after, then later that night he found you again and talked to you?"

"When you say it like that it sounds like stalking." You shrugged and took another chomp of noodles. Mar stared at you. "If it sounds like stalking,"

"It's coincidence, I promise." You hadn't completely kept out the part where you two hated each other, you made sure that was clear, but you sure as hell kept out the why. Mar was trustworthy, sure, but you didn't even want to remember he was Batman. It made you anxious and nervous to think about him in the suit. Then you would've had to explain that you and Bruce were now circling each other with ammo pointed at the other's chest if one of you stepped out of line.

"I don't know, it sounds creepy. What if he shows up here in the middle of the night..." Mar trailed off when she saw you look away. You hadn't told Mar about your mom yet, and didn't know if you wanted to for fear of it becoming more real. You wanted to leave that out of Gotham. Leave the trauma, leave the guilt, leave it for the weekends when you would fly back. You shrugged and made a joke about getting to be associated with a billionaire. "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he got papped here. Might boost my journalistic impact." The conversation moved away from Bruce after that, and you and Mar spent the rest of the evening talking, eventually laying in bed scrolling Scypher on your respective phones. The second you loaded the app, however, you saw a Dior ad everyone in Gotham was swooning over, and couldn't hold back your gasp.

He had not only been photographed often by paparazzi, it seemed, going on regular walks to downtown shops and local charity events, but this was his first official campaign. Mar leaned over and nodded, saying 'everyone' was talking about the photo. "I thought you'd already seen it, that's why you brought him up."

"No, I haven't." You scrolled through the comments trying to hold back a cringe.

He can top me

BARK BARK BARK

y did he keep his BEAUTY FROM US FOR SO LONG???????????

daddy

when is the rest of the campaign dropping asking for a friend

You turned your phone off and rolled over in bed. You told Mar goodnight (she decided to spend the night since she hadn't seen you in so long), murmuring something about having to be up the next day for your orientation. Bruce Wayne. Billionaire playboy. What the fuck happened with him?

[heroictoonz]

Can you do plasmashipping (Jay x Kai) with this prompt? :

Bandaging the other and then kissing the injury gently

Jay’s hands were almost unnaturally still as he wrapped the gauze around Kai’s forearm. The cut wasn’t deep enough to need stitches, thankfully, but it still looked scary to Jay. The amount of blood that had originally spilled from the wound was almost dizzying. 

Not for Kai, of course, who had hardly even noticed the wound as he chased down the knife-wielding bandit. It wasn’t till Jay had caught sight of the cut in his sleeve and the quickly spreading stain on the left over fabric that there was any sign that he’d been injured during the fight. 

Jay was quick to pull Kai back to the monastery, insisting that they could chase after the guy later. When they’d gotten home, Jay grabbed the first aid kit and had Kai remove the top part of his gi. 

It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but it still wasn’t a fun sight. “How did you not notice you got cut?” Jay hissed out as he finished tying off the bandaging. 

Kai looked at him with a frustrated frown. He gave a shrug that said more to his annoyance than an actual loss of knowledge. He looked down to where Jay’s hand held his in silent consideration. 

“Dude, you gotta be more careful!” Jay continued on. “I mean, just launching yourself at that guy? Seriously?! We’re a team and you’re a ninja. You have got to get better at strategy than that-”

“Okay!” Kai interrupted him with a shout. “I get it! I fucked up, message received.” He yanked his arm out of Jay’s grasp and looked down at the bandaging. “You can stop acting like you’re my mom or somethin’,” he mumbled out. 

It was Jay’s turn to frown at Kai. “I’m not trying to act like a mom.” He yanked Kai’s arm back into his own grasp, eliciting a call of offense from the ninja. “I’m trying to make sure that you’re not about to kill yourself doin’ somethin’ stupid.” 

Jay ran his thumb over where the now hidden injury was. He pulled Kai’s arm up and gently placed a kiss to the bandaging. When he pulled away, his face was flushed red, and he refused to look up and match Kai’s gaze. 

“What the hell was that for?” Kai’s words weren’t said with any form of harshness or venom. They were mumbled with a quiet huff. 

“My ma used to say that love heals faster than time or medicine.” Jay finally let go of Kai’s arm of his own accord. “‘N’ every time she’d kiss a scrape or cut, it always felt better immediately.” 

Kai raised a brow as his eyes searched Jay’s face. He gave up his search and instead let himself fall back onto the wood flooring of the monastery porch. “Dude, I think your mom placebo-ed your ass.” 

Jay couldn’t help but chuckle at the response. “Yeah, probably. But it worked, so I guess I can’t complain all that much.” He finally looked at Kai, smiling down at him with a tired expression. 

