#my animals are all having physical breakdowns and need to go to animal hospital

[drowningbpdbodies]

If my mental disorders don’t kill me stress sure will

[re-lmayer]

i can't afford rent because of my abusive ex and desperately need help. if i don't pay, it will cause a domino effect where i'll be homeless, lose my emotional support animals, and eventually i can be sued and my paypal account seized. i'll also fail this college semester, which will mess up all my student grant funding and getting a degree

i'm disabled and was recently hospitalized for a nervous breakdown, and stress is making me sick. i've been diagnosed with an ulcer

there's a lot of ways to help me and my cats. you can commission me on kofi, donate directly via paypal, check out my crowdfunds on youpay, share my twitter and bluesky threads, and of course reblog this post. sharing is free!

more context under the cut. it will be updated as things change

my ex boyfriend is an abusive alcoholic. he's raped me, tried to medically neglect me, stranded me at our new apartment alone with no food and a clogged toilet, and most recently refuses to pay any rent and is content to allow me to become homeless despite legal obligation

i have been granted a hud/section 8 housing voucher, but to use it a unit must pass inspection

the apartment i applied for didn't pass, and needed repairs. the landlord told me he'd accept the first applicant that could pay first month rent and a huge deposit. the housing authority told me i'd lose my voucher if i didn't proceed with this exact unit

originally, i was supposed to be on my own. but i was shoved between a rock and a hard place with the voucher and deposit. i couldn't afford the deposit despite friends crowdfunding for me, so... i asked my boyfriend for help

he needed a place to go himself, because he broke his lease bringing me and my cats in. (i was unaware of this, and had no suspicion he'd do something that would compromise his 2 bed/bath apartment)

my doctor also prescribed caregiver after my hospitalization so it seemed mutually beneficial from a financial standpoint, even if i wasn't enthused about it

we couldn't afford movers, so over the course of march we'd been moving things by the carload ourselves. the queen bed was too big, so the night before last he informed me he was dumping it while he had help from a friend to move it. i had a bedframe and mattress from the last place i'd lived, but it had already been taken to the new place. i thought we'd agreed i'd basically move in to the new place early so i'd have somewhere to sleep

come saturday night, i messaged him that the toilet was clogged. he refused to bring a snake, and told me i was using him because i don't hug and kiss him enough. (i'm a csem victim, asexual, and autistic and don't like physical affection)

he's decided he doesn't want to proceed with the unit, and it hasn't passed the inspection, so my voucher doesn't cover it yet. i can't afford the rent out of pocket, and i'm broke because i'm disabled. we agreed he'd pay rent until the voucher kicked in, then he would be added to it as my caregiver, because he'd take me to medical appointments, ensure i get my medication on time, ensure i'd and bathe, etc.

but that ship has sailed. now i'm left in a lurch, and desperately need help. a large portion of the security and pet deposits were nonrefundable, so all the previous effort would go to waste if i can't stay

because i was recently hospitalized, i don't know how i'll survive homelessness. my cats are prescribed emotional support animals, and losing them would be devastating

these are text messages from when he refused to bring the snake and dumped me:

after this, he proceeded to continuously ignore me when i'd bring up rent, that he's on the lease, and going to the bank to pay the landlord

he never responded to the above and then proceeded to act like nothing happened

he didn't respond to any of these except agreement to let me get my cats with the help of someone from my weekly ywca meetings

he is now proceeding to STILL not respond or accept responsibility despite me explaining to him in great detail what the repercussions will be if he doesn't help pay rent. he continues to say "you"

as of august 29, i don't have enough to pay the rent on my own, but i am keeping all of these text messages to present in eviction court if it comes to that. i also intend to take my ex to small claims court

the landlord's maintenance guy also """plunged the toilet""" after leaving me without a working one for five days, and after i was informed there was a problem with the entire complex's pipes. i was not here, so i can't vet if it was true. they """plunged""" without permission, and then sent me an invoice after the fact. i also can't afford this fee, and find it predatory in nature. the maintenance company is owned by the landlord

i have reached out to legal aid to ask about the legality of the landlord handling the situation like this. i will reach out to them again if i get an eviction notice

[tcotnccircus]

𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚍 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗|| 𝚂𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛🔞

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎|| 𝙱𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖

(Rewritten)

Rating: Explicit

⚠️Warning⚠️

(Cursing, Violence, Emotional Breakdown, Blood/Injury, Attempted Murder, Trauma, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Death, Physical Assault, Implied Sexual Assault, Implied Past Rape)

First Person P.O.V

When people are born into this world, our first instinct is to survive. Born with a clear conscience, born with no bad intentions, and born with innocence. Yet, where does evil first come from? Evil is shown to embody many different types of shapes and sizes. It never seems to die or go away, and over the years— I've realized that there's always some little bit inside of all of us. Dormant; ever—so growing the older we get.

Sometimes people break; snap from the amount of negativity weighing over their heads, and sometimes people are just drawn to the darkness around them. Humans have evolved to the point that we can think more critically and develop new types of emotions that no other animal could have; Such as guilt. Animals may show empathy and compassion, but guilt is a unique trait that only humans could feel and display.

Anyone can make a difference, and I thought I could as well. Yet, there was something else that I had forgotten; something far more important that I should've known before. No one can truly heal if they don't allow themselves to be helped. And that was one of the worst mistakes I've ever made in my life. The minute my eyes had laid upon the small square ad in the New Jersey Times newspaper; my fate was sealed. Doomed from the start as I hurriedly picked up the newspaper from the sidewalk, not caring for the dirt-stained footprints and the faint smell of cheap booze that was emitting from the stains on the paper.

Eyeing the newspaper before me, my pupils dilated at the sight of a hiring ad. The potential of helping those in need at a place called, "Egg Harbor City Maximum-Security Psychiatric Hospital." It piqued my interest. Many would have left that paper by the side of the road by the time they had read the name, yet I kept on going. My warm hands clenched excitedly and accidentally crumpled the paper within my grasp even more than it already was.

I was in a dire need of a nurse job after being let go from the one I was in before. The psychiatric hospital had to let go of most of its workers due to the last-minute relocation of the hospital, leaving a now decrepit and desolate building behind. By the time I had come back to the newly relocated hospital, the job openings had already been filled up and I was left aside, jobless, and in extreme need to pay off rent for the month. I used to think that the newspaper that I had found was some sort of blessing, that I could finally do what I couldn't in the past! I was wrong.

So—very wrong. The events that followed after had left me traumatized; left me with only a shell of myself.  I was never much of a religious person, but those days... Those days had left me praying, pleading for a god, for some otherworldly being, for someone to help me. To help me escape from what I knew now as hell, but no one came.

I could remember the first warning sign I had before all went to shit. It was in a form of a dream, well—more like a nightmare at that. I remember how the pain and anxiety filled my senses, as my mind teetered from the constant feeling of trepidation. I was kept in a cold, old, and dusty room that seemed to have belonged to a child. The floral designs on the wallpaper were faded and torn to shreds.

Stains stuck to the loose hanging paper with the foundations of the house exposed to see. The mattress of the bed ripped with large gashes and holes, leaving small surprises of metal springs to poke and prod at the next person who dared to rest on it. Crude child drawings litter the floor, accompanied by shattered glass from mirrors and windows. The door was locked and I was forced to wait as a punishment for god knows what—. I couldn't remember, nor could I recall how I got into such a predicament in the first place.

I only knew that I was scared for them to come back. I didn't know who they were either, yet I could only assume by the state of my body—battered and bruised. I was stripped down to complete bareness; merely a victim to the cold as I was left to the aftermath of the abuse that I had endured. Cuts, scars, and stitches were scattered throughout my delicate human form, with dry and old blood painted on the surface of my skin. My skin was sticky with some white unknown fluid that I was afraid to even think was a possibility. My eyes could only dart from every dark corner of the room; dread wracking my brain from the unbearable and continuous cycle of anxiety.

As I looked around, I caught the sight of my reflection in the dusty mirror—causing my breath to hitch in response. My left eyelid was bruised black and almost swollen shut with a large patch of crimson red on my sclera. It caused immense pain and inflammation that I could only assume was due to a busted blood vessel. My eyelids threatened to close and expose me to another world of slumber, yet I resisted the seemingly blissful release. I knew that even sleep couldn't save me— it was a danger to me instead. I muttered incoherent words to myself, as I wrapped my arms around my freezing body.

Deep red scarring surrounded my wrist, ankles, and neck; hearing the clanking of chains every time I moved. The shackles bound my body parts so tightly that I could see the purple bruises and red irritated scars under the metal. Letting out small, muffled whimpers into my crossed arms, I attempted to comfort myself from the confusion that harrowed my brain. I took a second to slightly ground my thoughts and scanned the room. From what I could see, I noted that the wood was stale and dank, making the mansion eerily creak from old age and deterioration.

The wooden floors would whine at the slightest bit of weight put upon them; even the air was barely breathable from the dust and decree constantly falling from the floor above me. Drenched in a cold sweat— I'd almost gotten used to the grime, dirt, and oil that had collected upon layers of my skin. More and more thoughts entered left just to circle back into my head, a torturous sequence that only came back after it had finished. I was finally snapped out of my internal struggle when I heard a whispered, yet prominent notice.

"𝚙𝚜𝚜𝚜𝚝.."

I froze. The silence in the room was louder than I could've imagined. I could feel my heart drop to the deepest darkest pits of my stomach whilst my breathing became ragged and exaggerated. My eyes bulged from how much I had widened them as they turn to fixate on the space between the closet doors. I merely watched as I saw the closet doors slowly, yet surely—widening within each second that had passed and wasted.

'Please no... No more.....' I pleaded in my mind. My mouth dried significantly as I saw the closet doors widening, revealing what was hidden in the deep darkness. A crouched body; skin and bone at first glance. Their voice— it was raspy and whiney. It's as if their vocal cords were strained or damaged. And that smell.. god that smell!

"𝚙𝚜𝚜𝚜𝚜𝚜𝚜𝚝..!!.."

My breathing turned into panicked wheezes, as I could feel the horror wrapping itself around my damaged mind and senses. Whoever or whatever that thing was, it wanted my attention, badly. Saliva and tears smeared my face, as I slowly crawled back to only push myself up against the wall. I was in a petrified state.

"(𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎..)"

I abruptly stop, my mind slowly processing the recognition of this voice. Memories that had used to be long forgotten reappear in my mind in a quick flash. My vocal cords were strained to form simple sentences, yet I managed to speak through the painful rawness of my throat. "...Sweetie...? Is that you...?" I whimpered as warm tears had finally fallen from my eyes, painfully trailing over the cuts and bruises on my face. My lip quivered, as I saw the figure slightly move when I quietly called out to them.

It was silent, and I took the chance to slowly make my way by crawling toward the slightly ajar closet doors. When I had come closer, their body had disappeared into the darkness of the closet. "Sweetie...? Come back...! Don't leave me...!" My voice had risen in tone, making my desperation noticeable. I had squeezed my body through the opening of the closet doors, cringing at the loud noises of clanking chains the more haste I moved.

"𝚜𝚑𝚑𝚑..." My body freezes at the cold air that had hit my ear.

The closet doors slowly close, enveloping me in pure darkness. I was unable to see, and worse was the unbearable stench of death that had me gagging within the same blinding darkness. It was next to me, heaving, croaking silently. "𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝... 𝚠𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚞𝚜... 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞...?" I shook my head in disagreement.

"N-no..." I sniffled, as I attempted to wipe away the unending falling tears.

"𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍..." I felt the cold air next to me shift, gaining my attention on the other side of the unusually spacious closet. I remembered the way I jumped in surprise, as a bony hand placed itself on my cheek; wiping away my tears. Compared to the warmth of my tears, the hand was cold as a corpse. The rotting stench was stronger than ever, as it invaded my sense of smell. It was so pungent that I had practically felt the hairs of my nose burn and incinerate at the first whiff of the smell.

Yet, through all the stench, I somehow noticed a second smell—something faint, yet still lingering; it was sweet. I had leaned into the figure's hand: finding a sense of comfort in the caring touch of the figure and the smell of nostalgia. "𝚊𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝... 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗...𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢...𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍..." I had painfully furrowed my brows in confusion at their statement. "What do you mean...?" I had waited for an answer to my question, yet, our conversation was interrupted by the faint, but clear enough to hear the sound of the locked door knob jiggling. The beating of my heart was deafening to my ears, as the same dread washed over my body from the sound of jingled keys.

"N-No... No, no, no!" My bottom lip quivered, anxiety clouding my thoughts and mind. From next to me, I could hear the person make a sound of scorn. I quickly turned to where I had assumed the figure was and began to incoherently plead, as tears rapidly stained my cheeks. "Don't let them hurt me! D-Don't let them take me! I-I—" I was then grabbed by my shoulder; their frigid hands sent chills down my spine. I inhaled sharply in response to how their sharp and jagged nails dug into my fragile skin.

My eyes were wide and wild, as I stared into the darkness in front of me, knowing that a different set of eyes were staring back; hiding where the light couldn't expose them. I heard the door open with a click and many pairs of heavy-to-light footsteps entering the room I was in before.

"(𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎)... 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠—" Their grip on my shoulders grew excruciatingly tight; surely drawing blood from the crescent-like marks that they had left on me. "𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚐𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚛�� 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚝'𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚕." I had heard them calling my name alongside the crash of furniture,  presumably turning the room upside down to find me. We were running out of time, and both of us knew it.

"W-What are you talking about? What place?" 

"𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝚆𝙷𝙸𝙲𝙷 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙸𝙼 𝚃𝙰𝙻𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃." They shrieked with so much force that they made my ears ring painfully. "𝙳𝙾𝙽𝚃. 𝙶𝙾. 𝙳𝙾𝙽'𝚃 𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙼. 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝙱𝙴 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙸𝙽𝙴𝙳 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙱𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳 𝙳𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝙰 𝙳𝙾𝙶 𝚃𝙾 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙷 𝙷𝙸𝙼𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵." I felt one of their hands detach itself from my bleeding shoulder with a sickening squelch and suddenly yanked at the chain that was tightly bound around my neck. "𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝙽𝙾𝚆..." They hissed out;  their words dripping like venom as they pulled at the chains one last time. They let the chain fall from their wicked hands making my head snap back.

I gasped and wheezed dryly from the aching discomfort around my neck. The creaking footsteps came to a halt, filling the room with silence and a thick tension. "𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝙲𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗." The figure whispered one last time, making an odd sense of sadness overcome my heart.

"Captain?" I croaked, my voice low and broken. Before I could get a response, the door to the closet slammed open letting the blinding light from outside overpower the darkness that surrounded me.

It burned into my retinas making my eyes squeeze shut from the sudden ache of my eyes. A small gasp left my lips as someone grabbed onto my hair tightly and snatched me out of the closet; flinging me onto the ground. The burning of my scalp was quickly interrupted by the sound of a crack from my head connecting to the floor beneath me and I was then consumed by total blackness. If only I had listened to the advice the people around me had given.

If only I knew that I would regret brushing the red flags off and continuing with my life as if nothing occurred. If only I knew that finding out the horrors of that place would permanently change my life. If only I knew, what I had to endure was just the calm before the storm.

Credits:

Co-Editor: L0W_ig

Story Tester: zeezop

(Users Can be found on Wattpad)

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Gotta vent. Sorry.

Life is so….

I woke up after three hours sleep. I was too worried about things to go right back to sleep, and music wasn’t distracting me enough. I open Tumblr.

The third post I see is one if those damned “helpful” OMG warning signs you have a deadly disease and should rush to a doctor posts. I have an extreme medical “professional” phobia from serious traumas at their hands, no health insurance, no money at all, no local doctors in my rural area (no hospital in the damn county even), no one I can trust to help me……I mean, I haven’t been to a doctor in longer than some of you have been alive, and that was a horrible experience I do NOT want to repeat. Yeah, these helpful post send me into a freaked out spiral of fear.

An e-mail comes in. My reloadable debit card has been declined. New panic! I’d ordered a book, a gift in a way. I’d promised to read Mom this book over the phone as a birthday gift next month, and I’d found it cheap. I can’t afford books for me anymore, but this is for Mom, so I can’t just cancel it.

Frantic I scramble to figure out where the money went. I’m horrified to find out it is all looking legit.

I go to the bank website and move $100 over so I can pay for the book and beginning of the month stuff like my phone.

I see the numbers and my chest hurts, like a fist around my heart.

Today I have to do the shopping because I’m half way through my last bags of animal feed. I start doing the math.

After the animals I’ll have $100 for all my groceries, gas for the car, kerosene for the hot water heater, bandages for my ankle, batteries for the lanterns where I don’t have electricity, mouse poison for where I found the damn rodents had gotten into my storage container of clothes, and everything else. Too much else. I’d skipped everything I could last time, so I am out of everything from trashbags to toilet paper.

$100 and not a penny more for two weeks.

And OMG, that includes Halloween! I need a pumpkin and candy to give out!

Just $100.

I cried.

I get mad at myself for crying. I already got yelled at by someone disgusted and angered by my crying a couple days ago.** I HATE when I can’t keep from crying, even alone.

I felt so much…I dunno, everything. I needed to lash out. A sensible person would break something, but breaking something is stupid when you can’t afford to replace anything. I sure as hell don’t ever want to hurt anyone. So what did I do? Slapped myself in the face as hard as I could.

And geez, it was SUCH a relief! That tells you something. Physical pain is much, much easier than emotional. I’ve said that since I was little.

