#or brain cancer but like. nah

[martyrbat]

girl help i think i have an ear infection :(

[kakyogay]

almost home :(

also some doodles :D

[audiovideodisco]

One for me, two for you.

Where you are a doctor in House’s diagnostic team in the early seasons, and

are having a bad pain day.

CW: drug use/ opioids/ chronic pain and conditions/ self medicating (if you squint)/ could this be angst? i have no idea/ mild suggestive joke/ cancer talk & medical jargon

word count: 921

requested?: no

sfw?: yes

ship: n/a

characteristics: n/a

You trudge into Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital with a face that would make anyone with a brain run for the hills.

It had been a rough night for you. The pain in your body being worse than usual, and your meds weren’t helping, so you barely slept.

You suppress your winces and ignore the pain as you usually do, hiding it from others, but that doesn’t stop it from making you radiate an energy that makes everyone around you know you were not to be messed with. You normally radiated this energy anyway, but not just due to pain, also due to your ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude you had developed over the years.

You walk into the DDX office, dumping your stuff down next to you and putting your extraordinarily caffeinated drink down on the table a little harder than you’d like. Cameron, Chase and Foreman glance between themselves, Cameron going to ask something, when House opens the door connecting his office to the DDX office. He walks in with his three point tap bouncing unpleasantly around your head. You feel his eyes analysing you as he walks to the other end of the table, but hide your surprise when he doesn’t say anything.

“Wilson’s got a cancer patient in remission with all her symptoms back. But no cancer. I’ve already considered the fact that he could have been an idiot and missed it, but she’s definitely cancer free. Differential Diagnosis for hair loss, stomach pain, low white count and vomiting that’s not cancer. Go.”

The other doctors look at each other again before offering suggestions.

“Alcohol withdrawals?” Chase says, as Foreman immediately shuts him down,

“No, doesn’t explain the hair loss or low white count.”

“That- and the facts she’s 14.” House says with a smug look on his face, causing you to scowl at him a bit. He catches it, but ignores it.

Cameron rolls her eyes,

“How about Pancreatitis?”

You pipe up before House can make another shitty comment, your voice sharp,

“No fever. It’s late onset radiation side effects.”

House’s eyes squint as he considers what you said, then you see his look change to one with a flicker of something you couldn’t place. Was he impressed? Nah, probably just scheming again.

“Go, Foreman and Chase go talk to Wilson to see when her last radiation was and the details. Cameron, get a better medical history.” House says, turning to go back to his office.

“What about me?” You ask, unable to hide the confusion in your face, brows furrowed slightly.

“You should be following me. Thought that was obvious.”

“If it was obvious, I wouldn’t have asked.”

The other three fellows walk out the DDX office slowly, worried looks on their features as they have a silent conversation with looks between them. They disperse as you go into House’s office, leaving you standing by the door, looking at your boss who was sat at his desk, throwing his giant tennis ball between his hands.

“Sit. Or are you a masochist? Didn’t take you for someone that’s-“

“What the hell is this, House?” you stop him, biting back with much less effort to keep your words palatable.

House raises an eyebrow and stops throwing the ball around, turning to sit forward and lean his elbows on the table. He looks at you, pondering for a minute, and then gestures at the chair, which you sit in after a moment. He considers you again, watching as your brow furrows a little tighter as he does, holding up the facade so well. House was almost impressed, it’s a shame I can see right through that mask you’re putting up, he thought to himself. He pulls his vicodin from his pocket, pouring two into his palm, and you watch him, expecting him to swallow them dry in front of you, but instead, he holds them out to you. You look at the pills in his hand, and then at him, and back again.

“Take them.” He says, his voice a little softer than usual, but not much.

“What- why are you giving me-?”

“You’re having a bad pain day. Probably the worst one you’ve had in a while.”

“How do you even-“ You knew you were more irritable today, which you cursed yourself for not being able to mask, but you hadn’t told anyone about your pain, let alone that it was chronic.

“Pain recognises pain. The vicodin will help.”

You take the pills tentatively, swallowing them with your drink.

“Uh… thanks… I-“ You start, not knowing what to say, but he cuts you off,

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone- I mean, I have discussed it with Wilson, he helped me figure out that you were in pain in the first place. He pays more attention.” You smile a little, nodding.

“Don’t suffer unnecessarily. I might be an ass, but I know what it’s like, being in pain all the time. I’m not a talker, but I am a drinker; if you want to forget or just- look, you can come to me anytime. Less lonely that way.” House mumble out, his last sentence being almost inaudible.

You nod and he passes you a piece of paper. It’s a scrip for vicodin.

“Go take blood from our patient. Want to make sure nothing has been missed in her blood.” You do as you’re asked, walking out his office and shoving the scrip in your pocket, feeling a little better as the vicodin begins to work, and a little less alone.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for basically gaslighting my dad?

My (20X) dad (late 40s M) was diagnosed with brain cancer after they found a golf ball sized tumor in his head. They operated to get it out. For a while he was doing good, recovering shockingly well. Then the radiation therapy and chemotherapy happened, and it definitely had an ill effect on him.

Except... That's not what my mom (late 40s F) and I say to him. Obviously whenever he brings up things like struggling more with coordination, losing his apetite, or being fatigued, we take note of it — it would be stupid not to. But to his face, we downplay it. Things like "you need to rest more and you'll feel better". Or telling him his coordination isn't any worse than last week (sometimes this is true, sometimes this isn't). Or he'll bring up "I was able to do [xyz] last month", and we'll act as though he was already struggling with it sooner than he actually was, just to make it seem like he's not getting a lot worse recently.

I know it's fucked up. I can't speak for my mom, but I'm doing it because I don't want to discourage him. He's obviously dying, brain cancer is terminal and the odds were never in his favour — but I don't want to speed it up by affirming his fears and reducing his will to live. Assisted dying is legal where I live, and even though I'd support him if he chose it, I don't want to have to.

I don't know. I feel like I'm justified, but at the same time, my dad has the right to decide if he wants to keep living. And it's definitely fucked up that we don't validate the symptoms he says he has (we will always accommodate for them, but we don't necessarily verbally acknowledge them). AITA?

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for getting revenge on my abusers?

For context, me and my sister are conjoined twins. (I'd be medically classified as a parasitic twin, to be specific. We share a brain and I'm just a face on the back of her head) Our mother didn't want us, and instead of giving us to an orphanage, she donated us to science. We spent our first several years in a lab, enduring intense experimentation. During this time, the way we were treated was vastly different. She was just a poor kid cursed with an affliction, while I was a monster. A mistake, a cancer. They poked and prodded at us, treated us like guinea pigs, put us through all sorts of tests, to figure out what was "wrong" with me and how to control me. They never ONCE asked me how I felt or what I wanted. I fought back of course, because the shit they were doing HURT and I was SCARED. I'll admit that I caused a lot of damage, people got hurt, but they had it coming. Who does that to a kid? Eventually they decided that trying to control me was too much work, and it was time to get rid of me. They couldn't fully remove me, since me and my sis are attached at the brain and all, but they removed as much as they safely could and pushed the rest into her skull & sealed it up. Soon after that the problem was deemed as fixed, and she was adopted out into a new family. I was mostly dormant, only able to talk to her in her head but unable to act. Years passed and eventually she forgot about me, fully integrating into her new, happy family I was inactive until our adulthood, early 20s. I was awoken when she took a blow to the head, and immediately I decided to get to work. When she slept, I would track down the doctors and scientists from our childhood and kill them one by one. Was it brutal? Yes. Gruesome? Of course. I don't regret a thing, though, they got what they fucking deserved Though, because nobody knows about me and we share a body, now the police are trying to blame my sister for the murders. (And because of the shared brain, she has a few memories of the murders and might be a little traumatized, or something) That was never my intention. I was doing this for her as much as it was for me, those people hurt her back then too. But she's super upset and freaked out, so idk. Did I maybe go too far? Was there some other way?

[duchessofostergotlands]

and thinks children cause their own cancers by not being happy enough.

Sorry he what? Nah there’s are levels to this, like what do you have for gray matter in your brain apart from shit. Such a disgusting human being and ML too, cuz explain me like in five how can you be with somebody who thinks that

Yep, you read it right. If you hate that you should google his views on "vaginal imprints."

