#med denial tw //

[walkeddeath]

meta • mental profile :: ADHD  a chunk is under the cut because this ended up being 3 pages. it's not even all i wanted to talk about. ask to tag if i don't tag something !!

　　gen was diagnosed early, at about 6 years old, but only due to her father stepping in and refusing to let it go unchecked. they had been struggling in school to a severe degree, getting into fights, having breakdowns over tiny little things that to her made sense to break down over, and couldn't seem to keep friends if she was even able to make them. her mother fought against it, refused to accommodate it, denied it up until her death.

　　gen has known since she was diagnosed that she has adhd. still, never getting proper or remotely adequate assistance or help made it hard for her to accept that the majority of her "bad" behaviors were related. once she was able to do her own research, she pieced things together, but going through life unmedicated and continuous gaslighting attempts left a considerable impact on how she handles it all. 

　　therapy helps, meds help, but she still struggles day to day. emotional regulation, object permanence, and RSD are the primary things that cause the most issue, she has frequent crying episodes that seem to just come out of nowhere, forgets things constantly even if she's just seen it / interacted with it, and has a hard time dealing with others even begin slightly upset with her/ feeling like she's done something to push someone away. if it gets too intense, she withdraws. she flees.

　　she has rage episodes that are heightened by not just trauma but also her powers. a lot of it is tied to control and losing it. also feeling super overwhelmed / too tired. sometimes it's just because she hasn't eaten that day, or one too many things has happened and she can't handle it.  she will lash out if everything gets to that specific and undefined level of too much, and depending on the situation this can be verbal or sometimes physical.

　　90% of the time, physical reactions are directed at herself. she'll throw things / break things, though this is more a thing when she's younger. she does not use this as an excuse for any hurt or upset she might cause another person, but it is an explanation and a reason. they have been working on this in therapy for around 9 years, ever since her mother died and she was able to get help.

　　ALONG WITH THIS - she has a hard time with remembering dates no matter how important they might be. they forget they need to go to the bathroom, need to eat, need to blink at times. it's all very frustrating to them and they have a hard time letting others help them with all of it. she had to do it all on her own growing up, anytime she did let someone close it was just an inevitable that they would give up. it would get to be too much. so somewhere along the way she just... stopped asking for help. it never felt like anyone could hear her no matter how loud she screamed so, she just decided to save her energy, save herself from the hurt of not being listened to. shut off. 

　　they have their coping skills and some are good some bad, as she gets further into therapy there's an increase in the good and a decrease in the bad, but, some are still there. 

　　they have a tendency to get attached to others, they don't like it, and when things go too well or are too good, she bolts. she's working on this, at least to a degree. it isn't just the attachment but also the need for novelty, for something new that constantly pushes her to running and finding something that can fill a little empty part of her, and it hurts them to do it but they don't know how else to handle it. they do not and will never intentionally want to hurt someone that they love. it just happens sometimes, and she has to deal with the fallout, and it hurts. 

　　her overtalking and overexplaining is both due to the adhd and cptsd, but, it's mostly just how she expresses feeling comfortable. if she's able to just talk without filtering the speed or length at which she talks, it means she feels like she's in a safe space to do so. most of her hyperfixations are things that she won't share unless she's close to a person, they're on the odder side of things, but there are some that are really the only thing she wants to talk about the majority of the time.

　　 they will shove into a conversation at incorrect times, so, they do sometimes have a tendency to not talk. if they don't know how to enter a conversation, they'll avoid it, and if they don't there's a high chance she'll start talking over the other person. she doesn't intend to do this and ends up overapologizing for it.

　　she is not afraid to talk about her struggles and her diagnosis, she encourages others to talk about theirs, but does understand if it's not something someone wants to discuss. they do, from time to time, slip into a doom / rumination mode. it's something that she just has to ride out. all she needs is someone to support that she's having a hard time, not try and fix it all immediately.

　　there's a lot more to it all, but, this is some of the more important big things. i'll talk about the smaller things in another post. 

[acapelladitty]

I need Cooper Howard leaving bruises and marks on a partner for reasons. Marking up his girl all pretty like~

Mornings Echo

Pairing: Cooper Howard/F!Reader

(tw for: rough handling, grinding, biting, threats of violence, skin marking, groping, filthy talk, mild nipple play, jealousy, possessive behaviour) [1.6k words]

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Crashing through the thin wooden door of the shed, a splintering noise squealed free of the old planks as Cooper kicked them shut with an aggressiveness that made your heart flutter. Random tools lined the wall opposite you, the wall to your back completely clear of debris, and a cheeky comment about his actions died in your throat as you quickly found yourself slammed against that same wall with a single fluid shove.

Stars dancing before your eyes as a surprised gasp fills the small area, your body remains stunned for a moment as Cooper stands before you, his hand still pressing harshly into your shoulder as he stares down at you with most of his features hidden by the shadows of his hat. You wrap a hand around his wrist, fingers clawing into the leather coat as you grip at him with equal aggression.

"Fucking ouch." You hiss, attempting to stamp at his foot with the ball of your own as petty revenge guides your movements. "The hell was that for?"

"Ain't sensible to tease a man like that." His eyes ablaze, the anger in Cooper's features is different to his usual rage as something much more muted yet complicated touches at the way his eyes narrow and his face tilts. "It'll get you into the kinda trouble I don't think you're ready to handle."

Tease?

A confused look furrows your brow.

Fresh off an exchange of caps for meds, you hadn't actively payed him enough attention during the transaction to tease him. All you had done was-

Oh.

Ah.

The trader, a lecherous old fuck with jerky fingers and a face that vaguely resembled rotten jelly, had shown an obvious interest in you that hadn't went unnoticed by yourself or, apparently, Cooper.

Never one to pass up the chance for a better deal, your rejections of his advances had been much less violent than you would have liked; but the resulting tolerance of the lingering touches he delivered with his disgusting hands has ensured an extra few capsules tossed in to the exchange.

So no, this wasn't anger that was pinning you to the wall.

This was jealousy.

"You're jealous." You accuse, never one to back down from the truth as his mouth visibly tightens in irritation at the words. "You didn't like me letting that filthy motherfucker think he had a chance! Damn, Cooper, didn't think it was that serious."

"You're free to do what you like and I don't pay your intentions no never mind. But what I can't abide is folks touching things that ain't theirs."

"I ain't anyone's." You reply, matching his tone and accented words with a mocking quality as your free hand shifts up to poke rudely at his chest. "So you can shove that possessive shit right up your ass until it comes pouring out of your jealous mouth."

He's on you in a flash, his quick movements catching you unaware as you squeak out your surprise once more. His mouth is hot against your own, forcing your lips open to claim his prize and steal a filthy kiss which he didn't deserve. A fact you make him more than aware of as you bite down on his lower lip with enough pressure to make him pull away, hissing violently and cursing you out as he does.

"You sure you ain't feral, darling? Biting like a rabid bitch? Better check to make sure."

His gloved hand forces itself within your shirt, accidentally ripping the top button free as it bounces along the floor to disappear under some dusty shelves. It does nothing to deter him though as his fingers drop enough to grope roughly at your left tit, pulling it free of your shirt as your feeble protests die in your throat - heated arousal making any denials difficult.

Fuck- you loved him like this. All business and action, decisive and determined. It was an attitude that had left you screaming louder than the wild dogs which roamed the abandoned wastelands.

Cowboy hat still lovingly perched atop his head, his face dips to your chest to replace his hand and blunted teeth roll across your nipple, the nub quickly peaking due to the cruel attention. His other hand still on your shoulder, both of your hands wrap around the back of his neck to pull him closer as he steals the breath from your throat.

Wordlessly panting, a low grunt escapes you as his teeth sink in to the flesh just to the side of your nipple - the skin there feeling sensitive and raw as he sucks it into his mouth, his intent to leave a livid mark in its wake clear. It's an uncomfortable sensation but hot as hell as you rub your thighs together, feeling the growing moisture there with a lightheaded frenzy making your thoughts fuzzy.

"Fuck, Cooper. You're gonna tear a chunk from me."

"A mighty fine idea. Maybe I will." He mutters into your breast before righting himself, looming to his full height once more. "I bet you'd taste just fine, all raw and bloody. Wouldn't even need to season you like all the others."

Grimacing at his cannibalistic tendencies, a facet of his personality that you didn't indulge in with quite as much enthusiasm, you glance down at the red mark on your chest - the imprint of his teeth visibly denting into the abused skin as Cooper continued.

"I'm sure I also saw that chunky son of a bitch eyeing up your neck so let's see if I can leave an impression there too."

Again moving too quickly for you to protest, Cooper presses his body into your own in such a way that you are utterly unable to move; trapped beneath his heated frame and the definite scent of leather and coppery blood which never seemed to leave him. He wasn't a jealous man typically but you were eager and more than interested in seeing how far this little game would go.

His roughened tongue licks across your pulse point, tasting the accrued sweat and grime which coats your skin and the wet sensation forces a shudder to run down your spine. He could say what he liked, but when it came to being a tease, he would always be the offending party. He seemed to delight in pushing your buttons with casual, lewd comments and finding particular ways of brushing his body against your own - regardless of who was around to witness it.

Tilting your neck to allow him easier access, he accepts the small boon with enthusiasm as his teeth join his tongue in marking up your skin. Soft kisses are interspersed with savage, quick snaps of his teeth and the dual sensations of pain and pleasure are almost enough to drive you insane as you writhe against him. Taking the hint, he pushes his knee between your legs and you instantly start to grind against his thigh - the stimulation enough to allow you to endure the rough treatment of your neck.

Your hand drops to his groin, cupping his hardened length through his trousers as he growls his appreciation into your skin.

"I think I like you when you're jealous." You taunt. "Maybe I should- fuck, Coop!" You cut off as he bites you once more, this time over the sensitive juncture where your neck meets the shoulder. "Maybe I should make you jealous more often."

"Dangerous game, sweetie." He rumbles in response, running his teeth along your earlobe. "I'm being Mr. Nice at the moment and marking up my property just a little bit, but there's always other ways to get the same results."

"Mmm, and what are you going to do, cowboy? Pulling at his head until he was facing you once more, the jealousy in his eyes is replaced by a burning arousal which you knew meant you were in for a solid ride. "Gonna rustle me up in that lasso of yours? Ride off with me in tow."

"Lasso's too nice for one as fiesty and spirited as you. Won't do shit. Any good rancher knows that a quick brand," his hand drops to your chest once more as his fingers poke at the sensitive mark he had suckled into the skin earlier, "would be best at reminding you who you belong to."

Already littered with scars and markings which showcased your journey through the wastelands better than any story could, the thought of a brand wasn't as off-putting as you might have thought and you rub as his cock with renewed vigour through his trousers as you give a contemplative hum.

"Sounds hot. Maybe if you're good and fuck me til I forgive that little shove into the wall," you lean into him and run your own teeth against his ear, "I'll even think about it, handsome."

[baddest-batchers]

Crumbling Walls

hi loves, I’m back at it again with another Tech x fem!reader ficlet. this one almost became two smaller chapters but I couldn’t wait to post the entire thing, so enjoy!! reader is CF99’s assigned medic, fic takes place before Order 66. Not entirely proofread!

Summary: You have been hopping star systems and taking care of the Batch for a several months, but upon first meeting them you instantly fell for Tech. But you’re not giving into your feelings for him so easily and have tried to build a wall around your heart to keep the adorable bespectacled clone out and at a safe distance. That is, until Tech comes back from a mission with a more serious injury than ever before, your walls begin to break down. Reader has trust issues/insecurities from a past unrequited love situation and is in hella denial about Tech feeling the same way about her.

Tag warnings: MDNI! TW for anyone uncomfortable with descriptions of minor medical procedure involving removal of a foreign object, description of injury, needles. Angst, angst, angst. Insecure reader. Other than that, there’s just hella kissing lol.

Word count: 4.2k

Taglistist: @alegendoftomorrow @techwrecker

Dividers: @general-ida-raven

The Marauder was all but silent except for the soothing hum of the ship’s systems. You and Echo were on guard duty while the rest of Clone Force 99 was dispatched to a Separatist base located a few klicks north of the closest village. You had just finished making a list of needed supplies and rations when suddenly Hunter’s voice broke the calming silence.

"Tech's hurt, bad." Hunter's voice crackled to life through the comm on your wrist. Your heart immediately jumped up into your throat.

"What happened? How badly is he injured?" You struggled to keep your voice even and steady.

"Pretty bad. There was a rogue explosive and it sent him flyin—" Hunter began to say before Tech cut him short, his voice coming through the comm.

"Hunter is exaggerating. It is only a sprained wrist and a few shrapnel scrapes-agh!" Tech groaned in pain as he clung to his brother for support.