Sometimes I really miss Pop. I mean, I always miss Pop, but it was so nice to have someone that cared. Mom loves me, but she was never the cuddly one and not great at noticing emotions. She could be impatient with crying, once she finally noticed. Pop though… I got all upset and cried he’d pat my back or head and say “Poor Teffy Weffy” I miss feeling comforted. Loved.

Anyway, so I worried and tossed and turned and cried and worried some more and….

I’ve had three hours sleep. The sun is up. My ankle is already hurting. I have to go do the shopping without enough money, and not feeling up to it.

Damn it, I want to get to have a breakdown and not get out of bed! Just one day in my life I don’t want to get up!!! Or how about have a lazy day and do nothing? A guilt free nap, at least?

I am so fucking sick of making myself go through the motions of being alive, of watching it all drain away between my fingers while trying to laugh about it. Get up, take care of the animals, fix my meals, do my chores, repair endless things, research the day’s new problems….

Busy. Busy. From the moment I get up until the wee hours if the morning when I finally crash, stay busy. No time to think or dream. There is just too much to do!

Work on so many things I can never quite fix but keep trying, always trying, trying, trying, trying…

And failing.

I’m so tired of life.

** It was an awful incident, on a very bad day when I was already sick and in pain. I’d told by my brother they were sending the jelly I’d sent to Mom back, unopened, and no one of the rest of then would eat it.

I apologized to Mom for sending jelly since I didn’t know she didn’t eat the stuff, and she said she actually liked jelly. My brother started roaring at her, shouting at her to not say that, that she was a liar, that she never ate jelly, none of them do, don’t ever contradict him… (BTW, when I was there she ate jelly AND they had opened jelly in their fridge, so saying none of them ate jelly baffled me)

Mom was being yelled at because of me. I begged her to stay quiet to not provoke him, and I could hear his shouting…

I don’t get him. He’s always so… Not like the rest of us in my immediate family. Angry, aggressive, hostile, mean even.

I started sobbing. Guilt at causing Mom trouble. Helplessness to do anything to make things better. Frustration. Despair at how we are bound up, in so many ways at his mercy, and he is not a merciful soul.

Usually I am so good at this. I never cry when I’m on the phone with Mom. I try not to let anyone see me cry, but on the phone with Mom it’s especially important. I don’t want to upset her. She can’t help me, so I have to hide my struggles a bit.

But it’s also because of him. It makes him angry.

He yanked the phone from Mom to say some thing and he heard me crying. Disgust. Rage. He finds tears to be the way the weak manipulate people, a pathetic, scummy way of fighting, an attack on him. He snarled and ended by hanging up in me.

I think the call didn’t last three minutes.

I’d been on the verge of a meltdown for days as life was getting worse and worse, and I was dealing with feeling rotten on top of it. Now I actually wailed. Good thing I was in the woods, though the poor critters must have been terrified by the banshee.

[morningstarlucemon]

Update!

Hey there. I go by Duo, but my legal name is Tiffany Groff. I'm a trans dude living with my ex (on good terms) Ren. We take care of our pets together. We are both disabled, my partner having many mental disabilities and physical ones, as well, and i myself with a few mental illnesses and some undiagnosed physical issues.

So, since my last post, my roommate has lost their job due to losing their car to repossession. They have been attempting to get a new job, but no one is hiring them. They were, supposedly, hired by a bank. But they ghosted them since then. I have also become extremely ill and have yet to fully recover, so have not been able to work on my freelance work.

Thankfully, our friends and a few kind strangers have helped us stay housed this month. But we don't know where next month's rent is coming from, and we are in need of pet food and help with our internet payment. I also need to pay someone to help us clean, as i have not been able to clean due to how ill i've been, and until recently, Ren was with their mother out of town who was in the hospital.

A current breakdown of our essential monthly bills (all amounts in US dollars):

Rent (utilities are included) - $850

Renter's Insurance (required by building) - $50

Pet Food - $40

Internet - $80

Medical Expenses Not Covered by Medicaid (needles, OTC pain management) - $20

Transport - unknown/varies; usually around $50 a month

Total: $1,090

This is what it takes for us to keep ourselves afloat every month. Right now, our garmented income comes to about $25 through my Patreon. Everything else has been coming from friends and kind strangers. Our families are both currently unable to help; we have already asked them. We are also already in communication with local aid associations, but unfortunately, most of them are out of money, or we do not qualify due to our age, lack of employment, or area code. We are both in the process of applying for disability, but have no means of supporting ourselves until (and if) we are approved. All help received will help keep us alive and housed until we are approved and/or have stable income from jobs. If you are unable to donate, please consider sharing this wherever you can.

And, again, from the bottom of my heart, i wanna say thank you for all your help. If it wasn't for you guys, we would already be homeless or dead. Your help has kept us housed, fed, and connected to our doctors, and done the same for our animals. And i am genuinely sorry that we haven't been able to get on our feet yet. Hopefully, one day, we will be stable enough to not need to beg any longer. Your help means the world to us, and we can't say that enough.

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[starwberycow]

I have been reading No longer human recently and I’m only up to notebook one but I’ve had so many breakdowns cause of this fucking book

“ I wonder if I have ever been happy” - I read this and cried can’t even explain why I just did. Like I started to over think, am I really happy and if not why am I not happy what can I change will dying solve it should I relapse or starve myself. Just what does it truely mean to be happy cause I don’t think I know and I don’t know if I ever will and I don’t know if I want to wait for I don’t know long just to potentially disappointed.

“It is almost impossible for me to converse with either people. What should I talk about, how should I say it? - I don’t know” - this quote hit me like a fucking bus. I struggle to talk to people and I always stress I’ve fucked it. This line said it perfectly and I hate that. It captured what I have been trying to vocalise to people for years it’s not even a long sentence but it’s still a impactful one in the worst fucking way

“I was always accepted the attack in silence, though inwardly so terrified as almost to be out of my mind” - my family fights a shit tonne and it always ends up being my fault in some way or another and I never react I just stand their like a deer in headlights. No matter how badly I want to say something to my hypocritical father or my brother who just needs a scape goat. I just stand there in silence with no emotion taking it because I’ve learnt from experience there is no point in arguing back I’ll always lose because I am a …

“What a failure. I had angered my father and I could be sure that his revenge would be a fearful one” - This is like self explanatory

“Mine has been a life of such shame” - it’s a bit edgy but every time I manage to not reach my super high expectations I feel like a failure and that I am a burden to all those around me. I don’t want to shame my family by being the social reject who is physically and mentally ill and on top of that I’m not even good at school or sports. All I do is embarrass them and I feel bad when ever I go out with family or friends. I feel bad that they have to be seen with me

“People have told me, really more times than I can remember, ever since I was a small boy, how lucky I was but I have always felt as if I were suffering in hell.” - I remember when I was like 9 or something like that. In a hospital room on verge of dying and this old ass lady saying I was lucky and I don’t know what for but I was luckier than she was. As I was dying from something I was unable to control as a kid my parents housed have been helping me but they were to busy being separated and fighting I’ve grow to look after me to actually look after me. And I feel ungrateful cause I’m alive now and I’m lucky now but I feel like I’m dying 24/7 so idk if that makes me lucky

But the first paragraph on pg 28 that talks about human true nature being that of an animal and a wild animal at that. It is described as a nature that people seem to be hiding. It’s a good analogy but also I started overthinking like I always do and how it’s nearly 12am and I’m crying my eyes out. It’s such a good analogy to compare wild animals to humans because when you think about it we are animals in a way but we consider ourselves above animals. Either due to religious viewpoint or your an egoist either way we see ourselves as better than animals. We say we are more advanced because we can think and communicate but so can animals and we have no way to prove that what we do is anymore advanced then what they do. I LOVE ANIMALS AND COMPARING HUMANS TO ANIMALS it’s such an interesting philosophical topic that I won’t shut up about. Ngl it gets me going 😍

[kallso]

Cat in the hat but old

I’ve had this brainrot gathering dust in my head for a while, so now it can rot in you guys’s brains! This is going to be based directly from the PBS Kids series “The Cat In The Hat Knows A Lot About That” because that’s the version I grew up with.

(editor Kallso here, this story contains mental and physical health problems, drug and alcohol abuse, and psychotic breakdowns- If I portrayed these thing’s incorrectly in others opinions then I apologize and please let me know because I am very inexperienced with Most of the things these characters go through in the story, I am only 13 so please don’t send hate towards me as if I was an adult. I do appreciate constructive criticism on how I can improve this concept though!)

———

It’s years in the future, Sally and Nick have both graduated collage, Sally a year before her best friend Nick. The Cat stopped coming by after they reached middle school, and they forgot all about him after a while, along with things 1 and 2, and the fish, the tree doctor, and all of their odd animal friends. Current day, Nick is 22 and going through some things. His girlfriend left him, he’s grown apart from most of his friends, and his mental state is deteriorating. His best friend since grade school Sally, has been worrying about him.

But she has her own problems. At home she has to sweep and mop the floors, make dinner, dust, feed her parents goldfish, and do just about everything. She’s taking care of her sick mother, her father died of a tumor years before. Now her mother has a bad case of the Flu, despite her not being very old, she had a fever well past 105. The now 24 Sally didn’t have time to look after Nick. After all he was a grown man.

Now, drugs and weed had never passed Nicks mind once. But he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, thought he’d try out cigarettes. In a vape and smoke shop he noticed two guys on shrooms outside, they waved him over to come hang out. He sat with them for a while, thinking they were just drunk or lunatics. One passed him some oddly fragrant tea. He was having a rough time and his head wasn’t thinking. He took a sip.

Sally found time in her busy days to feed stray cats. She rarely found any, but recently a black and white cat had been stopping by. She had simply been calling the young tomcat, “the cat” since there were no other cats she took care of. Most times when she fed a stray it would stay a few days and get ran over later while wandering. But this cat never left the yard. He would always purr and lean on her legs whenever Sally pet him. She soon took him inside and put a red bow around his neck. She did find it strange how the cat had an odd hatred for milk though.

Meanwhile Nick found himself hanging out with his so called friends more often. Getting drunk, smoking weed, drinking shrooms tea, all he ever worried about was going to his day job to get money for more drugs and alcohol. No no, he wasn’t addicted! This was just his way to escape reality a bit. He just needed an outlet to relieve his stress and forget his hardships! Right?

Sally was folding clothes, laying them out in piles on her bed. The cat was on her dresser, messing with a small wicker basket with white and red stripes she had that was about halfway full of cat treats. She hadn’t noticed the silly cat on her dresser, as she was busy sorting her and her mothers clothes. The cat pawed at the basket, not long before falling off the dresser. His claws gripped to the basket and he dragged it down with him. Sally turned and chucked, the basket had landed on his head like a hat. She stared at the cat for a moment, thinking he looked oddly familiar, before petting the cat and making sure he was unharmed.

Nick was in the hospital. His illusions while on shrooms and pot had gotten too vivid, he was thinking back on old times, looking into the past when he remembered a large human size cat always playing with them. It led to night terrors about the cat, sad about being forgotten, upset that he had nobody to play with anymore. The person in the apartment next door heard a lot of noise, and called the police, who soon showed up to find a young adult Nick crying on his bed, begging for a cat to leave, saying sorry for leaving the cat. The cops took him to the local hospital to get him checked on, to make sure he was mentally well.

Sally walked into the white room with chords everywhere, with the smell of cleaning alcohol plaguing the room. “Hello Nick,” she said as she walked towards the hospital bed slowly, the cat in her arms.

“Hey Sally, how’ve you been?” He asked as he sat up, looking up and down at his old friend

———

I DID NOT EXPECT TO WRITE A WHOLE FANFIC HOLY F* now I have to draw concept art

I hope this is well received, no I am not clinically insane for thinking about this concept

[spamtonology]

tell us somethin about spamton you haven’t previously discussed here

Hm, I generally like a prompt else my brain draws a blank.

I've talked about his infantilization before and there is still a lot to go through regarding that aspect.

There's a very common trope, which is giving Spamton a bath or making him take a bath.

It makes sense, and it's generally pretty smart to offer someone like him a bath, since he's been living on the streets for so long. Baths and showers also relieve stress as well!

However, the problem lies in the execution, in this case how the ubiquitous bath/shower scene plays out in fanfiction.

You do have cases where he takes a shower by himself without any help, which is good! He can do this, he would not have forgotten how to bathe, it's just been some time. Then, you have the opposite, where Spamton is being given a bath or shower.

Usually a reader insert or Swatch, this person assumes the role of authority and pushes him into taking a bath, often with disregard to his complaints and sometimes being rough with him. Bonus points if the Acid Theory plays a role.

What is the problem with this? it is infantilization/dehumanization of his character: Treating him like a baby or feral animal who cannot consent and must be forced into taking a bath he desperately does not want.

To push this further, helping him with every single step of taking a bath is also an issue, why can't he just scrub himself, and dry himself? There is an exception to be made when the situation calls for it e.g. Spamton is injured/incapacitated in some way and as a result cannot physically move in a way that would allow scrubbing and drying. Most fanfiction I have seen seems to not use this particular situation anyway in favor of treating him like a cat, for whatever reason.

There is nothing in the game itself that would indicate Spamton having any aversion to bathing/showering, so I think one of the reasons it comes up is due to his present homeless state, and the popularity of the Acid Theory. Another is that it is actually a fairly popular fanfic trope in some circles to give characters, in the same or similar situation as Spamton, a bath.

That is not to say I don't want to see this kind of scene anymore. I've seen Spamton shower scenes be pulled off incredibly well such as in our favorite fanfiction Steppin' Out, where he has a realistic breakdown and epiphany to his current situation while he takes a shower on his own accord.

My fanfiction also includes a shower scene, but in a medical setting, so some things have an exception here, but there's also subversion.

He is offered help with showering by a nurse, and turns down the offer, claiming he can do it himself. The nurse understands this, and respects his choice; he only needs help with undoing his hospital gown since the way to open it is on the back and hard for him to reach. The nurse stays outside the bathroom door in case of any emergencies, while Spamton showers himself.

The whole time, he is treated as any middle-aged patient would be, no more and no less.

It's not perfect, but it is slightly better than some examples I have seen in fanfiction.

The other problem I have is the inclusion of the acid theory in regards to him taking a bath. I will say I do not have PTSD so I cannot accurately estimate why warm, clear water would be equal to boiling, lime green acid at all, but...Apparently it can? I also do not see why he would throw a fit over it, either.

If the character never knew that Spamton has trauma associated with acid, they can apologize for the mistake and come up with a compromise. If the character already knew, and therefore did not care about the consequences...I think that's considered abuse.

[crockettmarcel]

terminal | last light!au

wc: 816

prompts: medtober 2021, day two, “terminal”

warnings: hospital admission, sick baby, mentions of death (I mean, the prompt is “terminal” like. what are you expecting)

It feels like forever that Sarah’s been sat in the ED, waiting for someone to come back with news. Her daughter’s asleep in the cot next to her, too tiny to be suffering so much, and Sarah has to blink back tears at the thought of what could be wrong. She’s been sick for a while, that much is obvious, and all Sarah can do is try and ignore the voice in her head telling her she’s a bad mom for not bringing Em in sooner.

Another ten minutes pass, and just as Sarah’s typing out a text to her mom, letting her know that Em’s in hospital, Dr Alexander, the doctor they saw earlier, appears in the doorway. There are stickers on her scrubs that weren’t there before — animals and flowers stuck haphazardly across her abdomen — and Sarah smiles at the image her brain conjures up of a child sick enough to be in hospital but still taking the time to share their stickers. That’s the type of kid she hopes Em will be.

“Hey, Sarah. How’s Em doing now?”

“She’s- she’s okay, I think. No more seizures so far, so that’s a good sign, right?”

Dr Alexander hesitates before nodding, and immediately Sarah’s stomach drops.

“What’s wrong with her? What’s wrong with my baby?”

There’s another chair on the opposite side of the crib, and Dr Alexander pulls it around so she’s sitting facing Sarah.

“I’m afraid Em’s test results weren’t good. They revealed that she has a rare genetic condition called Krabbe Disease — a degenerative disorder caused by a breakdown of the protective sheath around her nerves.”

Even before Dr Alexander came back, Sarah had known deep down that it wasn’t going to be good news, but being able to prepare herself hasn’t made this any easier. Cancer, she could cope with. There are so many treatments, and even from her brief time in med school, she knows that clinical trials are popping up all over the place. But this, a degenerative disorder so rare she hasn’t even heard of it? She feels ill at the thought.

“Degenerative? That means she’ll get worse, right?”

“That’s correct. The disease causes muscle weakness that will affect her ability to move, chew, swallow, and eventually breathe. At this point, she will need to be put on a ventilator.”

Sarah blinks back tears and offers a weak nod in response. “So she- how long does she have?”

“Based on her age and symptoms, anywhere up to two years.”

“But there- there are treatments for it, aren’t there? She can’t die from this.” She’s given up trying to stop herself from crying, and instead just sits there, tears rolling down her cheeks as she stares pleadingly at Dr Alexander, desperate for any glimmer of hope she has to offer.

“I’m afraid not. For Em, it’s going to be about managing her symptoms and relieving discomfort. This may include a feeding tube, anticonvulsant medications for her seizures, and physical therapy, but it’s something you’ll be able to discuss with her doctor in more detail later.”

It’s so much information all at once. Em isn’t just sick, she’s dying, and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it. Her sweet baby girl might not even see her second birthday, and Sarah doesn’t know how to process the grief that comes with news like this.