I have a podcast where we've talked about Durek and Martha Louise a couple of times. This one is a general intro to their relationship and him as a person: Ep 26. And then we did one on an interview that ML gave where she talked about her beliefs and Durek's: Ep 55

I try to see the shades of grey in people but Durek is not a good dude. He knowingly makes a substantial living from exploiting the sick and vulnerable. Not to mention the strain of misogyny in his work and the accusations of violence against him. He's bad.

Martha Louise is a more nuanced character. She does have some exploitative parts of her work like her clairvoyance, but I do actually think that the kooky headlines have misled people a bit about her. She'll say she's doing a speaking tour with all this woo woo stuff - teaching women to connect with their inner spiritual powers - and then you go to it and it's purely a standard self help talk for women with generic stuff about being strong in your femininity. Nothing more intense than the narration for a yoghurt advert. So most of her views are not that bonkers - especially for royals as there are a surprising number with an interest in this woo woo stuff like Liz, Charles, Mette-Marit etc - and are not actively harmful.

If you listen to Ep 55 we talk about this fascinating thing ML does in the interview. When she talks about her beliefs she is very warm and open. And then she is asked about Durek's comments and she immediately becomes very hostile. She initially denies he said certain things but when they're quoted to her she says basically it's his view and not her's. I have my own theories - I'm sure many do - but I won't share because they're just theories based on a bit of pop psychology and a lot of assumptions. But I do think that it's clear she hasn't really reconciled who Durek is to her vs who he is to everyone else in the world. I don't think ML supports his views, I just think that for various reasons she is still in a kind of denial. She can't engage with anything that might undermine him or threaten the relationship because that would mean potentially losing what he gives to her. It's basically her trying to avoid the Romantic Cognitive Dissonance she feels.

[siffrin-enthusiast]

my disability post is blowing up again so let me tell you the funniest things that have happened to me while being disabled or using various mobility aids. feel free to add your own btw

when getting discharged from the hospital for surgery, i was "taught" how to use crutches for less than three minutes. i checked the timestamps between discord messages. it cost hundreds of dollars btw

my high school's one and only wheelchair ramp into the auditorium was too steep to be used by a wheelchair even with the help of a handrail. instead of doing anything about this, the staff made it a point of personal pride to wheel me up despite me asking them not to for every. single. assembly. disability inclusion <3

getting recognized as a regular by the receptionists at the hospital was. a little embarrassing.

shoutout to one physical therapist in particular who realized i had a tremor and then decided to exacerbate it for. uhhhh. she didn't even say why. she just wanted to see why. anyway it set me back like four months

some sidewalks were just UNUSABLE (bumpiness, width, debris). like it was literally safer to be in the ROAD in my wheelchair then some fucking sidewalks.

after i had just gotten out of said wheelchair and used the elevator, i took too long going through the elevator doors and the doors decided to crush me. thank you elevator, very cool!

i was seen by several doctors who did not know what my condition was despite me putting it on every single patient form and sending pdfs of my diagnoses and symptoms in advance of every appointment

remember that surgery i mentioned? so it turns out there was not a problem with the affected joint. it was just hypermobile. that is a twenty minute test. they did not think to test me for hypermobility. before doing surgery on me. anyway i have generalized hypermobility and that ankle is now the worst joint in my entire body

almost got sent to truancy court despite every absence having an excuse note from an ER clinic or a neurologist checking me for. like. literal actual brain cancer. STAT orders and all.

speaking of my high school, it took seven minutes to get between two of my classes in high school because there was one elevator, located in the center of the building, and these classes were right on the left end of the building. when i was able to walk the route, it took under two minutes. this happened a lot, actually.

doctors: you needs this medication. if you want to stay out of the er you are going to take it. some guy named frank in insurance who hasnt even looked at the file: nah u really dont :/

also thing that seems obvious but you don't realize it until you're in that situation: if the elevator is broken and you cannot walk stairs or if the disabled door will not open with the button press and you can't open it yourself, you are just Stuck there. enjoy!

waited a year for a specialist appointment that lasted twenty minutes and got told nobody had done the research into what i had even though this doctor had seen dozens of cases exactly like mine. boo womp

remember that hypermobility i mentioned? it was actually picked up by a physical therapist in our first session. she did not mention it until i asked her about the possibility of being hypermobile four months later. she "thought i knew already".

"maybe it's just school anxiety," says the doctor while looking at my sitting heart rate of 150 bpm, "are you anxious about going to school?"

[bartychaser]

Hey, ehm so, what I’m about to share is really personal and might trigger people who have to fight bullying and mental and/or physical illnesses bc mention of suicidal tendencies.

Idk what exactly it was but (on Pinterest I believe) someone was like “Yeah but why are there people hating on James? He’s so funny and cool with his pranks and Snivellus, just get your shit together” no he is not and I won’t get my “shit” together.

For me personally he triggers self destructive feelings and behaviours that kept building up since SECOND grade (until 10th I believe it was… could also be beginning of 11th) because there where so many ✨funny and cool✨ people who picked their “Snivellus” and spoiler alert it was always me. They pulled so many funny comments and pranks one me that almost cost me my life in the end and they were not done until 10th grade ended. They bullied me with the knowledge that I was ill in some way bc I told them I was seriously and most probably dangerously ill but at that time we didn’t exactly know what it was.

They bullied me for my illness and that illness wasn’t just “being weird randomly” that illness was a fucking brain tumor (luckily not cancer, I’m fine since I had surgery) that caused an epilepsy which is one of a kind.

The most common form of epilepsy is cramps, lying on the floor, looking funny with the drool dribbling down the chin and almost biting off their tongues (yes that can happen… my cousin is badly disabled bc a seizure damaged his brain at 3 months old).

I had a form of epilepsy which my doctors said they’ve never seen before though they were working in that business for over 40 years and they did their research when they heard about me. I was kind of the only person ever known in german medical studies in the last at least 40 years with those form of seizures. And because they were so unique they fucking sent me to a psychiatry because the doctor I’ve been to MULTIPLE TIMES before always said “Nah you’re just mental”. That also was funny enough to pick on me, rubbing in my face that I was a freak and ill and couldn’t do anything about it and I cannot count how many times I’ve prayed to not wake up. Because of people that acted just like James.

I have the right to hate him because in reality I fear him. I fear people like him because getting to have them in my life almost cost me my life and I’m so damn sure they would’ve laughed it off if I one day stopped showing up and my teacher would have stand in front of them crying because he lost the student that reminds him “so much of his sister” (that’s a quote btw) and had to tell them. I’m so afraid of James-like people and therefore I hate him. Not because he is James, James as a character has nothing to do with my past but he was the reason for another’s miserable past if you know what I mean. And every time he is mentioned making fun of Snape or pulling pranks that harm others (mentally or physically) and not only to annoy them bc that actually is funny, I feel those feelings crawling up again and I know it’s not healthy in any way bc he is just a fictional character and that is enough to get me flashbacks but it is what it is so don’t fucking ever try to tell James-dislikers who’ve openly been through similar things that ✨it’s just fun✨. For people in their past it, too, was just fun, for you it might just be fun, but for people who suffered under that fun it’s not. And not a single soul deserves that. There is not one human being who deserves to be picked on/bullied because others want to have some fun.

And no, I don’t mean to hate on James-likers bc yes, in some storys he really is cool and nice and funny and I can understand what you like about him but looking at what is shown to us in books and films he was a fucking prick who loved bullying Severus and making his time at school a part of his life he probably wishes never happened and that triggers my hate-fear if you know what I mean. I’m not trying to say your just like him, making others wanna end them or something, I’m just saying that there often is a sirius reason to dislike a character other than wanting to be different and cool or whatsoever. Sometimes you try to make someone like James with saying things that actually are triggering like “Hahaha it’s fun” Doesn’t mean you can’t try but be careful and always be respectful with trauma which really can be triggered by just one sentence or character.