A small wave of relief washed over you at the sound of Tech's voice. He was talking and that was a reassuring sign. Walking briskly over to the compartment where the medkit was stored, you opened it and began counting it's contents to be sure you were prepared to treat Tech's injuries

"I thought this mission was supposed to be relatively lowkey?” You said into your comm in between your mental count of the med supplies.

"The intel we received was grossly misleading." Tech panted out. “But we successfully recovered the droid factory schematics and blueprints.”

"We were outnumbered. There was a group of Separatist insurgents accompanying the droid battalion. They were definitely trained fighters." Hunter said quickly. "We need a pick up. Tell Echo to hurry it up."

"On it. Standby." Echo affirmed through his own comm. The Marauder rumbled upon ignition and took off smoothly from their landing zone, Echo piloting with ease to his brothers' rescue.

While the mission had been a success, you couldn’t help the irritation that took hold in your gut at the Jedi’s inaccurate intel. But Tech was hurt and that was the only thought that was pushing all other feelings aside.

You tried to steady your breathing as you took the bacta patches out of the medkit along with a gauze roll, magtweezers, and the medscanner.

You laid them out neatly on a tray so that you'd be ready to patch Tech up the moment Hunter and the rest of the squad boarded.

This wasn't the first time you'd patched Tech up nor would it be the last, but something inside you ached at the thought of him getting hurt more seriously than he ever had been on previous missions. Rationally, you knew that you shouldn't feel this way, but your blaring affection for Tech made your heart drop at the mere thought of him being injured at all. Hastily, you shoved your feelings for the bespectacled clone back down over the wall you had built so high around your heart.

Your crush on Clone Force 99’s most brilliantly minded and skilled pilot was almost immediate upon your assignment to them a few months back. But you did everything in your power to push those feelings away. Getting involved with someone you were working alongside was not on your list of things you wanted to ever happen…again. It had bit you in the rear before and you were definitely not going to find out if it would again this time. You had fostered a crush on a former coworker during your stint at the Kaminoan medbay a few years back and it turned out that your feelings had been entirely one sided. You had been strung along like a loth-cat chasing a string. You swore after that you’d never pursue any kind of romantic relationship with a coworker again. Never again.

Echo lowered the Marauder to hover just above the pick up point and opened the hatch from the cockpit. Wrecker and Crosshair bounded in first while Hunter hauled Tech up last.

The sight of him sucked the breath you had been holding right out of your lungs, a quiet gasp escaping your lips. For a moment, you were stuck where you stood, legs feeling like they were magnetized to the metal deck of the ship. But before you knew it you were rushing to help Hunter get Tech to one of the lower bunks so that you could begin treating his wounds and assessing any further damage.

Hunter laid Tech out on the bunk and carefully lifted his brother's helmet from his head.

"I've got him, Hunter." You reassured him without taking your eyes from Tech's wounded form.

"Alright. I want an update when you're done with him." Hunter spoke with the masked worry you had come to recognize over the course of many missions with his squad.

"Of course." You affirmed him, this time tearing your gaze from Tech to nod at Hunter.

Hunter returned the nod and turned on his heel toward the cockpit.

Once safely gliding through hyperspace, you immediately got to work on Tech. Pulling on a pair of sterile gloves, you looked over the shrapnel wounds scattered down the left side of his body. Thank the Maker that his armor had taken a majority of the jagged pieces of metal and debris. But there was a larger fragment stuck in his abdomen where his armor didn't cover his body. His blacks were soaked with blood around the wound. Upon your first scan of the area, you immediately got to work. Grabbing the hypoinjection from the tray, you held it up to ensure the proper dosage of the strong painkiller was loaded into it before injecting it into Tech’s bloodstream.

“Here, this will help with the pain.” You said while carefully pulling down the collar of his blacks and lining up the hypo with his carotid artery.

“Keep still for me.” You said gently and injected the contents of the hypo into his neck. He groaned through his teeth at the intrusion of the needle into his skin but kept as still as he could.

“I’ll assess your wrist when I’m finished with removing all of this shrapnel.” You informed him while gently prodding his wrist with your skilled fingers.

Next, you had to remove his armor so that you could begin to remove the large bit of shrapnel lodged in his side.

"Tech, I'm going to remove your armor, okay? I need better access to these wounds, especially the one in your abdomen." You said slowly, making sure he understood.

"Yes—agh! O-of course." Tech managed to get out before attempting to sit up and assist you with the removal his armor. He gently shook out his sprained wrist as he pushed himself up from the cot.

"No," You laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You just lay there and let me do the work. I've got you. Please don't fight me on this." After easing Tech back down you hastily got to work on the fastenings that held his plastiod chest and back armor in place, slowly easing them off of him. You removed his utility belt, and leg armor and pouches next, gently placing all of his things in a neat pile on the floor at the foot of the bunk.

Now that Tech was down to his blacks, you were able to get a better look at the rest of his injuries. The sight of him in only his blacks sent a shock of warmth through you but you shook it off dismissively and continued assessing his wounds.

Your eyes roved over him, taking note of his slowed breathing by the rising and falling of his chest. After pausing for a moment to make sure the pain medication was working, you took another scan of his vitals. You smiled faintly, thankful that they were beginning to stabilize.

"How is the pain now, Tech?" You asked while setting down the medscanner.

“Better than it was previously." Tech’s voice was hoarse and something about hearing him in pain like this threatened to crack the wall around your heart further. Shoving the thought aside, you cleared your own voice before speaking again.

“Good. Alright, I’m going to remove the shrapnel stuck in your abdomen.” You said steadily while grabbing the scissors off of the tray so as to begin cutting away the fabric surrounding the wound. Once you had a better visual on the shrapnel, you reached for the alcohol pad and gently swabbed it clean as best you could. You grabbed the anesthetic gel and gingerly dabbed it around the wound.

“You won’t feel a thing, I promise.” You paused to look at him again, noticing the sudden change in the coloring of his face.

Tech had gone considerably more pale and you noticed his hand began to tremble slightly, most likely due to the loss of blood. Stripping off a glove, you instinctively reached for his hand and closed your fingers around it, rubbing soothing circles into the back of his hand through his glove.

“It’s going to be okay, Tech. I’ve got you.” You reassured him in a hushed tone, leaning in closer to him.

Through half lidded eyes he looked at you and nodded, “I have every faith that you do.” His voice was so ragged. Your heart ached hearing him like this. You begged the Force for the ability to just snap your fingers and have him be healed instantly. But, unfortunately, you were not gifted in such ways and only had your medical training to rely upon for the task of healing Tech’s wounds. Despite that, something warm began to spread through your chest and before you could stop yourself, you lifted his hand to your lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of his trembling, still-gloved knuckles.

Realizing what you had just done and inwardly chastising yourself, you quickly began to loosen your grip on his hand, but Tech tightened his fingers around yours before you could pull away. He brought your hand to his mouth and pressed an equally gentle kiss to the backs of your fingers.

Your eyes widened at him returning the gesture and you felt your cheeks begin to grow warm before remembering to remain focused on the task of healing him. Before he finally released your hand, you gave him a shy smile, eyes flitting back and forth between his, trying to tell if he was merely in a haze from the pain meds or if he had returned the kiss intentionally. Another crack in your stronghold spread.

“How is he?” Echo’s voice suddenly pulled you from the moment abruptly. You nor Tech had noticed him standing off to the side near the berthing door.

“He’s stable, I’m removing the shrapnel now.” You turned suddenly to look at the ARC trooper while simultaneously pulling your hand back from Tech’s grasp, “I’ll let you know when he’s all patched up.”

Before Echo turned around to leave you to it, he raised a quizzical eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at his thin lips. You blushed furiously, knowing he definitely caught the tender moment between you and his brother. He shook his head and chuckled lightly before turning on his heel to walk back toward the cockpit.

“You’re in good hands, Tech.” Echo called back behind him before the cockpit doors slid shut.

A small sigh escaped your lips before you turned your attention back to Tech’s injuries. Tech watched you intently, then briefly caught your gaze.

“I concur with Echo. I believe I am in very capable hands.” Tech smiled weakly, his eyes conveying an intense sincerity. But you weren’t looking at his face. You were too focused on the delicate work before you and burying your feelings to realize the sincerity in his words.

“Let me get you patched up before you can say that for sure.” You half smiled, letting your eyes flick back to his face for a moment before turning to the tray of medical instruments. No, no, bury it. He’s just dazed out from the meds. He doesn’t have feelings for—

Tech reached out and placed a hand on your wrist. He had noticed the twisted look of frustration on your face. You froze, the contact bringing your thoughts to an abrupt pause as you slowly shifted your eyes from his hand to meet his own.

“You have saved my own life and those of my brothers countless times. I believe I have gathered sufficient data to be able to say so for certain.” His tone was so sincere. “There is no one I trust more with my life, aside from my own brothers, than you.” Tech held your gaze as he spoke, his timbre soft.

“That’s the pain meds talking. I’m just a GAR medic and I’m not especially gifted in my field.” You shook your head in disbelief. There was no way he means any of this. Tech had never shown much interest in you before this, at least none that you would even consider perceiving, so you concluded that the higher dose of pain medication was to blame for him speaking like this.

Oh how wrong you were. Tech had fallen hard for you and he had tried to show you in numerous ways, but you were more stubborn and closed off than even Crosshair at times. If you noticed him showing you any bit of more than what was required attention, you quickly shook it from your mind. Brick by brick, you enclosed yourself behind the wall that had risen around your heart.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Tech. Please.” You said quietly, trying to blink back the tears that suddenly threatened your vision.

“I do not understand.” Tech said slowly, tilting his head ever so slightly in confusion. “I endeavor to never say things that I do not mean.” His grip on your wrist tightened gently.

Looking at him would only make your tears spill over, so you stared at the medical tray to your right and shook your head. “You’re under the influence of the pain meds I gave you. It’s making you say these things.”

Pausing for a moment, Tech brought the hand that was wrapped around your wrist slowly to your chin and tipped your face gently to look at him.

“You forget, cyar’ika, that my mind is not as susceptible to the muddling effects of most pain inhibiting medications.” Tech imparted softly. His thumb rubbed slowly over your chin, almost coaxingly, as if he were trying to draw you out of your disbelief. The soothing feeling of his thumb drew another blush to your face.

“Tech, I…please..please don’t string me along like this, don’t touch me the way that you are right now. I can’t handle it, not when I’ve spent the last several months trying to bury my feelings for you.” Your confession tumbled from your lips before you could stop it. Tears spilling over your lashes and down onto Tech’s gloved hand that was still cradling your chin, you gently pulled yourself free of his grasp. You roughly wiped your tears with your sleeve and blinked back the rest of them that were treacherously close to spilling over. Half the wall had crumbled now.

“You, uh—“ your voice faltered a bit before forcing composure and speaking again. “You need to relax and let me finish removing the shrapnel stuck in you.”

Tech nodded and slowly lowered his hand back to his side. His expression was etched with visible confusion, but he did not say another word.

Over the next few rotations, you made yourself scarce around Tech, or at least as scarce as you could be within the close quarters of the Marauder. You avoided being alone with him and had even asked Hunter to switch watch shifts with you during the night so you didn’t have to awkwardly make small talk with Tech when relieving him from his shift.

However, you had noticed that Tech had attempted to catch your eye a few times and even went as far as to bring you a cup of caf the morning after the mission that had left him injured. But you did your best to limit your interactions with him to only following up with the aftercare of his wounds and to check the progress of his healing.

Two full weeks had passed by the time the next mission for Clone Force 99 was sent in. The Batch had been able to spend a little bit of downtime on Kamino while you took up a few shifts in the medbay. Avoiding Tech was much easier on Kamino than it was on the Marauder and you were grateful for the space. But there was this new, nagging feeling in your chest that secretly hoped he would come and find you, yet you feigned annoyance at it and tried to shove it away by completing mundane tasks around the medbay to keep your mind distracted. Building back the wall around your heart was getting more and more tedious as time passed.

After the orders for a new mission on Kashyyyk came through, you dragged your feet at preparing for the haul through hyperspace in very close quarters with Tech. Hunter had even pulled you aside before boarding in the hangar and asked if things were alright. You lied, even though you knew he could feel that you were with his enhanced senses.

A quiet knock on the durasteel wall startled you from your inventory intake down in the Marauder’s hold. You looked up from your datapad to find Tech standing a few feet away, his expression was neutral, except he was coddling his right wrist in his left hand, the one that he had sprained when that rogue explosive blew him against the wall of a nearby building.

“Might I interrupt you for a few moments?” Tech asked before crossing the threshold into the cargo hold.

Your eyes tracked from his face down to his wrist, then nodded before turning momentarily back to your datapad.

Tech offered a small smile and took the few steps that would bring him to your side.

“My..wrist seems to still be of some bother. I was wondering if you would consider taking another look at it.” Tech held out his wrist, somewhat shyly trying to catch your gaze.

“Uh, sure, o-of course.” You swallowed the lump that took up residence in your throat. “Let me just finish this last bit of data input.” You uttered more so to your datapad than to Tech.