She’s about to say something when she’s distracted by movement in the crib next to her. Em’s awake, reaching one of her tiny arms out towards her mom, and Sarah chokes back a sob at the sight of her lying there. Everything about her is perfect, and Sarah can’t resist the urge to stick her hand through the bars of the crib for Em to grab.

“This thing she has-” Sarah says, turning back to face Dr Alexander.

“Krabbe Disease.”

“Yeah. Uh, you said it’s genetic. Did I… Did I do this to her?”

“She would have to have inherited it from both of her parents, so her father must also be a carrier.”

Somehow, this is worse. After everything Sarah’s ex put her through, he’s now hurting their daughter as well, and he doesn’t even know it. If she’d chosen anyone else, maybe this wouldn’t be happening.

“I’d like to be alone now, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.” Dr Alexander stands up and moves the chair back to where it came from. “If you have any questions, or just want someone to talk to, feel free to ask for me.”

Sarah thanks her, and almost as soon as the door slides shut, her phone vibrates in her back pocket. With her free hand, she manages to retrieve it without dropping it, and sees that her mom has just replied to her text from earlier.

I’m sure she’ll be fine! Babies are a lot tougher than you think <3 love you, Mom xx

[bumblingbeasblackhole]

Why Momo Yaoyorozu would have been a more effective hero as a plus size woman.

Hello all, it’s time for a BNHA rant. A rant in my opinion that is long over due, and that my friends is on one of my favorite characters in the franchise. Momo Yaoyorozu AKA Creati.

Buckle up lads were in for a hefty analysis. (Note the read more) I promise it’s worth the read.

Now, we all know Class 1-A’s vice class rep and resident braniac Momo.

Just in case you’re new here or need a refresher, Momo’s Quirk is called Creation. The basic breakdown of her quirk is that her body uses the Lipids (fats) in her body to create any inorganic material of her choosing.

Now, there’s two key things to remember about her quirk.

First, her quirk requires her to use her physical body reserves in order to function

Second, she has to know how to make those matierals. From bottom to top. That means she has to not only have a design of what she wants in her head but the exact molecular compounds to create those objects as well.

Momo to her credit does this well. She’s been flushed out slightly enough to see various instances where she’s had to improve either on her knowledge of materials and compounds or her speed to achieve the full creation of an item. It’s something we see from her constantly in both the Manga and the Anime.

For example, the first time we are (formally) introduced to Momo’s quirk she creates a few items

A staff for herself, a sword for Jirou, a net to contain the thugs, a thick insulated blanket large enough to cover both her and Jirou, and finally the remembrance of her hero suit.

These items all together begin to wear Momo out as she’s left panting and even tells Jirou that she has a hard time creating such taxing objects on her body. This is stated to the audience the first time we see her in action. It takes her time, concentration, and most importantly her body’s lipid reserves.

This is the first time we see Momo wear herself rather thin. While this in itself is impressive and a great introduction into the character and her abilities and strategic wit in a battle, the rather more harmful implications are yet to be seen. This incident, while foreshadowing her later issues, does not compare to other instances later on the series.

There are three key issues with Momo as she is currently.

Her body/character design inherently limit her abilities as a hero.

The push for her to be a sexy hero/character is ultimately determinetal to her effectiveness as both a character and a hero.

Her intellect is not reflected by the way she operates as a hero. Instead, it is often negated for the sake of her design.

These points seem vague or over harped but I’ll go into detail about them. (Hang in there, this is well thought out and developed, I promise)

But before I get into the key issues and solutions, there’s a lot that’s absolutely fantastic about Momo.

Momo is a great character because she is more than the typical snobby rich girl trope. In fact, she’s not at all snobby. She is the most helpful, kind, and oblivious rich character I’ve ever seen. It’s part of her personality sure, but it’s not the only factor. It’s more or less just a gag for laughs between the other characters.

She is also relatable in the way she has self worth issues, different from Midoriya’s self worth issues. She was never (that were aware of) beaten down or belittled. Her issues sprouted from the way she was confident in her abilities, intellect, and quirk only to be thrown in the deepend UA.

Which idk about y’all, but honestly that shit hits home. If you were ever the smart-kid-who-learned-quickly-and-skated-through-school-only-to-be-out-of-your-depth-with-new-self-worth-issues-when-that-is-no-longer-the-case (or anything similar) than you catch my drift. So score for relatability.

Alas, onwards.

Let’s tackle the first problem.

The way she treats her body now is detrimental to her quirk usage long term.

I’ll explain,

Momo’s quirk functions relatively similar to another hero we are later introduced too, Fatgum.

Now I know what you’re already thinking,

“Bea! She’s supposed to be sexy! She’s supposed to be feminine! Her quirk burns it all so she can look like that! Fatgum has to only store it all!”

On some levels you’re right.

On most though, incredibly wrong.

Momo’s figure is one of the main (and slightly controversial) aspects of her character. I mean, look at her design versus Fatgum’s

See the key differences? I sure do.

Fatgum’s quirk is called Fat Absorbtion. Basically it grants Fatgum the ability to adhere any objects to his body and make them sink into his body fat upon contact with it. And/Or he can build and channel all of the fat in his body into one overpowered and energized punch or attack. (As seen in the overhaul arc) which leaves his body, you guessed it, deprecated and thin. Much like Momo’s, they both use their body’s fat as a tool whether through expelling it or storing it for later use.

I point this out because we see time and time again throughout the series where Momo pushed herself to the limit where she has to expel extraordinary amounts of her body to get the job done. But in reality she only makes a few larger objects. This compared to Fatgum who uses his fat reserves strategically and only in the toughest of battles does he push his body’s reserves to zero. Whereas Momo does this constantly. This is because of her inefficient way of treating her quirk and ultimately, her design.

Let’s discuss some prime examples:

In the training camp arc, Momo makes roughly 15-30 masks for all of Class B students, and half of Class A. Which in itself is a tall order. When we see her again, she’s bloodied, exhausted, barely conscious, worn, and welded to Awase half alive. She even struggles as she makes the tiny tracker she places on the back of the Nomu. After this, in the hospital (pre Kamino rescue) she was unconscious for a day and half due to quirk overuse and dehydration.

Third, in the first movie, My Hero Academia: Two Heroes, we once again see Momo’s fatal flaw as she and a group of Class 1-A students race through the security tower on I-island. She uses her quirk to make cannons of course, a Momo signature, to fend off the security bots fairly early on in the battle. As she continues to make ammo and other items needed to win the battle Momo teeters on the brink of passing out from, you guessed it, dehydration and starvation. Jirou ends up catching Momo as she’s nearly passes out from the lack of fat/substance in her body after making the cannon and ammo.

Then we see the same issue in the second movie My Hero Academia: Heroes Rising. Where Momo is used both to create extra supplies on the island. She passes out after that alone and only wakes up later as the class is regrouping after four villains attack simultaneously. Even after rest and food, we see her later again to make two massive cannons as the first line of defense against the incoming villains. From the start of the second battle Momo is worn out and clearly lacking in lipids to participate fully in a fight. Here, she even keels over and says that she’s at her limit and looks like she’s on the brink of death via dehydration and starvation. Which she very much is.

We also so see this in Provisonal Licensing Exam arc when Momo, Tsu, Jirou, and Shoji are trapped together by a group from another school. Here this is important because the leader of that group has super intelligence granted to her by her quirk (and tea lol) has come up with a “fool proof” plan to beat the group. The bottom line of that plan is simple. Wear. Momo. Out. Which half way works too, until Momo figures out what the other group is trying to do and thinks her way out of that situation. Although, she does use up a decent amount of her body’s reserves before she figures out their plan.

^^^ this scene brings up an extremely concerning point. If a villain knows what her quirk is, and has i don’t know, seen her, then they’re going to do the exact same thing Saiko (the girl in the photo above from the licensing exam arc) attempted to do. Exhaust Momo’s resources.

Now, this has been brought up once in the actual show. During the training camp arc, we see each students training method (designed by Aizawa) in order to overwork and strengthen their quirks. For Momo, that looked like binge eating and creating simultaneously.

This also shows us that Aizawa is at least somewhat paying attention to the drawbacks of her quirk. He may not have been there for some of the more concerning times she’s over worked herself, but it’s not a hard thing to work out just by how she looks and how her quirk functions. He also sees how her speed with her quirk hindered her like in her battle against Tokoyami. However, this is the only time we see this. Plus, this is not nearly enough of solution to the problem. Which in all honesty is simple.

For all intensive purposes, Momo should be a Plus Sized woman.

Not just for diversity or validity of readers. Although it would have been a score for the plus size community since it’s always lacking here for us bad bitches but because it would have been more natural to her character. If she had a bulkier physique or even just a chubbier build she would be way more effective in a battle or even just as a hero.

Her quirk burns the fat in her body instantly while in use. Which means she needs to have a healthy reserve of it at all times, especially since I’m willing to bet her metabolism is crazy fast. Relying on the normal/average caloric intake is irrational for her quirks functionality. Her diet should look more like Fatgum’s where we see him constantly eating in order to fuel his quirk. At the very least, Momo needs to always have foods dense in fats on hand in case she’s in a dire situation where she’s running low on reserves. She would be much more effective that way. I cannot tell you the amount of times I’ve watched a scene where she’s wearing herself out and been exasperated by the fact that she didn’t have even a simple granola bar on her for emergencies.

Hear me out,

Plus size people are extremely capable of doing extraordinary things. As well as also being fit while still having a larger/healthier frame. It’s not all that uncommon. In fact, it’s something that fictional storytelling (an ex machina if you will) isn’t needed in order to cover the realistic applications. There are plenty of people in the word who are of a larger build and are also active, fit, and in overall good health standing.

In real life, Ashley Graham is an excellent example. For those who aren’t privy to this goddess, she’s a plus size model, mother, and fitness enthusiast.

Here’s just a taste of this wonderful goddesses workouts can look like:

(Credit Instagram : @ashleygharam)

Which brings me to my next point

The need for Momo to be sexy is detrimental to her effectiveness as both a hero and as a character.

I know, I know, half of Momo’s whole thing is being sexy, rich, and oblivious. I’m well aware.

But here’s a fun tidbit. Plus size women can be sexy too! Shocker I know! Sarcasm aside, having Momo be a plus size woman wouldn’t hinder her sex appeal if done correctly. In fact, I think it would only make her more appealing, marketable, and effective narratively.

Not that she really needs to be sexy at all, but we will swing back to that.

Remember Ashley Graham? The model I mentioned like a paragraph ago? Well, she’s an example that plus size women can be just as sexy/attractive as anyone else. Which only proves that Momo could still have been an attractive character even as a plus size woman. In fact, it would have been uplifting to see a plus size character who’s whole gag isn’t revolved around them losing weight to fit a societal goal, but instead a character who is plus sized, healthy, and proud. Who utilizes her body in a positive manner. I mean imagine the marketablility to younger audiences! If you still don’t believe me that a plus size woman can still be attractive and show skin like Momo would ultimately have to do in order to use her quirk, check out Ashley motherfuckin Graham doing just that

No matter how they would have gone on to design her as a plus size character, she could have still been stunning. Even if they kept her in the same costume design! Which is garbage but that’s a tangent for another time

But beyond equality and all that good stuff:

Momo being a plus size woman would mean she would have more ability for long term endurance in a battle. As it stands now, Momo taps out of a battle fairly fast. She’s tends to make one larger item and then she’s tapped. Which is highly inefficient in a battle. If anything it seems to be on par with how Midoriya’s quirk affected him in the beginning of the series. He had to sacrifice a part of his body in order to land an effective attack. Sound familiar? Well yeah. Because Momo does the same thing with Creation and she’s had it for years.

Each time Momo over uses her quirk, she’s left on the brink of passing out, if she hadn’t already, leaving her vulnerable and useless in the field alone. Each time she’s pushed herself past her limit she’s had her classmates to catch her when she falls. That’s not practical. Aizawa said it himself in the quirk apprehension test way back in chapter 6 of the manga.

So why is Momo considered differently? Why doesn’t Aizawa say something? Simple. He’s typically not around for these occurrences.

Momo doesn’t have to over use her quirk in simulations. She only does that when there’s real stakes and people on the line. The issue with that is that once she leaves UA, the stakes will always be real, all the time. Isn’t now the best time to nip this issue in the bud? I think so. But also I understand how Aizawa either hasn’t fully caught on, or hasn’t dealt with it. I mean, between villain attacks and our main character constantly almost killing himself recklessly in battle, he’s got a lot on his plate.

The other issue with her “sexy” design is that it negates from her overall character. In all official art we see for BNHA we see Momo typically left out, or hypersexualized. This detracts from her substance of being intelligent and creative. She’s often the butt of the joke when it comes to Mineta’s perverted jokes/schemes as well. Between the cheerleader outfits incident and the locker room scene Momo is constantly written off. Whereas Midnight, a pro hero and teacher at UA, who is known for her sexiness and uses it as her brand, uses her sexuality effectively without diminishing her actual worth as a hero or teacher. But then again Midnight is an adult, who is branded as the 18+ hero. Momo is a student and minor. But y’all still aren’t ready for that conversation yet.

Which brings me to the final point of this long winded rant. (Thanks if you’ve stuck around this long! We’re almost done! Follow me if you don’t already. I write stuff, paint stuff, and theorize/analyze stuff for bnha)

The way Momo is now, Discounts/Negates her supposed intellect

As I’ve mentioned already in this rant, how Momo operates now isn’t working out so well on her favor.

But that doesn’t really make sense considering she’s so fucking intelligent. I mean she’s literally top of the class academically. There is no reason for her to be so brilliant and also so bullheaded in her own quirk use. She shows us time and time again that she has brain power. Her quirk requires she be extremely intelligent in order to comprehend and apply molecular compounds in order to even sort of correctly use her quirk.

So it makes no sense that such simple solutions evade her constantly. Like I find it extremely hard to believe that Momo has never thought, “hmm I’m on the brink of death, maybe I should have eaten more” or “the last few battles left me weak, maybe I should find a solution or ask a teacher,” or even “man, my endurance isn’t all that great. I should work on that,” like anything along those lines would lead her intelligent brain to the conclusion that since whatever caloric intake she’s doing now is far to easy to burn through and perhaps the simple solution is to gain more fatty mass.

It honestly discounts Momo as a character if she’s constantly breaking down when such a simple solution is available to her. Plus on a more lighthearted note, it would be kind of great for Momo to be old money rich and plus sized. I mean it would be kind of ironically hilarious in my opinion.

Okay Bea, so what’s the point?

The point my friends is that female characters can be so much more. Especially Momo. There is always an opportunity for characters like Momo and Ochako (who’ll I’ll be breaking down next/soon) to have more substanse and impact to them than just being the second line of defense sexy characters.

Even in the actual universe that is BNHA, Momo as a hero student has far more potential than she is currently operating at.

Now, don’t get me wrong I understand that Horikoshi has a plateful of characters to deal with and Momo is probably on the bottom of the list, but it doesn’t mean we can’t imagine more for her. Because honestly it doesn’t even really matter if she changes for the better or not in canon, it’s the idea that there’s a character out there who all people can relate to whether it be average watchers/readers, plus size hopefuls, people with insecurities, readers/viewers who just like her quirk/design, or someone like me who saw a character and gravitated to the mostly relatable way she was written.

I love Momo as a character truly, she’s one of my favorites and I heavily associate with her. (Shocker I know, I mean she’s literally my icon that I painted myself) I am in no way tearing the character, franchise, or Horikoshi down. I am just observing what could have been (or could be but probably not) and pointing it out. So that maybe, just maybe, in the future there will be more characters who others can relate too. Other characters who are used at their full inspirational potential. But also, to point out some things that not only round out perspective on a character, but maybe even highlight how worth it it can be to look deeper into a characters through analysis. Hopefully I’ve done at least one of those things through this long post.

_____

Finally, thank you if you read this far into my gigantic breakdown.

Follow me if you don’t already and want too. If you do already follow me, please reblog so that others can read it if they want too.

I plan on doing more character breakdowns for BNHA, I’ve got a few already in the drafts and a cc if you have suggestions or questions. I also write fics for BNHA, so check out my AO3 link on my blog page for that. Also, you can bet your ass I’ll be writing a plus size Momo fic sometime soon. I’m really inspired on the topic (if you couldn’t tell already).

[gumnut-logic]

Scott had a cat.

He had no idea how he had a cat. It just appeared one day under his pilot’s chair in One.

He had been returning from Egypt where he had had to locate and yank yet another lost tourist out of the Sahara. After dropping the dehydrated man off at the local hospital, he had quite gratefully plotted a flight plan for Tracy Island.

Halfway home he nearly fell out of his chair when something started chewing on his left boot.

The innocence in the green eyes looking up at him came across as anything but.

He would have returned it to Egypt, but Virgil found out about the spotted monstrosity before he could and would have killed him if he left it in the desert.

So, he had a cat.

And cats needed veterinary care.

So, this was how he found himself standing at the reception desk of a vet surgery in England. It was highly recommended by Penelope, apparently Sherbet approved.

Virgil had hounded him into it, of course. The big softy had been completely enamoured by the feral ball of fluff from the moment he laid eyes on her. Scott would have let him have the little varmit, but the cat - who was still simply called ‘The Cat’ despite his brother’s protests - had decided to sleep on his face every night, no matter how many locked doors lay between him and the feline.

Apparently, she was His Cat.

Gordon, of course, tried to lure her away with nibbles and treats...until she discovered his fish tanks and several of his prize pets went missing.

There was yelling after that.

Scott was forced to keep The Cat away from Gordon. There was mention of a cat skin hat and Scott was only half sure the aquanaut was kidding.