I know it’s difficult and I do know there are almost no people who communicate/share their trauma just like I did but sometimes people dare doing this bc on social media they can be anonymous just like me. If my former class mates would read this they had no clue it was me. If my brother read this he had no clue it was me, you get my point? But others don’t have that anonymity bc they already published their name/face whatsoever and if anyone they know would see this they would really be fucked. At some point you probably will trigger someone but that inevitably and that’s okay because you can’t see what they’ve been through and you didn’t do it in purpose. But if someone tells you to just leave that topic no matter which topic, there. Is. A. Reason. (Probably) Respect their “no”

P.S. okay that sounds a little aggressive and guilt tripping, I’m sorry but I don’t know how to say that otherwise that was not my intention😭

[singswan-springswan]

Oooh if we're doing directors cut on your fics can we do Starsong won't apologize?

oh man, this one was a total psychic trip. I think I wrote most of it in a buzzed fugue state with my only thought being "don't kriff this up. the vibes must be PEAK"

going into this fic I knew that the tone had to be the driving force, since most of it was just Hera's introspection. I really wanted to communicate the way the music haunts her mind, but being a very rational and logical brain lady (read: scientist), her perspective produces some conflict with the fact that there are any vibes at all. She really wants to approach the situation from a clinical standpoint but the fact of the matter is that she's wayyy past any such reparations, and this is really frustrating for her.

Part of her needed to feel very detached for a number of reasons, one being her aforementioned resistance to supernatural explanations. However, I also wanted to utilize this feeling to add gravity to the fact that she's losing her mind. I did a lot of juxtaposing with simple wording coupled to profound metaphors and statements. A lot of the imagery was really flowery elegant and borderline nonsense too. I wanted the fic to feel very poetic while maintaining Hera's practical thoughts. That actually turned out to be much easier than expected.

One of my favorite relationship dynamics is for the characters to fall platonically in love before they fall romantically in love, and as a consequence dismiss their growing (or rampant) romantic feelings as ✨friendship✨. This is something I tried to incorporate where Kanan came in. Hera, despite being a very intelligent woman, is stupid. Fortunately for her, the current blender brain predicament overshadows any muddled feelings she has for her best friend, and all that remains is her deep unshakable trust in him. This was a really important dynamic to write into the context, given the danger of Kanan singing to Hera. If she didn't already love him and trust him the way she did, his siren song wouldn't fix her, and she would end up no more sane than before. Not to mention it just made for a really sweet (albeit slightly angsty) interaction.

my favorite line is probably:

All she knew really was that the music had melted in her bones like the prettiest kind of cancer, and if hearing Kanan’s voice took it away, the consequences of that cure couldn’t possibly be bad.

I'm particularly proud of the cancer bit. I wrote that and I was like "yoooo that's sick" and patted myself on the back. I felt like it gave the predicament a detached sort of awe while also revering it as something vile and unnatural and very very serious.

I think by the time I got to the part where Kanan actually starts singing, I was running out of writer inspiration juice and felt like I rushed the end. Looking back and rereading the fic tho I'm like nah that's a good ending. I'm always self-conscious about my endings being too abrupt or awkward. The last line is pretty fire.

my main thing was just communicate that "music" was only the best word to describe what was messing up Hera's head so bad, but totally did not offer a complete concept. The real deal was actually something beyond the mortal realm of comprehension, so complex and alien and cosmic that the human mind was physically incapable of comprehending it. I think I did a decent job pulling that off!

[shhh-secret-time]

Winds of Change

"The world is closing in, and did you ever think

That we could be so close?

But the future's in the air, can feel it everywhere

Blowing the winds of change."

Chapter 2

A smack in the face. 

It didn't matter that she was raised in the small town and for most of her life she was raised to prepare for it. She was never prepared for how the cold air felt against her cheeks or how it made her ears sting. 

At least it made her feel something. The sharp wind whispering reminders, telling her to breathe. And she does. She lets out a deep sigh from her chest and watches it take form in a small white cloud. Delightes in the hearty breath afterward and how the icy claws of winter gripped her lungs in a comforting burn.

After the talk from her teacher and her friend it was hard to feel anything other than disappointment and frustration. But it never lingered long, they always boiled away into nothing. Just white noise to disassociate to. 

Aside from the sound of other students talking to their friends and the crunching of snow under her heel, there wasn't much else to focus on. Just the ringing bouncing around in her brain. It starts like a pot of water steaming on a stove, sitting on an open flame for too long until it's boiling over. 

It's cold outside. 

At least the cigarette in her mouth is warm. Jean didn't even register putting it in her mouth or shielding the fire from the winds. But she did. The little cancer stick worked its magic, tar dripping down her lungs. Every puff chewed away at the paper leaving nothing but ash and smoke. It chewed away at everything, her stress, her worry, years of her life.

The dull glaze in her eyes disappears when Stan's beaten down brown truck comes into view. The dark browns glean back to life at the sight. The ugly truck never looked so beautiful. Jean silently prayed that Stan would never get rid of it, she could still remember the look on his face when his Uncle Jimbo gave it to him. Being handed the keys to freedom, the little faded bronze metal was more than a key to a truck on its last leg. It was something he could use to escape, something to get away from it all. 

Her hands find the cold metal and pull on it. When it doesn't open, she grumbles under her breath and knocks on the vehicle. Stan's eyes open and look over at her, shooting an apologetic look. It dies down into a look of boredom when he sees her face pressed into the window, her cheeks smooshed into the cool glass.

The familiar thunk of the lock being opened gives her another chance to hide from the cold. The truck door swings open with a groan as she slides herself into the worn leather seats. She quickly shuts the door behind her, all but slamming the poor thing. 

"Hey dude, sorry about that. Forgot I locked it." Stan shifts in his seat, going for the seatbelt behind him. 

"Nah don't worry about it, I just hate you forever now." She smirks at him trying to keep her voice as matter of fact as possible. 

Stan smirks back at her with a little chuckle, his hand comes out to rest on the back of her seat. The truck hums to life sputtering out some pathetic attempt at heat. It's enough that it makes the truck feel different than outside, enough to make her put her hands over the vent. 

"One day you'll learn to wear gloves."

"That's what the jacket pocket-"

"No, they're really not." He doesn't even look her in the eye when he cuts her off, he doesn't have to. He knows what she's going to say, she's been using that poor excuse for an argument for years. 

"Whatever! Focus on driving us to the store, stinky!" She says sticking her tongue out at him.

"Already picked up the beer, you were taking too long." Stan twists his body back to facing the steering wheel once he backs out of the parking lot. 

Jean sucks in another puff on her cigarette, holding it between her lips as she works the window. It slides down slowly letting the cold air slip back in. A small price to pay for a few more seconds of comfort. 

“Hand over the drivers fee” He doesn't ask, just reaches over towards her holding his hand out expectantly. 

"Yeah, I gotcha." 

She digs around in the coat pocket and places the pack in his hand along with the little lighter. The cheap plastic held enough lighter fluid for a few more flicks, but she didn't mind giving him the last of it.

"Thanks." His hands fumble around with the pack, eyes flickering off the road just long enough to find purchase. 

Jean lost count the number of times he used his knees to steer the truck, the faded dark blue jeans pressed firmly to the underside of the shaky circle that kept them from one solid sneeze from a ditch. It's enough to keep the truck steady while he lights the cigarette. Gives him enough time to enjoy the smoke and the feeling that washes over him. 

"Hey, did you bring your guitar? I left mine at home." Jean doesn't wait for him to answer as she looks in the back seat. 

Her lips curl into a grin when she sees the hard plastic case resting on its side. Faded stickers slapped over scratches. Just as she pushes the seat back to grab it her eyes fall onto the sticker of a poorly drawn horse. Penciled font with the words, "Brunkos." written horribly under it. Something she snuck onto his guitar case after a night of playing, she honestly didn't expect him to keep it.

She traces her fingers over the sticker, down the case, and towards the metal clasps that keep the thing shut. As the truck slows to a halt, she opens the case and pulls the cherry red and white guitar. Small scratches and scuff marks tell anyone who looks at it how often it's played, how often it's held in the black-haired man's hands.

"Why do you smoke this brand, it's shit- hey! Can't you wait until we get to Stark's Pond before grabbing my guitar?" His complaints turn to scolding.

Jean lets out a laugh, it's hard to take him seriously with the pout on his face. Her hand curls around the neck as she gently lowers it into her lap. Fingers slide down until they find their home on the cool metal strings.

"I would if you ever learned to tune Her beforehand." She ignores any further look of protests as she pushes her seat back. It slides back until it clicks into place pushing her further away from the dashboard of the truck. 