“Of course.” He responded and dropped his wrist down to his side.

You idled for a moment, tapping mindlessly at your datapad in a desperate attempt to stall for time to think of something, anything to say to him, but your words were failing you miserably. Knowing you couldn’t avoid him any longer, you let out a breath and set the datapad down onto one of the crates.

“Okay, let me see.” You gestured to his wrist that hung at his side. He lifted it and placed it into your outstretched hand. Gently, you prodded your finger around it, feeling for any swelling or tender spots. Tech didn’t wince or pull away, but rather stood staring at his hand in yours.

Feeling more emboldened than he had when he decided to seek you out, Tech took a slight step closer. “I…believe you should remove my glove to get a better look at the sprained area.” His voice was low, his tone sounded more suggestive than he initially intended it to be.

Tech’s words caught you off guard, making your mouth fall slightly agape while your eyes shot from his wrist to his own in surprise. They were soft behind his yellow-tinted goggles and your heart started pounding harder than it had when Tech first appeared in the lift of the cargo hold.

Without protest, you slowly began to slide off his glove before you could think better of yourself. You gently pulled at each finger tip to loosen it from his hand and once it was loose enough, you slowly slid it off.

Your face was flushing furiously as you bid for any shred of composure you could muster inside your whirling thoughts.

The act of slowly pulling off his glove seemed entirely too intimate, even though you had done it countless times before to all of his brothers when needing to treat their various injuries. You let out the breath you had been holding and turned his wrist slowly in your hand, taking in the way his bare skin felt against your own in such a burning, intimate way.

As you went to open your mouth to tell him that you didn’t see any visible signs of lingering injury, Tech spoke into the small space between you, “Forgive me, I am not very well adept at reading other’s emotions nor expressing my own feelings outwardly. It was never my intention to make you believe that I had taken no interest in you.”

“Tech..wh-what are you saying—” You stammered out when Tech paused to pull his wrist gently from your grasp, watching as his hand came to cradle the side of your face.

“I often times do not know how I should express my feelings. They are quite perplexing to me, but it is my hope that you are now able to see clearly what I do happen to feel for you.” His voice was so astoundingly soft, matching the adoring way he was looking into your eyes.

Tears began to well in your own eyes at his sweet admissions. You brought your hand to cover his own that was still cupping your face.

“So…you really did mean what you said before…” You managed to get out between shuddery breaths. A single tear slid down your cheek but Tech slowly swiped it away with his thumb.

“Well, of course I did, mesh’la.” Tech murmured sweetly, tilting his head ever so slightly.

The wall finally came crashing down.

Before any more words could be exchanged, you reached up and pulled Tech in close, kissing him with all of the fervor and admiration you had been trying to deny since the moment you met him.

Tech froze for the briefest of moments at the sudden contact of your lips against his but then leaned in to deepen the kiss, matching your passion with his own. His hand dropped from your face to reach for your waist, enveloping you into his arms. Your hands found their way to the back of his neck, gently splaying your fingers into his short auburn curls.

None of what was happening felt real, yet the only thing grounding you in the moment was the heat Tech was causing to build in your core. The feel of his arms around your waist, his hands reverently caressing your back, and the way his lips moved against your own tethered you to the reality of the moment .

Seeking to be even closer to you, Tech gently lifted you up onto one of the crates behind you with ease and strength, pushing his toned form against your knees, all the while never ceasing his fervent kisses. This drew a light gasp from you as he settled you onto it, bracing yourself against his shoulders. His hands fell to the tops of your thighs as he began trailing kisses down your neck to your exposed collar bone. With one hand, he slowly slid it down to rest atop your right knee, wordlessly asking if he might push them open to slot himself closer to you as you sat on the crate.

You hummed your consent and let Tech push your knees apart, closing the gap with his body, your legs hanging on either side of him. You squeezed them against his sides, his armor and tool belt digging into your skin through your pants, but you didn’t care if it was uncomfortable. You didn’t want to let him go.

Tech was dressed in his armor from the waist down, the top of his blacks clinging to his toned upper body so perfectly. You let your hands fall to his chest, then dragged them up across his shoulders and biceps. He was so much stronger than meets the eye, especially when he was fully armored. Quiet strength of body and loud strength of mind. Those two things were on the long list of qualities that drew you to him and made you instantly fall for him all those months ago.

The neediness of each kiss began to melt into something more reverent and slow. Tech was savoring each sensation he felt, from being pressed to your body to the softness of your lips moving against his. He had never kissed anyone like this before, nor had anyone ever kissed him in this manner either.

Your fingers scratched lightly at the nape of his neck, weaving into his short curls, then up to the strap of his goggles. You didn’t risk removing them from his face, even though they had been digging into your cheeks when his kissing had been hungrier.

Finally, Tech pulled away, breaking the contact with your lips with a gentle smack. Both of you were panting slightly and breathless in each other’s embrace, foreheads pressed together. Your heart was still pounding in your chest when you finally let out a small giggle in the little space between you both.

“Oh, Tech…” You sighed happily, hands coming to rest lightly on his chest, “I’m so-just—wow.” Your mind was a completely scrambled mess. You couldn’t focus on anything but him and the way he felt slotted between your knees, his hands planted firmly on your waist.

Another brief moment of silence washed over you both, only the hum of the Marauder and your slowed breaths filled the air. Tech broke away from your forehead, his muted honey colored eyes slowly roving over your features as if he were searching for something.

“Am I correct in assuming that you finally believe my feelings for you to be true, then?” Tech finally asked, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

This pulled a soft giggle from you as you slid your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer so that his forehead was now resting against yours again.

“Yes, Tech, I believe you.” You whispered contently.

“Good.” He sighed, drawing you against him a little tighter, “Because I do not know how to make it any more obvious.”

Before you could playfully push him away, Tech pressed his lips to yours in another wanting kiss, his bare hand coming to rest gently on the side of your neck. You shivered at his delicate yet deliberate touch. The walls you had built around your heart to keep him out had crumbled completely. Tech was now lodged firmly in your heart and you had no intention of letting him go.

•••

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐄 ꒱ 章昊

summary : your boyfriend is denying he's sick, until he can't anymore

genre : cringely sweet fluff, hao x afab!reader, drabble, established relationship tws : pet names, mentions of being sick, pouty hao author notes : not even i can resist princess hao, im not the strongest soldier word count : 1.2k

you approached the man in the kitchen, he was making a tea you could smell from where you happen to be studying. lucky for you, hao knew you well enough that he had two mugs set out on the counter top. he was bobbing the bag as you came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his front gently.

“oh, hi!” he said after coming down from being startled. hao let go of the string, and turned around so now you were leaning against him leaning against the cool marble. you kissed the nape of his neck. “i was just about to bring this to you, how’s studying?”

“why’d i ever take environmental chemistry and biology.”

“because you’re a woman in stem!” he explained adamantly. ��my woman in stem.”

you rolled your eyes, noticing the puffiness under his—that wasn’t usually there. you also spotted a light tint to his cheeks, it being darker on his nose. your eyebrows creased as you began connecting the dots.

you hadn’t noticed when he briefly came to say hello shortly after showing up to your apartment. and even if you noticed then, you would’ve brushed it off as him just being out in the cold. but now that you were up close and personal, you couldn’t only feel his warmth, but see it splotching his skin.

“hao…” you trailed off, backing off him, and leaning back to island. “why are you making tea? you don’t even like it that much. are you sick?”

he found it strangely odd that you could see through him so well, when his members were almost none-the-wiser to it earlier. he thought he was playing the roll of being healthy exceptionally, not even sniffling though he felt the crushing need to.

you watched as your boyfriend didn’t twitch, didn’t even flinch and definitely didn’t look guilty, but still you knew something was up. so you pressed on, quickly bringing a hand to his forehead—to which he almost instantly tried to dodge—your tell that he was lying through his teeth.

he caught your wrist. “y/n, i’m fine. really, it’s nothing. i just thought tea sounded good, and you just got a new one.” your eyes burned into him. “you know i like whatever you like.”

“yeah, but…” you gave him one last look, him dropping your hand in the meantime. “are you sure you’re feeling well?”

“yes.” he replied simply. “i’m okay, really, y/n. you worry too much. maybe you should’ve been a pre-med student instead.”

“oh, absolutely not.” you laughed, taking the mug he was holding out towards you. “i’d have no time to see you.”

“wow, you really love me, huh?”

you took a sip, mint and ginger lacing your tastebuds. you hummed in approval, wrapping your other hand around the warm ceramic.

“yes, which is why i’m not convinced you’re not sick.” he scoffed, turning his head to the side in disbelief; but he knew you were beyond stubborn when it came to him. “but, i’ll let it go, only until you can’t deny it anymore.”

you left him in the kitchen, going back to your spilled out notebooks and pens. you glanced at the laptop, groaning when you remembered what you were just in the middle of. you cursed whoever decided that equations needed to be used wherever possible outside of math, and gently set the mug against the wood. you put the back of your hand to your forehead, dragging it down to your cheek—just to compare what you briefly felt against hao’s skin. and what you found convinced you that he was sick and in denial about it.

however, you couldn’t figure out why. was he afraid to be in a vulnerable state around you? no, you’ve seen him in more compromising situations. so, was he just being stubborn? was he just trying to play it off because you had noticed when he was playing his role oh so well? you knew him better than that, and he definitely knew that too.

you took a breath, clearing your mind of worry and picking up the black pen that seconds ago laid lifeless. if he needed you, he’d say so, wouldn’t he? you promised you’d just have to wait and find out—and you knew soon enough that you would find out just how bad his sickness would get.

just then, a loud sneeze rang out against the silence, a groan following, though you couldn’t tell if it was because he was annoyed, or if the intensity actually hurt him.

“ha!” you shot up. “i knew it. i know him better than that. he thought he could—" you boasted, until another sneeze met your ears and your eyebrows (once again) came together. you turned briefly to put your pen back down, blinking a couple times when you saw hao standing against the doorframe.

he was pouting, and honestly, even though you knew he wasn’t feeling well, it was satisfying being right—call it your toxic trait but you had to bite back saying i told you so.

just as quickly as you got yourself to calm down, your concern came back. “baby, are you okay?” you reached out for him, and he complied, accepting you against him. he sniffled again, holding you tighter. “baby, why didn’t you just say you were sick. you know i would’ve taken care of you.”

“can you do it now?”

you nodded. “of course, my love. let’s get you to bed.”

you took his hand and led him a couple feet to your neatly made bed. you undid the sheets, pushing him to sit down. he was still slightly pouting his lip out up at you, and you fought the urge to ruffle his hair, instead opting for a gentle kiss against his forehead. he wasn’t normally like this, but whenever he was, you both seemed to milk it dry. he laid down and tucked him in playfully, earning a small laugh.

“i’ll be right back, i'm going to grab you some medicine, okay?”

he nodded, burying himself further into your dense blankets. but before you went, you finally were allowed to check his temperate against your own; it being exactly what you suspected, a fever. after, you ventured to the kitchen, rummaging through your cabinets until you found the flu medicine you bought at the beginning of winter, thanking your slightly-younger self for somehow predicting its need.

you came back, and hao instantly sat up. you started insisting through protests, but after he took the medicine from you, he complied, hermitting back under the covers.

“y/n?” he asked. “are you done studying yet?”

you debated for a second, only realizing that you were as ready as you’d ever be—considering this is going on your second week straight of nothing but chem and bio practice tests.

before you had the chance to answer, he lifted the cover for you to join him under. you ran to hit the light switch, coming back and climbing into the bed with your boyfriend. you snuggled against his chest, listening to his regulated heartbeat and breaths. and before you knew it, he was fast asleep.

you just hoped that he would be better once he woke up.

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

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[wherethewhumpthingsare]

Kairos (카이로스) Whumplist

Image Source

Whumpee: Kim Seo Jin (김서진) Portrayed by: Shin Sung Rok (신성록)

Synopsis: A woman, looking for her mother, and a man who lost his family, work together each day to save their loved ones from their tragic fates. (Google)

Genre: Action, Thriller, Drama, Sci-Fi

Where to Watch: Viki.com

Note: This drama had whump in just about every episode, both emotional and physical.

TW: S*icide (especially episode 1)

SPOILERS AHEAD!