Virgil played with her and The Cat appeared to tolerate the engineer.

She hated Alan.

No-one knew why The Cat had such a dislike for the youngest Tracy. The moment she set eyes on him, it was all spiky fur fluffed out to make her appear twice her size, claws deployed, and hissing and snarling enough to melt the paintwork off the walls.

Suffice it to say that Alan was rarely in her presence.

But regardless of who liked The Cat, apparently, she was Scott’s and according to Virgil, that meant he had to look after her.

As he approached the reception desk, The Cat eyed him through the cat box Virgil had jimmied together. Green eyes challenged him.

But he had been challenged by green eyes before so he was used to it. His own eyes must have communicated something back, because she meowed at him.

Somewhat pitifully.

“Can I help you, sir?”

He glanced up, embarrassed to have been caught communing with the devil. The young nurse behind the counter smiled up at him. Her badge had the name Mia written on it. “Uh, hi. I have an appointment under the name ‘Tracy’.”

The nurse smiled at him again before turning to the computer and pulling up a file. “Yes, Mr Tracy. The vet will be ready for you shortly. Please take a seat.” She gestured to the waiting room.

Unfortunately, the room was half full...of both people and animals.

He nodded in her direction. “Thank you, ma’am.” And turned to face his fellow pet owners.

As with all waiting rooms several people looked up as he entered, cat cage in hand. He could see their assessments in their eyes. The woman on the right with a lap dog wrapped in a pink cardigan eyed The Cat with distaste. Probably because The Cat could inhale her dog by accident.

The older man two seats over smiled a toothless smile at Scott and patted the ferret sitting on his shoulder.

A little girl with her mother was holding a wire cage with a green budgerigar inside. The bird appeared to be having a nervous breakdown. Most likely caused by the St Bernard sitting next to it, eyeing it with a great deal of interest.

Scott found a spot between two empty chairs and folded himself into it. It wasn’t that he wasn’t a people person. Far from it, he enjoyed conversation and gatherings. It wasn’t that he wasn’t an animal person. He grew up on a farm, for crying out loud.

It was just…

Well…he hadn’t had any say in this and The Cat was bossing him around.

There. He admitted it.

He could hear Virgil laughing from here.

“That’s a pretty cat you’ve got yourself there.”

“Huh?” Oh, just classy, Mr Commander President Sir. “Oh, uh, yes, thank you.”

The woman smiled a set of glossy red lips at him, dipping her eyelashes just a little.

Scott blinked and a little heat headed both north and south as he realised that she was wearing little more than a jacket over a leopard print bikini.

And the view was…extensive.

“Have you had him long?”

“Her. No. This is our first visit.” As if to punctuate that statement The Cat hissed at the woman.

Surprisingly, she didn’t flinch or edge away. “Oh, you just have some spark, little one, don’t you.” And to Scott’s surprise, she dared to wave a finger within reach of The Cat.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

But long, pink nails slipped through the wire mesh and tickled The Cat under the chin.

The Cat, the little shit, started purring.

Until a reptilian head slid out from underneath the woman’s jacket and flicked its tongue at her.

The Cat let out a very undignified squawk and flung itself to the far side of its box and nearly tipped it off Scott’s lap. It was a fortunate accident that hid Scott’s reaction to the large snake now uncurling and extending its snout curiously in his direction.

“You have a snake.” Scott had a sudden and profound empathy for Gordon’s uncomfortable relationship with reptiles.

“Oh, that’s Jerry.” She patted the snake. “He’s feeling a bit off today. Aren’t you, sweetie? That’s why we’re here.” A wet, red kiss was dealt to the scales on the back of the snake’s head.

“He’s...uh...respectable.”

“Yes, he’s a big boy. Aren’t you, Jez. Such a big boy.” The woman was nuzzling the snake with her nose.

The snake did not appear impressed.

Scott did his best not to edge away from her. Fortunately, she was called in by the nurse a moment later.

Scott did not miss the amused smirk on the young nurse’s face.

Hmm, so snake lady was a regular who provided entertainment. Scott straightened in his seat.

The Cat chirped at him.

“You shut up.”

The Cat snickered. It could only be called that. He glared down at the box and the spotted menace gazed innocently back up at him before meowing.

This was all Virgil’s fault. “Should have dumped you in the desert.”

“Sir, how could you possibly consider that?! He’s adorable.” And again, Scott found his cat box the subject of attention via fingers, these ones with pink fingernails considerably shorter than the last set.

He looked up to find a middle-aged woman gazing adorably at The Cat. The difference this time was as she sat down, a cat box appeared on her lap too.

The Cat immediately became more interested and the eye lasers between the two boxes was almost physical.

“Uh, she’s a she.”

“And a beautiful girl, too. Just look at those spots. Did you go to Egypt for the breed? I hear they are very rare.”

Scott blinked. “Excuse me?” How did she know the cat was from Egypt? Lady Penelope had had to pull quite a few strings to get The Cat into England. Scott’s usual haunts of Australia and New Zealand took one look and gave him a firm ‘no’. One of the downsides of his sudden pet parenthood was the lack of a vet on their island. Crossing borders with an animal was a little bit different from crossing borders with a Thunderbird. Fortunately, Penelope had her ways and here he was.

But how was it obvious The Cat had come from Egypt?

“Oh, but she’s an Egyptian Mau, isn’t she? Those spots are absolutely gorgeous.”

Scott peered at The Cat. The smugness on the denizen of evil had to be a coincidence. But yes, she was a spotty cat. “Honestly, I’m not sure.”

“Really? My Dora is only a Russian Blue, but I adore her anyway. You should find out. You might have an expensive cat.” She frowned. “You didn’t get her from one of those black market types, did you?”

A blink. “Uh, no.”

“I should hope not. There are some people on this planet who do not deserve the honour of life.”

Scott didn’t comment on that.

“Mr Tracy?” Mia the nurse was smiling at him from across the room. “The Vet will see you now.”

Oh, thank god.

He stood up a little faster than necessary and the nurse raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay, sir?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

The Cat snorted.

How the hell did a cat snort? He restrained himself from a retort and followed the young woman from the room.

A corridor and a couple of doors later, she ushered him into an examination room. She pointed to a chair. Please take a seat. The vet will be in shortly.”

He did as he was told, sitting on one of two seats in the corner. At the centre sat a metal table obviously for examination.

The nurse set herself up at a computer station on the far side of the small room. He did not fail to notice that she kept eyeing him from time to time.

He was about to say something when a ball of bustling energy burst into the room. Short, compact with a craze of dark curls, the white coated woman hurried up to him. “Mr Tracy, oh my god, it is such a privilege to meet you!” She grabbed his hand before he was even halfway out of his seat. Oh god, a fan.

“Nice to meet you, Doctor…?”

“Oh, I’m Dr Sal Virgilio.” She gazed up at him in only what could be called adoration before apparently snapping herself out of it and diverting to the cat box. “And who do we have today?”

Scott blinked at her name. “Uh, my cat needs a check-up.” He held the box so the small woman could see inside.

The hiss that erupted from its depths wasn’t encouraging.

“Well, you are a spritely one. Let’s get you out on the examination table.” She looked up at him. “What’s the name?”

“Scott.”

She grinned. “The cat’s name, Mr Tracy.”

“Oh, um, Cat?”

The woman had brown eyes very similar to Virgil’s and they seemed to sprout a similar exasperation to his brother’s. To the nurse across the room. “Mia, open a file for Cat Tracy.”

Scott lifted the cat box onto the examination table as directed and cautiously opened the door.

The Cat peered out at him for a moment before stalking out slowly and regally, green eyes taking in the entire room before latching onto the vet.

Laser eyes zapped the poor woman dead where she stood.

But apparently, the vet was used to that kind of weapon because she ignored it. “Okay, little one, let’s check you out.”

The meow The Cat let out could only be described as a threat.

“Really?”

Scott found himself with a gentle hand on The Cat’s back, her fur soft under his fingers as her body twitched. “Uh, she can be touchy.” He hoped he didn’t have to save the vet from his own cat.

“That’s okay, we just need to get to know each other a little better.”

She took a step back and held out a hand, murmuring soft words. The Cat continued to eye her as a threat, but her twitching stilled somewhat.

The vet waited for The Cat to respond.

She waited a while.

A long while.

But eventually, The Cat leant over to sniff her fingers. The vet smiled. “That’s right, honey.”

The Cat opened her mouth and bit the closest finger.

Dr Virgilio jumped back with a squawk. The Cat growled and every hair on her body stuck out at right angles.

“Oi! Stop that!” It was Scott’s turn to growl.

She turned her head and glared up at him. Her entire body dared him to follow through and try to stop her.

His hand was still on her back, so he began stroking hair down. “The doctor is just here to help you.”

Said doctor was rifling through medical supplies looking for a plaster.

“It’s okay, Mr Tracy. Some pets can be difficult during examination.” She swabbed her finger with alcohol and wrapped it up. “She just needs time to acclimate.”

“Can I try?” The nurse on the other side of the room actually had her hand up.

“Sure, Mia. Have at it.”

Mia smiled at Scott again. That smile bugged Scott. It was like she knew something he didn’t.

And apparently she did, because one minute later, she had The Cat purring under her touch. “You are a beautiful girl, aren’t you.” Fingers rubbed The Cat under her chin and she closed her eyes in pleasure.

Scott just stared. Virgil was the only other person to have managed that. She was Scott’s cat, but she was very clear with her boundaries as to what he was allowed to do with her.

Dr Virgilio frowned. “Well, Mia, I think this one is yours. She appears to accept you.”

The Cat hissed at the vet.

“Hey, lovely, that’s just Sal. She’s a teddy bear, don’t you worry.”

The Cat glared up Mia in challenge before snarling at Sal again.

The vet just shrugged. “She knows who she likes. Mia, start a general exam while I fire up the scanner.”

“Yes, Dr Virgilio.”

It was weird hearing that name used on someone else. ‘Virgil’ wasn’t that common. It rarely happened that they came across someone with the same name, and this was only a surname.

Still weird.

The Cat eyed Mia as she began methodically checking her over starting from her nose and working over her body in the direction of her tail. The nurse continued to mutter nonsense comfort words, interspersed with medical reportage to the doctor fiddling with settings on a scanner built into the table top.

Scott recognised the equipment, having used similar in their infirmary, but this one was likely the reverse of why Virgil claimed he couldn’t play vet with their equipment. Sure, his brother had checked The Cat over, even read up on medical procedure for cats, but he had made it very clear he was not a vet.

“She looks healthy, Mr Tracy. Good coat, good muscle tone. Ooh, we have one chipped claw.” The nurse peeled back the fur between The Cat’s left front foot. The tip of one claw could be clearly seen to be missing.

Scott frowned. “How could that have happened?”

Dr Virgilio leaned over to look and The Cat snarled, backing away into Scott.

“Hold still, lovely.” Mia held onto her paw. “Looks to be an old injury.” The nurse looked up at Scott. “You don’t remember this happening?”

“I’ve only had her a short time.” Though it felt much longer.

“Well, it appears to have healed well. Just keep an eye on it.” Dr Virgilio was keeping her distance and attempting to eye the issue at hand.

The Issue at Hand glared at her and snarled.

“Stop that!”

To Scott’s surprise, The Cat actually jumped before turning to look up at him, her eyes narrow.

“Come now, lovely, let’s finish this exam. Then you can snuggle up in your Dad’s lap.”

It was Scott’s turn to be startled. It wasn’t the first time he had been referred to as a parent. Hell, he’d given up correcting Alan’s friends when they were younger. But it had been a while and ‘dad’ would always be a trigger word.

The Cat looked at him again, but this time there was no challenge, just puzzlement.

What was The Cat thinking? She was harder to understand than Alan on a sugar high. Harder than Virgil lost in engineerese or Gordon babbling about fish.

Even harder than John coming home from school and refusing to talk.

The closest comparison was Kayo glaring at him in anger, black eye and all, that time she had gotten into a fight at school defending Alan. It had taken Scott a long time to realise that Kayo used anger as a defence when in truth she was terrified, be it for herself or another.

They both had green eyes.

Great, his sister was a cat.

Nurse Mia finished up the exam while he sat pondering the concepts of pet parenthood versus caring for his family.

The Cat continued to glance up at him and poke at his soul.

She only swiped at the vet one more time and Scott caught her paw. “No, Cat.”

She glared at him, but the paw in his hand relaxed and he let it go.

“She definitely has a connection with you, Mr Tracy. How long have you had her?” The vet frowned up at him.

“Er, a couple of weeks.”

“How are you managing to care for her around your occupation?”

He straightened. “My occupation?”

“You are Scott Tracy, Commander of International Rescue, President of Tracy Industries, are you not? I’m thinking your time is at a premium.”

“We operate as a family, Dr Virgilio. There is always someone available to care for all family members.” Okay, so he had just declared the spawn of evil a family member, but then Alan and Gordon were part of the same family so it was nothing new.

And besides, The Cat tolerated Grandma almost as much as she did Virgil. It was a wise move. Grandma couldn’t burn cat food, after all, and she was often the only one available to feed her.

The vet switched on the scanner and The Cat jumped again as a hologram appeared above her head. The hologram immediately became the enemy and The Cat attacked. Fortunately or unfortunately, the hologram moved as she did, so each time she reached up, so did the hologram.

Mia the nurse was glared at as she tried to hold her still. “C’mon, lovely, you are doing so well.”

The Cat merrowed in protest.

“Yes, well, it has to be done to make sure you are well.”

Dr Virgilio was eyeing the read outs. “She looks well. Body systems appear healthy. She is an entire female, so you will have to consider sterilisation.” She ran her fingers over the controls and the hologram changed, shifting scan. She noted a few things.

Scott, more used to the human form, frowned at the display. It looked like he should be able to understand it, but couldn’t. Nothing was quite in the right place.

“She’s not microchipped. Are you aware of any vaccination history?”

Scott’s shoulders dropped just a little, shaking his head. “I have no knowledge of her medical history.”

“Then we will prep the full spectrum. Mia, could you prepare?”

“Yes, Sal.”

And Scott suddenly found his arms full of pissed off feline as Mia gently let her go. She climbed up his shirt and stabbed him with her claws through the thin material. Her face was suddenly in his and those green eyes pleading.

Time froze for a moment, his memory taking him back to a young Kayo so angry, so scared, clinging to her father’s pants as his Dad introduced her to him and his brothers.

The Cat had that same expression and his heart lurched. He found his arms around her. “It’s okay.” He drew her close.

“Mr Tracy, I have to warn you that she is unlikely to react well to the procedure.”

“Needles?” He sighed when she nodded. “I have four younger brothers, doctor. It won’t be the first time.”

Alan had been the hardest. He was responsible for his youngest brother at the age of eleven. There had been enough inoculations and blood tests to tackle that he had become experienced. Didn’t make it any easier to see his littlest brother hurting.

Gordon was a whole different kettle of fish. Gordon had already been to hell and back several times so needles were disregarded as nothing. At least that was what he wanted everyone else to believe. Scott knew better. Every medical procedure risked triggering unpleasant memories so all needles were treated warily.

John hid, but once persuaded, took it all stoically and logically and why would I neglect such an important medical procedure, Scott?

Ironically, it was Virgil who was the worst. For a man who literally practised medicine, the most pedantic in chasing up everyone else, the bear was a wuss when it came to needles.

Scott was the one who had to hunt him down and it often took Gordon’s muscles as well as his own to wrestle the man into a tetanus shot. Grandma frowned every time and shook her head. It was like the medic had two brains, one logical and the other manic.

Kayo, on the other hand, would walk up, roll up her sleeve and take the shot without a problem, and then spend the rest of the day in a foul mood. There had been both furniture and Tracy casualties in the past.

The Cat snuggled against his chest, the odd pitiful sound emitting against the cotton of his shirt.

As for himself, he had never been a fan of needles, but he was the eldest. He looked after himself.

The Virgil at the back of his head scoffed at that statement.

Shut up, you can’t talk.

So, yeah, needles, not a Tracy favourite. Cat Tracy would likely be no different. Gotta keep the family tradition.

Nurse Mia brought a tray over to the table. An array of hypodermics were laid out ready for use. Scott’s eyes widened at the size of one of them. He felt like asking why they were going to stick his cat with the prong of a pitchfork, but he was the Commander of International Rescue, he could do this.

Sorry, Cat.

It was like saying sorry to Virgil as he held him down and Grandma stabbed him in the arm.

Necessary evil.

There were a lot of those in his life.

“Did you want to hold her?” Dr Virgilio’s expression was understanding. When he nodded, she directed him to a chair. “It is likely she won’t react well. Try to keep her calm. I will try to be as gentle as possible.”

Scott found himself stroking The Cat and murmuring the same litany he might try for an injured child in the field.

She looked up at him, those green eyes again catching him in their depths.

He had no idea why she had attached to him. Other than the country involved, he had no idea how she had found him, how she had managed to get aboard his ‘bird – Brains was still trying to work it out; the best guess being that she had jumped onto the back of his chair as he retracted it back into One, but why was definitely still a mystery.

Mia reached in and snagged The Cat’s rear left leg. The vet swooped in before she could react and The Cat cried out. She struggled, claws digging again into his chest enough to cause him to grit his teeth. But again, the pair dove in, grabbed another leg and his heart hurt as she cried again.

He stroked her, muttering quietly.

The nurse held this leg a moment longer and the vet reached in with an empty hypodermic.

Scott clutched Cat to him as the Vet drew blood.