Stan just grumbles under his breath, something about tuning his guitar fine, she's not really paying attention anymore. Her attention solely on getting comfortable with the instrument in her lap. She shifts in her seat, back pressed against the door and her legs crossed under one another. It's not a lot of room, then again it never is, but it was this or the cold and she'd rather take her chance with the cramped space than losing her fingers to the bitter wind. 

The truck starts up again when the light turns green.

The rest of the ride to Stark's Pond is quiet aside from the small plucks from Stan's guitar, and the app on her phone that's resting on her knee. She closes her eyes as each note hits her ears, from the corner of his eye Stan can see the way she twitches her head to the side every other note. Her teeth gnawing down on the poor black ring on her lip. Chipped paint on her nails gleam off the sun's light as they move up and down the fretboard, occasionally turning the tuning pegs. 

His truck pulls up on the grass a few feet away from the pond. Parking behind the old brown benches that have taken a beating over the years, wood worn and settled into its nearly splintered state. Stan puts the truck in park and leans back in his seat. The belt fastened across his chest snaps back towards the corner of the truck when he clicks the button to release it. Jean looks up from the guitar as he lays his head back and slumps in his seat. 

"That rough huh?" She breaks the silence with a whisper, propping the guitar up on her knee. 

"Wouldn't have asked you to come here if it wasn't." Stan murmurs. 

He peels those red fingerless gloves off and tosses them into the cup holder beside him. His hands immediately went for the case of beer in front of her. 

"And here I thought you liked hanging out with me." She chuckles. "Alright buddy, come on talk to me. What's up?" 

Jean turns her head back towards the guitar and once she's satisfied with the tune, she begins a soft melody. 

Nothing too fast paced, hell it's not even that good. Not to her, she can do better than this she knows she can, but it's not about her right now. It's about Stan. 

She misses a note in the song. So, she stops. Restarts the song, placing her fingers back to the beginning note and tries again. 

It's strange how Stan feels. His lip’s part, ready to empty the uncomfortable emotions bubbling just behind his teeth. To let them fall out of his mouth into space between them. 

But he stops. He feels his throat tighten and feels the disconnect from his brain and his mouth. Instead, he brings the blond-colored liquid to his lips. The cold smooth beer can digs into the chapped skin. It tasted awful, watered down and whatever was put into the brand to make that bitter taste bearable didn't do a very good job. Stan's had worse, the beer wasn't there to taste good, and it did a great job of reminding him.

He couldn't complain about it too much, after all it was his father's beer he stole out of the fridge. The man had so many cases in the basement fridge there was no way he'd ever notice. The trip to the store was just for snacks and greasy food they would probably need later. For as reckless as Stan was with his body, he'd rather sleep in the back of the truck than risk driving. 

"Michael left." He's halfway through his can when he finally speaks and immediately his mouth goes dry. 

"Michael? Goth Michael? Skips school and smokes out near the kitchen exit, Michael?" 

"Yeah." 

"Damn... how'd you find out?" She asks, pausing mid-strum.

"He told me he was leaving. Said he was going to...graduate and leave South Park." Stan's answer is dry, he's trying to keep the emotion out of his tone. 

He swallows it down with another gulp of beer. This drink is bitter, like beer should be. 

Yeah, it's just the beer.

"...He didn't wait to graduate. He just left." Stan continues trying to sort out his thoughts, "left the day after I showed him my-" He stops. 

He doesn't need to say it, Jean knows. She ducks her head back down to the guitar, stretching her fingers down the string until it stings. It felt like giving him privacy when she looked away from him, in her mind it was giving him a moment to sort it all out. When eyes connect, expectation becomes too great. 

"I don't get why he just left like that." Another sip. "I mean...why tell me to get my shit together and then up and run away?" A longer one. The can's empty. 

"Yeah? Where did that come from?" As Stan tosses the empty can into the white trash back in the back, she hands the guitar off to him. 

She reaches down and grabs a beer for herself, snapping back the tab. Jean popped the tab off her beer, and dropped it into the can. She swirled it, listening to it clink, clink, clink; a little heartbeat to match her own. The taste is different for her, she likes the cheap stuff. It's lighter than the previous beers they've shared on days like this. The dark stuff never slid down her throat easily like this. 

"He read-...read my...you know." The embarrassment in his tone makes her frown, she hates that he's still hiding his love for the art. 

He had a talent for the stuff. Poetry. Jean could never wrap her head around the way to not make it sound elementary, but Stan could. Even back in the middle-school days she thought they were good, worth making something out of. But after one too many times of being put down by his father he became closed up to it. Started sharing it less and less, hiding it away and shoving it into the lower parts of his bookbag. 

"Right." One little word is enough to tell him she knows what he's trying to say. 

"Said that it sounded like I don't want people to care about me." Stan's knee comes up to the steering wheel again as he props the guitar up on his thigh. 

Stan plays the same song Jean was working on, he knocks the pads of his fingers against the fretboard following the rhythm of the song. Notes fly off the instrument, and a gentle thud would follow. It was almost enough to distract her from the weight of his words. 

"Do you feel like that?" The question weighs heavy in the air, so heavy it makes Stan's fingers come to a stop.

It isn't erupt, it's a slow halt. He finishes the notes to the song like it's second nature, like if he doesn’t, he'll have failed some imaginary audience. His thumb and index finger twist the strings just above the bridge. It would be silent if it weren't for the hum of the truck.

Jean takes a drink from her drink as she waits, for how thick the air becomes it doesn't bother her. It doesn't bother her because it's him. It's Stan. She'd sit for hours in this feeling for the raven-haired man. But when his shoulders drop, and the thought of everything finally starts to weigh on him, her eyes widen.

"Stan...buddy."

"I don't know." His voice cracks, the whisper almost doesn't reach her ears.

The can is put into her other hand before either can even blink. Her hand goes out to grab his, it needs to. She needs to.

Their fingertips are calloused from the sting of the guitar strings. Not just from this moment but years of this. Her hand curls around the side of his hand, index finger resting lazily on the top; the thumb brushing over his knuckles. The only part of her hand that's still soft to the touch are the pads of her thumbs, he deserves more but it's all she can give him.

"Hey, hey... it's okay." Her head dips down enough to catch his eyes. "Stan, dude, look at me for a moment."

She hates this. Hates feeling like this. Hates making him do this. Hates that he feels like this. But it's not hate he needs right now. Not by the way he finally looks up at her with those dull blue eyes. The same dull color she had in her moments ago. It feels like someone is squeezing her heart with the intent to crush it.

"You don't have to answer that...I'm sorry. But you know you are worth caring about. I know- I know you've probably heard it a thousand times but you're worth it man." There was no doubt in her voice, no playful note in her words. "You know you're loved."

He nods and goes to look away from her, that flight reflex kicks in. Jean knows it too well, knows that flinch away from kind words. Maybe it's the guilt of having someone having to tell you that you're loved. Or maybe it feels undeserved, she's not sure how deep that feeling goes for him. But she knows it.

"Hey no." Jean pulls his hand away from the guitar. She waits a beat for him to catch his breath and look back at her. He knows. "Don't do that. Say it."

"I'm loved." Stan murmurs, she doesn't believe him and neither does he.

"Again."

"Jean this is-"

"Dude." She cuts him off with a sharp look, the browns in her eyes don't have that twinkle, but it's not anger. It's not pity, she would never allow herself to pity him. "Say it again."

"I'm...I'm loved." He chokes back the sob.

Despite the feeling he can't bring himself to cry. The walls haven't broken yet but a part of him wishes they would. Just to shatter the glass of emotion and spill it out into the truck. It would fill the truck to the brim until he couldn't breathe anymore. He'd drown in it, and it would all be over.

Oh, but Jean.

He turns his hand until his palm is faced upward, gently taking her hand in his. "It's not..." Another pause. "It's not that I don't think I'm loved. People like me!"

"I know buddy. It's never been about that, I just wanted to let you know I love you." Jean's smile returns to her face as she scoots closer to him. Her legs pressed against the cup holders that separated the both of them, so close she's sure they'll leave marks in the exposed skin of her ripped jeans.

"I'm just tired." It's what he wants to say, it's what he wants to confess. Get this whole thing off his chest because he knows she'll get it. He knows she'd never put him down for feeling like this.