Episode 1: anxious, building suddenly crumbling around him, waking abruptly, anxious & taking meds (00:44); panicked, worried for his daughter (20:40); exhausted, chapped lips, been awake all night, desperate, upset, shouting, crying (24:35); looking exhausted, receives alarming call, upset, scared (41:20); speaking to his daughter’s kidnapper, scared (45:40); restless, getting upset, panting, sees something deeply disturbing, shocked, weeping (50:20); told shocking news, weeping, argument with wife, weeping (57:25); worried, listening to wife's s*icide voicemail (1:04:00); trying to search for wife in the river, grabbed & stopped, in denial, weeping, in shock, almost leaping from bridge (1:06:00))

Episode 2: repeat of last scene from previous ep, crying, almost leaping from bridge (0:00); agitated (5:20); looking exhausted, baggy eyes (10:08); looking at old photos of daughter, distressed (14:40); woken from sleep, exhausted, baggy eyes, chapped lips, shocked, furious, attacking someone he thinks killed his daughter, pulled away (18:35); crying, feeling useless, nightmare: building collapsing around him, waking covered in debris, waking up panting, medicating, distressed while listening to upsetting recording (22:00); frustrated (37:00); talking about almost getting killed (52:50); shocked, relieved, crying (1:00:40))

Episode 3: lunging at someone in anger, held back, shouting, having a breakdown, weeping, shaking (9:00); frustrated, distressed, panting (17:00); sad memory, crying (27:50); red-rimmed eyes, looking sick & exhausted, crying (31:50); past self told about his daughter's future death (35:00); sudden head pain, new memory surfacing (40:25); alone, crying (53:15); upset, hearing shocking news (56:30); worried for someone (59:07)

Episode 4: coming upon a murder scene, frustrated (3:35); speaking to his daughter's killer, crying, angry (22:30); interrogated (30:40); sudden headache during interrogation, groaning (36:35); still being interrogated, headache (44:05); frustrated, headache, worried (54:00); angry (57:00)

Episode 5: angry, headache, memory surfacing (13:15); headache, memory surfacing (23:40); startled, falling & panting, scared (1:05:40)

Episode 6: waking from nightmare, panting (10:10); suffering from insomnia, asking for stronger meds (17:45); shocked, panting, upset (22:50); stressed, medicating (59:20); sleeping, accused of murder, fleeing, jumping from balcony, injured knee, shouting in pain, limping, arrested, pushed down on his injured knee (1:01:20)

Episode 7: sudden headache, memory surfacing (31:55); shocked by betrayal, teary eyed, hit in the back of the head twice, bleeding, slowly passing out (1:04:20)

Episode 8: pretending to be unconscious, face covered in blood, crying, you can see his pulse jumping like crazy in this scene (0:25); past self drunk, stumbling, arguing, shouting (2:30); still lying in bed, bandage on his head (7:20); still unconscious (20:10); 25:38(almost drugged, disintegrating (25:38); worried, panicking, crying (52:20); traumatic memory triggered, panicking, teary eyed (1:02:50); future self dying in car crash, bleeding, slowly passing out (1:06:30)

Episode 9: future self in hospital unconscious, oxygen mask, cuts & bruises on his face, head bandaged (16:00); memory triggered, panicking, taking meds, in a cold sweat, worried over, future self still in hospital, crying in his sleep (29:25); talking to doc about suffering panic symptoms, told he's having delusions (34:40); talking about his past, teary eyed (44:30); future self in hospital unconscious (49:20); talking about his past (1:00:00); future self still unconscious in hospital, threatened (1:07:15)

Episode 10: flashes of memory, sudden head pain, grunting, panting, worried over, medicating, scared (37:50); future self still unconscious in hospital, hand moving to grab someone while still unconscious (56:33); future self finally waking up (1:07:20)

Episode 11: future self unconscious in hospital (8:50); waking, groaning, crying, interrogated & accused, panicking (17:40); struggling out of hospital bed, groaning in pain, almost falling down steps, limping, chased (25:30); having trouble remembering things, panicking (30:30); on bathroom floor crying, flashbacks to the car accident, drugged, angry, shouting (48:10); angry, deliberately hitting his family's killer with a car, pulled away, shouting, trying to kill the culprit (1:02:15); flashback to being in hospital, covered in cuts & bruises (1:06:00)

Episode 12: shocked, teary eyed (0:00); sudden headache, new memory (58:00); sudden pain, clutching head, new memory (59:40); crying (1:05:35)

Episode 13: future self in pain from new memories, speaking to his past self (10:00); slammed on the ground, choked, punched, gasping, arrested (32:00); past self interrogated (48:40); in a cell, disappearing, waking up panting, dropping to his knees weeping (59:40)

Episode 14: panicking, worried for someone (00:50); angry (7:00); argument (26:10)

Episode 15: past self remembering future memory of being betrayed & hit in the head with a bat, shocked (24:20); pain from past memory surfacing (56:00); manhandled, punched, mouth bleeding, thrown off roof, lying dead in a pool of blood (1:03:35)

Episode 16: manhandled, punched, dropping to his knees, clutching side in pain, fought, slashed with knife, helped (34:10)

[wordy-little-witch]

I'm experiencing some Emotions atm so I'm gonna project on my little clown man -

TW for talks of periods

Trans masc Buggy who can't get cut/stabbed/sliced/diced. The availability of hormones and HRT is limited due to both canon scientific development and micromanagement from the government. He's a chemist, so he can synthesize his own HRT ((and has the survival instincts to know they NEED medical professionals, so he probably shares that info with them)), but it's not a one and done type of deal.

In Impel Down, he wasn't able to access his T. He was in there for a few months, so he was having hormone shifts there for a hot minute before finally being freed. It's one of the reasons he kept his stubble - it helped with the dysphoria.

He gets out, gets back on track, keeps the stubble bc it helped, he liked it, etc. He had a few times where he wanted to shave again but decided against it.

Now on to the Evil Polycule.

Crocodile and Mihawk's take over and implementation of Cross Guild came with some changes to the budget, including Croc just putting a full stop on Buggy's chemicals for a time. He decided to bite the bullet and send what he had to the pharmacists to keep them afloat bc he's actually a good captain. He just.. has limited meds for himself.

So it's a few months into the Guild, Buggy has been off T for a little while now, he's not having too many issues, they're all starting to get to an even keel, and they're even expanding the budget for the chemicals for the pharmacy and also his tools for his weapons. Things are looking up!!!

And then... Buggy starts his period.

And he is spiraling.

He holds up in his room, wrapped in a blanket cocoon, in the dark, curled up tightly against the cramps that are hooked into his abdomen and the sudden wash of dysphoria. He's usually better about this. He usually doesn't struggle this much. Somehow this is worse, he doesn't know why, but he is not okay.

He's not okay at all.

Mihawk and Crocodile are left waiting on him for a meeting. And when it hits a certain point, they're angry, annoyed, and they go looking for him (they are not concerned, they tell themselves, they're not-). They find Alvida, Galdino and Ritchie in the clown's quarters. Ritchie actually gives a warning growl, eyes lidded but sharp. Alvida pales but meets their gaze head on. Galdino is shaking like a leaf, but he doesn't back down.

That alone starts ringing alarm bells.

They ask, they get vague answers at best, and then Mihawk catches the scent of blood. He moves in a swirl of black-and-gold, straight to Buggy's room, straight to Buggy.

It's a bit of a hot mess, but there's an understanding that grows. Crocodile understands, sharing a vulnerability of his own, asks tentatively if Buggy has ever reached out to Ivankov.

Buggy curls up further - as much as he can, at least, with Ritchie pressed against his lap and tummy, purring a storm with kitty worship eyes - and admits that he has. Iva's hormone treatments are injections, and while some devil fruit abilities can circumvent others, that's not the case for him. They've tried. The only option to make it work is seastone or sea water on/around Buggy, which could impact the hormones or Iva's abilities as well.

Also, Buggy admits with grit teeth, Iva's tendency to force sex changes as a punishment rubs him the wrong way.

He tells the two dark haired men about his medicines, how he makes them himself and how his stash has been running low; tells them how he had thought he had enough until the shipment came in with the stuff for his weapons making and the pharmaceuticals; he tells them how he'd given his spare stock to the med tents when they joined because of the denial for the existing budget Buggy had in place.

They feel guilty with the realization.

They decide then that since their actions led to this, it is only fair that they assist. Mihawk brews a tea for Buggy's cramps, Crocodile uses his sand as a heating pad, cool fingers brush through Buggy's hair to help with the migraines, a warm hand and hook help support Buggy's weight when the pain crescendos and leaves him gagging.

Between them and Buggy's usual crew, it's the most cared for he's felt since before a booming laugh was cut shirt by swinging blades and a grin splattered messily onto cobblestone beneath sheets of rain.

[doin-just-fine]

Hiya!! I saw you were inviting people to ask you system stuff, so as a questioning/newly discovered plural I have a couple questions!! If you're uncomfy answering these please feel free to skip any or delete this ask! I know they're potentially quite personal.

How did you find out you're a system?

What does internal communication look/feel like for you?

How do you personally handle self doubt?

The People Wanna Know:

🛸 Hello!! Thank you for submitting this question! I know as a newly discovered system reaching out about system things can be scary!!

For you're first question, the initial "discovery" was after I had gone off my ADHD meds for a week due to the shortages that were/are happening. I have been medicated for my ADHD since I was 8 and hadn't had a break from my meds greater than a day or two since that age. Let me set the scene, I'm finally living on my own, dating a system, and under a lot of stress from other things in my life. I start questioning if I'm a system just a little bit, more of a check in with my psyche and less of theres evidence pointing me here. Then BOOM no meds for a week or so. As I start questioning this and checking in (something I have done before quite a few times since learning and researching about plurality off and on the past 5 years) I notice that theres a really loud voice telling me horrible things about myself every time I try to think and check in about this. At the time this was a very uncommon thing for my mind. As the week progressed the voice and it's emotion got more and more distressing each time it piped up but I kept pushing back against it until it almost felt like a bubble popped. I was fighting the rude voice and suddenly I got a wash of this voices name/identity. It felt like a voiceover layered with different ways of identifying with the name Cloud mixed with telling me off. Ex (tw: aggressive language ): "You're a fucking idiot" "This is stupid" "Dumb ass" "Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You" ((Bubble Pops)) "cloud" "You're a fucking idiot" "name-" "This is stupid" "You're just lonely" "name: cloud" "You're not a system just stop" "i am cloud" "Fucking idiot you're so stupid" "Fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off" "cloud" To be clear, it was more like the bubble popped and suddenly a new sense of identity started transmitting to me. Before just his words where being projected to me almost like over a loud speaker and then suddenly I was sharing a consciousness with him. This interaction was able to happen because my meds create a bit of a barrier that makes communication more difficult and therefore easier to hide the plurality from me. Once my meds were out of my system it made that negative voice louder and pushing against it easier until everything gave way.

Plurality is covert, meaning it doesn't want to be discovered and will do what it can to stay hidden, thats why gatekeepers exist and why denial spirals happen. You're brain doesn't want you to acknowledge it because then that means you are going to acknowledge what it has deemed unsafe memories, emotions, thoughts, feelings, patterns, ect. It also takes practice to navigate and communicate in your system and you won't be able to be sure of things right away. Things will change as you understand them better. For you're second question about communication I will be referencing how our varying levels of "fronting" works and to avoid making this response incredibly long I will direct you to the original post we first explain it in. We mostly feel each others thoughts rather than hear them. The only time I can every "hear" someone else's thoughts is if they are right next to me and/or feeling something very strongly. Usually if we want to "talk" to each other we talk out loud so everyone can hear what's being said and respond, or we right it out. But usually we rely of deciphering feelings. I can hear my own thought in my head but no one else's usually but they can seemingly hear mine. So I can talk to them in my head and then try to feel what they're emotional reaction is to what I'm saying and decipher their responses. It's a lot of yes or no questions or statements. like playing 20 questions. I can try to expand on our communication more if anyone would like me to. I do plan on making a post about it at some point.

As for your last question that ones very hard. I'm lucky that I told my therapist and she validated me making me feel clinically seen even without a formal diagnosis. She is far from being an expert or specialist but just being told by a medical professional "hey you're valid" was enough to take away the MAJOR denial feelings we would get. Early on it's gonna be very common and very hard. I had a could people go quite when I was first learning because they felt that me just wrapping my head around clouds existence alone first might be a better plan that 3 new people. And even now, it isn’t gone. It rears its head now and then especially because we are an atypical system so a few things that people use to fake claim kinda apply to us and we get worried we’re mistaken. If you have trauma, leaning on that when you have a denial spiral can be helpful like reminding yourself it makes sense for your brain to operate this way. If you don’t have trauma right down moments that feel particularly real and plural and when you start spiralling read those moments and try to remember how real that felt.

I hope this was helpful let me know if you have any questions or need clarification!!

REMEMBER: You're gonna be ok. You're gonna figure it out. Be kind and gentle with yourself and others. Asks are open. Have a nice day.

[sicknessbysalem]

Day Eleven: Doctor's Note (alternative) | Sicktember 2024

this is less prompt adherant and more needing wlw sickfics... here is your sustenance for all you lesbian emeto fic lovers!

if you have any requests, comments, questions, etc., send it my way!

tw emeto, nausea, fever, stomach virus

The hum of fluorescent lights overhead was a familiar backdrop to Willow’s world, the constant beeping of monitors and the quiet shuffle of feet through the ER a steady pulse in the chaotic rhythm of the hospital. Her day had started like any other—triaging patients, suturing wounds, and keeping track of meds—but now, halfway through her shift, a wave of nausea rolled over her so suddenly she had to stop mid-step.

