#malingering cw

[cartoonscientist]

[fates-theysband]

work stress will make you develop physical symptoms on a weirdly regular scale

[funguslesbian]

B A D D O G

[coulsonlives]

.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Just Kiss Her

James Potter x BSF!Reader

Summary: You find a few unsent letters with your name on them- literally.

WC: 2.1k

CW: use of {Y/N} - typo and nonsense it's 4am and I can't sleep.

The Gryffindor boys' dormitory was unusually lively for a day when James was absent. You sat cross-legged on James’s bed, surrounded by the mess that only four teenage boys could call normal. The faint scent of James’s shampoo lingered on his pillow behind you, a small comfort as the chatter of the room swirled around you.

Sirius groaned dramatically from his own bed, his leg propped up on a stack of pillows. He had injured it during their last Quidditch practice and was now milking the situation for all it was worth.

“Darling,” Sirius called, drawing out the word as he tilted his head toward you. “I demand attention. Do you know how utterly dull it is, lying here with nothing but Moony’s dull bookishness and Wormtail’s horrible color sense for company?”

“I’m literally right here, Pads,” Remus replied flatly, not looking up from his book.

“And you love me,” Sirius shot back without skipping a beat, grinning lazily.

You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to Peter, who stood in front of the mirror with a tie hanging awkwardly around his neck. “I think the green one is better,” you offered. “It brings out your eyes.”

Peter frowned, his hands fumbling with the knot. “But is green too Slytheriny?”

“Not unless you start hissing and cursing muggleborns,” you replied with a teasing smile. “Just pair it with a gray jumper. Neutralize it.”

Peter nodded, muttering something about giving it a try before swapping it for a blue tie. Meanwhile, Sirius groaned again, this time louder.

“I’m dying, and none of you care,” he complained, flopping back against his pillows like a tragic figure in a poorly acted play.

“You’re not dying,” you said, leaning back on your hands. “You’ve got a bruised leg.”

“Bruised? Bruised?” Sirius gasped as if you’d mortally wounded him. “That’s how they minimize war injuries, you know. Next you’ll say I’m malingering.”

“Which you are," Remus said, still not looking up from his book.

Sirius turned to you, ignoring Remus entirely. “Come on, love. Entertain me. Read me a story or sing me a song or- oh! Recite poetry! You’re good at that.”

“I’m not reciting poetry for you, Sirius.”

“Why not?” Sirius pouted. “You do it for James.”

“That’s because James actually asks nicely,” you quipped, smirking.

At that, Sirius clutched his chest as if you’d stabbed him, his grin betraying his dramatics. “Et tu, Brute? I thought you loved me.”

“Loved, past tense,” you teased. “You’re officially too high maintenance.”

“You wound me,” Sirius said, throwing an arm over his face. “Moony, tell her she’s being cruel.”

“Not getting involved,” Remus said quickly, still reading but now smiling faintly.

Sirius turned his face toward you again, his pout morphing into a cheeky grin. “Fine, if you won’t entertain me, at least come sit over here so I can lean on you while you’re ignoring me.”

You rolled your eyes but stood anyway, walking over to Sirius’s bed. “You’re unbearable.”

“I prefer entertaining,” he replied smugly as you perched beside him, letting him lean his head on your shoulder.

The room was quiet for a moment, save for the sound of Remus flipping another page in his book and Peter muttering to himself as he fiddled with another tie. Sirius, still leaning on your shoulder, let out a long, exaggerated sigh, clearly waiting for you to indulge him.

“Alright,” you finally relented. “I’ll read something to you. Happy now?”

Sirius grinned triumphantly. “Ecstatic. Now, find something good. None of that boring rubbish you usually bring in here.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood and glanced around the room. “Fine, but I’m not wasting my time reading some textbook or Quidditch manual. Let’s see if James has something decent for once.”

Sirius perked up, watching you make your way over to James’s trunk. “Careful, darling, you’re stepping into dangerous territory. Prongs’s secrets and all that.”

“Oh, he won’t mind,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “Besides, if he didn’t want me snooping, he’d have locked it.”

Remus glanced up from his book. “I’m not sure that logic holds up, actually.”

You knelt beside the trunk, lifting the lid to find the usual James Potter mess: a tangled heap of robes, a few textbooks with worn edges, and a Gryffindor scarf stuffed haphazardly into the corner. But what caught your eye was a small, battered box tucked near the bottom, half-hidden beneath a crumpled cloak.