"I know buddy." She responds like she heard him. "Stan, you're doing good man. I know it's exhausting but you're doing so good." She responds like she heard him.

For a moment he thinks about taking his hand away, going back to his guitar and practice the song. Instead, he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out the folded white card. The folded marks make it look older than it really is.

"He gave me this. Said I needed a therapist." He says, placing the card in her hand. Stan's hands return to the guitar, anchoring himself back down with it.

The card is faded but Jean's able to make out the important parts. The number on the back of the card is written in pen instead of the printed black blocks on the front. She raises her brow and looks up at him.

"You gonna do it?"

"I dunno. What's the point? Just so she can tell me what I already know? And if I wanna talk this is what this is for." Jean watches the way his lips press together in a thin line and her eyes soften again.

"I guess... but Michael gave it to you for a reason." Jean reads the card again and that weird feeling in her chest comes back. It's the same feeling she got when she talked to Wendy this morning.

She knows she should tell him that she's not a substitute for a professional. That their friendship can't just be what the therapist could offer. That sneaking out of school and drinking in front of an old pond isn't a healthy coping mechanism.

But she can't, not when that selfish little demon inside of her clings to the fact that she's needed. He needs her just like she needs him.

Still, she'd be a horrible friend if she didn't want her friend to get better. So that demon is washed away with another sip of beer, it's pushed down her throat into the pit of her stomach. Unfortunately for her even having that thought makes her stomach twist and now she just feels sick, and each pathetic gulp of her beer makes it worse. But she's going to drown it. Drown that demon that's trying to cling to life.

"Just give it a shot man. It might do you some good, I'm going to school counseling." She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand before she speaks.

"Yeah? Why? I thought you said you weren't going to bother with all that." Stan asks raising a brow at her, there's relief that the conversation is taking a turn in those blues.

"Wen-" Jean stops and all but snaps her mouth shut, so quickly her teeth click together.

Stan chuckles, and how she wishes it was him taking joy out of hurting her teeth then she wouldn't feel so bad. "It's okay. Her name isn't going to make me break down."

"I know but- I just didn't want to-" Her hands come up to the braided pigtails resting on her shoulders, gripping the black braids. "You guys are going through another hiccup and I didn't wanna be an ass. We're supposed to be relaxing."

"You're not an ass for saying her name butthead. Besides, it was my fault. I broke up with her." He says it so calmly. No ice behind the tone, no venom or anger. No spite or sadness. Like it is what it is.

"What? Why?!"

"...I guess Michael was right about one thing. I gotta get some shit together." Stan plucks the final note to the song as he finishes his sentence.

He hands the guitar off to Jean and they switch again. A beer in Stan's. A song on her fingers. The words bounced around her head a bit. Instead of focusing on her finger placements she's trying to wrap her head around what he said. The tip of her ring finger and her pinky dig into the strings until they leave the strings imprints like a kiss.

"Maybe you do it for her now, go to this therapist and learn to do it for you?" She wishes she would have said it with more confidence, said it with her whole chest.

The fear of messing up and saying the wrong thing never crosses her mind when they're joking with one another. Nights where they're just venting and bitching about the world, it's easy to say whatever is on your mind. Telling him that she loves him and that she's always going to be there? Easy.

But actual advice? Suggesting something and having it blow up in his face? She'd never forgive herself for hurting him like that. But whatever Michael said to him had such an effect that he was willing to step out of that comfort zone. He was willing to take the steps to be better. So maybe she could do that too. Be that person for him right now.

"Yeah...maybe." He trails off again letting the song Jean's working on hang in the air. "But you were saying?"

"Oh, fuck right! Yeah uh... Wendy tried to save me in Physics today, so I told her I owed her one. She cashed in all the I.O.U’s and made me agree to go to their counseling thing. Did ya know Heidi was a part of it?"

"Yeah, Kyle told me."

"Good for her, she's a sweetheart man. Talkin' to her is like talkin' to an angel I just know it." Finally, a smile comes back up to her face. The lighthearted gossip leaves room for one.

"Sure. I wouldn't really know; we don't interact much." Stan chuckles. "So, you're going?"

"Yeah. I promised. I don't hand I.O.Us out and then back out on 'em. They mean somethin'. One day with her, Heidi, and then Kyle."

He looks at her with a little smirk on his lips, "Kyle huh?"

"Don't." She points a finger at him, pursing her lips slightly. As intimidating as she tries to be, it falls flat when Stan's smirk only widens. Any attempt to keep the blush creeping up her neck crumbles alongside it.

"No, no....not saying anything. Just uh... prepared to get an earful. You know he's going to try and push you to go to some community college or something." He holds his hands up defensively as if the finger were a loaded weapon.

"I can't wait to tell him that I learned something from him and go on a rant back." She giggles and props her feet up on the dashboard of his truck, the position was starting to get old, and the talk was making her fidgety.

"Give him a taste of his own medicine is a weird way to tell the guy you like him." Stan mutters into the can of beer as he tips it back.

The comment earns him a punch on his shoulder, almost making the liquid spill out of his mouth as he tries to swallow it and the laughter "I do not like him! Not like that! I like Kyle as a friend! He's like...a dude. A guy bro."

"Uh-huh. Right. That's why you told us you were sick last time we were supposed to have our movie-slash-sleepover night."

"I was! Headaches are a real sickness dude, and my brain...she was ackey. You know normally because my brain is so smooth headaches bounce off them, so you should know that this one was bad because it took hold."

"Right. And when we were supposed to all go out and do our midnight diner run? You couldn't get in his car because..." Stan trails off waiting for her to finish the sentence with some weak excuse.

"I have a life outside you fucks! I have other friends! I was meeting Nichole and Red there! What, you want me to just leave two people hanging to jump into the car with you guys?! That's rude Stanley." She throws her hands in the air with an annoyed huff.

Laughter rings out from Stan's lips, and try as she might to fight it, Jean follows suit. The two devolve into fits of giggles and side ache. Little beads of tears prickle at the corner of Jean's eyes. The past hour was an emotional roller-coaster for the both of them, feeling every high and low possible. The alcohol pumps through her body down to her legs, the warmth of it is nothing compared to the warmth between the two.

After taking a second to catch his breath, Stan rests his hand on his stomach. "You ever gonna tell him?"

Jean smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes like the laughter did. She looks over at the man and shakes her head. "Nah. It's better off this way. I keep him at a distance, and we just continue being friends."

Stan's brows furrow at her answer. Now it's his turn to try and figure out the puzzle behind that comment. "What do you mean?" Asking was easier.

"Look, I don't really get...my feelings? I know I like him, as a friend I mean, I like being around him. I like the way he makes me feel when we do talk, and I crave that constantly... but I also like what we have right now, and I don't wanna ruin that." She looks over at him but the faraway look in her eyes tells Stan she's not really. The way she pulls her bottom lip back and knocks her tongue against her lip rings. "He's got big dreams...plans to go places and do things. I'll only end up dragging him down. Trust me man, it's better for the both of us if it just stays this way."

He doesn't know what to say to that. So, he doesn't say anything, he sits there and nods along to her words. He's never been one to have the answers for things like this, normally talks like this make him feel awkward. It was just supposed to be something to tease his friend about, but now it feels off.

"Why don't you date him?" Then Jean snaps him out of his train of thought with that.

"H u h?!"

His tone makes her laugh, she falls back against the door again and cackles. It's not even cute the way her voice pitches, but it comes from the gut. "I said...I said why don't you date him? You guys are close! I mean he's your super best friend."

Stan scoffs at her tone and rolls his eyes, "I don't think that's going to work with the whole, 'Breaking up with Wendy so I can work on myself' plan."

"True. But have you ever thought of it?" She takes a sip of her beer now looking at him intently.

"Why the sudden interest in my love life?"

"Why the sudden interest in mine?"

Touché.

"I mean...I guess? Yeah? There's been a few times I thought maybe?" Stan can feel the heat of his cheeks contrast against the chill of the car. He reaches over to the console of the truck and grabs her pack of cigarettes, slotting another one in his mouth.

"What stopped ya?"

"I dunno, it just...never was a good time and I didn't put a lot of thought into it."

"Fair, what friend doesn't think about crossing that line sometimes." Jean chuckles and begins lazily moving her foot back and forth. "Except you. I don't think I've ever thought about dating you."