The air in the emergency room felt too thick, too heavy. It pressed in on her chest, making it harder to breathe as a cold, clammy sweat began to slick her skin. She took a deep breath, hoping it was a passing spell of dizziness, maybe a side effect of skipping breakfast, but the queasiness only worsened. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably, and a bitter taste crept up her throat.

*Not now,* she silently pleaded. The room tilted ever so slightly, the edges of her vision darkening as her body wavered. She braced a hand against the counter, fighting to stay upright, unwilling to acknowledge just how unwell she felt. Willow wasn’t one to get sick—she was the one who took care of others, not the other way around.

But this was different. The sudden onset of nausea gripped her body like a vice, squeezing every ounce of strength she had. She could feel the perspiration gathering at the nape of her neck, trickling down her spine in an icy trail. Her hands trembled as she pressed her palms flat against the cold counter, trying to ground herself, but the overwhelming need to be sick was becoming impossible to ignore.

Willow swallowed hard, knowing she needed to find somewhere more private before she lost the battle with her stomach in the middle of the ER. Glancing around, she quickly ducked into the nearest hallway, her eyes scanning for the resident sleeping quarters—one of the few quiet, semi-private places where she could fall apart if she had to. Her legs felt heavy, each step an effort, but she forced herself forward, determined not to make a scene in front of her coworkers.

The second she crossed the threshold of the sleeping quarters, the nausea surged again, stronger this time, leaving no room for denial. Her stomach twisted violently, and her mouth flooded with saliva. She barely made it to the small attached bathroom before she doubled over, gagging hard as her body wrenched in protest.

She had no choice now. There was no holding back the sickness, and it came in painful waves, leaving her weak and gasping as she clutched the edge of the counter for support. The harsh fluorescent light flickered above her, casting an eerie glow over her reflection in the mirror. Her face was pale, her cheeks flushed with the effort of keeping herself upright, and her hair clung damply to her forehead.

The door creaked open behind her just as she slumped to her knees, unable to rise. She barely registered the figure standing in the doorway until she heard a familiar voice.

“Willow? Jesus, are you okay?”

It was Milan, his voice filled with concern as he crossed the room in a few quick strides. Before she could muster the energy to respond, he was kneeling beside her, pulling her hair back with a gentle hand as another heave ripped through her. She groaned softly, mortified by how quickly her body had betrayed her, but Milan was unfazed.

���Easy, I’ve got you,” he murmured, keeping her hair out of her face with one hand while the other rested lightly on her back. His tone was calm, professional, but there was a note of sympathy in his voice that made her feel just a little less humiliated.

For a moment, the world narrowed down to the violent churn of her stomach and the sound of her ragged breaths, but eventually, the worst of it passed. She slumped against the bathroom wall, utterly spent, her body trembling from the effort. Milan stayed close, his hand still resting on her back in silent support.

“You look like hell,” he said, though his voice was soft, teasing. “I think I could pull some strings and get you a doctor’s note. Maybe even a bed in one of those fancy private rooms if you ask nicely.”

Willow managed a weak smile, though her stomach still roiled dangerously. “I’m fine,” she mumbled, pushing back against the nausea with sheer willpower. “It’s probably just something I ate.”

“Uh-huh,” Milan said, his skepticism clear. “You’re in a hospital, for God’s sake. You should know better than to try to tough this out. Go home, Willow.”

She shook her head, though the movement made her stomach flip. “I can’t. It’s too busy.”

“You’re not doing anyone any favors if you’re throwing up every ten minutes,” he countered, his tone firm but not unkind. “You need to rest. Besides, Vanessa will kill me if she finds out I let you work like this.”

At the mention of her girlfriend, Willow’s resolve faltered. Vanessa would be worried, of course, but she didn’t want to seem weak, especially not in front of her colleagues. She was stubborn, too much so for her own good sometimes.

But then, just as she was about to protest, another brutal wave of nausea crashed over her, pulling her back to the bathroom floor. She barely had time to grab the edge of the sink before she was sick again, her body shuddering with the force of it. Milan winced sympathetically and gently rubbed her back, not saying anything this time.

When it was over, Willow couldn’t argue anymore. She was too exhausted, too shaky, and the thought of staying upright for another minute seemed impossible. She slumped against the wall, her face pale and clammy as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “You win. I’ll go home.”

Milan gave her a knowing look, a small, victorious smile playing at the corner of his lips. “I’ll get your things,” he said softly, rising to his feet. “Just stay here for a minute.”

Willow nodded, grateful that he didn’t push any further. As she sat there, still trying to catch her breath, she couldn’t help but feel a small sense of relief. At least she’d be able to go home and recover—and maybe Vanessa could take care of her for once.

-

The drive home was a blur, the dull ache in Willow’s stomach ebbing and flowing with every twist and turn of the car. The cool night air from the cracked window offered little relief, and by the time she pulled into the driveway, her body felt like lead. All she wanted was to crawl into bed and pretend this day hadn’t happened. 

Vanessa’s car was already parked in its usual spot, and the soft glow of lights from inside the house spilled through the curtains. Willow let out a long sigh, grateful but also slightly nervous. Milan must have called her. He was always looking out for her, but this time she wished he hadn't. She wasn’t sure if she could handle Vanessa’s worry right now, not when she felt this weak and worn down.

She trudged up the steps to the front door, her mind hazy with exhaustion and nausea. The smell of something savory hit her the moment she opened the door—a light, warm scent of herbs and broth, with the underlying fragrance of ginger and something else she couldn’t quite place. It smelled like home, but even the pleasant aroma caused her already unsettled stomach to turn.

“Hey, babe,” Vanessa’s voice greeted her from the kitchen, laced with concern but light enough that Willow didn’t feel pressured to respond. 

Willow managed a weak smile and a halfhearted wave as she slipped out of her shoes, leaning against the wall to steady herself. “Hey…” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her throat raw from earlier, and she could already feel her stomach tightening again.

“I made some soup and tea,” Vanessa said gently, still staying in the kitchen as if respecting the invisible boundary Willow usually put up after work. Vanessa knew her well—she could tell when Willow needed space, especially after a shift in the ER. Usually, it was to decompress, to shed the weight of the day before she could relax and be herself again. But this time, it was different. This time, Willow wasn’t just worn out from work; she was physically sick, and no amount of quiet time alone was going to fix it.

“Thanks,” Willow croaked, her voice hoarse. “I’m just gonna… change out of this.”

She gestured vaguely to her uniform, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to her clammy skin. She felt sticky, like the weight of the hospital had followed her home, clinging to her like a second skin. Without waiting for a reply, she headed up the stairs, her legs heavy and her stomach churning with each step.

The second she stepped into the bedroom, Willow’s vision swam. Her stomach clenched sharply, and she had to steady herself against the wall as another wave of nausea hit, this one stronger than the last. Her mouth filled with saliva, her body already reacting before her mind could catch up. She barely made it to the bathroom before she was on her knees, retching violently into the toilet.

It was worse this time. Her whole body shook as she gripped the cool porcelain, her forehead pressed against the seat as her stomach twisted and churned. She couldn’t stop. Each wave of nausea hit harder than the last, leaving her gasping for breath in between bouts of vomiting. Her throat burned, her chest heaving as she tried to regain some semblance of control, but it was useless. She was completely at the mercy of her body.

Downstairs, Vanessa’s heart ached. She had heard Willow dash to the bathroom, heard the unmistakable sound of retching echo through the house. Every instinct screamed at her to go to Willow, to hold her hair back, rub her back, and whisper words of comfort. But she knew better. Willow needed her space, needed to calm down from the weight of the day before she could accept help, and Vanessa was determined to respect that.

Instead, she busied herself in the kitchen, stirring the pot of soup absently as her mind raced. She had already poured a cup of ginger tea, its steam curling up in soft tendrils, but it sat untouched on the counter. Vanessa wiped her hands on a dishtowel, biting her lip as she listened for any sign that the worst had passed upstairs. She trusted Willow to come to her when she was ready, but waiting was the hardest part.

Upstairs, Willow was finally starting to calm down. Her stomach, though still unsettled, had stopped its relentless revolt, leaving her weak and trembling on the bathroom floor. She wiped her mouth with a shaky hand, grimacing at the bitter taste lingering in her throat. Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet, gripping the edge of the sink for balance as she splashed cold water on her face. Her reflection stared back at her, pale and drawn, her hair a disheveled mess from the day and the sickness. 

It took all her strength to peel off her scrubs, the fabric clinging to her like a second skin as she struggled to pull on a pair of loose sweatpants and an old hoodie—comfort clothes, something that didn’t feel like work. She caught her breath, trying to steady the rolling in her stomach before she headed downstairs, her legs shaky as if they might give out at any moment.

When she finally emerged from the stairwell, Vanessa was there waiting. She didn’t rush to her, didn’t crowd her with worry, but her eyes were full of concern, her brow creased as she hovered near the kitchen island, a bowl of soup and a steaming cup of tea already set out for her.

Willow managed a small smile, though her stomach still churned uneasily. “You didn’t have to go all out,” she said softly, her voice still rough. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Vanessa’s lips quirked in a half-smile as she crossed the room, closing the distance between them now that Willow had come to her. She reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Willow’s ear, her touch gentle but full of unspoken concern. “Milan told me you’d say that,” she said, a hint of teasing in her voice. “But you don’t look fine, babe.”

Willow leaned into the touch slightly, closing her eyes for a moment as the warmth of Vanessa’s hand soothed the ache in her head. “I just… didn’t expect to feel so bad so fast,” she admitted, opening her eyes to meet Vanessa’s. “I don’t know what hit me.”

“Well,” Vanessa said, her voice soft but firm, “you’re home now. And you’re going to eat something, even if it’s just a little bit. Then you’re resting, no arguments.”

Willow chuckled weakly, her smile widening just a fraction. “You sound like a nurse.”

“Learned from the best,” Vanessa teased, guiding her to sit at the kitchen table. She placed the bowl of soup in front of her, the steam rising up with the scent of herbs and broth—comforting, but still enough to make Willow’s stomach lurch.

She swallowed hard, picking up the spoon with trembling fingers. She knew Vanessa was right—she needed to eat something, if only to prove she was okay. But even the smallest sip felt like a monumental task. Her stomach clenched at the first taste, but she forced it down, taking slow, deliberate breaths to keep the nausea at bay.

Vanessa sat across from her, watching carefully but giving her space, her eyes full of love and worry. “You don’t have to finish it,” she said softly after a moment. “Just enough to settle your stomach.”

Willow nodded, grateful for the gentle suggestion. She took a few more small sips of the broth, trying to focus on the warmth it spread through her chest rather than the queasiness lingering in her gut. It wasn’t much, but it was something, and Vanessa seemed satisfied for now.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the soft clink of the spoon against the bowl the only sound in the room. Eventually, Willow set the spoon down, her hands trembling slightly as she leaned back in her chair, exhausted but grateful to be home.

Vanessa reached across the table, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “We’ll take it slow,” she said quietly. “You don’t have to do anything else tonight except rest.”

Willow gave her a tired smile, squeezing her hand back. “Thanks, Ness.”

“Anytime, babe. Now, how about I get you upstairs and into bed? You need sleep more than anything right now.”

Willow nodded, too tired to argue. 

Vanessa led Willow upstairs, her arm draped protectively around her waist, guiding her through the dimly lit hallway to their bedroom. Every step felt like a small battle for Willow. Her body ached with fatigue, her limbs heavy with the weight of the day and her unsettled stomach still rolling uncomfortably with each movement. 

Vanessa kept her pace slow, her touch gentle and unhurried, sensing Willow’s exhaustion and knowing better than to rush her. She was careful not to overstep, not to flood her with concern that might feel suffocating after such a draining day. Vanessa always knew when to step back, when to simply be there without being overwhelming, and that was exactly what Willow needed right now.

When they finally made it to the bedroom, Willow all but collapsed onto the bed, curling up instinctively into the soft sheets. She felt weak, as if every ounce of energy had been drained from her, leaving nothing but this gnawing nausea and the dull ache in her head. The familiar scent of their bedding—lavender and something warm—helped, if only a little, to ground her.

Vanessa slipped in beside her, cautious as ever, positioning herself just close enough so that Willow could lean into her if she needed to but not crowding her space. Willow did just that, curling up into Vanessa’s side, her head resting on Vanessa’s chest, her arms tucked tightly around herself as if that might somehow keep the sickness at bay.

For a while, they lay there in silence, the room dark except for the faint glow of the bedside lamp. The steady rhythm of Vanessa’s breathing was a calming presence, a reminder that she wasn’t alone in this, but Willow couldn’t shake the discomfort brewing in her stomach. It had been bad before, but now, after the small amount of soup she’d managed to eat, it was growing worse by the minute.