“What’s this?” you murmured, pulling it out and turning it over in your hands.

Sirius’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Oh, now that looks promising. Open it.”

Remus let out a quiet sigh. “I wouldn’t- ”

“Of course you would,” Sirius interrupted. “It’s Prongs. What’s his is practically hers anyway.”

Ignoring their back-and-forth, you pried open the lid. Inside was a disorganized stack of parchment, some neatly folded, others crumpled and torn. Some were even singed at the edges, as if they'd narrowly escaped being thrown into the fire. Every single one had your name scrawled across the top in James’s messy handwriting.

Your heart skipped a beat.

“What is it?” Peter asked, peeking over your shoulder.

“Letters,” you said softly. “They’re… they’re addressed to me.”

Sirius’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Oh, now this is good."

Remus closed his book, his brow furrowed. “Are you really going to read those? They’re personal.”

“They’re addressed to me," you replied, a mixture of curiosity and nerves stirring in your chest.

“You’re doing him a favor,” Sirius said breezily. “If he didn’t want you to read them, he’d have gotten rid of them properly.”

You hesitated for a moment before unfolding the first letter. The parchment was slightly wrinkled, and the ink looked rushed, as though James had written it in a moment of unfiltered emotion.

Dear {Y/N},

You probably think I’m an idiot. Honestly, you wouldn’t be wrong. I’ve tried to write this letter five times already, and I keep throwing them in the fire. But this one… I don’t know. Maybe I’ll keep it. Maybe one day I’ll find the courage to actually give it to you.

You laughed today. I can’t even remember what I said to make you laugh, but Merlin, it was the best sound I’ve ever heard. I keep playing it over in my head like an idiot, and it’s driving me mad.

I think I love you. No- scratch that. I *know* I love you. But I can’t tell you. What if you don’t feel the same? What if it ruins everything? Maybe it’s better this way. At least I can still be near you, even if it kills me to pretend.

Your voice caught, and you lowered the letter, your hands trembling slightly.

“Bloody hell,” Sirius said, looking genuinely impressed. “Prongs has it bad.”

Peter nodded mutely, wide-eyed.

“You really shouldn’t be reading those,” Remus muttered, though his tone lacked conviction.

But you couldn’t stop. You reached for another letter, this one more crumpled, as though James had balled it up in frustration before deciding to keep it.

I tried to burn this one too, but I couldn’t. I can’t seem to get rid of the things I write to you, even if they’re pointless. You’ll never read them anyway. But writing them feels like the only way to stop my chest from caving in whenever I see you with someone else. Merlin, I’m pathetic.

I wish I could just tell you. But then what? You’d laugh, or worse, pity me. I couldn’t stand that. So, I’ll keep pretending. Keep being your best friend. Keep loving you quietly.

“Wow,” Peter said softly.

You sat back on your heels, clutching the letters tightly. All this time, James had been carrying these feelings- for you- and he’d never said a word.

“See?” Sirius said, looking smug. “Told you this was worth it.”

Remus shot him a glare. “You’re not helping.”

You looked up, your heart pounding. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

Sirius leaned back against his pillows, crossing his arms behind his head. “Because he’s James bloody Potter. He’d face down a hundred Death Eaters without flinching, but one look at you and he’s a goner.”

The door to the dormitory burst open, and James Potter strolled in, looking thoroughly windswept from Quidditch practice. His broom was slung over his shoulder, and his Gryffindor scarf dangled loosely around his neck.

“Alright, lads, miss me?” he asked cheerfully, dropping his broom beside his bed. He glanced at Peter, who was still fiddling with his tie. “Wormy, mate, what’s that? A tie? You look like you’re about to slither off into the dungeons.”

Peter huffed, pulling at the tie. “It’s green with gray accents. She said it works.”

James’s laugh was loud and carefree, but then his gaze landed on you, sitting on the floor with a stack of letters clutched tightly in your hands. The open box on the floor beside you caught his eye, and his face immediately fell.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice suddenly sharp.

You froze for a moment but quickly regained your composure, hugging the letters closer to your chest.

“Reading,” Sirius said from his bed, his tone positively delighted. “Turns out, Prongs, you’re a regular Shakespeare. Real heartfelt stuff.”

James paled as he took a step toward you, his eyes wide with a mix of panic and embarrassment. “Put those down. Now. They’re mine.”

You stood quickly, holding the letters tight to your chest as if they were a treasure. “No, they’re mine. They’ve got my name on them.”