He scrunches up his nose at that, the very thought pulling such a physical reaction out of him. "Yeah no. That's-"

"Gross." She finishes his thought with a click of her tongue. "Nah Marsh, you and I have a type. Strong willed, down to fight, super smart, better than we deserve, pretty people."

Stan groans and falls back in his seat again just as Jean picks a different song to play. Choosing to play something face paced with a stronger tempo. She doesn't fumble with this song like the last one. The smirk on her face is either because of that or the fact that she's right.

Either way, they can both feel something change in them. Something about the conversation struck a chord in a way they could never with the cherry red guitar. Blue and brown eyes hide behind heavy lids as they choose to spend the rest of their time enjoying the music. They'll do that until things make sense or at least until the sun sets.

Prologue | 1 | 2

[comorbidityqueen]

Hi! Hello! my name is Taylor and i'm a 31 year old brain injury survivor. I haven't used tumblr since i was a teenager and im not sure if i can pin this post so it comes up first so excuse my lack of tumblr navigation.

I wanted to create this space as a gentle reminder to myself that my writing matters and also as a way for other disabled folk to find some relatability or relief knowing they are not alone. I'm hoping it could also educate others on just the severity of what we go through on a daily basis.

i'm not sure if anything will eventuate from this but if i give one person insight into something they previously knew nothing about then hey, that's cool. So a little bit about me...

i am a scorpio sun, aquarius moon and capricorn rising with a sag merc + venus and cancer mars (oof, right?!). Astrology aside, im a 31 year old living with an acquired brain injury in Adelaide, Australia (Kaurna Land).

When i was 12 years old, 3 days before my 13th birthday, i suffered a right MCA (Middle Cerebral Artery) CVA (Cerebral Vascular Accident). Basically, i had a massive stroke deep in the middle right side of my brain. I was at school at the time and my school didn't call an ambulance straight away. Negligence (sprinkled with ignorance) aside, i was unable to receive medical intervention leaving me permanently disabled for the rest of my life. I suffered with full left side hemiplegia, seizures, cognitive deficits and a substantial amount of teenage angst at the time along with some hysterical laughter. I have now learnt that was something called the pseudobulbar affect and that i wasn't actually losing my mind, that i had just suffered a significant trauma and my brain was like "nah man". My nana died on the same day and i hysterically laughed when my parents told me a few weeks into my 3 month inpatient stay where i had physiotherapy, speech therapy, and occupational therapy. I like to think she was my guardian angel. I learnt to walk and talk again, actually, i had to learn everything again and after numerous tests and scans, the hospital informed me that a genetic mutation was the cause. A compound heterozygous MTHFR (Methylenetetrahydrofolate reductase) which can predispose to thromboembolism to be exact, and yes I still interpret the acronym as motherfu*cker, because it sure was to me and my family at that time.

Over the last almost 19 years i have spent working hard on a body i never signed up to have. I have survived not only an ABI but relentless bullying, substance abuse, trauma's and grief along the way. As i've aged i have regressed, and in 2021 after sustaining a concussion and being diagnosed with concussion syndrome, things got a lot harder and my mobility suffered greatly. With that came debilitating daily migraines, stroke regressions, chronic pain and worsening mental health problems.

I do weekly physiotherapy and have been very fortunate to benefit from NDIS here in Australia. My goal is to eventually become a disability and mental health advocate, while still somehow working on my mobility on a daily basis and trying to survive.

i'm not sure how often this will be used depending on the availability of spoons, but if anyone has any questions about brain injury please don't hesitate to use the ask me anything button ☺️

[dhalsimxhonda]

HONSIM : LATE FOR BED

SUMMARY … edmond waits for dhalsim … getting home late isn’t good when it comes to trust, but it’s good for pleasures .

CW … vaginal sex, nipple play, riding, orgasm, smoking (mentions of lung cancer), cursing, boypussy .

CHARACTERS … edmond honda and dhalsim .

AU … singer x film maker au

A/N … just going to post this from ao3 as a an apology for not posting often .

edmond lightened his cigarette after wearing his bathrobe, with impatience in his eyes. everything the japanese man wanted was nothing but spending time with his husband. why so late? he’s supposed to be in bed. why is it so stupid to smoke before bedtime? sure, he brushed his hair and everything. but waiting for his husband to return home safely is a different story. all that edmond wanted was to see his face. but all the things dhalsim would say, “i’ll be home tonight at twenty-three” would always be a lie.

he was supposed to stop smoking after dhalsim told him it was not good for his lungs. but sure, honda seemed to harm himself to forget about the lies spoken in his husband’s mouth.

“i’m home, darling.” the familiar voice came as edmond easily recognized. oh, he thought. it’s dhalsim. he already heard the door getting locked and the keys placed on the kitchen counter.

the old man came through the room quickly as edmond blew his smoke. dhalsim sighed and immediately snatched the cigarette. “what did i tell you about smoking? you could get lung cancer.”

edmond sighed. “i’m smoking because i’m waiting for ya. mind tellin’ me why ya came late again?” dhalsim looked at himself from the mirror as he played the jukebox. “i had a drink while thinking of you. all men and women are so boring… you should’ve come with me.”

“anything you want to ponder about?” edmond asked as the singer took his jewelry and earrings off. “nothing important. just tequila. any films as of recently?” dhalsim turned his head around. “nah,” the japanese replied. “i’ve been waiting for ya to come. thought of filming how beautiful ya are without those clothes.”

as dhalsim hummed the music in response, he took his rings off. “dirty brain? unhinged?” he asked. “naughty man…”

edmond smirked and stood off the bed while he walked closer to dhalsim. “show me yer voice, it makes me horny...” he looked into dhalsim’s eyes with the look of pleading to take off his clothes. the singer nodded and brushed edmond’s wet hair with his fingers, continuing to hum the song from the jukebox. as the japanese unbuttoned dhalsim’s silk shirt and jeans, he began to kiss dhalsim’s nipples with no hesitation.

“h-honda…” dhalsim pleaded while humming his song as the japanese kept sucking on those small boobs that made the singer tingle. he moaned with his lips quivering and body trembling from the cold air conditioning. it’s time to put on a good show, he thought and stopped kissing his husband’s nipples with saliva running like a bridge. “ride onto my pussy until you can’t sing anymore.”

dhalsim looked and quickly took off his husband’s bathrobe as the japanese man divorced his legs. such good views, white eyes, and brown eyes stuck on each other. such naughty eyes they got to meet at every step. dhalsim placed his hands onto edmond’s pussy lips carefully to make sure where to put himself and frot. “whenever you’re ready.” edmond spoke.

after getting on top of his vulva lips, dhalsim let out his beautiful hums again while beginning to thrust him. the singer kept his gaze on his husband, even if he would rather close his eyes and sing or moan like a pathetic old man.

“sing for me, dhalsim.” edmond commanded as the yoga master listened and let out his moanings while continuously frotting his husband…

edmond still listened to the melody from dhalsim’s pleasuring lips. the lustful singing gets louder as the japanese man rests his hands on his husband’s skin. he smirked with the blush on his cheeks, making dhalsim feel good. “sing.”

edmond continued his thrusting with dhalsim. “sing for me, slut.” he recalled as the singer rasped and sang with his mind and heart out. the japanese rests his head on the pillows, blushing heavily with the grunts of his trembling lips. astonishing voice, dhalsim’s humming and moans were like edmond’s music. “s-sing for me, my dhalsim.” the japanese breathed.

dhalsim moaned his husband’s name, still thrusting with his husband’s pussy like a good man. “ah, honda..” edmond arched his back softly, carefully caressing dhalsim’s thighs. “you’re a natural, dhalsim…” he moaned softly. “don’t ya wanna cum with me?”

“fuck, just keep going, edmond! call me every word you think…” dhalsim breathed. “we’re not done singing together.”

the singer rode his husband’s clitoris, circularly thrusting as he kept moaning his husband’s name. “what a pathetic man. it’s what he deserves.” edmond gripped dhalsim’s hips tighter, leaving scratched marks on his fingers. such a bruise that dhalsim wanted all along. he’ll get the japanese man going whenever he wants to. dhalsim made edmond his.