Vanessa’s hand rested lightly on Willow’s back, her fingers tracing soft, soothing patterns, but even that gentle touch couldn’t distract Willow from the way her stomach was bubbling angrily beneath the surface. She could feel it churning, every small gurgle a reminder of how unsettled she was. It was as though her stomach couldn’t decide if it was done revolting or gearing up for something worse, and the uncertainty of it made Willow tense.

Vanessa felt it too. Even through the layers of blankets and clothes, she could feel the way Willow’s stomach seemed to gurgle and shift, the uncomfortable noises growing more frequent as the minutes passed. She could tell by the way Willow’s body stiffened against her that things weren’t getting better. 

“You okay, babe?” Vanessa asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to startle Willow out of her quiet focus. 

Willow didn’t answer right away. She was too busy concentrating on breathing through the nausea, trying desperately to keep it from escalating. Her stomach felt like a storm brewing, heavy and unsettled, and she could feel the pressure building in the back of her throat. Every breath she took felt shallow, her chest tight as she fought against the dizzying waves of sickness that threatened to overwhelm her.

Vanessa could feel her tension. She kept her hand on Willow’s back, rubbing slow circles, knowing that sometimes it helped to focus on something else, but Willow’s breathing was becoming more erratic, her body shifting uncomfortably against the mattress.

“I’m trying not to…” Willow muttered weakly, the words trailing off as another deep, nauseating churn hit her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut, her head spinning, the dizziness making it impossible to stay still. She hated this feeling—the way the nausea built and built, making her lightheaded, making it hard to focus on anything except the growing certainty that she was going to be sick again.

Vanessa pressed a kiss to the top of her head, her voice still soft and patient. “It’s okay if you need to. Don’t hold it back if it’s making you feel worse.”

Willow let out a small, shaky breath, her forehead damp with cold sweat as she pressed it harder against Vanessa’s chest. Her stomach twisted violently in response to even the thought of vomiting, but she knew deep down that she couldn’t keep fighting it much longer. The more she tried to resist, the dizzier she became, her vision swimming in and out of focus as she lay there, helpless against the relentless nausea.

And then, all at once, it hit her. A sharp, undeniable wave of sickness surged up her throat, and she barely had time to react before she was scrambling to sit up.

“I—” Willow choked out, her voice barely a gasp before she bolted from the bed, her legs unsteady as she stumbled toward the bathroom.

Vanessa was right behind her, moving quickly but keeping her distance just enough not to crowd her. She knew that in these moments, Willow didn’t want to feel overwhelmed or coddled, but that didn’t mean Vanessa wouldn’t be there for her, ready to help the second she needed it.

Willow reached the bathroom just in time, falling to her knees in front of the toilet as her body gave in to the nausea that had been building for what felt like hours. She barely had a moment to catch her breath before she was retching, her stomach heaving violently, expelling what little she had eaten earlier. It felt awful—her throat burned, her chest ached, and the dizziness only made it worse, making her feel like the whole room was spinning around her.

Vanessa knelt beside her, not saying a word, just gently pulling back Willow’s hair and holding it out of her face as she leaned over the toilet. She rubbed soothing circles on Willow’s back, careful not to apply too much pressure, just enough to let her know she was there without overwhelming her. 

Each heave was brutal, leaving Willow gasping for breath in between bouts of sickness, her body trembling with the effort. She hated this—hated the feeling of being so out of control, so helpless as her body rebelled against her. But at the same time, there was a small comfort in knowing Vanessa was there, in the quiet, steady presence of her girlfriend beside her.

When it finally passed, Willow slumped against the cool tiles of the bathroom floor, her body weak and trembling. Her head was still spinning, her stomach sore and empty, but at least the worst of it seemed to be over. For now.

Vanessa didn’t push her to move. She just sat there, her hand still resting gently on Willow’s back, waiting for her to catch her breath.

“You’re okay,” Vanessa murmured softly, her voice a quiet comfort in the stillness of the room. “I’ve got you.”

Willow closed her eyes, her body still shivering slightly as she leaned into Vanessa’s touch. “I hate this,” she muttered, her voice hoarse from the effort of being sick.

“I know,” Vanessa said gently, her fingers still tracing light patterns on Willow’s back. “But you don’t have to go through it alone.”

They stayed like that for a while, the quiet hum of the bathroom fan the only sound as Willow’s breathing slowly evened out. When she finally felt stable enough to move, Vanessa helped her back to her feet, steadying her as they made their way back to the bed. 

Vanessa tucked her in carefully, making sure the blankets were just right, then slid in beside her again, offering her the same quiet support as before—just enough care, but not too much to make Willow feel smothered. 

Willow curled up against her once more, her body still aching, her stomach still unsettled, but there was a certain peace in the way Vanessa’s arms wrapped around her, in the way her presence made even the worst moments just a little bit easier to bear.

[macravishedbymactavish]

Alex Keller x GN!Reader

3 instances where he took care of you, and 1 instance where you took care of him.

Chapter TW for descriptions of sickness (flu & fever), hurt/comfort

| Blog HQ | Jupiter Masterlist | Modern Warfare 2019 Masterlist |

Part II // Sickness

"101.3, you're sick" you declared, looking between the thermometer and the man laying on the bed. A layer of sweat coating his bare chest, as his hair stuck to his forehead.

Shaking his head at you, he argued. "I can't be sick, I don't get sick"

The words followed by a light cough, and a sound of frustration. He was well into his 5 stages of being sick.

The first stage being suspicious, terrified. Feeling a bit off but blaming it on a mundane cause.

Didn't sleep well the past few nights. 

Tried a new workout that kicked my ass.

Probably dehydrated.

The second stage being outright denial. My immune system is top tier, I never get sick.

Third stage (you are here) - frustration.

"This sucks!" He rasped, running a hand over his face as he continued ranting. Words muffled by his palms.

Which leads you smoothly into stage 4: Self pity.

"I'm dying." His muffled words elicited an amused snort from yourself. Patting his leg gently, you pushed yourself off the bed. "Where are you going? Leaving me in my final moments!" 

The sound of his coughing elicited a small grimace as you walked through the hallway, knowing how much his throat and chest probably hurt by now. 

His coughing and dramatic whining got quieter as you padded into the kitchen. Busying yourself with turning on the kettle and pulling 2 mugs from the cupboard. Tapping your fingers against the counter mindlessly as you thought of various supper ideas that would be easy on his stomach and hopefully curb this bug.

The sound of your phone vibrating on the counter pulled you from the internal debate of spicy chili vs homemade vegetable soup. Picking up the device, you rolled your eyes at the message preview on the home screen.

[A. Killer ❤️]

:( :( :( :( :( :* :( :( :(

"You'll survive for a few minutes." You called into the house, stifling a laugh at the sound of distaste you received.

Tea brewing in mugs with a spoonful of honey, bottle of medication under your arm, you carefully brought everything back to the bedroom. Where your fiancé lay facedown into his pillow. Coughing and groaning.

"I brought us tea, and you meds." Mugs and pills now placed on the bedside table, you returned to your previous spot. Sitting beside his leg, rubbing your hand gingerly over the damp skin of his back. "It'll probably clear some of your sinuses and help your throat. Hopefully we can break the fever soon."

Without another word, he rolled over. Arms wide open, a small pout on his lips. A silent transition to the final stage of "sick Alex Keller":

Stage 5: clingy and cuddly.

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @v1naco @bowtruckleninja

Alex Keller Taglist: @glitterypirateduck @deadbranch @gcing-back-to-505

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Fever - Hunter - Pt 2

I elected to go ahead and share another smaller chapter instead of making you guys wait another couple days

Part 2 of Fever - Hunter. If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved!

Febuwhump Day 11.2

Warnings: TW: needles/injection, a single swear word (wanna guess who says it?), hay fever symptoms

WC: 2,239

Night offered no reprieve. Sweat soaked through my blacks, pooling against my armor until my skin wrinkled and ached. I wanted nothing more than to strip the rigid plastoid and “breathable” fabric off and lay flat atop the cool soil, limbs stretched as far from my torso as possible. Instead, I squirmed to roll onto my other side in the snug embrace of the hammock, eyes closed in the futile denial that I might find some escape in a sleep that was unlikely to come.

By the time Wrecker came to rouse me to take final watch, I was fairly certain I’d tossed and turned the night away.

“You gonna be alright? Yuh look beat.” The gentle man murmured sympathetically at the little groan that caught in my throat as I struggled free of my ‘bed’.

“No worse than everyone else.” I sighed as I pulled off my helmet and stretched my neck and shoulders to work out the kinks. “Everything go okay last night?” My voice was groggier than I’d hoped, but I offered him a reassuring smile to quell his worries before hiding behind my bucket once more.

“Echo says he heard somethin’ durin’ his watch, but me an’ Cross didn’t see anything.” I could hear the exhaustion in his words and felt my shoulders sink in a quiet sigh.

“Okay, I’ll keep an eye out. Go get a bit more sleep.” He hesitated, visor absently following my movements as I performed a quick, mindless inspection of my pistols before returning them to their holsters, but, with a reluctant nod, he finally turned toward the poor substitute for the shelter strung up between two trees.

There is no graceful way to get into a hammock. I tried not to watch his clumsy shuffle to get his hips over the lip of fabric, the beat of hesitation before hopping up and struggling to maintain his balance as the movement sent him swinging, limbs flailing slightly to position himself safely in the center of the cloth, but I couldn’t fight the way my lips tensed against a grin, fully aware that I’d looked no less hopeless in my own attempts.

On most worlds, the following hour was one in which the land seemed to wake, lit beneath those first gentle rays of light, but this jungle never slept. The creatures of night loomed beyond the trees and brush with the same unapologetic chittering as the creatures of day. The dense air screamed with the relentless trill of insects, with the clap of avian wings overhead and the creak of branches shifting beneath the weight of something I could only hope had more interest in fruit than flesh.

Midway through my watch, a noise caught my attention that had no place among the chaos of jungle life. I went still; focus straining to hear it again. Mere seconds passed before that short, stifled huff sounded a short distance behind me. I didn’t need to look to know it was Hunter.

Footsteps nearly silent atop the lush soil, I crept across out makeshift camp, determined not to wake him if he was still asleep, but already I could hear the stifled coughs, the failed attempt to clear his throat, the tiny groan as he shifted sluggishly onto his side. My shoulders slumped. I hadn’t expected the meds to offer much relief beyond sedating him for the night, but he was clearly getting worse.

Just as I drew a breath to call out to him, he leaned forward in that initial movement to haul himself free of the hammock, but his limbs shifted unsteady, head hanging to his chest with no real focus granted toward the action, and, when the fabric shifted beneath his weight, was unable to make any effort to right himself, body tumbling heavily to the ground.

“Hunter!” His name barked from me in a hushed gasp, darting forward to reach him. Beyond bringing a hand up to rest shakily over the visor of his helmet, he showed no signs of even realizing he’d fallen, torso rocking beneath painfully slowed breaths just threatening to hitch beneath barely suppressed coughs. I quickly lowered myself to my knees in front of him, hand resting gently on his shoulder.

“Not feeling any better, I guess…” I murmured sympathetically. Several seconds passed before he gave a tiny shake of his head, the stiffness of even that movement clearly agonizing. “Alright, let’s get you sitting up – laying down it just going to make that pressure in your sinuses worse.” I didn’t need to ask – the way he held his hand toward his face told me everything I needed to know about the terrible stuffiness spreading through the ridge of his cheeks, beneath the broad plane of his forehead and pressing relentlessly against his eyes.

He offered no arguments as I pulled his pack toward us and, gently pulling his arm over my shoulder, hauled him upright to lean against it. His body spasmed with a pair of violent sneezes and, though his mic was still muted, I watched his body deflate beneath a quiet groan.

“Hand signs are fine if it hurts to move your head.” I told him quietly as my hand automatically slid over the back of his neck to rub at the tense muscles. “Are you having difficulty breathing?” His hand shifted listlessly in reply, as though the air was weighted about him, fighting even the most basic of motions.

Yes.

“Okay, does that feel like it’s from tightness in your chest or congestion in your nose and throat?” I was careful to keep my voice low, unhurried lest my own concerns cause him to panic. He motioned toward his head. “Good.” The gentle praise left me in a whispered murmur, heart melting at the subtle way he began leaning into my touch. “I need you to tell me if that changes or gets worse. Alright?”

Yes.

“Alright.” My fingers tightened slightly around the taut cords of muscle stretching down from the base of his skull before resuming the rhythmic, soothing strokes from the top of his neck down to the lip of his armor and back. “What about dizziness? Do you feel light-headed?”

Yes.