“{Y/N},” James groaned, his face turning a deep shade of red. He lunged for the letters, but you stepped back just in time.

“I don’t think so,” you said, grinning as you unfolded another letter. You held it up dramatically, clearing your throat. “Let’s see what this one says- ”

“Don’t you dare!” James exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly.

“Dear {Y/N},” you read aloud, dodging James as he tried to grab the letters again. “You’re going to kill me one day, and I’ll probably thank you for it. Today, you- ”

James groaned loudly, lunging for you again. “I mean it! Give them back!”

But you were faster, darting around Sirius’s bed and laughing as James scrambled to catch you. “Today, you laughed at my joke in Transfiguration, and I swear I forgot how to breathe- oh, that’s good, James! Real poetic!”

Sirius howled with laughter from his bed, clapping his hands. “Oh, this is gold. Absolute gold.”

Peter, wide-eyed, muttered, “Should we stop them?”

“No,” Sirius said quickly, waving a hand. “This is the most fun I’ve had all day.”

James was completely flustered now, his hair even messier than usual as he chased you around the room. “You’re impossible!” he said, his voice breathless.

“And you’re in love with me,” you teased, waving the letters in the air. Suddenly you paused, as if reality hit you. Your smile grew tenfold as you looked at the letters then to him with wide eyes. “Merlin, you're in love with me!”

That made him freeze for half a second, giving you just enough time to read aloud again. “You’ll never read this, but Merlin, I can’t stop thinking about you- ”

Before you could finish, James lunged and finally managed to catch you, his arms wrapping around you tightly. You squealed in surprise and delight as the two of you toppled backward into the open closet, the letters scattering around you.

James pinned you gently, his face mere inches from yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “You’re an absolute menace,” he said, though his tone was more fond than frustrated.

“And you’re a hopeless romantic,” you shot back, grinning up at him.

For a moment, he just stared at you, his hazel eyes filled with something intense and unspoken. Then, before you could say another word, he kissed you- soft and sweet at first, but quickly turning urgent and consuming.

You forgot about the letters entirely as his hands framed your face, his lips moving against yours like he’d been waiting for this moment forever. Your laughter melted into the kiss, your hands clutching the front of his Quidditch jumper as if to anchor yourself.

From outside the closet, Sirius’s voice rang out. “Bloody hell, Prongs, save some for later!”

James pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his face flushed and his smile wide. “Remind me to hex Sirius later,” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips.

“Deal,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss him again.

Sirius groaned loudly. “Merlin, they’re hopeless. Wormtail, fetch me a bucket; I’m going to be sick.”

Remus sighed, his tone amused. “I think we’ve just lost James for the rest of the day.”

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

what’s the worst part of the bpd for you?

bruh where do I start (cw: brief mention of SI under the cut)

maybe the need for constant validation but being accused of attention seeking

maybe being unable to trust your own judgment over if you’re “allowed” to be mad at or dislike someone and then being accused of gossiping

maybe constantly questioning if it’s just “bpd brain” or if someone is ACTUALLY acting different

maybe going from calm and fine all the way up to the point of SI and then back down to calm and fine within the span of 10 minutes

maybe people treating you different and calling you “a borderline” instead of an actual person

maybe the medical system refusing to believe a word you say after seeing the diagnosis and just assuming that you’re malingering

but on a positive note I can almost always tell when someone’s acting up and am very very sensitive about mood changes, so I call it my bpd superpower even if it’s a double edged sword

[cator99]