“i’ll forever make you mine, dhalsim-kun.” edmond’s lips quavered, eyes rolled back as his husband continuously moaned his name. “sing me that one melody again.”

“i’m your property, darling.”

“damn right.”

all gentle assurance, keeping dhalsim in hold with his orgasm, the japanese man could hardly wait and do it together. the singer cried out one last time, with pleasure and lost on reality. he’s thinking of his husband more than worrying about a single damn thing about the singing rehearsals.

“scream for me, dhalsim.”

the two of them gave their one last thrust, reaching their climax together, cumming onto each other’s pussy. dhalsim huffed, as his vision turned black, collapsing onto his husband’s body. edmond sighed as he swallowed his saliva, remaining to touch his singer’s thighs.

“you know how to sing for me, dhalsim-kun. why must hide it from me?”

the singer sighed and caressed the japanese man’s cheeks. “because it’s a terrible secret.” dhalsim smiled as edmond kissed his husband’s forehead… whether honda thinks that it’s a terrible secret or not, feeling dumbfounded with a secret? over a career?

but he decided that it was better off to not question it and play it off that he didn’t hear about it.

[oc-aita]

AITA for curing my son’s cancer?

So, a bit of background: I (43 F) had a son who would now be 17 years old. When he was 12, he contracted a particularly nasty form of brain cancer, one which modern science just was not equipped to handle. However, I previously worked as a government researcher and during that time I was tasked with a secretive project using extraterrestrial DNA to develop highly regenerative medicines. Although the project fell through (long story, for another day) I was able to secure the primary specimen for my own use.

Around the same time was when I found out my son, who lived with his father (41 M) was in the hospital with his condition. His diagnosis was poor, so I pulled some strings and was able to use the technology I was developing, along with pieces of the specimen’s brain and spinal cord, to save his life! Or… so I thought. It turns out that when I did this, he no longer had any memories of his life prior to the treatment. Obviously I was distraught, as this meant that this body was pretty much just an empty shell that used to house my son. As far as anyone else knows, including his father and step-family, he is deceased.

Now, here’s where I think I might be the asshole. Even though the experiment failed to save my son, I still recognized that this subject could be useful for other purposes. So, I put him through some tests with other experiments that needed testing, including the prototypes for my ultimate weapon (for self-defense, I assure you! I have many enemies) and to test what effects the implantations had. As I suspected, he was able to use latent psychical powers unleashed by the introduction of the extraterrestrial tissue (I and many of my colleagues theorize their species is capable of using their brains in this way) but he was also quite damaged in the process. Of course, I used much of the remaining tissue from the specimen to repair his body, and if you ask me I think this made some vast improvements to the standard human body plan. Unfortunately, one of my work colleges who I employed got quite upset about this, and told me that this was “unethical” and “disgusting to do to any child, especially yours” before quitting. I of course silenced him for knowing too much, but his words have stuck with me.

The subject that uses my son’s former body has indeed become quite useful to me, and as he doesn’t remember anything before his most recent surgery he’s more than loyal. I have even tasked him with accompanying the finalized version of the weapon his body helped to test in rounding up stray experiments, and he shows great promise. He has no idea about our previous relationship, and I would like to keep it that way for obvious reasons. I really don’t see how I could be the asshole here considering that I did everything I could for my son, and now I’m even caring and providing for what used to be his body even though I really don’t have any obligation to. So, AITA?

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #195

Do you know anyone who has divorced and remarried the same person? What do you/would you think of someone who does that? I don't think so? I wouldn't think anything of someone who did this; their relationships and the details of them are not my business.

Do you say goodnight to anybody before you go to bed? If so, does it feel weird if you go to bed without saying it to them? Not regularly. If Girt spends the night though I think I normally do when it's clear we're going to sleep. I sometimes say goodnight to my snake as I pass her terrarium.

Do you have a favourite role of Johnny Depp's? If you don't like him, what is your favourite role of an actor you like? I love his portrayal of Willy Wonka.

Why did you/your parents choose to live where you do now? Would you move right now if you were able to? Why/why not? If so, where would you like to go? We had no other choice. The lady who lived here before us, it was her dying wish for Tobey (mutual family friend) to have the house and let Mom and I live in it; Mom was deep into cancer treatment and our former house was a health hazard due to mold problems, and the water was funky. Of course we appreciate having a home at all, but Tobey is not the greatest landlord and by now, Mom can barely stand her, as can I. We want out so, so bad but can't afford anything. We WANT to go back to the middle of nowhere, preferably in the woods again.

If someone broke into your house and robbed you, what could they take that would piss you off or upset you the most? To what lengths would you go to get it back? Has something like this already happened to you before? My dog's ashes. I would do A LOT to get those back home to me. Thankfully this kind of situation hasn't happened to me.

Was there something you were afraid of as a child that just seems silly to you now? I was TERRIFIED of King Ramses from Courage the Cowardly Dog. Like, I had nightmares.

Do you like coffee? I hate the taste of it, but it's one of my favorite smells.

When did you last make up a baby’s bottle? Never.

Do you eat your dinner at a dining table, coffee table or just off your lap? Usually on the couch with a folding table.

Did you go to high school with your current best friend? I did, but only as a freshman, as that's the year he graduated.

Do you take part in paying the bills for your household? No, because I don't have any form of income. I absolutely will be helping whenever I DO get a job...

How many cars can fit in your driveway? Barely two.

Have you ever slapped someone in the face? No, I'd like to keep it that way.

Last person you took a nap with? Girt.

Does seeing your mother cry automatically make you feel sad as well? Absolutely yes, and I get equally mad at whatever's caused her to.

Have you ever given up on someone, but then went back to them later? I've done this multiple times with Sara and Colleen both. Never again am I wasting my time and energy like that.

Is your last ex currently in a relationship? I don't know or care.

Do you think the last person you kissed has feelings for you? I know he does.

Have you ever been punched in the face? No, and I'd even MORE like to not change that, haha.

Are you the type of person who seeks out revenge? Nah, not worth it.

Have you ever been asked out by someone you didn’t want to be with? Yes, there was this kid in 4th grade named Nick who asked me A LOT and I always said no. I was also harassed in pre-k by a pair of boys that were always trying to kiss me, but I don't actually remember if they ever asked me out. We were literally in pre-k, I don't think we even knew "asking out" was a thing.

Who is the last person to call you gorgeous? Idk.

Do you think a lot before you fall asleep? Absofuckinglutely, my brain does NOT know how to shut the hell off and I think it's the prime reason I have so much trouble falling asleep.

Would you rather have your parents catch you having sex or smoking weed? jesus christ smoking hella weed

Do you like it when people call you babe? I don't mind other girls calling me that, I actually think it's sweet and friendly, and Girt's allowed to, but it's not my favorite so I'm glad it's not a regular from him. I would absolutely not appreciate another man calling me this, especially one that seems creepy.

Would you ever get your nipples pierced? Unlikely.

Does it bother you to get shots in the mouth? Does it hurt? I hate it. My worst experience with a needle ever was getting numbing injections deep through the roof of my mouth during a dental procedure.

Ever ride in a limo? When did you last do so? I haven't, but always wanted to just for the experience.

Do you have a lot of self-discipline? Honestly, no, and this is something I very badly want to get better about. It's a topic I want to touch on in therapy.

Have you ever been to another country’s capital city? I've never been to another country, period.

What’s something that has upset you lately? Weight gain. Following some blood tests, it seems to be because my thyroid levels are extremely high, despite being on a daily med for it... We recently upped the dose of it so hopefully that helps.

What’s something you don’t think people take seriously enough? Environmental issues. A lot of things.

Have you ever dated someone who had a child from a previous relationship? No.

What’s your favorite kind of soup? I'm not really a soup person.

Have you ever been 4-wheeling? When I was younger with my neighbors, yeah.

Will you be attending any weddings in the near future? None planned right now, no.

Do you have any important anniversaries you celebrate? Mine and Girt's.

What will be the next concert you attend? I don't know, but I'm praying with every bone in my body that Rammstein adds an American leg of their 2024 tour and I can go to that.

Have you ever seen a horseshoe crab? They’re scary, right?! I've only seen pictures/videos. I don't think they're... scary, just strange-looking. Their underside makes me feel sorta squirmy and gross, it's just so odd.

When was the last time you had a hangover? Never.