“Fair to assume headache, fatigue, and sore, itchy eyes and throat all apply, too?” His helmet tilted up slightly at the sympathy in my light teasing, and I could clearly picture the weak glare hidden behind that dark visor. Letting out a deep sigh, I glanced around to the still sleeping figures nestled in cocoons of dark grey cloth strung up between the surrounding trees.

“I’ll get our gear packed up. Try to sleep for a bit longer if you can.” I whispered, pushing myself to my feet. He drew in a breath as though preparing to speak, and I knew perfectly well what excuses and reassurances vied for that air, but then he let it out in a resigned sigh, and my heart twisted in the wake of his suffering.

Echo was the first to wake. I’d just finished tucking the freshly rolled hammocks into my pack when he groggily tumbled to his feet. He allowed himself barely a moment to stand up before turning his attention to where Hunter had set up his shelter, and I could see the weight settle atop his shoulders. With a final glance behind me to confirm the barely conscious Sergeant had yet to try moving, I stood up and tread quietly to the arc.

“How bad?” He asked, feigning no pleasantries to soften the coming news.

“It’s not life-threatening, but there’s nothing I can do for him out here.” I answered, arms crossing over my chest as I turned back to look at the slumped form. “I need to get him back to the Marauder – away from whatever it is he’s reacting to.” Echo turned to look at me, and he didn’t need to speak those next words for me to know what he was thinking.

“He’s not going to like that.” Shaking my head with a weary shrug, I let my gaze wander to the stunning network of life flitting between the sea of leaves overhead, managing to catch only the occasional flash of a wing or twitch of a tail before whatever creatures dwelled above vanished from sight.

“He can’t fight like this.” I stated simply. “Hell, he can barely move like this… Do you think you’ll be able to finish the mission without us?” He was quiet for a long moment.

“Yeah… yeah, we’ll be fine. Do you think you’ll be able to get him back safely?” He asked, turning back to me. My teeth worried over the inner flesh of my lip, dreading the coming trek.

“It’ll be rough,” I admitted, “But he’s only going to get worse the longer he’s out here… and going back should be easier since the path is already cut.” I added, but the façade of hope in those final words did little to fool either of us. Echo was kind enough not to draw attention to that.

“I’ll get the others up – fill them in. Good luck convincing him.” I could hear the faintest hint of a smirk in his voice as he turned to rouse Tech. Drawing a deep breath, I started back toward the desolate figure before me.

“You awake?” I called softly, lowering myself to a knee beside him. He’d just begun calling some motion into his shoulders before abandoning the movement with a shuttered exhale.

Yes. His hand gave a weak flinch in response. Jaw grinding, I quickly snatched my own bag and dug through the supplies.

“Injection or pill?” I asked and granted him mere seconds to grasp some meaning behind my words before adding, “‘No’ isn’t an option.” He offered no response for a moment longer before his shoulders sank in resigned acceptance. When he tilted his head just enough to grant access to his neck, I grabbed the auto-injector and kneeled beside him.

“Good choice - this will help faster.” I murmured warmly, fingers carefully easing the tight fabric down enough to touch the applicator flush against the gorgeous bronze of his skin. He tensed slightly as the medication went in but offered no further complaints. Tossing the device back into my pack, I gently rubbed at the injection sight both in the hopes of easing the lingering hurt and to help the anti-inflammatory diffuse faster.

“Alright, so this is what’s going to happen,” I started, shuffling slightly to sit in front of him, “We’re going to give that a few minutes to take the edge off – get some food and water in you, make sure the others have everything they need; then you and I are going back to the Marauder.” Instantly, his attention snapped up to me. The threat of anger in the suddenly heavy breaths churning within his chest did little to deter me.

“Hunter, you know this is the right call.” I continued, voice dropping into a whisper. “The longer you’re out here, the worse you’re going to feel. You really want to try to convince me that you can fight? That you trust yourself to watch their backs?” His head tilted forward just enough for me to know he was glaring.

“Really don’t feel like pulling punches today?” He grumbled with a quick scoff, and my heart twisted at the hoarseness of his voice.

“Nope.” I chirped back but offered an apologetic sigh before pushing myself to my feet. “Do you still have water?” His hand fluttered listlessly about his waist in search of the container and, giving it a small shake, nodded. “Make sure you rinse your face after you eat – especially your eyes.” The slow tilt of his helmet perfectly illustrated the deadpan stare hiding beneath, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Uh-uh. You want to be trusted with common sense for your own wellbeing? Next time, you tell your medic when this” I pointed vaguely toward him, “first starts.” I could hear the sigh just as clearly as I heard the rushed attempt to stifle the coughing fit that threatened to seize through him, but he managed to regain control of himself.

Snatching my pack, I walked the short distance to the others. Based on the dark expression on Wrecker’s face, I safely assumed Echo had already told them of Hunter’s declining health.

“Doc, you sure it’s a good idea to take him back by yourself?” The gentle man asked, mismatched eyes glancing between me and his brother.

“I’m not totally helpless, Wrecker.” I retorted with a smirk before adding, quieter, “We’ll be fine… and we technically haven’t traveled very far, so we can stay in contact the whole time.” As soon as I said it, Crosshair’s shoulders slumped.

“That doesn’t mean you can flood the damn coms.” He snarled before Wrecker could reply, threat clear in his voice, but I merely chuckled at them.

“Alright, who has room for some supplies – if I’m not with you, I want to make sure you guys still have whatever you might need if things get rough.”

After divvying up bandages and medications, and grimacing at Hunter’s strained voice as he drilled them on the plan again, we finally parted ways. No one gave the Sergeant any grief for turning back, and I found myself silently thanking them each for the unspoken understanding. The coming days would be difficult enough without them adding to his guilt.

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[sashastarlight]

Trans Visibility: this is my story. I'm coming up on my 6 year anniversary of HRT.

Half of my life was burned away running. Wasted and weak. But I never gave up. My trans behaviors were belittled and misdirected at every turn.

Through grade school I was lied to and my time wasted.

Through middle school I was bullied, stolen from, and pushed aside.

Through highschool I burned myself out in sheer desperation to get away from my life through academics.

Through College I learned the truth. I stood up for myself. I confronted the lies. I had to make up for 12 years of life and damage. It seemed impossible.

I did it all while overcoming 4 years of undergrad. At every turn the betrayal I felt from my home community. The Denial that all these people live in a fake world. It tortured me. They are so selfish that they would glady let trans children experience an insane suicide rate just to satiate their insecurities.

I experienced that growing pain for 16 years of my life before I went to therapy and cut the seed out with my own hard work. TW my mental health almost killed me in college. I tried to break my hands. I tried to starve myself. I tried to drink myself to death in the snow. I failed.

Eventually after countless failed jobs and relationships. I realized a simple truth. Bracers were forced on me to fix my teeth, specially designed shoes and insoles to alleviate my flat feet and correct my legs and spine, there are countless other examples. My body was already aggressively altered from its natural state, and to think HRT or the countless gender affirming cares are anything different from bracers is literally insane. Cognitive dissonance at its finest. And yeah I was on experimental meds even in highschool for acne. Because society really doesn't care unless it makes them personally insecure.

I knew more about hormones and biology by the time I started HRT than 99% of the human population, I focused my minor in Neuroscience I was that obsessed. And I still can't believe how effective, simple, and empowering the results are. From a year to two to five. It gets better constantly.

So this is my advice. Step back from your situation and get a notebook. In that book write your truth everyday, about how you feel and your simplest desire. Write it out once a day. If something is holding you back ignore that and write out what you see in a happy future. Be real and honest it's just for you. And at the end of each week read back and see how you really feel. Let that grow into your catalyst ✨

6 years ago me had gone through a lifetime of self acceptance and still never would have believed the above picture is of me how I look today. No bra and a simple filter supplementing half of what I can do with makeup myself now. Above all else, love yourself 🩷

[its-koili]

hey guys. sorry for being gone for so long. heres an update

(tw for: mention of violence / gore, general distress, mental health issues)

(tw below)

.

basically i had a huge mental health crisis. i was having 24/7 constant rolling panic attacks from may of 2023 to january of this year. my last big meltdown was in early february. been processing a lot of CSA trauma and some recent trauma that ive gone through. i think i talked about my panic attacks before leaving social media but idk i dont remember. isolated myself from absolutely everybody.

the main thing that made me leave was that while i was keeping up to date on the g3n0c1d3 (censoring bc idk how tumblr is about it), and when i was looking in the replies / related of the awareness videos, i came across 4 accounts dedicated to using gore for clicks / shock. not videos of the g3n0c1d3 (thank god bc of how they were using the vids) but of unfortunate every day situations and cam footage. like, the kind of stuff you could see on liveleak back in 2010. just out in the open on twitter. they all had usernames like "(insert number here) ways to die)". they were all content farms for click/ad revenue. it was too much it was a huge trigger and i had a full on meltdown. the bluecheck ppl on twitter were using the replies of the videos people uploaded for raising awareness to upload mindless g0re for money. the fact that peoople have 0 compassion for human life sent me into a spiral that i couldnt get out of. (i reported 3 out of the 4 accounts i was able to and 3 got taken down but 1 is still up and it odesnt seem to be uploading the hardcore g0r3 anymore. so thats good. but that was one of the reasons i left social media. ive been keeping up to date w the news but thats it. i left my socials entirely and ive only been on my phone to look up recipes or to use my computer for media research groceries and gaming and shows

that was the main thing that pushed me to leave. i just couldnt take it anymore. during the start of my crisis last year, i was planning on taking a small break, but all of that pushed me over the edge and i dropped everything. after that, my issues got worse and i dont remember most of it. thankfully. but i couldnt bring myself to talk to anybody. i isolated myself and just. laid in bed. but im doing better so i guess thats good

on another topic ive beeen nervous to post this on main but during all of this (ive talked abt tihs a little bit on my priv before i left) i found out that im a system a long while back. my dad (one of my abusers) had/has DID and it terrified me to think that i could be anything like him. i also knew cereal abuser who pretended to be a system to get away with stuff/abusing their friends (and then years later admitted that they werent a system and siad that systems are fake.) LOTS of tears. lots of crying over this. was in denial for a few weeks. cried some more. then eventually came to terms with it.

i dont want to post abt my system online too much bc i dont want to act like this is some fun trendy thing bc its not. it makes day to day living very hard (some lighter/funnier issues that make it hard are: arguing with an alter bc YOU dont know where THEY put YOUR MEDS, not being able to cook because one alter can and the other cant, your art style not being consistent because their styles are different). i dont want to really make it a massive part of my identity online bc its not a big deal! theres just Multiple Little Guys in my brain. so. im a system! im the same but....this explains why i dont remember talking to certain people SUIDHUFHX. i always felt bad. makes conversing with online friends hard especially if icons/usernames are changed. ill make a separate post about this someday thatll go into detail a bit more.

i went years thinking it was just "kinning" but it wasnt lol. it turns out that your personality completely shifting, tastes in food / music / art / media changing, the way you walk / talk dress changing, and having complete memory blackouts when you """"kin shift"""" isn't normal. /lh (dw ive had a lot of time to come to terms with this)

but basically right now ive been spending time getting to,,know myself?? iive been using simplyplural for myself for several months and im uncovering a lot of my memories / trauma ect bc alters can write down what they need to in the chat. so i can go back later and read it. its been v helpful!

i will not be coming back just yet. i have no interest in using social media rn or drawing or writing unfortunately. ive been working on my original stuff here and there but i havent been drawaing fandom stuff bc im not hyperfixating on a fandom.

also. some things have come up. im not going to say anything until the party in question is stable/safe/comfortable before i even suggest anything for context (i dont plan on talking abt anything at all unless they start talking publicly). right now i am helping someone through abuse. their wellbeing is my #1 concern. i'll think about other things after im sure theyre okay.

i dont really have any resolutions as to how things are going but i do feel better and im not having as many panic attacks. i dont really know where im going with this now sorry. just trying to brush over the basic topics before i go. idk if anybody remembers me bc ive been gone for so long so idk if im just talking into the wind but if i am thats fine honestly this is helping me reorganize my thoughts (i type these vents out a lot on docs so i probably wont remember posting this hiudhvu)

other than that. i dont draw or write anymore. i think in the past 6 months ive drawn like....5 things. its. weird. im completely disconnected from fandoms now. coming up to a full year of not having a hyperfixation at all.

my bday was on the 6th. im 27 now im very old (everybody forgot it asides from my husband (and the people he reminded) n my abuser). ive been trying to cook and bake more and ive been playing video games again. planning on getting back into drawing soon and working on my original stuff. when i come back im planning on redesigning my profiles and updating my social media bios and stuff bc theyre so old. also ill make a section on my carrd for my system. there you go theres some positivity to the update nxfjdfjh. sorry if i dont seem very enthused im very tired so typing has been a chore hfuidshuifv.

sorry that this was a lot or if it seems disjointed i was trying to put down as much into this as possible without making it too long

bye!!! see u all soon!