Cat was shaking.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He wasn’t sure who he was trying to reassure, Cat or himself.

Fingers reached in and caught her scruff. A spray of something that smelt chemical and she flinched away, meowing.

He saw the needle coming and held her tight. It was huge! He fought the urge to back away himself.

“Nearly done, Mr Tracy.”

A hand touched his shoulder and his peripheral senses registered the nurse holding him still.

Cat cried out and drew blood through his shirt. This one took longer and Scott cringed.

Then it was over.

Cat continued to shake in his arms and, as the vet turned away and the nurse gathered the remains on the tray, Scott found himself clinging to The Cat as much as she was to him. His hand stroked her head gently, he was quietly muttering down to her.

His heart was beating a mile a minute.

The Commander of International Rescue he was not.

Stupid Cat.

He only held her tighter.

“Mr Tracy? Are you okay?”

He looked up at the nurse and realised he was rocking on the spot. “I’m fine.”

“She really trusts you.”

A blink. “Huh?”

“Cats usually try to escape. She is clinging to you.” She frowned at his shirt. “You should swab them with alcohol. Cat scratches can get nasty if not attended to.”

He looked down. There were specks of blood soaking through his shirt. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay, Mr Tracy. Her microchip is responding. I will email you a copy of what we have done today and send you her blood results when they come through. I’ll include her microchip details and who you need to contact should you change address. Keep an eye on the injection sites. Watch for any persistent swelling. Don’t hesitate to contact us if you have any questions.”

He was still sitting with His Cat cradled in his arms.

He needed to move.

He rose to his feet and Cat responded by pulling out one set of claws and jabbing him in a new spot.

He didn’t care.

“Did you want to return her to her carrier?” The nurse was frowning up at him.

“No, no, she’s good where she is.” He didn’t want to let go.

“Are you sure? The waiting room contains dogs.”

Cat was curled up under his chin. “We’ll be fine.”

Nurse Mia stared at him a moment. “You will want to hold on to her tightly. We can’t be held responsible if she gets loose.”

Commander voice. “We’ll be fine.”

She held his gaze a moment longer. He had to give her credit for that. Most would have fled by now. She picked up the cat carrier and held open the door.

“Mr Tracy?”

He turned to find the tiny vet staring up at him. “You did good. I can see why you are so good at what you do.”

He blinked and cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

She smiled just a little. “Stay safe, Mr Tracy, and let us know if you need any help with Cat.”

Cat hissed in her direction.

“FAB.”

Her eyes widened and her smile spread.

Definitely a fan.

Despite everything, he found himself smiling in return.

Nurse Mia led him back to reception. He found a familiar figure leaning against the desk. Dressed in his usual casual red flannel, Virgil appeared to be having an energetic discussion with another nurse. The moment he caught sight of Scott, however, he straightened and narrowed in on his brother.

“Hey, you look beat.” His eyes tracked over bloodstains and Cat who was still curled up in his arms. “Aww, rough time.”

“Immunization.”

Virgil winced.

“Blood test.”

Virgil grimaced.

“Microchip.”

“Oh god, honey.” His hand hovered over Cat but didn’t quite touch her. “Well, I guess some treats are due tonight and a little pampering.”

“Could you grab my credit card.”

Virgil arched an eyebrow and reaching around,pulled Scott’s wallet out of his back pocket. “We talking the black one?”

“Yeah. Whatever it costs.” Nurse Mia’s eyes were bouncing between the two of them.

Scott stroked Cat’s head.

Virgil finished up the bill and grabbed the cat box. Scott wasn’t paying much attention. He found himself out the front of the vet surgery, Virgil loading the box into a Tracy fleet car.

“I have Two at the airfield.” He eyed Cat. “Want me to drive?”

Distracted, staring down at Cat who had finally stopped shaking and was now hesitantly peering out at the world around her. “Sure.”

There was an eyebrow raised at that. So, he was usually a control freak, big deal.

He climbed carefully into the passenger side of the car while Virgil hopped behind the steering wheel.

“So, I guess I have a new sister.”

“What?” Scott looked up as Virgil pulled the car away from the curb.

“You have that same expression when any of us are hurt. I’ve seen you hold Allie like that.”

Scott glared. “She’s a cat.”

Virgil shrugged. “Sure. But she’s also family.” It was said daring him to deny it.

His shoulders dropped and he looked down at the spotted furball in his arms.

Green, mischievous eyes peered back up at him.

Quietly. “Yeah, she is.”

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #370

“breakdowns, obscenities, it’s all i wanna be”

Do you have any bad habits you aren’t working on changing? If so, do you ever think you’ll try to break them? Downloading music, for one. I really should just start using Spotify... but my iPod has over 1k songs on it and I just seriously don't want to got through all the trouble. When was the last time someone surprised you with their reaction or behaviors? Hm. I dunno. What kinds of videos do you like to watch on YouTube, if any? I watch SO many different kinds. It used to be pretty strictly let's plays, but I've definitely expanded my watching interests. Now I'm really into watching educational reptile and tarantula husbandry and keeping channels, I watch one woman who is like my weight loss idol (Jordan Shrinks, she is amazing), there's a few vloggers, I enjoy some World of Warcraft channels, and then there's a couple urban exploration guys I like. I also occasionally watch some beauty YouTubers just for their personalities and the art of it. Have you ever reached out to a crisis center for mental health support? If so, how was the experience? Yes, but they were so busy that I didn't connect with anyone before I finally gave up and ODed. When was the last time you did something you were afraid to do, and how was the outcome? Ummmm I don't really know. What is one positive thing you believe about yourself? I care a lot about other people. What is something you have been through that has made you stronger? The breakup. It brought me to the lowest of lows, where every day was a struggle to survive. It taught me I can endure through almost anything, even if it doesn't feel like I can. Other than money, what is something you wish you had more of in your life? Happiness, contentment, being in love, motivation, energy, activities, travel... There's genuinely a lot. IIs there anything that you tend to ignore for the sake of your sanity? I'm very bad at ignoring things. If something is bothering me, it's going to put up a beastly fight to be at the forefront of my mind. What is something you wish was different about your family? I wish we were closer and better off monetarily. What keeps you going lately? The hope for a happy, satisfactory future. Have you ever been in an unconventional relationship (long distance, polyamorous, same gender, age gap, etc)? if so, what challenges did this relationship present, and were they worth overcoming? I've been in a long-distance relationship with another girl. I think the hardest part was that there was not being able to physically be there for each other when one of us was really struggling, and sometimes communication was an issue, not being able to read body language when we voice chatted or hear the tone in which we "spoke" when texting, though I'm pretty sure that's an issue with any online relations. I also feel it's difficult to really build and experience your chemistry with one another when you're not physically with the other person. I still think all these challenges were worth overcoming, though. I in no way regret the relationship and got only good things out of it. What is the most unhealthy relationship (whether friendship or romantic) you’ve ever had? What made it so unhealthy? Do you still talk to each other? I'm kinda torn between Jason and Colleen, but I think my bond with Jason was ultimately more unhealthy because it went beyond love: he was an obsession. Having him with me was the only thing that brought me joy, and I lit-er-a-lly could not imagine my future without him. Like that concept just didn't exist; it was entirely impossible in my head. On his end, he failed to communicate what he was going through emotionally, which only contributed to the damage. I never knew he was struggling because of me. Without realizing it, I put so much pressure on him to make me happy, so to answer the last question, no, we don't, by his decision - and I don't blame him. Have you ever been abusive in any way? Were you able to change or make amends, or, in general, what do you think people should do to make amends in that situation? A neverending battle I have with myself is if how I treated Jason after the breakup was qualifiable as emotional abuse, specifically with messaging him things like "thanks for sending me to the ER" and shit. My therapist reassures me that it wasn't abusive because I wasn't being deliberately manipulative, but rather genuinely hurt and convinced I had been wronged and wanted him to know and acknowledge it. She agrees that it was wrong, which I entirely agree with, but sometimes, I'm still convinced I was abusive. I fucking hate answering this question, so hurrying up: I don't know if he's forgiven me. As for how others could reconcile, that's not for me to say. I know sometimes the answer is to NOT make amends and completely stay away from their abuser. It's not my right to tell others how to cope with their abuse. Have you ever forgiven someone for being abusive or allowed someone toxic back into your life? Did this person change for the better or not? My former best friend Colleen was toxic as all fuck hell, and I let her back in way too many times. No, she never changed. I honesty doubt she ever will, given her pride. When was the last time you did something “meant” for children? Do you think it’s okay for adults to do these things (ie. watch cartoons, have stuffed animals, dress in cute clothing, etc), or do you think there’s an age beyond which it becomes unacceptable - and if so, why? Hmmm... I know this was semi-recent, but whatever it was is evading me at the moment. I personally have zero issue with adults engaging in activities like that; let people do what they enjoy if they're not harming anyone, especially things as innocent as dressing how they think is cute, etc. I would far rather people "act like children" (not emotionally, you know what I mean) than run around the streets selling drugs and shit. What was the last thing to “trigger” you (as in, in a true mental health sense, I’m being serious here) and how did you cope with it? What kinds of things do you tend to find triggering? What do you do either avoid or face your triggers? When I was riding to the sleep study section of the health plaza, where the hospital is, my anxiety spiked quite a bit, recalling all of my ER stays for being suicidal. It didn't help that the psych hospital I visited most is also in that whole jumble of buildings. I dealt with it by reminding myself I was in that area for a very different reason, and Mom reassured me that where I would be staying was more like a small hotel room than a hospital bed, which was true, so that helped. Regarding the next question, I'm not gonna lie to ya, I have a stupid amount of PTSD triggers: certain music, shows, fandoms, places, smells, even tastes of certain foods. I tend to stay away from my major triggers, but I'll *sometimes* fight the tiny ones, because I want that sense of ownership of myself back. If you’re diagnosed with anything, do you feel that it accurately represents what you’re experiencing? Yes. What are some minor physical discomforts that really bug you (eyelash in your eye, a wedgie, rumpled socks, etc)? I'm VERY sensitive to feeling anything in my nose, and it leads to me needing to blow it a lot. I also can't stand having holes in my socks, but since I wear flip flops essentially everywhere, I don't experience this much. Are you ever afraid to admit to liking something because you’re afraid other people will judge you for it? What is the worst that’s ever happened as a result of you liking something different from the crowd? What about the best thing that’s come as a result of a unique interest? Y E P!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nothing really bad has happened because of admitting my interests, other than hearing things along the lines of "I don't get it." It's very odd, just how horribly receptive I am to judgment about things I like when I don't recall a time where I was ridiculed for anything. But anyway, the best thing to happen from sharing interests for me is making a new friend that likes the same thing, and I will IMMEDIATELY be closer to you than most people I associate with once you've helped me past that vulnerable spot of mine. Have you ever remained good friends with an ex? Yeah. Do you have a negative view of mentally ill people, or are you mentally ill yourself? Do you ever call others crazy, insane, etc? Do you ever call yourself those things? I'm mentally ill and empathize heavily with those who suffer themselves. I absolutely do not have a negative look on mental health sufferers; we don't choose to be victims. I'm definitely not a big fan of abusing terms like "insane," because I've fucking been there, and it's not a term to take lightly. I've thrown 'em around before, but I try to avoid it. I don't call myself any of those things nowadays, but in the deepest trench of my depression and PTSD, I honest to God think I fit the definition of "insane." Does it bother you to have people comment on what you’re eating, or do you not care? What are some comments that would bother you, if any? Do you ever comment on what other people are eating or make assumptions about their intakes? YES. JUST DON'T FUCKING COMMENT. I get EXTREMELY self-conscious when my mom does this sometimes when I occasionally need a small snack to hold me out overnight, and I absolutely never will say something to someone else. It's just rude, imo. Well, I guess if someone was really destroying their health and I was close to them, I would out of concern and be very gentle, but when regarding most people? I'm keeping my thoughts to my damn self. Do you like Redbull? I've never tried it and don't want to. I'm not an energy drink fan. Who is the last person you spent money on? My mom. I remember I bought us fast food when we were out once. What are you looking forward to in the next 4 days? G U Y S!!!!!!!!! I GET MY TATTOO TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!! :'''') Also on the same day, I start my TMS therapy, which I have high hopes for. Have you ever gone a whole day without eating? No. Do you sometimes use your music player to help you fall asleep? No, but I did that for years back in middle school. Have you ever had a crush on someone “too young” for you? No. Do you shave your legs more than once a week? Haaaaaaaaa. If you could cuddle with anyone right now, who would you pick? I really wish I could cuddle my late pup Teddy again. :/ I was thinking about that recently. Are you tanned? God no. I never am. Do you try to wear dresses whenever you can? No. I wish I was in a shape where I was comfortable wearing spring dresses again... I had this floral skull one in high school that I adored. Are you wearing something that belongs to someone else? No. Have you ever been called a bitch? Yes. Did you like the person you last kissed when you kissed them? I loved her. Who did you have a meaningful conversation with last? Sara. Do you have feelings for someone? Yeah, but they're like... on a leash, you could say. I don't let 'em run free and wild, and I know that even if nothing comes of those feelings again, it's fine. Are you trying to avoid liking somebody at the moment? I think Jason will be this answer for a very long time, if not forever, given the trauma and all. I have to remind myself frequently that I love his memory, not him, because I don't even know him anymore. It's been YEARS since we spoke. Just like I've changed incredibly, I'm sure he has, too. If you saw life in black & white, would that be okay with you? I mean, it would suck, but it wouldn't be the end of the world. When you wake up in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep, what kinds of things are you likely to do? How often do you find you have trouble sleeping? I do exactly what you shouldn't do and get back on the laptop. I'd say I most often get on WoW and refresh the auctions I have up because that tends to tire me out because I do that shit manually to avoid any addon mishaps, and I have a looooot to put up as a gold farmer. What was the last lengthy packet you filled out? Something to see if I qualified for a sleep study. Are you a patient person? What is one way you have a lot of patience? What about not very much patience at all? I am NOT patient, at least regarding more trivial things, like sitting in waiting rooms. I do have patience though with other people with more serious things, like getting someone to open up to me. At what time during the day do you tend to feel your best? What about the worst? When I first wake up. It's a "fresh start" and it's nice to feel rested. Plus, I open a fresh can of cold soda as my "coffee" for lack of better word, haha. I'm in my worst mood probably late afternoon/early evening, by which time I am incredibly bored and just dulled down. What was the last thing you did that you wish you could take back or do differently? The last thing... I dunno. How frequently do you stay overnight somewhere that isn’t your own home? What things do you miss about home when you’re away? Do you tend to get homesick easily? Pretty much never. I do miss my room and its privacy when I'm away from home, but I wouldn't say I get homesick all that easily, so long as I have WiFi, haha. Do you tend to eat more in the beginning of the day or at night? Do you have a tendency to snack when you’re bored? If so, what kinds of snacks do you normally go for? Not necessarily the beginning of the day, but definitely more than at night. I am BAD about snacking when I'm extremely bored, but at the very least I'm conscious enough to try and find something semi-healthy, like granola bars, fruits, a scoop of peanut butter, but I also sometimes just eat like... a slice of bread or a tortilla. Horrible choice. I'm a carb fiend and I hate it. If you have any dietary restrictions, do you ever miss foods you can’t have? If not, what’s something you haven’t had for a long time that you wish you could eat again? I thankfully don't have any. I've been craving cheesecake like a madman lately. :< The spicy shrimp fritas from Olive Garden, too. Is there something you still can’t do even though you’re an adult or might be expected to do this thing? I don't have my license, and my driver's permit is even expired. I'm terrified of driving. I also don't have a job, and I can't cook. When was the last time you congratulated someone? Were you happy for them, indifferent, jealous? Uhhh I think someone on Facebook had a baby. Of course I was happy for them. What was the last milestone you reached in your life (graduating, buying a car, starting a family, etc)? What milestone are you going for next, if any? Um... I haven't reached a true milestone in years. Hell, I don't think since I started recovery from the breakup. Do you enjoy getting comments or messages? How likely are you to leave comments or messages for other people? Yeah, it makes me feel cared about. It really depends on the platform on how much I leave other people comments, and I'm extremely shy about messaging, but I'll do it sometimes. When are you most likely to scream (either out of fright, anger, or whatever)? Do you scream or yell often? When was the last time someone screamed at you (or in your presence)? Frustration, for sure. I've screamed into a pillow more than once. I definitely don't yell or especially scream often. I'm sure the last person to yell at me was Mom, but I don't remember about what. What would you say is your STRONGEST emotion? Maybe not the most frequent, but the most intense? And what emotion do you feel most weakly, even if you might feel it more often? I'd saaaay... maybe love. When I love something/someone, I love HARD. I think I experience joy the weakest; it's very muted for me. And lastly, what are you listening to? Is this a band you listen to a lot "The Heretic Anthem" by Slipknot. I wouldn't say I listen to them a lot, but I have been more than usual lately.

[canttelliotte-blog]

Incredibly long, overly detailed post I spent too much time on.

Tl:dr AITA for telling someone they were coming off as an ungrateful, privileged asshole who didn't seem to recognize or truly appreciate what they have? I blew up after a series of encounters, they seemed oblivious to their lifestyle and support and how truly different life could have turned out without it. I called them out after weeks of trying to be empathetic but couldn't take how helpless they were acting when I would kill for the kind the support they were complaining about and taking for granted.  

I should use a throwaway because I know this person will probably see this but I don't have the energy. I'll try to keep this short (actually super long sorry) I feel like I already know I was sort of harsh and out of line. This whole thing has just been sticking with me and I feel really messed up about it.  