Kai didn’t really have anything to reply. Instead, he stayed silent and gave Jay a returned smirk. He kept it to himself that his arm really didn’t hurt all that bad anymore. 

Send me fic prompts o7

[ms-demeanor]

I don’t duck with predatory schools or cheap unaccredited courses/ capitalism/white washed alternative medicines… but does you beef with alternative practitioners extend to Eastern/ traditional medicinal practices as a whole? Like you don’t think herbalism or acupuncture have healing capabilities?

I am deeply, deeply skeptical of nearly all alternative medicine, but you are unlikely to find anyone who says there are no benefits to most types of alternative medicine. (I'll say it about chiropractic and homeopathy though - there's nothing that a chiropracter can do for you that a physical therapist or massage therapist can't do better and more safely, and homeopathy won't do anything except possibly poison more infants)

However, here's the problem with that:

Acupuncture appears to have fairly reliable effects that are not explained by the placebo effect for things like pain relief, anxiety, and depression, and may also help with disorders relating to those things (insomnia and asthma, for instance). But you should not stop taking your asthma medications because you are being treated for asthma with acupuncture because if you are asthmatic, deciding "oh, my asthma [which treatable, but not curable] is cured!]" and throwing away your rescue inhaler can kill you.

Herbal remedies may be comforting for some people, and may have some effects, but it is dangerous to use, for instance, St. John's Wort to treat depression because it is impossible to standardize a dose of St. John's Wort in something like a tea or an extract, and supplements are not regulated in the US so it is impossible to know *what* dose you're getting in a St. John's Wort supplement.

Many people find chiropractic to be a reasonable means of pain relief, and I'm not going to pretend that their pain isn't reduced from chiropractic treatment, but literally hundreds of studies suggest that for the things that chiropractic has any reliable measurable effect on (musculoskeletal pain) you are going to get better treatment from a massage therapist or a physical therapist.

Ayurvedic medicine has a long history of things like surgeries including cataract surgyery and cauterization to treat bleeding, which do actually work! However ayurvedic medicine also often includes consumption of harmful materials like heavy metals alongside herbs that may have actual medical benefits, or practices like oil pulling, which do absolutely nothing.

Chinese Traditional Medicine may have some useful treatments, but is also associated with things like lead poisoning.

Use of Kava as an herbal alternative pain treatment was linked to a spate of people having liver failure. Kava does work to treat pain, it just also causes liver failure at completely unacceptable rates and at completely unknown doses.

So I don't think that alternative medicines are uniformly awful. Some stuff seems to work okay, and there is some stuff that is very unlikely to cause harm even if it doesn't actually heal.

But, hoo boy, herbalism has *immense* capacity to harm (because it is difficult to ensure accurate dosing, because herbal medications may interfere with allopathic medications, because it is difficult to avoid contaminants and easy to make mistakes with preparations in herbal medicine), which is made worse when people choose herbalism in place of other treatments. There are a thousand horror stories of people using black salve (a caustic substance that is used to treat tumors by chemically burning them off) to treat breast cancer, which is only marginally more horrifying than people who chose to forego cancer treatment in favor of herbalism.

And I'm not particularly in the business of telling people what to do, but I am someone with chronic illnesses who has had alternative treatments proposed to me in place of recognized best practices and I understand that for people with a new or frightening diagnosis it is easy to fall victim to a confident person who is offering 'treatment' at a lower cost and with more hands-on care than an overworked specialist who doesn't take your shitty insurance. Because of that I think that it is often safer to assume that alternative treatments are at best unproven and to start treating medical conditions with allopathic medicine and to use alternative treatments alongside of allopathic medicine (with the full knowledge of your medical team - a lot of "detoxifying" alternative medicines work by making all of your medications ineffective!)

And even if you're going to be using herbalism or acupuncture to treat someone and doing so in conjunction with proven treatments, I still think it's important for the practitioner of alternative medicine to be intellectually curious and scientifically educated enough to recognize when their treatments aren't working; if you have cheerfully taken a course in chiropractic and homeopathy as part of your alternative medicine degree, that does not suggest that you are being given a rigorous, evidence-based education in herbalism or acupuncture by the school that provided the homeopathy class!

It's like if you were getting a degree in engineering and had to take a class on the physics of the time cube in order to graduate. Time Cube Theory 204 cancels out Advanced Fluid Dynamics! Time Cube Theory 204 calls into question the validity of all your other classes! Time Cube Theory 204 is a major alarm bell, and if that didn't chase you out of the building you shouldn't be trusted to build a dam!