[fleetstreetpies]

TW: mental health problems, psychosis, open and graphic discussion of my hallucinations and delusions, mental health meds, mental health med side effects, medical inaction, medical malpractice.

Content under the cut.

Good god it’s happening again. It’s getting REALLY bad again.

I’ve been on a mood stabiliser for about a year now, and I’ve been VERY open with my psychiatrist about a lot of the complications I’ve faced, like needing my dose increased, nausea and headaches from increasing my dosage, persistence of mania, night terrors, delusions, etc. And now the delusions and hallucinations are worse than they were. They’d gotten better for a while but now here I am and good gods, I want it to stop so badly.

I want to not see things and people melting slowly. I want to not perceive that people have been replaced by near identical clones. I want to not perceive that some people are just my mother in elaborate disguise. I’d make it all stop or go away if I could, and when I was a younger man I tried, though when I tried I fully thought that I was God and could control the universe with just my thoughts.

I’ve been trying to talk to my psychiatrist about it. I need to get my mood stabiliser increased, sure, and I know that. But I also desperately need to get on an antipsychotic. And I think she thinks I’m malingering.

Do people actually think that folks with these problems are faking this? Malingering is relatively rare, and by all means, infuriating for all parties. But do the professionals genuinely think that we’re malingering? Because I’d bet (if I had money and were a gambling man) that it’s way harder to fake than you’d think. People who do that whole malingering thing unequivocally baffle me. Antipsychotics are extremely expensive and I cannot believe people would genuinely be willing to buy them and fake it for sympathy. I can’t afford 880 dollars per refill no matter how hard I try because I can barely make rent in a month (at least I get my meds through the school pharmacy where they cost way less).

So what even is the point of some other person faking it? To sell their prescription drugs for a profit on a black market? To gain sympathy? To get some kind of disability benefits?

I just need for my psychiatrist to fucking listen to me for five seconds and to actually fucking help me for once in her goddamn life when all the other doctors or professionals in their white coats and clean blouses and blazers won’t. I need help because they all fucking refuse to help me and my psychiatrist is supposed to help me. They took a vow to “do no harm”, but that vow is useless when their own inaction or bias is the cause of the harm. It’s pointless and futile! Why take a vow when you don’t even listen to the people you swore to help?

Medical inaction is ableism. Medical inaction is malpractice. Medical inaction is to be complicit in the deaths of so many mentally ill people.

Doctors say “do no harm” but they leave the mentally ill to suffer and die because “what if they’re faking it?” That’s a poor excuse to deny people adequate (read: potentially life saving) treatment and healthcare.

Shame on the pharmaceutical industry, shame on doctors, shame on malingerers, and shame on everyone complicit in the ableism, incompetence, inaction, corruption, and denial that kill.

Shame on you.

[hamsamwich23]

⚠️Tw: gr//ming and manipulation⚠️

The fact that Sonia claims that I was harassing her with my call-out post as well as the fact that she'll go and pretend I "turned against her" because I suddenly"hated her for no reason" is so fucking funny (more below)

When we were friends it wasn't like that at all, I never hated her until I realized what she did to me and many people around her. In fact I was in shock when I found out

before I knew about the fucked up shit she did, before I knew about the gross stuff she put in her aus and before I found out she's a fucking gr//mer, when she wasn't, y'know, manipulating me and making me isolate from people and when she wasn't guilt tripping me for stuff I couldn't even control...

She was my friend (or so I thought)

I loved talking to her and I loved hearing about her aus, almost every day we'd talk and I'd listen to her talk about her latest works and her artwork and her ideas

Because a lot of her au concepts were Interesting and fun to learn about, she seemed like a nice person for the most part....

Until I found out about some of them including nasty stuff as well as just, finding out she's a horrible person in general

I was emotionally (platonically) attached to her, which was part of why I was in denial about her grooming me.

I never hated her until now. I considered her one of my closest friends until I found out the truth. So no. This is not something I'm fucking doing out of "hate" or "spite"

I know you can see this Sonia. I know you're stalking my tumblr.

The only thing I really did was not finish something for her for a trade, but that was because she was shit talking me and I called her out on it, I deleted what she made me from my entire phone (I took screenshots of me deleting them). She went on a hiatus for months as well and I had no way to contact her for more information (starting in June) until after September of this year(I like having people active for me to talk to just in case I need answers for something), it was halfway done, over 800 words and I gave what I had to her before I blocked her. She complained that it took her ten minutes to do sketches, but at the same time she told me to take as much time as I needed, and I told her that if I was working too slow she could rush me if needed.

In fact, that was the only reason I didn't block her immediately. I was still working on the rough draft of it (it was a really long one shot, more of a short story), I wanted to keep my end of the deal before cutting her off (even though she literally fucking gr//med me) but I found it even harder to complete, working on it began to disgust me. I wrote over ten pages in the rough draft, I wanted to make it special, and then I find out she hurt me and so many others. If it weren't for my friend blocking her and Sonia running to me to complain about it and guilt trip me, I wouldn't have been able to block her yet. I still would have been stuck working on the stupid thing.

Sonia is just a disgusting person in general, she may be gone from tumblr but it doesn't mean anything. She needs to be held accountable for her actions. She still has a platform on instagram, a privated account, because she's aware that she's been caught.

And yet, this isn't even the most disgusting thing she's done. But I'm not going to get into that yet. Not here. I still don't feel safe knowing Sonia is stalking me still (come to my face instead of just watching me you fucking weirdo)

All I can say is block and report Sonia, avoid her at all costs. Do not harass her, and PLEASE Don't harass her partner. At all. Leave her partner alone

[faenemy]

Illusion (CW: Vent)

I had to talk to my med provider a little while back and BOY is there nothing worse for my mental health. Everything I have ever experienced is caused by my period, and I am an entirely irrational entity, incapable of experiencing valid emotions. The curse of being AFAB and dealing with medical practitioners strikes again. Anyway RAGE writing time.

TW: Suicide mention, Implied Dissociation, Implied Hallucinations.

They don't take me seriously

Only see the passion in me

The drive

How I want to die

Life flashing before my eyes

Nothing matters if you can serve

Play your role and uphold

What those before believe they deserve

Strike a match and light me up

Heaven knows I've had enough

You ignore my pain

Take away my pleasure

Nothing ever in equal measure

They scream in my ears

But you'll never hear

To busy weaving your story

Perfecting your vision

To see what lies before you

In all it's horrid glory

It echoes on the walls

It chases me down the halls

Unknown voices

With no claim

No owner, no vocal

How it torments me

But you'll never see

Turn a blind eye

Until I die

Then maybe you'd see

What I am forced to be

Cause nothing matters

Until it's lost

Only then can one realize

The true cost

Oh to live in a world

Of illusions

As you call them so

Heaven forbid they be delusions

Hallucinations

A figment of my imagination

My pain is little

A tiny spot

Easy to wipe away

To lock out

When one cannot know

What is true and what's lies

Then all you will find

Is fear in their eyes

Terror on high

As I hide myself away

From the sun

From the day

From everything I stray

Maybe if I cover my ears

As you so often do

I could block out their cries

I could block out you

Embrace the illusion of your love

Of any idea of a god above

Reject my fleeting reality

And accept what lies deep beneath

Your words do harm

Beyond your comprehension

I am nothing to you

Not worth time or mention

I try to scream

To make a sound

To make my thoughts known

And voice them aloud

But you drown it out

Dragging me down with

I'm stuck on this ship

And it's sinking quick

Denial flows deep

Within your veins

You know it never brings pleasure

Only inevitable pain

You won't silence me

I will continue to burn

I have been given a match

Heaven knows I will learn

You may live how you wish

But you can't take me too

Heaven knows I'll survive

Without you

I wish you could see

The pain you cause me

Stand beside me

But I know better

Than to put that hope in thee

So as the whispers in the night

An illusion of my mind

Sing me their sweet soft lullaby

I will think of you

I will think of what you've done

And heaven knows

I'll think of what you've begun

[doin-just-fine]

What the brain doin?? PT. 2 of a questioning median system's journey

TW: This post may be triggering for systems who are prone to denial spirals.

"Plural vs Neurodivergent"

Am I a system or just neurodivergent

As I continue my potential system journey I want to make sure that I am open to other non-options as being answers to my situation. I don't wanna jump blindly into "I'm a system". I need to keep in mind that I am neurodivergent and just so happen to have a hyper-fixation on plurality. I need to remember that some symptoms may be confused with symptoms of my ADHD. I also need to make sure that I'm not just running into this because its one of my hyper-fixations. So...

Comparing masking and code switching to my experiences

Background

I was never really told about my ADHD beyond it makes it harder for you to control impulses, sit still, and focus. When I was diagnosed at age 8 there wasn't really enough information out there anyway. I started medication immediately and have been taking in every single day of my life since. I am now 22.

What handling my ADHD like this means:

Developing a tolerance to a dosages happened faster because I never took a break so I was on a really strong dosages really fast.

I grew up really distant from my ADHD symptoms (and other things) beyond the ones that broke through the medicated barrier.

When I take breaks from my meds now, I have the coping skills of a 2nd grader.

I am almost 100% certain that all my system questioning started when I ran out of meds and couldn't get more for several weeks back in April. The other things I grew up distant from were my emotions. I can feel the highs and lows but I can't feel the in-betweens. If you ask how I'm doing at any given moment I'll usually answer "idk" cus I genuinely don't know. I don't know how to answer that question.

My working theory as to why we might be a system is that we are a Neurogenic system. That our neurodivergency and how we coped with it is why we split off but in a "not-really" way.

Since I grew up with little information about what ADHD was and how distant I grew up from my own symptoms means that I am less familiar with the definitions of masking and code-switching than your average ADHD haver. I understand what they are and when I do them but I am fuzzy on how far those coping techniques go for me.

Comparing masking/code-switching to a plural experience.

Masking is typically defined as a technique used by neurodivergent people to hide their symptoms in an attempt to blend in with neurotypicals. Examples of this that I know I do are forcing eye contact, adding fill words when listening to someone to show you are actively listening ("right", "uh-huh", "totally", etc) usually paired with non-stop head nodding, not stimming or relying of little subtle stims, putting up with sensory nightmare environments, etc. When I find that when I'm adding things to my mask I have to actively remind myself while masking to do the thing but overtime it becomes habit.

Code-switching is typically associated with linguistics but is also used to describe the neurodivergent technique of context masking. From what I can tell, code-switching is what happens if you have two different friend groups with two very different vibes. When you hang out with one group you're going to mask and present yourself differently to fit in better than you would with the other group. Another popular example is theres you when you're with your friends and you're when you work in costumer service. Typically, those are two different ways of behaving. Code-switching and masking tend to over lap. Code-switching is like being able to pick the mask you put on.

I've read that typically, masking is unconsciously executed and code-switching is consciously executed.

Switching/Fronting can definitely fall into a similar pattern. If an alter is fronting and need to interact with someone they may mask to appear like the host OR if the host is co-con they may take control for a moment when interacting with someone. Similarly, some systems may have a member who's role is to go to work and so they may appear as the "work persona". I'm also sure there are systems who have members that are drawn out while around certain friends or friend groups, or even other system's alters!

You can start to see why this can get really confusing!!

Comparing my experience

It's so hard to draw the line on what is or isn't a "typical" experience anymore.

I disagree with the idea that masking is typically unconsciously utilized for me at least. I feel like my mask is always evolving and being improved upon, as a result I am constantly thinking about it and how well it's working. Yes, a lot of the mask becomes habit but on days where masking is hard I have to actively think about keeping up the mask.

As for code switching I feel like that can also become more unconscious over time. I worked in customer service for 4 years, I only had to actively think about code-switching for the first month really then it just became habit. In my first post, when describing what it's like to exist in my brain, one way I described it was:

"The way people describe masking but for me it feel like a more extreme level, where I’m not TRYING to change my behavior, it just sorta happens and I’m 'someone else'. What I called masking felt more like skipping songs in a playlist to get to the right one instead of putting on a mask."

I think this is actually me describing code switching. The other descriptions I listed in that post still stand.

I have never experienced someone else fronting (to my knowledge). As far as I'm aware I'm always in the front. I have no amnesia except for emotional amnesia where I am emotionally detached from certain memories. I'm going to make a separate post about dissociation because that's another confusing one. To really simplify, The closest I get to evidence of others in my mind are thoughts that don't feel like mine, and feelings that don't feel like mine.

I don't want to reflect on past times where I think someone may have been co-con and compare that to how I experience masking/code-switching because I can easily insert things that never happened into that reflection. Mayhaps I will wait until a moment like that happens after I post this and I'll make an edit to the post and reblog it.

Until then don't know what to conclude from all of this. Hopefully it helps someone else compare their experiences. If I am wrong about thing stated here please let me know. As always if you want me to expand upon something mentioned or have any questions, comments, or comparisons my asks are open please feel free to put it all there!!!