the most irritating part about all of this however is that I don't think any if this has been particularly fair to PGs friend who she has screwed over. Sure, you could blame the illegal dweller for not considering the situation more carefully, however if I can be dead serious this very young woman seems to have FASD... she claims to have "autism"(self diagnosed) (as does PG but her identification is purely ideologically motivated) but I've lived with kids who are all sorts of On The Spectrum as well as those with varying degrees of FASD... while both autists and FASD adults are often capable of living normal regular ass lives and even flying under the radar to an extent, and while there may be surface level "symptomatic" overlap, the differences between the two are very clear. This is relevant because the girl wasn't given all the information she deserved to have when making the decision to move in here. She comes across as very naive and stunted even for her young age. She was simply told Fuck The Landlord and don't bother getting on the lease in any official capacity or even so much as informing the LL of her presence, until it was far too late. She was also PGs best friend when she moved in... and still believes this to be the case. Or... did. More on that later. She was moved in under the pretense that the two of them would eventually be moving out together. They were actively looking for places together, for at least a little while. I forgot that this had ever been the case– it's been so long since it was last mentioned. I'm not sure what changed. God--- maybe PGs request to add her to the lease happened because PG quietly realized she really just wanted to leave on her own. It also very much seemed like PG was doing all the work when it came to scouting out places, reaching out, organizing meetings, etc. Additionally, I heard from my coworker who shares the basement with the girl that she never cleans up after herself, never does dishes, and somehow manages to render the bathroom a swamp every time she showers (we're talking fully drenched floor here not just a bit of dampness or puddles here n there– cw suspects she leaves the curtain wide open)... and that PG cleans up after her, every time. Not sure what the deal is, but PG seemed fine with acting as pseudo caretaker for her dear friend, up until she wasn't. I watched her slowly become withdrawn and seemingly annoyed by the girl's presence (fake a mental disability, win stupid prizes... since she started hooking up and spending all her time with that one normie ftm, she's all but dropped the act, dresses better– less and less pins every day!– and even acts more mature..... perhaps she realized that malingering as an autist wasnt doing her social life any favors and didn't make her seem special but rather just. Special.)(and when I say malingering I mean very clear and obvious faking. I had no reason to suspect her of doing so because that sort of thing is ridiculous but lo and behold... she seemed to be able to turn her very caricature-ish "autism" symptoms on and off at will)... And then, this interaction: last week, the girl ran up the stairs when she heard PG in the kitchen practicing her whistle tones along to some ariana tunes. I don't mean to eavesdrop (yes I do) however this is all happening a few feet from my bedroom door. But no to be real I tend to just put my headphones on when people are being annoying out there. This time though, the girl immediately launched into a hyperactive squeal about how happy she is to be living with her best friend. Isnt it awesome? You're my best friend! I'm so lucky to live with my best friend! Yay! Life is so good!! I love it here because we get to be together all the time! PG laughed awkwardly, yes, it's....... so fun... the whole thing was terribly awkward, and all the girl could do in response was up the ante, in desperation it seemed. A few days later... the bomb is dropped. PG has been entirely MIA ever since.

The thing about my living situation........ as I've previously established, Pins Girl took it upon herself to move her door-scratching babytalk bestie into the basement without telling the landlord. Months pass– suddenly a lightbulb pops over PGs head and she realizes that this could lead to some issues. She blasts into the landlord's email announcing that she would like to add someone to the lease. This comes across as less of a request and more of a...... well, it's not a request. LL says she will have to interview the tenant first. Everyone spirals. "She cant do that!!!!!"... and why can't she? Some time passes and PG is at the helm of the Demands brigade, crawling up the landlord's ass about things that dont particularly matter and should probably be set aside until the landlord is finished considering her first command. After a few weeks of this, and further pestering about the new girl (who has been an illegal tenant here for quite some time)– the landlord finally just tells us point blank that she isn't interested in any new tenants right now. Incredible. Immediately after this email, pins girl announces her departure. Amazing. Of course I'm interested to see how this will affect the whole "no new tenants" thing. But the real thing is that this is how these people are responding to all of this:

oh right the unemployed acab tattoo ftm is planning on declaring bankruptcy because he took out a 7.5k loan from some sketchy loan company at a 30% interest rate so that he could pay off his multiple debts (just over 2k) and immediately blew the rest on takeout, new tattoos, neutering his rabbit, and of course paying off that damn interest rate. I'm curious what he means by "I'm out". To where exactly? A homeless shelter? Get a damn job buddy rent is $400 you ain't gonna find that anywhere else in this city

Anyways. PGs legacy thus far: walked out on her job because she refused to stop wearing one billion pins after a complaint about her attire was spread on social media (someone thought she was an employee of the store we were doing week-long contract work for, although I'd hesitate to call what she was doing "work" and it was nice to finish the project with her out of the way), got on government neetbux, refused to speak to me for a week because I made a colloquial "bombed" comment, has said few words to me since, destabilized our situation by illegally moving one of her freaks into the basement and then out of nowhere regretting it and trying to backtrack thus making the situation worse....... and then, after everything, she's just gonna bounce. God I love it here.