Do you own many pairs of shorts? I own literally zero. I don't wear shorts, I'm too self-conscious of my legs.

Who was the last person you texted? My dad. He's ill so I didn't get to see him on Christmas.

When was the last time you felt like letting it all out and having a cry? Christmas Eve, Shelia (boyfriend's mom) got me this fucking adorable blanket with an extremely beautiful message from a mother-in-law to her daughter-in-law, and it just brought to mind how once upon a time, I never, ever, thought I would have this sort of bond with a partner's family ever again, after Jason. I was remembering the Christmas Eves I'd spent with him and his family, and now I have that again, when I once was so fucking certain I never would get another chance. I did actually cry some, but I didn't let myself like, bawl.

When was the last time someone made you feel like an idiot? Recently. My mom has this certain way she answers some of my questions like I'm an absolute moron, and it's extremely hurtful and I want to bring it up to her, but I'm not looking for an argument because she can't accept she never does hurtful things.

Would you allow your children to date prior to 16? If I ever have kids, yes.

What was the last restaurant you made a reservation at? The Cheesecake Factory, I think.

Would you rather read a book, or listen to the audiobook? Read, I have no interest in audiobooks, or virtual book formats at all. I'm very weird in that I want to physically hold the book and read it in my own head.

What is your favorite book? Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo and The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton. I need to re-read the latter, I read it in middle school and barely remember the plot, I just know I adored the book.

What is something you're insecure about? My weight, among five billion other things.

What do you consider your biggest accomplishment? Healing from my breakup with Jason. It sounds like such a little thing when I type it, but when you really know where my head was throughout the aftermath and all the conscious effort it took to change my perspective and let my wounds close and fade, it was a titanic achievement and no one will take that shit from me.

Who knows you the best? My mom.

Will anyone be visiting your house any time soon? I mean I see Girt normally at least once a week, but we don't have a hangout day planned yet. Other people, I'm not sure.

Scroll through your camera roll quickly without looking, then stop it with your finger. What's the first picture your eye lands on? Me making a silly face at Roman, my cat.

Have you ever been chased by a dog? Not by a dog with the intent to bite/harm me, only in playful situations.

What's your favourite kind of soda? Mountain Dew Voltage, which is a blue raspberry flavor.

Do you have a drink with you right now? What is it? Yeah, water.

What was the last app you opened on your phone? It was DragonVale, I got a new phone for Christmas and it's superior to my old one in all ways imaginable and I've been enjoying the greater memory capabilities of it. No more One Single Game on my phone, lol.

Is your voice high, low, or somewhere in the middle? It's low for your average cisgender adult woman.

Are you wearing any rings right now? Yes, I keep one on my right middle finger; it wraps around twice in a spiral with an arrow pointed forward, "keep" being on one end of the spiral and "going" on the opposite end. On the interior of the ring, in the middle, "fucking" is carved so it's meant to read as "keep fucking going." Mom got it for me, and I got a kick outta it 'cuz she sure does know my tendency to use "fuck."

How many beds are in your home? Two.

What is the last thing you ate? I had Special K cereal for dinner.

Who is your favorite person to spend time with? Girt, of course.

Are you considered a "clingy girlfriend"? According to Girt, for him anyway, I'm the perfect balance of clingy but also respectful of his space. He knows I worry about being annoyingly clingy, so he reminds me a lot of this that how I act makes him feel loved but also respected when he wants "him" time. We work really well in that sense, we both need personal time regularly and can be entirely honest if we need it without the fear of hurting one another.

Are you good at multitasking? God no, I just straight-up can't. I HAVE to focus on a single thing at a time.

When's the last time you went to a nightclub? Literally never.

[buglyknight]

1092) another cigarette, please

hang out with the rest of our friends

yeah,

the ferris wheel is still there.

we find ways to spend our time

eating too much

my stomach is wrathfully full

i tell Grant im tired of eating

we go to the Garden of the Gods

but You're not here.

You're not here.

we go to an artsy place

walk around for a few hours

we didn't finish the mystery game

everyone was hungry

except me

but why is that stranger wearing Your face?

neck starts its tics

brain itches

Grant is feeling similarly

ive got bad brain. he says

me too.

why was that stranger wearing Your face?

when we get back to the hotel

he wants to go outside

i know why.

can i join you?

sure.

so we

smoke cigarettes

that's what You told me to do, right?

that one time?

would You hate me for thinking of that?

i forgot your wording, but i remembered just now while typing

i told Grant about it

let's die a little faster.

we talk about You

and You

and You

and the ferris wheel

and how i was

sexually abused by my brother

ive never said that out loud before

its mostly glossed over

not for lack of caring

i havent posted that poem yet

and he talks about

his ex (pseudo ex?)

his You, in a way.

that lives up here

do you think it ever stops?

no. he replies

the look in his eyes

he knows.

yeah, i know.

-

cigarettes, a pause

more cigarettes

i suck them down like candy

throat burns

lungs burn

more cigarettes, please

will i finally get cancer

like i wished for at 18?

i flatten the earth as i smoke

is it to distract myself from You,

as we talk about You?

we're both shivering but we

keep standing in the snow

until it hurts

feet are numb

more cigarettes, please

im shivering madly

another cigarette, please

i still haven't seen Her face

i guess i could show you

(how do you forget that)

only if it won't make it hurt.

nah, i check everyday, just to see if it says 'Married'

yeah, She's pretty.

look at Her! She's everything. i'd kill for Her, i'd do anything

look at Her! look at Her! wow.

-

something about freezing makes you think less

your mind can't focus on anything else

his new boyfriend is a serious downgrade

he's got a new boyfriend? that's good, i hope he's happy

he's so fucked up for what he did to you.

i just hope he's happy.

(never find peace. never? why did you say that to me?)

we went on a double date, at the fair

ah, the F word

cmon man...

now we're here and there's the wheel right there, staring at me.

i can't get away from it.

-

you gonna bang Kat?

no. im not interested in women anymore.

i thought you werent interested in men, anymore?

i dont think im interested in anybody

you're both gonna be super drunk, did you take that into account?

yeah. i dont think itll change much.

-

it feels good to freeze and the only thing

you can warm your hands with, is a cigarette

it feels like being homeless, that feels right

i give it a try and yeah,

he's right.

i leave half of the conversation in my head

ive never been one for speaking my mind

half of the meanings, the clarifications, the answers, the questions

left behind

i tell him. (You'd hate me for it)

things ive never mentioned to anyone

he tells me

things he's never mentioned to anyone

that damn wheel is still there

i want to get a ferris wheel tattoo

you-. Yeah, i don't blame you.

and why were You on that strangers face?

why was that stranger wearing Your face?

why did i keep seeing Her around this place?

we go inside and i watched

Princess Mononoke

with Grant

originally i canceled my plans with him

to watch it with You.

but where were You?

where were You?

where were

You?

where were

You?

SHE'S NOT GOING TO CALL

SHE'S STILL NOT GOING TO CALL

SHE WANTS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE ROACH

KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND

STAY. OUT. OF. THE. WAY.

i want to bury my hands in the snow till they cant move

what does that feel like?

is that a sensation worth experiencing?

can i put cigarettes out on my own skin?

another cigarette, please

ash it down till it burns my mouth

i'm getting ready to scream.

i smell like ten cigarettes.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for using my patients dreams to alter reality?

So recently, I (???M) got a patient (???M) who had been taking drugs to reduce his dreaming because he believed they would alter reality. Obviously, I didn't believe this at first until I witnessed first hand during our first session in which my mural of Mt. Hound turned into a mural of a race horse. So, I decided to use his powers for the betterment of humanity. Using hypnosis to control what he dreamed, I tried to fix things like climate change and overpopulation. I also did some things that benefited me upgrading my office and such. At one point, I told him to dream about world peace, but that somehow got him to dream that instead of humans warring with humans, humans were warring with aliens! After fixing up that alien business, I continued to fix the worlds problems like racism (which just got rid of races and made us all grey). He was getting really upset with me at this point and didn't think I had any business changing things. He was especially upset after seeing that citizens' arrest of the guy with cancer. I decided I would make him dream that his dreams couldn't alter reality anymore, and then, since I had been studying his brain for a while now, I would transfer his power to myself. However, when I did that, the world almost ended.

AITA?