Alright, so context, back story. I had a breakdown in February and tried to kill myself. By some miracle, I got a bed at one of the best mental hospitals on this side of the east coast. After a long history of chronic mental illness, being on disability for years with medicare, getting an opportunity like this was amazing. I had been on waiting lists for months before my attempt, but fate, acuity, and availability all lined up. A true miracle. Unless you have a family with money or amazing health insurance, getting a bed is just extremely difficult at this particular facility.  

The reason being, they provide real treatment. Comprehensive, attentive, life-saving treatment. They actually provide real care with empathy, actual therapy, psychiatry, and groups, with educated staff, real food to eat, world-renowned providers, and treatment teams that listen and work with you to come up with effective long-term solutions/aftercare plans that set you up for long term success.  

Out of pocket, this place is unfathomably expensive. The more exclusive programs on-campus are for the ultra-elite/ ultra-wealthy, taking celebrities like Selena Gomez. The institution itself is known for its education and research. It is not funded by the state like almost everywhere else. Most state-run facilities are atrocious. a disgusting holding cell, where you're stripped of your clothes, dignity, and rights, fed prison food, overmedicated, physically and chemically restrained, only to be thrown back on the street in 3-5 days with no aftercare, med refills, or plan. Been there, done that, many times, not the point. The point was, I got some really helpful expensive ass treatment by the luck of the draw.  

While I was there, I met someone lovely. We instantly connected and expressed interest in one another. They seemed really cool, we talked at length about income inequality and how unfair it was that this kind of treatment wasn't the norm or easily accessible and how unfair that was. They seemed passionate and bright and we got along great. They were set to discharge only a few days after I got there, so we exchanged info before they left. We talked a bunch while I was still there (my discharge was a couple of weeks later) and decided to go on a few dates after I got out.  

A few days after I got out, I unintendedly overdosed, confused about my meds, and was incoherent by the time I got to the ER. I was restrained and chemically sedated. I was confused and fought so was deemed severely acute, and got sent to a state-run facility similar to what I described above. It was all very traumatic and I shut down once I got home. I was lucky I made it out semi-okay, that they let me out at all.  

I wasn't replying to anyone's messages but the person I had met kept reaching out wanting to hear from me and make sure I was okay. I was embarrassed but it was really sweet and soon we starting talking a lot again and really connecting.  

As I got to know them, I definitely thought they were very cool, we seemed to have a lot in common, they made me laugh and we got along really well. I was really digging them and saw us potentially becoming a thing.  After talking for some time, we decided to anxiously have our first date. It went okay but something was off.  

I didn't really pick up on it at first but the more we talked, the more privileged they offhandedly revealed they were. I know it's judge-y and lame, but that kind of put me off. I've been poor my whole life and struggled hard for everything, it's a whole different world living in poverty, so it made me a bit uncomfortable.  I still live in poverty, on disability, with food stamps, and can barely hold it together enough to have a part-time job, but I have no choice. It's rough. I've been homeless, lived in institutions, went through foster care, and have no familial support. I have one of the most serious debilitating mental illnesses. It's been very very hard.  

I am biased but I haven't met anyone well off who gets it. Some people don't realize how hard things can be when you've really had nothing, and had to work hard for everything. Even simple things are taken for granted, not understood, or there are miscommunications or assumptions made due to the lack of understanding. That's just my personal experience, it's hard trying to explain things and it's invalidating sometimes, it can be hard to relate or connect due to the lack of understanding.  

Honestly, though, it took me by surprise. We had both talked passionately about the struggles of being on disability, the importance of income inequality, how unfair the system is set up, the barriers against the poor receiving adequate mental health treatment. They explained how they advocated for social justice and regularly went to protests. I felt dumb because I did meet them at higher-end facility, but I assumed they ended up there by dumb luck as I did with how they presented and initially came across.  

They made it seem like we were in the same boat, poor af, chronically mentally ill, and 4 ever struggling. It was just a surprise because that was very much was not the case.  

They moved up here from Florida, (where admittedly their life was much harder and different), but since moving, they were being supported by their aunt and uncle, who were very, very well off. They had a very expensive private practice psychiatrist, multiple treatment providers, and an apartment in a very well-off area, that their aunt owned, so they paid no rent.  Their car/insurance/phone everything was paid for.  

They seemed to have money to burn, dancing around being well taken care of and not really having to worry. They were on disability though receiving payments and food stamps in addition, not reporting the assistance from their family. When I lightly inquired, they said their grandmother mostly controlled their finances and they didn't deal with bills etc. They spent freely, getting take out almost every night, etc. enjoying all the pleasure of life without a second thought.  

I was uncomfortable with this like I said, but they did seem cool and understanding, we did get along and I wanted to give them a chance. I put my biased experience aside and tried to give it a go.  

First example that really blew me away was their dog. They had several animals, including a cat and two dogs. Even for someone working, three animals is a huge expense. I only have one cat and while she's my world, it gets hard sometimes. The vet is expensive, litter, food, treats, it adds up. And she's only one animal!!! I provide for her and take care of her, but a $350 vet bill still packs a punch. Of course, I pay it, she's my baby, but it might mean only eating sandwiches for a few weeks. I love her, so I sacrifice, she is worth it in every way, but animals are expensive and a lot of work/responsibility.  

When this person and I first started seriously talking, they mentioned the dog they were closest to was very sick with a rare condition. I don't know the full details, but I guess it took a while for the vet to figure out what was wrong, he was on a lot of medications, needed loads of tests and scans. There were weeks of extensive treatments/ blood transfusions, all in a long, painful, and strenuous attempt to save him. They tried for a long time in the hopes he would get better.  

He, unfortunately, passed away a few weeks after we started talking. It was devastating to them and I tried my best to be supportive and help them grieve. They were understandably at a huge loss. Their mental health tanked. Their dog meant the world to them, I understand that completely. Pets are family.    

A few weeks after he passed. They were talking a little about the course of treatment and how hard it had been and what a long, painful road it was. They kind of casually remarked that his treatment cost over $20,000.  

I honestly thought I had misheard. I had to ask twice because I thought they meant $2,000. No. $20,000. $20,000.Holy shit.    

I just...$20,000 is what I make in a year. A year. Dogs are family, I totally, totally get that. People will do anything to save their loved ones. A pet is like an uninsured child, even with pet insurance, it can be expensive. I get that. If you have that kind of money, you pay it, without a thought, no problem.  

I just... wow. I still couldn't even wrap my mind around it. My cat is my world but it breaks my heart to say, if anything happened to her like that, it would kill me, but I would be forced to put her down. I just couldn't believe, $20,000. And they said it like, no big deal, of course, like anyone would/could afford that, it was obvious, a no-brainer. I just...wow.  

Next, kicker. I  came over to hang out one night and watch movies. I had never been to their apartment before. They claimed it had been super messy and they made a big deal about how they had cleaned for me. Sweet, but unnecessary, I get mental illness is tough. It was two bedrooms, all to themselves, decent space and light, but definitely scattered and cluttered. They had a huge king-sized bed, a bidet in the bathroom, and a super nice living room set up. Big comfy couch, loads of nice blankets, and honestly the biggest tv I had ever seen. They joking bragged about having all the streaming options. No kidding. Hulu, Disney plus, Netflix, Amazon, HBO, Paramount, and at least half a dozen more I hadn't even heard of. It just seemed crazy and excessive paying for that many streaming services every month.  But to each their own I guess.

We were both huge fans of anime, and they sort of decided to venture to studio ghibli. They asked if I had seen a particular favorite of theirs. I hadn't. They searched and it was only available to rent. $17. I nearly had a heart attack. I was like no way, we could definitely find it streaming for free somewhere if we look, or watch something else, shortage of options. They were like no it's no biggie that's what I want to watch and clicked rent. Like no problem *sweats intensely* Anytime I spend money, I have a heart attack and second guess it, it takes me like 10 minutes to click buy and my heart always drops when I do. I overthink, whether I really need/deserve it/whether there's a cheaper option, or if it's truly necessary. I know that's a poverty thing. It's just like we could have easily found it somewhere for free with a little effort!  

We go to order food, we both have celiac so finding takeout is a chore. They knew the area better so I was trusting them. They were very adamant about ordering expensive sushi. It was $36 for just one of the things they wanted. Not including delivery or tips or fees or anything else, which included appetizers and drinks, the whole nine. I wasn't feeling sushi. They were like fine, we'll order from two separate places then. Double the delivery fee, not something I ever do, it would be cheaper finding a place together, I could get something small and affordable but they wouldn't budge. I didn't really have money to order a big thing on my own, I wanted something small, but I felt pressured. I figured anything I got would be cheaper than having to split a big sushi order I didn't want. I was like okay fine.  

They kind of seemed annoyed that I didn't just give in and get sushi. They were a little short with me, didn't give me many options of other places, and were weirdly controlling, not letting me look at their phone to find something. I kind of gave up and said like just a burger is fine. I figured it would be cheap and filling, probably $20 max. I didn't take into consideration that they live in an extremely expensive area. It ended up being almost $30, plus tip. For a burger. I almost wanted to cry. I would have picked somewhere else cheaper given the option. They didn't even tell me the price until after they ordered it. I was like oh how much like $15 and they were so casual like oh no, $30 with tip. When it arrived, it was cold and disgusting, really inedible. I picked at the fries, which gave me a stomach ache as they were not gluten-free friendly and had been cross-contaminated in the fryer. I assumed they picked a place that they knew was safe.  

When I wasn't eating, they asked if it was bad. I said yeah and they were like oh well just order something else. Like no, I can't afford anything else, it doesn't work like that. I was like no it's fine I'm not really that hungry. I wanted to say, I trusted you, and you kinda fucked me. I guess they picked that place because there was a gluten-free brownie sundae (prepackaged and not cross-contaminated) on the menu that they really wanted. Obviously more important.  

My stomach ached all night. They ate their food happily. No big deal to them, $30 wasted on food I didn't really want, that I couldn't end up eating and got me sick. If it were them, they would have just ordered something else. No big deal to them. It was more important they got their brownie sundae and expensive sushi than making sure I was able to get something edible. Didn't matter that was half my grocery money for the week. Bologna sandwiches it'll have to be then. Awesome.  

We spent the night talking, I didn't let on to how sick I was or that I was upset about not being able to choose food. They picked all the movies. I wanted to go home, but it just got later and later, one more movie I just *needed* to see. I asked them several times as the clock was ticking if it was getting too late to drive me home. No, no they were fine. Let's just watch another one. Then casually, they went to their room and brought out their night meds, threw 'em back, and settled into the couch. I started to panic. I asked again, you're taking me home, right? I guess they decided they weren't. I was miles away from home, no public transit running or close by. They were like oh I'm so tired, it got so late. Just order a car. I pulled up uber, $25. That would definitely overdraft my account.  

Thankfully, after they saw me sweating and looking panicked, they were like, oh, I feel so bad, I'll order the uber for you. (If they hadn’t, I would have had to explain like, getting home on my own wasn't the plan nor was staying the night. If they thought I would be cool with just staying, they should have said something, if they wanted me to stay, it should have been a discussion, not a surprise.)  

I just felt really disrespected. I was simultaneously hungry and sick from dinner, broke and unprepared to stay over with no prior discussion. I didn't have meds, my cat didn't have food out, I was blindsided and essentially stranded/put in an awkward position. They didn't consider that it might be stressful or beyond my limitations to get home. Being able to just roll with punches isn't financially feasible for everyone. It just felt like they were self-centered and inconsiderate. The whole night was what they wanted, what they wanted to eat, where they wanted to order from, what they wanted to watch, changing plans to what was convenient for them without any regard toward how it might impact me. Just inconsiderate and self-centered behavior.  

We did keep talking though, I just sort of chalked it up to miscommunication and sort of beat myself up for not speaking up. It was weird though, kept just casually mentioning shit that was so privileged and complaining about shit that made them sound so ungrateful. I don't think they realized how it came across, just completely oblivious to their access to resources and not appreciating their position or supports.  

They started talking about starting ketamine treatments to combat their ongoing depression. They had received them in the past and went on about how life-changing and helpful it was, and that everyone should try it. Now, being on disability (and even with most insurances) the treatments are not covered. The clinics that administer them are all out of pocket, bougie as fuck, and extremely expensive.  

They talked about having several rounds in the past like it was nothing. It's easily $250-400 a pop and they were going 1-2x a week for a long time. They kept talking about all their options like what a painstaking burden. Should they start with lozenges and work up to IV clinic or ask for patches, and start that way. They wanted to work up to twice a week again but their family was giving pushback. They wanted me to agree with them, saying it was so unfair and lame and unreasonable/closeminded of their family for not immediately agreeing. The same family that would be footing the bill.  No, not unfair or unreasonable at all. You sound privileged as fuck.  

I was super bothered they were endlessly going on about it and complaining about pushback and asking me to agree with them. My treatment-resistant depression hasn't responded to anything, I've been on every waiting list for MDMA-assisted treatment whenever they pop up but never been selected due to demand and availability. Even ECT is too expensive and not covered. I'd kill for an opportunity like that! And it wasn't even like their family was saying no, they were discussing it in family therapy and seriously considering it.  

They talked about it so nonchalantly and kept going on and on about how amazing it was. Like great, tell me all about something else I'll never be able to afford. I'm sure Paris is great, and backpacking across Europe is awesome, like please do tell me more.  

I finally mentioned like okay that sounds great, will never able to afford it, glad it's so helpful They told me that I could just buy it off the street. That's what they used to do occasionally. It's only a couple hundred dollars and you get way more. Like oh okay. Let me just not pay a third of my rent in the hopes that this jam band kids ketamine isn't fentanyl or some shit and maybe have a shot at not wanting to kill myself for a week, you know on the off chance it works. Sounds great, super safe, much more affordable. And like as ridiculous as it was to offer that as an alternative, that still wouldn't be something I could afford! They just came off so clueless and privileged and oblivious.

What really got me was how they eventually talked about their family. They did weekly family therapy with their aunt and uncle and occasionally their dad since moving up here. They stayed with their aunt and uncle (lived down the street) more often than not so they weren't alone. This was encouraged/appreciated/welcomed. They did activities together regularly to help with depression and loneliness/ managing symptoms. They had their grandma and brother, whom they saw often and cherished greatly. They portrayed the relationships as really solid and important. I thought wow, truly wholesome and wonderful.  They seemed so loved, close, connected, cared for, and supported. Across the board, they had support.  

But then tables would turn. They complained often their family was too close, too conservative, and not understanding. They didn't want them so involved in their life, their treatment, decision-making, and recovery process. They resented the support, complained they weren't a kid and were capable/in sound mind to make decisions/have control of their life. I tried to listen and be understanding but I didn't get it. They came off almost like a spoiled, ungrateful teenager.  

You're getting help, love, and support all around, everyone wants to support you and see you do well and will give whatever that takes. Like legitimately whatever ?!?  You don't have to work, pay for anything, and it is made sure you don't have to struggle for anything. Anything you need, you've got.  

I get the concept that having family so close/involved could be crippling or invasive or just downright unproductive. But it was such a slap in the face they would complain to me of all people about having that kind of support.  

Family/support is such a foreign concept to me personally. Like I said, I grew up in foster care. I've never had family involved, healthy relationships, or any sort of support like that. The concept of calling your aunt when you're sad and she offers kind words, support, and tells you to come over to do something fun? Like, can't relate. I could only take so much of them complaining about being taken care of.  

Living with extreme mental illness, not being able to work for periods of time, living solely on disability paychecks and food stamps is damn is impossible to survive, especially where we live. Without the help they were being given, they wouldn't be able to survive. The cost of living is out of control, you can't even rent a room with a single disability payment. I know, I'm doing it. It takes everything for me to keep a part-time job, barely making enough to make ends meet. But if I don't. I'm homeless again. No matter what, no matter how bad symptoms get. And I have one of the hardest, most debilitating mental illnesses. I don't have any other choice.  

Their aunt would pay for them to go to school or learn a trade or anything they wanted. They have a world-renowned private practice doctor that prescribes them literally anything they could want or need to help and they have a great bond/ working relationship. I have a psych who can barely remember my name and sees me for 5-15 minutes maybe once or twice a month. I was asking for medications recently to get through a hard time, nothing serious, but my state-assigned psych does not prescribe benzos. Period. Neither does my PCP. It's state rehab or psych facility for me or bust. Another thing they take for granted. They almost bragged to me about immediately getting two heavy-duty benzos and another maintenance medication,  just by saying their panic attacks were slighting increasing. Meanwhile. I was at risk for DT's after relapsing and begging for basic Librium to maybe not die and was denied.  

The real reality of being on disability is the bare minimum or bad treatment. My psychologist is thankfully amazing but it took 10 years and hitting absolute rock bottom and being homeless to find her. She's a diamond in the rough but only works with the sickest of the sick. I would be in a state institution right now if it weren't for her and I avoided it by the skin of my teeth.  

So here's where I'm probably the asshole. After weeks, I broke. We were texting as usual and they started to sort of mope and complain. They were venting about having a hard time again and how symptoms were bad and there was just nothing they could do and it was so hard. They started going on about how helpless they were and how there was no opportunity to get better and everything was just super hard and impossible for them and how rough they had it. Their family was checking in on them too much and they were annoyed at them for being concerned and that they had no options and no chance and everything was just so hard and impossible.  