[snailstrailz]

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[blackrosesandwhump]

Peter Pan AU--Part 10

Part 9

@twistedcaretaker @cupcakes-and-pain @thehopelessopus @dangertoozmanykids101 @fromtheo-withlove @forthetaintedsorrow-whump @whumping-out-of-time @whumping-to-conclusions @whumpblrful

CW: poison, minor whumpee(s), mind control, fear, captivity

Surrounded by the Shadow’s fae army, Ben could do nothing except wait helplessly at Peter’s side. Countless pairs of merciless gold eyes stared at them, brimming with—brimming with what, exactly? Ben couldn’t tell. Malice? Anger? He knew one thing though: they were prisoners again, and this time, their captors were far from human.

Peter dissolved in another fit of coughing, his chest spasming as he fought for breath. And his skin—his skin had turned grey. He looked sick. Horribly sick.

“Come on, Peter, breathe,” Ben muttered desperately, shoving an arm under the other boy’s back to help him up. Peter heaved a shuddering breath and lay still.

“Poor little thing.”

Ben jumped and whipped around, his heart suddenly pounding harder. A fae creature was standing right behind him, golden eyes slitted and watching. Ben cringed away. The creature’s nearness sent chills down his back, adding to the leaden weight of fear in his gut.

The creature continued, shifting its gaze to Peter’s prostrate body. “It seems poison doesn’t agree with him.”

Ben’s blood froze.

“What—what do you mean, poison? Peter can’t be—he’s not—not dying, is he?”

Well, he is, the Shadow cut in. But it will be a while before he actually reaches the brink of death. I need him alive for now.

Poison. So that was why Peter looked so bad. His forehead was beaded in sweat, his lips colorless, his skin clammy and cold. Ben let him slide gently from his lap and stood up, shaking.

Trying to be brave? said the Shadow. How selfless. I never expected a Lost Boy to act so nobly. But that is precisely why I—

“No!” Ben shouted, interrupting the Shadow’s voice in his head. The ranks of the fae army rippled, moving closer with their weapons drawn. But Ben kept talking. “No, I won’t let you hurt him any further! Make it stop! Make the poison stop!”

Peter shifted on the ground, delirious and shivering. How long did he have, really? Hours? Minutes?

I can heal him, said the Shadow. And in return, you can do something for me. For us.

A crack of thunder punctuated his final words and Ben realized the sky had grown dark. The fae army glimmered with unnatural light in the growing dimness, casting a faint glow around them. Ben felt a strange sense of belonging creep over him, coupled with a malingering dread. He shook it off, suddenly angry.

“Just tell me what it is! I’m not going to let him die!”

Then you will become our champion. The Shadow curled around him, grazing his cheek, brushing the top of his head. You will become our human champion, and Peter will live.

Ben could only watch, stunned and mute, as the earth claimed Peter’s body. Twisted vines sprung out of the ground, encircling the boy’s wrists and ankles, twining around his neck. In seconds, Peter was completely restrained, lashed to the ground itself.

“I…I will…I will become your champion.” The words that wormed their way out of Ben’s mouth didn’t belong to him. It wasn’t his voice. He didn’t want to do it, they weren’t going to take him—

It’s too late, whispered a tiny voice inside him, the last remnant of the real boy that was Ben.

And then the nightmare began.

[needacooljacketarchive]

it’s trauma cw

when i woke up today for the second time (already a mistake, i should’ve sacrificed those 90 minutes of sleep to keep on schedule) after weird sexual(?) dreams(? nightmares) i had such acute visceral pain in my chest. and i still do, right now. it hasn’t left me today in a meaningful way and all i’ve done is act like a tr*ggeured idiot; obsessively browsing subreddits(!!! of all things) about sexual assault and dysfunction, feeling like my hands are cut off from my body at the wrists (and a painful phantom tingling).they hurt now, i feel like they could come clean off my body!

even a lot of my tumblr habit is looking at, over and over, anything Related to w/e is sticking in my brain - the same themes often, over and over

definitely spent some time ruminating. feeling the weight of all the unvocalisable things. certain flashes of experiences - visual mostly, but sometimes just a feeling. a shadow of a feeling - have actually never been put into words, ever! interesting in contrast with my usual mental noisiness. there is an unrelenting process of narrativisation, recollection, rumination, rationalisation, back-and-forth back-and-forth - and then! a revealing silence. can’t even look at any word that may incidentally maybe be related, or if i did (i do) it is an accident, a coincidence! doesn’t mean anything! 

i mean it all comes back to the usual thing. i have experienced some things and that is why i am like this. i have not experienced anything, there is no reason for me to be like this. or, i am like this because i am a weak lying malingering person who wants attention, specialness, to lack accountability, to Play The Victim