I understand, that's depression. I'm pretty empathetic and understanding and have been up to this point but it just felt like the rich person complaining to the homeless guy sleeping on the street, how awful it was they forgot their umbrella that day, and how unfortunate it was to be getting wet. I just wanted to scream. If you're anxious take your benzos, take your other meds! Call your aunt. Text your on call therapist. Call your fancy psych who answers night and day. Utilize any of the resources you have and all the support you are given!    

I was just tired of it. Things in my life have been super difficult, especially lately, and I have to figure it out alone. The voices were getting loud again which lead to a bad relapse that went off the rails, which I had to pull out of completely unassisted. I am in between jobs, my housing isn't stable, my bank accounts are low, my mental health is chronic and very severe, my treatment team was threatening to section me if I didn't reel it in. Things were bad. But I deal with it, alone.    

I know it was wrong of me, but I couldn't take it. They have everything to help themselves!!! They could go to a fancy hospital, they could ask all their supports for help! They would receive the best care. All the medicines, the best treatment. Anything.  

I basically kind of spelled it out for them. You have privilege, you have support, you have money, resources, a great treatment team, family, everything... please for the love of God, USE IT! You wouldn't have to worry about losing your job going into treatment, you wouldn't lose your housing. You wouldn't have to worry about falling behind on bills. You'd be fine.  

How can you not see or appreciate all you have and or see how oblivious and privileged you come across and how hurtful that is? You're complaining to the wrong person.

I went on a bit too long. I was definitely coming from a place of hurt, mental illness, and jealousy. I wasn't trying to make them feel bad, I just wanted them to understand. That kind of support would make all the difference for so many that are struggling. They are sitting with gallons of water around them, complaining to be inconsolably parched and that don't know what to do, all while sort of offhandedly bragging about how much water they have and how they can easily get more. I've been carefully conserving a 16 oz Poland spring bottle, rationing for weeks not knowing if/when I will be able to refill. They aren't alone, expected to make it on just disability. They weren't recognizing their position, how they were coming across, how hurtful that was. I didn't get anyone to catch me, love me, support me. This is the real reality of living with extreme mental illness on disability looks like without that opportunity or support. This is hard fucking work. We are not the same. You got lucky. Now do something with it.

They ended up calling me a dick, saying I didn't understand, that I was being cruel and mean for no reason. We haven't talked since. I do feel bad, I just couldn't take it anymore.  

So if you made it this far, lay it on me, AITA?      

[werezmastarbucks]

Whitmore Guy - Martha

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

Kai Parker x fem!Reader slowburn

whatever gifs I’m going to use on this one, I hope the creators are okay with that

word count: 3612

warnings: none

music: offspring - the kids aren’t alright, blink-182 - home is such a lonely place

Y/N was staring at him without realizing it. If only she knew how easy it was, she would be horrified. She would have goosebumps all the way from her pretty head to her little toes, and she would form a perfect line on her mouth as she clenched her teeth so hard it hurt her canines. The beauty of oblivion is that you’re… oblivious. He couldn’t really figure if the feeling of almost grasping, almost realizing, almost suffering, was good on her or not. He hoped he would find out soon enough to manage to fix her if anything. Just the way she’d fixed him.

Y/N’s been staring at Mal, whose last name, as she learnt from his file, which inevitable went through her, as she was the college filing dumpster, - Osbourne. How cool is that? his eyes said to her when she looked up to nod with amazement. Mal Osbourne, the IT guy at Whitmore. He joked that Hoppus was too rare, and Swayze made him feel sad, so he chose Osbourne. Turned out he changed his name when he got of age, because he hated his family or something like that. That was the only thing he was uneasy to talk about. Mal didn’t say what his family name was before, and she didn’t press. She was still torn between investigating and being painfully disinterested in other people’s drama.

Mal was biting his lower lip busily as he punched the vending machine again. The soda can got stuck in between the springs and the glass, and he turned, flustered, to give her a look. Y/N shook her head in empathy. They shared passion for Dr Pepper, and this one can has been stuck there for the whole morning. It being Wednesday, an official mid-day of the week when you’re already tired, but not tired enough to give up completely, they invented the watch. Every fifteen minutes one of them was visiting this very vending machine to see if the can has fallen through yet. She was replacing him now, and Mal welcomed her with a grunt.

“Can’t believe not a single person came and tried to get it out”.

“Maybe they know”, Y/N examined the lit insides of the machine. Dr Pepper was tightly propped against the glass, its dark red tin can dented a little.

“How the fuck did she even get in there…” Mal muttered under his breath. She could not believe this grown man’s dedication to a tin can. “I mean, what’s the story behind it? Why did you do this to me, Y/N? It’s almost two in the afternoon, and all I’ve been thinking about today is this goddamn Dr Pepper”.

She bumped her fist on the machine really hard, and somebody jumped while passing them. A couple of concerned glances shot at their backs.

“It moved!” he almost yelled. “Bang it, and I’m gonna shake it”.

So, they assaulted the vending machine, putting a stop to their patient watch that lasted for nearly five hours. Her hand was sore pretty soon, from the bumping, but as Mal leaned back and shook the monstrous machine, all the items came into movement. A couple of packs of crisps fell out of the slots.

“Bonus points!” Mal shrilled. Dr Pepper was almost out.

Y/N puffed.

“Now, you bang, and I’ll shake”.

“That’s what she said”, Mal replied knowingly, letting her swap places with him.

Their hard work paid off, and in couple of minutes they were running heads first into the basement, hands full of crisps and soda. And that was Wednesday.

Thursday was long and tedious, because a second year student has broken her leg AND lost the keys from her car all in the same evening, and she had a mental breakdown. The hospital seemed to have a problem finding her insurance, and the insurance company refused to pay for the services of the guys who came to open her car for her and accidentally took of one of the doors; Professor Atkins, teacher of chemistry which the girl was specializing in, refused to believe the whole story although t was blatantly true, in spite of being utterly stupid; Y/N was running like a remote control car with five wheels between the insurance office, hospital and college; at six in the evening she realized it was already the twenty-fifth of May, and she still didn’t have a plan for Caroline’s party. At six forty-five she was crying in her office, her head in her hands, but her tears were not tears of a defeated person. She was very angry and couldn’t scream so she just sobbed all the nonsense away. She really hated Thursdays in general, too.

At six fifty there was a knock on her door, and she moaned, sensing, rather like an animal, that her salvation and relief has come.

“Dude”, she howled. Mal’s head penetrated the space of her office.

“If I’d known you’re falling apart, I would’ve brought a gun, not a coffee”, he said in his ever joyful voice, full of undetectable mockery.

He slid into the armchair and watched Y/N as she grabbed the cup and started drinking.

“Don’t choke. You called me, m’fair lady? What’s up with the party I never heard of?”

She nodded.

“Exactly. I forgot about this party like four times. I need you to help me. You never seem to go home or have personal life, so”.

Mal pouted, as if admitting the heavy truth.

“IT sphere… you know, it’s a lot of work. All the buttons that don’t glow… and the websites that have been blocked… deleted reports”, he scowled, “are the worst. So much pain and suffering in this place, it’s unbearable. I crack every day, too”.

He looked at Y/N almost tenderly. These looks usually made her question her sanity. Sometimes it felt like he was Alex, the name, the tattoo on her right forearm in thick, black letters. She took two more big sips and decided solid that she’d tell Mal about him. Share that and see how he feels about that. Mal’s been nothing but great help these last weeks, and they bonded, and Y/N realized that part of her nervous strain was due to this new mysterious character, almost a time bomb, smirking at her kindly across the table they lunched at. But at least that was positive hysterical energy.

“I kind of accused you of lying about having a girl, Mal. Just now”.

He gasped. His ringed fingers interlocked together on his stomach. He put up his foot which indicated he was getting comfortable, as if to listen to a story.

“Ah. You meant that. That I can help you with the party you irresponsibly forgot about four times, because I don’t have anything better to do anyway, because I don’t have a girlfriend I’d claimed I had”.

She just nodded, sucking on her coffee like a thirst victim.

“That’s a… that’s a very sad story”, he scratched his right brow as his eyes shot somewhere above her ear, out of the window. He was daydreaming. His glance was calm, while his body started saying he was nervous.

“And you already seem pretty sad, so…”

“Go on. Distract me, please. And I’ll tell you a sad story, too. Let’s see who’s gonna kick ass in being sadder”.

Mal shuddered with a light burst of laughter. This, too. His sudden flashes of humor, when he laughed at things people usually don’t laugh at. And still, he was seemingly worth it.

“Okay. So, I dated this girl, Martha Hopps”.

“Martha Hoppus?”

He let out a clattering sound he made with his tongue that Y/N couldn’t understand the physics of.

“No, her last name is Hopps. She uh… moved to Mystic Falls. That’s kind of why I came here. I tried to land a job in the town, but nobody needed an IT specialist there, so I went for the closest place, which is”, he motioned towards Y/N as if suggesting her own office.

“You said, dated?”

“Yeah. But, I mean, I’m still in love with her. Obviously, otherwise, I wouldn’t be here”.

There was a change in Mal. Just as he started talking about the girl, his eyes went down, and Y/N couldn’t see the dark pupils anymore. His hands were rubbing each other, patting fingers, and he tilted his head. Y/N unintentionally felt her long-abandoned maternal instinct, kicking its way through her stomach like a crazed lion riding a tractor – for in front of her there sat a boy. His forehead was marked with three distinct, and somehow cute, sharp kisses of puberty; his skin was in need of sunlight, pale like milk, but soft; his boyish demeanor, the shirt with Van Halen logo, and a tacky bracelet on his left wrist – all that was a part of his pattern. He was suddenly fragile, like a petal.

“Her family… uh, they decided that I wasn’t worth her”, Mal looked up bravely, and Y/N withstood it.  

“They separated us. Even before I could actually… you know, lay off my plans for the future, marrying and stuff maybe, you know?”

“What do you mean – separated?”

“Well, they brainwashed her big time. Her family together with friends, they are all kind of… religious fanatics”.

“Wait, Hopps, you say? Mystic Falls is a small town, I think I would remember a family of fanatics…”

She shuddered at the memory of that insane coven that was raging in the town five years ago. She couldn’t actually remember how they dealt with them; only that those were first class supernatural terrorists, witches bound on idea to kill all ‘abominations’ and release humans of Mystic Falls…

Mal shrugged indifferently.

“They moved in recently. I followed them. We met in uh, Ohio, that’s where I come from. Her father was like, you’re toxic to her. We wish you were never born. Whoosh. Next thing I know, she doesn’t talk to me. At first it’s like, Mal, I question your beliefs. Then, Mal, I think you’re cheating on me. I’m like, who told you that? Stupid, you’re the woman of my whole century. She’s like, my family knows. She…” he sucked the air through his teeth, “I think she loved me less that I loved her, you know? Sometimes it happens. She had to choose, and she chose them. Plus, there was so much whispering along the way, Jesus. The things they were telling her about me”.

Y/N felt she was swaying while sitting in her chair.

“God, why would they do that? You’re so cute”.

“I know, right?!” he exclaimed, feeling the connection. “It’s a case of… I suppose… loathing out of principle. I did one…” he licked his lips, staring absently through her desk. His finger froze in the air indicating the number One. “Maybe two bad things, and they’re like, that’s it! You’re going down, we’re going away, you’ll never see her again”.

Caffeine started to kick in, and Y/N found herself fixing her hair in abrupt movements.

“Well? And then?”

“And then they cut us in two”.

They both paused for a moment.

“What two bad things did you do?”

Mal sighed.

“I mean, no one’s perfect, right?”

“Oh god”, Y/N slapped the surface of her desk as the poisonous realization started to crawl into her brain. “Oh god, please, no. Please, Mal, tell me you’re not an obsessive psycho who’s been stalking a girl and beating people and saw nothing wrong with it”.

“Oh my god”, his pretty face grimaced, “Jesus, Y/N, I meant I stole her dad’s car once, and then I lied about my age! What… what kind of people do you hang out with?”

She wondered if he was having fun inside. This man, this pretty picture, was ineffable. He seemed to be saying exactly the kinds of things she wanted to hear. People, a wise man once said, were way worse than monsters. Monsters, beasts of the night, have a purpose. They have a code. People, on the other hand, are completely crazy.

“But you do look like a… like there’s a little doorbell in your head that goes off constantly… like you kill pets for fun…”

Mal stood up, lifting himself with both hands.

“Screw you, Y/N”.

She jumped.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Mal”, she ran around her desk, trying to catch him as he walked out of her office. She clutched the hem of his shirt and scratched the skin on his shoulder with her nails by accident. Mal hissed in pain, but stopped. She had that weird sensation again, like a light zip coming through her body when she touched him. It wasn’t painful, didn’t bother her, but it was curious. That happened for the second time already, but they’ve been contacting hand to hand for weeks now. Passing each other things, patting on the shoulder, shaking hands in sealing the deals about cans of sodas…

He looked at Y/N like she was betraying all the laws in the world. His eyes were beaming warnings, but deep inside, there was also this frail shade of cold that unnerved her way more. She couldn’t tell if she believed even a single word he said. The guy often acted like a sociopath. His sudden outbursts of laughter, his trust in her that was childish if not alarming, and these stories. And yet, she wouldn’t let go of his shirt, until he shrugged her hand of, though, thankfully, pretty gently.

“You don’t believe me. You think I’m making this all up”.

“That’s exactly what a manipulator would say”, she blurted, and grabbed him by the fabric of his shirt again, just in case. The knuckles of her fingers perceived the warmth of his body. “Prove she exists, and I’ll get on board with you, and I’ll do anything to help you get Marta Hoppus back”.

“Hopps”.

“Right”.

“Bringing you coffee was a mistake. Your eyes a rolling”.

Mal stepped away and took out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans.

“I meant to delete all, but I kept one picture of us, just in case”.

He stalled for a second before giving her the phone, like he was afraid to entrust her a treasure he’s been keeping. Y/N looked at the screen and saw Mal, smiling like he was a normal, happy guy, with a young girlfriend in his arms. He held her tight, with both arms. They took a picture in a big mirror, somewhere at a mall. She was kissing his cheek while managing to look in the mirror, too, and Y/N could see her face.

No, she’s never met that person, but the photograph was it.

“It was taken last year”, Mal said, as if reading her mind, “in Seattle. We were travelling”.

“I’m from Seattle”, Y/N said, absently.

She’s just realized she hadn’t been afraid Martha Hopps was not real; she had hoped for that.

“Dude”, she gave his phone back to him. Mal was watching her carefully. “If you love her, you have to fight. But I still can’t grasp the whole idea of them moving her from Ohio to… here”.

He scratched his head and gave the empty corridor a wandering look.

“Well, I’ve… you said yourself I’m a sophisticated guy…”

“I never said you were sophisticated, I said you’re weird”.

“Same thing. I may have a thing”.

“What thing?” she narrowed her eyes.

“I may have been diagnosed with ASPD back in the day”.

“I knew it!” her triumphant shriek was so sudden, Y/N dumbfounded herself a little.

“To be honest, I’m impressed you detected me in, like, twenty days”, Mal nodded, “people usually only see what the want to see”.

“I have a thing for serial killers”, she brushed it off with her hand, ignoring Mal’s fainting smile.

“Oh, Y/N, why does it always have to be that extreme with you. This guy never killed anybody, ever, in his life”.

“What will you do with her family when you get to her?”

Mal shrugged.

“I already got to her. I found her. I guess now you can call me a stalker. I don’t do creepy stuff”, he added, before she could open her mouth, “but she still doesn’t know her ex-boyfriend is here. Wanting to get her back very much. I don’t know. What would you do to people who took away the love of your life from you? Deceiving you both in the process?”

Mal was the kind of person you could tell practically anything. The man could take a joke and keep a secret. Now, though, as she started seeing him as a person with pretence instead feelings, that was all presented in slightly different light. Him being friendly to everybody, charming people the second he saw them, was his mechanism of infiltrating the community. Him sticking with Y/N and befriending her at first sight may have been his method of imitating social life and learn to cope. Even use her, maybe. He’s been living here for some time, with virtually no interest for the place itself, with the sole reason to be close to Martha Hopps; and he treated the whole IT thing like a joke. He was indisputably good at what he was doing; Y/N could see him run across these halls all day long, without a tired sigh; but this perfection in his performance was what must make one suspicious. He always ate at the same time, every day, and understood every joke and said all the right things.

The look he was giving her said cold. His brain was derived of emotion, and to think that this person could be loving someone was close to fantasizing. Y/N recalled the boy in her armchair, minutes earlier, hurt by the memories.

“I would tear them apart”, Y/N said. “If somebody took away the thing I love the most, I would tear them apart, limb from limb. But they’re her family, Mal”.

“So?”

“So, there are, you know, types of people to kill…”

His eyes narrowed.

“Wait. You’re talking seriously now? About tearing them apart?”

“God, well, I’m telling you the one hundred percent. Of course, in reality, you do less. But anyway, there are different types of close people. You can get away with separating your loved one from one type, but not from another”.

“I don’t get it”.

They started walking slowly down the corridor. Y/N couldn’t really tell where they’re going until she saw a vending machine prepped against the wall, and noticed Mal slide his hand into his pocket. He was hungry again.

“Say, you come to their house where they live now, and you choke them all. Theoretically. You don’t really have a right to choke people”.

“I know that, Y/N. I’m a bit sociopathic, much better than I used to be, by the way. It’s far from spree killing”.

“Yes, well, and what then? Where do you go from there? She may still love you, say, you talk everything out, and she realized that they had tricked her into breaking up with you. But even if you move on, go to another state, buy a house and live there, get married. You’ll always be the guy who killed her family”.

He stood at the machine, looking at the rows of packs. His face was highlighted by the pale light from the inside of the glass. Outside, the sky took on an orange shade of the closing sunset. She won’t get to it once again.

“And you think that’s fair. That you should just let it slide, all the things they out of hatred. You know, I’ve had a lot of that when I was a kid. I was always the bad child in the family”.

He put the coin in and pushed a button. Y/N couldn’t even watch the string spinning slowly, she was focused on Mal and what he does next. The cold shiver of realization went through her body. If he’s violent; if he’s aggressive; if he’s pretending to be her friend, all this trauma right now may make him act out. And Damon just won’t manage to run in here on time. She didn’t even have a pencil with her in case she had to protect herself. Y/N looked at his hands, lean, strong and pale, fingers, long and dexterous. Mal always touched and held things sturdily, to make sure they won’t escape his grasp. He never dropped anything and never made mistakes.

“You? You’re the bad child?”

“Uh-huh, I had this sister, she wa- she’s my twin. I say ‘was’ usually, because I haven’t spoken to her in years. She was better at everything. Better at school, at doing the chores, at turning on the TV, talking to people, understanding things. Feeling things. She was the good one, and I was always the defective brother”.

“Don’t say that”, Y/N snapped. Mal looked at her, surprised, and then squatted a little to get his pack of chips out.

“You know they were wrong, right? You’re a big guy now, you’re an adult. You must understand why adults do all that. You’re spared of fear they must have experienced”.

“That’s a good point. But it doesn’t help to know that. I still have hard time dealing with… crazy families. We’re going to the basement?”

“Why?”

“I have my speakers there, and we can make a playlist”.

“Right”.

Walking past the windows, they looked outside, at the orange sky.

“Tomorrow’s gonna rain”, Mal said. He tore the pack open with a loud rustling. “You want some?”

Y/N looked inside.

“I’m gonna puke if I put anything else in my mouth today”.

“That’s what she said”, Mal commented gravely.

[realm-sweet-realm]

Early Ink Hell, chapter 1- Imprisonment

Susie woke up to the sound of Bendyland workers milling one floor above her. She was curled up on the cold, iron floor, right under the heat vent to stay warm. Taking to the same morning routine as always, she put another hatch mark into her diary- 528 now- and checked the elevator doors. As always, they were still locked. There wouldn't be much to do until the residents of the cages that lined the walls woke up and she'd have someone to talk to.

Susie knew why she was imprisoned, and it wasn't just because of her transformation. Everyone had been just fine with her appearance in the months she'd spent acquiring fame for her concerts, in which she performed as the one and only Alice Angel. It's not as though she were some circus animal slave either- she could go home at night, do everything she'd used to, go dancing with her friends and have them ask what had happened as if she'd ever tell, and generally live her life- albeit with constant eyes on her for her cartoonish appearance. Living in a body made of ink had its problems, yes, but they were physical and mental problems, not social ones.

No. The reason she was imprisoned was because she'd nearly killed Allison.

Ever since her transformation, Susie had shared her mind with another. It was hard to describe without making it sound metaphorical- a little voice inside her telling her to act on her worst impulses, becoming stronger, fighting for dominance. The demon had told Susie to kill many different people at some point or another- Sammy and Joey, who had killed her, random men who had harassed her on the street, even herself when she was getting down on herself for allowing this transformation to happen to her. Sometimes, it was hard to separate the demon from her own thoughts. One day, it took control, and Allison had just happened to be nearest.

It felt just like losing control due to emotion. She'd clawed Allison across the face in the plain view of the recording studio, grabbed her by the nose, and bashed her head against the nearby wall multiple times, torn her hair out, and was ready to start bashing her face in when she'd been torn off of Allison by the men of the department.

The whole thing couldn't have lasted more than thirty seconds. Susie might have mistaken it as her having a mental breakdown if not for what had happened next. As the men had attempted to hand her off to some GENT workers who would have known what to do with her, she broke free using a twisting move that she would never have known how to do and ran off, screaming at them in a twisted, demonic voice that they shouldn't dare mess with an angel. That had not been her voice.

Susie had been caught, though, and brought deep underground to this prison, where she'd been locked in an iron cage. There were other ink creatures near her- butcher gang members and Boris clones, mostly. There had been two items in her hand- her diary, which she'd just happened to be carrying with her, and the vast majority of Allison's chestnut hair. She-or the demon, rather, since the action made her want to wretch- arranged the hair and massaged it into the ends of her own, so she was wearing it like hair extensions. If only I had a mirror, the other presence said, I bet it looks just perfect. Perfect, like you never could be. I'm going to beat you, Susie replied to it. We have nothing but time, now. Best of luck. You're weak. You're fragile. You'll never have control of this body again. As though to prove it, the presence moved Susie's fingers through its long hair.

Susie fought hard for control of her body that day. It was like having an emotionally exhausting argument. The lights were out before she finally wrestled control out of the demon's hands. She woke up the next morning out of control again, but she fought herself into control, and quicker this time. Now that she had both control and light, she could write in her diary. It was a good way to keep the demon's fighting and screaming off her mind.

---

Day 4

Well, Actually this is day 6, but it was really dark on days 4 and 5 since it was the weekend. I couldn't write because the only light in the place were a couple of flashlights that a few ink creatures in other cages were toying with. I don't think I've mentioned it before, but there are other items in some of the cages, too- Boris clones chewing on baseballs like sad dogs in a shelter, butcher gang members playing cards. I wondered where on earth the stuff came from before day 4.

On day 4, Thomas Connor came to visit us. That isn't a joke. Allison's husband- the one I'd met a couple times while hanging out at her house- came down here, turned the lights on, and went down the rows letting most of the Boris clones- who had, siince before he even entered, been wagging their tails and even barking if that's something they could do- and some of the butcher gang members- who had also been chattering happily about his arrival- out of their cages. I supposed that I should have been shocked that he knew about the ink creatures, but he always did seem troubled. Now I guess I see why! Then I realized that I put his girlfriend in the hospital, she's probably still there, and her hair is sticking out of Alice's like I'm some kind of hideous vain sorceress with hair extensions. As an aside, can I just say that my other half did not plan this one out well? Allison's hair was outstanding when she ripped it out, but now it's matted and oozing with greasy ink from me sleeping on the ink-stained floor of this cage and having no way to clean or brush it. Thanks, you brilliant demon. Now it's morally and physically repugnant.

Anyhow, I realized that Thomas wouldn't be happy to see me, and so before he came to my cage, I tucked Allison's hair over my shoulder and turned to face the wall as he got closer, hoping he wouldn't recognize me. I think he did, though- I peeked over my shoulder, and he was giving me a dirty look.

After he'd released all the ink creatures he'd wanted to, he basically let them wander around the area to socialize and stretch their legs. He even threw tennis balls for some of the Borises. At one point, a Barley seemed to lose control of himself, latched himself onto a Boris' leg, and bit into it, making it squeal. Thomas had to rush over, take him by the arms, and drag it kicking and garbling to its cage. He said something to the effect of "why do I still let out these toon-dominant Barleys."

Toon dominant? I wish I could figure out what that means.

I don't know how long all of this went on for-an hour, maybe- but at a certain point, Thomas looked down at his watch and then started loading the toons back into their cages. Once again, I looked away while he passed me. I don't know why, but this time I decided to speak up.

"Can I have a flashlight?"

"What did you say?" Thomas growled, approaching me.

"A flashlight. You see, every time I go to sleep, this demon who lives in my head tries to take over again. But, as an ink creature, I don't need to sleep. If you could just give me a flashlight like you gave to some of the others, I could shine it in my face to stay up when it's dark. Please- I don't know how else I'm going to beat this thing!" The last part was a lie. It was all lies, really. Sleep is pretty much the only time I don't have to deal with her. But I was giving him my best pitiful look, and it must have worked, because I could tell he was melting.

"How do I know this is Susie talking and not the demon you're talking about?" he asked, but he asked it gently.

"Does it matter? What's the harm in giving her a flashlight? What could she do with it?"

Uncertainty clouded Thomas' features. "You have a point. Now, look- I don't have a flashlight on me, but I think there's a spare one upstairs. I'll go get it for you. Why don't I grab some scissors and cut off that hair, too?"

I got the sense he was testing me- surely the demon wouldn't have wanted it removed. Easy test to pass. "Thank you. I don't need the reminder of what she- I- whatever- you know what I mean."

A few minutes later he was back. he started by just trying to cut it through the bars of the cage, but it didn't work too well, so before long I was out of my cage for the first time, letting him cut my hair.

"So, how did you start coming down here?" I asked.

"A couple weeks ago out of two kinds of guilt. For one, guilt about being a part of this. For another, guilt because Allison is always helping out with something this time of the week, and I thought I ought to be, too. And I can't think of anyone who better needs some help than these ink creatures. I don't know how they're made and I don't want to so don't tell me, but still. You all could use a break. Usually I bring some cookies, too, but Allison wasn't around to bake them and I forgot to unfreeze the frozen ones."

"That's really sweet of you. Is Allison okay?"

"Oh, she'll be fine. No brain damage, thank God. A few broken bones. And she'll be wearing a wig over her mess of a scalp for weeks. She's fine with that, though. Wants to try platinum blonde."

"Oh? That'll look so nice on her! And I'm so glad she's okay."

"Yeah. Well, you're done," he said, cutting the last bits of Allison's hair out. "Back into your cage." I obeyed. He's a strong, quick man- I don't think I could have made a freedom dash if I wanted to. Still, I think it's good that I made an ally. Who knows? Maybe one day he'll let us out of here.

---

Day 8

Today, Sammy and Joey came to visit. I knew something was up before they even arrived because everyone had gone dead silent, save for the whining of the two Boris clones who can vocalize. The air was filled with paralyzing dread. By the end of their visit, I knew why.

[gvbejvmes]

Drabble: K-I-S-S-I-N-G (Pt 3)

Title: K-I-S-S-I-N-G -- The sad ending Rating: R (For language mostly) Relationship: Gabriel James/Jonathan Michaels (Trigger) Warnings: Mpreg, referenced spousal abuse, alcohol abuse, major character death, parents have sex lives, too. Brief Summary:  First comes marriage. Then comes love. Then comes a baby in a male uterus. Wait. What? Notes: This was the depressing ending that I wanted to write, but also that I didn’t want to be the real ending.

"Has he come out at all?" Kale murmured out to Cesar. He was sitting in the living room of the James-Michaels home, baby Gigi asleep against his chest. As terrified as he'd been about suddenly having a friend with kids, Gigi had immediately warmed up to him. Now the other child, the toddler, that was a whole other story. He couldn't handle the brat that was Gabe's godson, but the baby he could handle, surprisingly.

Cesar shook his head. "Not really. Rocio leaves food outside and it keeps disappearing so he's eating, but the only time we really see him is when he runs out of whiskey. He hasn't touched the baby at all. He didn't react when he told him we named her Gigi because they wouldn’t let her leave the hospital until she had a name. So Gigi Maria - after his mother, not my wife, don’t let her tell you otherwise - Palmer James Michaels. Had to get his family names in there, and only white people hyphenate." He sighed, and rubbed his hands over his face as though that would help him get back on track. "He's in mourning. He let Mama plan a Catholic service. If that's not a sign, he's not okay, I don't know what is."

Kale nodded. "It's only been a week. No one prepares for losing the love of their life after only two years of marriage." He stood and gently moved the baby into the carrier next to the couch. "What are we going to do about it?"

"What do you mean what are we going to do about it?" Cesar asked him warily.

Kale waved his arms around the room. "The funeral is tomorrow, and at this rate, he's not going to go. He's going to drink himself into a stupor, and if he does show up, he’s gonna make a drunken idiot of himself and cause a scene in front of hundreds of artists. Do you know what artists do? Record everything." He rubbed his hands together. "We need to think like Gabriel. WWGD?"

"What would God do?"

"No." Kale smacked his arm. "What would Gabriel do?"

There was an awkward cough from the other end of the living room. Lupe and Alejandra popped up from where they had been hiding behind the couch eavesdropping. "If Uncle Gabe gave us instructions on what to do if this happened, would this be the time to initiate plan Kick Jay's Ass?" Alejandra asked, raising an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips.

Kale rolled his eyes. "Yesterday would have been a good time for plan Kick Jay's Ass, ladies." He gestured towards them. "Well, do your thing. Whatever Gabe told you to do."

Lupe nodded. "Tio Cesar, you might wanna take Gigi outside for a couple of minutes. It's about to get loud up in here." And the way she said it almost made her look like an evil mastermind.

Cesar looked at his nieces and looked at Kale before making the sign of the cross. "I hope you know what you're doing." He asked, head tilted up, towards the ceiling, talking to Gabe, before picking up the carrier and smacking his hand on his thigh. 

"C'mon, George." He called out to the dog, who was at his new permanent place, laying at the door, waiting for his master to come home. At night he always slept next to the baby, but during the day he was always waiting for Gabe. "Time to go outside."

Once Cesar, Gigi, and George were outside, the girls ran into the kitchen. They came back five minutes later with their grandmother. Alejandra held a bucket of water, Lupe held what look like a gong, and Mama Rodriguez held a burning bundle of sage. "Go to the nursery in five minutes." Alejandra instructed, and with that the girls were gone.

The nursery had been a point of contention since Gigi had come home. The door was locked, and the last person who had been in it was Gabe, which was probably why no one had gone in there since. Johnny refused to go anywhere near the nursery. Just like he refused to hold the baby. For all of Kale's teasing, the entire situation broke his heart. He'd already lost his best friend; now he was watching his best friend's husband have a breakdown. It was hard.

Suddenly the oppressive quiet that had become the James-Michaels house was replaced by the sound of the gong, followed by loud cursing, followed by what sounded like a person being rolled off a bed. At that moment, Kale was glad he was on the good side of the Rodriguez women.

Remembering his instructions, he went up to the nursery in time to see Johnny standing in front of the door, very much looking like he'd been drinking for a week straight. He also looked like the bucket of water had been poured over his head. And he smelled strongly of sage.

"You ready to do this, handsome?" Kale asked, nodding to the door.

Johnny made a face. "No."

Alejandra gave Johnny a light shove. "Well, tough titty. You promised Uncle Gabe. Now get in there." She pushed him again when he didn't immediately jump to.

Slowly Johnny unlocked the door, and walked inside, only to freeze in the center of the room. Kale followed him into the room, and immediately understood why Johnny had stopped. Stepping into the nursery was like stepping into one of Gabe's installations. The entire room looked like Wonderland. Each wall depicted a different scene from the animated cartoon, or at least inspired by a scene from the movie. It made Kale sick, seeing the type of creation the art world was going to miss out on now, the legacy Gabriel James would have had. 

One wall had a table painted onto it that looked like it stretched into infinity, hundreds of cups, saucers, and teapots stacked precariously on the table, and on the plush green grass next to it. Kale's hand traced the wall, finding that the textures even looked different. The tea cups had been covered with epoxy resin, and looked real.

The wall with the windows that looked out into the backyard had been painted to look like the forest Alice got lost in. The flowers climbed the walls, and surrounded the windows. They didn't look like the bad acid trip Kale remembered them being. They looked... happy, kind, approachable.

On the wall in front of the crib (which was looked like it was made out of gold, but was actually wood), he'd painted the Queen of Heart's garden, croquet court and all. Half the roses were white, and half the roses were red. And the thing that got Kale the most was that there were no characters drawn, but he knew exactly where he was. It was all the good parts of Wonderland with none of the bad.

The room also had a book case painted with playing cards all over it. There was a changing table that looked like a house. Kale hadn't seen the move in awhile, but he figured it was the house Alice must had overgrown when she grew too big. There was a toy chest with hundreds of pocket watches embedded inside and epoxied over, and a changing table painted in the scheme of Alice's dress, little frills on the edges to add to the theme.

Gabe must have been working on the room since the moment he found out he was pregnant. There had to be at least 200 hours of work put into this room. This was not a quick project. He had to have planned, and plotted, and designed exactly how he wanted everything laid out. He’d built his daughter a living piece of art to grow up in -- a guaranteed way that her Daddy would always be in her life. Even if he wasn’t there physically.

Johnny made a pained sound, and Kale turned to find him collapsing into a rocking chair. It looked like a standard rocking chair. Nothing that made Kale understand why he reacted the way he did. Sure, it was beautiful. Gabe’s piece tended to be beautiful. Then, he saw what Johnny must have seen. The rocking chair was nestled under the large tree Alice fell asleep under. The whole wall the door was on actually looked like the opening scene of the cartoon, a gorgeous tree next to a babbling brook. From the chair, was the perfect view of a Cheshire moon. Below the moon and in Gabe's loopy cursive were the words: I love you always.

"That's how he always signed his letters to you, isn't it?" Kale asked, sitting on the ground next to Johnny. When the other man nodded, Kale nodded, too. "Jonathan," He pressed his hands together as he tried to figure out how to phrase this. "The last time I talked to Gabriel he told me I needed to remind you of your promise."

It was quiet for a long moment before Johnny pulled himself to his feet. "Where's the baby?" And with that he was out of the room.

Kale slowly got up and followed him downstairs to the patio. By the time he made it to Cesar, Johnny was holding Gigi. It was the first time he'd held the baby of his own free will. "I need to show you what your Daddy made for you." Johnny murmured out softly.

Before Johnny could go into the house, Kale grabbed his arm. "Are you okay?" He asked, feeling Cesar's eyes on him, too.

"No, but I made a promise to my husband."

Kale smiled softly. "I think we all did."