#the doctor said to gain some weight and talk to a therapist

[butnobodycame627]

sorry I feel like venting in my tags

[briefinquiries]

Luke Alvez x Reader: What You Deserve

Description: Feeling undeserving of luke's attention and affection.

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: low self-esteem, negative self-talk, internalized fat phobia

A/N: I wrote this back when I was super insecure about my weight (i.e. this is how i felt about every guy i dated). but just saying i lowkey hate the insecure plus-sized reader trope and want to write better plus-size reader fics in the future, but this is all i have to repost for now!

You were ten when you sprained your ankle on the playground at school and wound up at the doctor’s office with your mom. The doctor was nice and distracted you from the pain in your ankle with some funny jokes. He even let you listen to your own heartbeat with his stethoscope. 

But at the end of the visit, once you had a splint on your ankle, he turned to your mom and mentioned the term overweight.  

“She’s on the high end of her age’s weight class,” he said matter-of-factly. And maybe it was just a simple matter of fact. You’d never thought much about your weight before that day. You were happy. You loved to play- especially outside. Your favorite game was capture the flag, but it didn’t matter. You were active and healthy. 

Your mom listened to his advice intently, because he was the professional after all. Who was she to question his word on your health? And when you get home you were immediately placed on what she calls a diet. 

“That means no more ice cream after dinner, and we’re going to cut back on the popcorn, too.”

And maybe the doctor was right, you started to think, as you took a long look at yourself in the full length mirror behind the bathroom door that very same night. You pinched the skin protruding from your stomach and watched as the fat around your thighs jiggled. Maybe you were too big, too fat. You thought of your friends at school and for the first time, (but certainly not the last), you found yourself wondering, why don’t I look like them?

“The diet will help,” your mom told you reassuringly.   

Except it doesn’t. Instead, you wound up gaining more weight, this time at a rapid pace, because you’ve found that when Mom says you can’t have ice cream after dinner, you wind up sneaking into the kitchen after she’s gone to bed and eating it anyway. But you don’t stop there. You eat some of the watermelon that’s left in the fridge, too, and some crackers from the cupboard. Just enough from each box so that she doesn’t notice, but enough altogether, that you go to bed with a full, aching stomach. 

This becomes a pretty standard part of your nightly routine until your mom caught you digging through the pantry one night, while she had come downstairs quietly for a glass of water.  

The look on her face was shock, followed quickly by disgust. You felt embarrassed and ashamed and humiliated. 

“I can’t believe you’ve been doing this,” then, “it’s no wonder you’re gaining all that weight.”

…

You’ve always had a difficult time loving yourself, you’ve always looked in the mirror and not necessarily liked what looked back at you. Sure, there were days where you thought to yourself, I look pretty today. But in the back of your mind there was always that voice that would add, for a fat person. 

When you’re in your twenties, you finally break the habitual pattern of binge eating that you’d been doing since you were a kid. As you ticked off the number of days it had been since a binge, you sighed. You really would have thought that by stopping consistently overindulging, you’d lose the weight. But that wasn’t the case. Instead, your body has plateaued. No more dramatic gains or losses- it just is. The weight, for the most part, stayed on.  

By your thirties, you’d come to an understanding, a blind acceptance, with your body. You didn’t always like it, but you appreciated it. Neutrality, your therapist had encouraged. And that was good enough. 

Regardless, you had other things going for you besides your looks and your weight. You had a great job and infinite career goals to focus on. Not everything had to be about being beautiful and desirable, you learned.  

…

Your favorite thing about being part of the BAU were your coworkers. You never expected how close you’d get to them, but before you knew it, they felt more like your family than anything else. Something about constantly facing life-threatening situations with one another created an everlasting bond encased in mutual trust. 

You and the rest of the team had a rare evening off, which normally, you’d spend waiting skeptically by your phone, convinced that you’d get called in for a case any minute. But not tonight, Emily had promised. All cases were on hold until the morning. You were sitting at home, contemplating what to do with your precious time when the text came through.  

It was Tara messaging the group chat, asking if anyone was up for drinks and a night out. It didn’t take long before Luke’s name came flashing across your screen next. It was impossible to ignore the butterflies fluttering rampantly in your stomach as you read the words that he’s typed. 

I’m in, he said simply.  

Luke was the newest member to have joined the team. Just months prior, he transferred to the BAU from the Fugitive Task Force. As soon as Emily brought him into the conference room, you knew all bets were off. He was tall and handsome, with a clean cut, thick beard and dark skin. While he was given personalized introductions, you had noticed his bicep flexing as he extended his arm out to shake everyone’s hands. When he was introduced to you, his large hand engulfing yours and his dark eyes scanned the length of you, and you knew instantly that Luke Alvez was a catch.  

It was pointless and childish and arbitrary, and you knew it. But you couldn’t shake it, no matter how hard you tried- no matter how many times you told yourself he’d never be into a girl like you. A fat girl like you, the voice in your head said. You tried to challenge that voice- fought back and argued with it occasionally just like your therapist had encouraged, but it still found ways of insisting that you weren’t worthy of attention or affection from someone like Luke. 

So, before your insecurities could convince you to decline Tara’s invite that night, you typed back a quick, I’m in, too. 

…

It turned out most of the team decided to join your night out. And it was fun, or it would have been, if not for the critic in your head being abnormally loud.  

Look how skinny JJ looks in that top- you could never pull that off. 

Don’t eat the nachos, they’ll think you’re fat. 

Eat the nachos, because if you don’t, they’ll know that you know you’re fat. 

As always, it was exhausting and all consuming- a never ending battle in your own mind. And while you knew your team didn’t give a shit if you ate the damn nachos or not, you couldn’t stop obsessing over it.  

You tried your best to enjoy yourself- to push those thoughts to the back of your mind, but it took effort. 

Tara had picked the spot, it was a small pub that serves drinks and food. There was music, but not so loud that you couldn’t hear each other talk. You sipped your vodka lemonade, the straw pinched between your thumb and pointer finger, and watched as Emily and JJ were taking on Rossi and Matt in a game of pool.  

Across from you sat Tara and Spencer. They were having an in depth conversation about Jean Piaget, when suddenly, Luke slid into the empty booth seat beside you. Your senses were instantly overwhelmed momentarily by his cologne, strong but not overpowering. His arm brushed yours, the warmth from his skin sending an electrical current through your entire body. You tensed up, if not just from the shock of it all. But as soon as you let your guard down, the voice in your head crept back in. He can feel how fat your arm is- pull away. So you did. 

If he noticed, he didn’t comment. Instead he smiled, his white teeth on full display. “Having fun?” he asked. 

You took another sip of your lemonade and nodded. “Yeah, it’s nice to have a night away from..” your voice trailed off as you thought of the word. 

“Crime? Murder?” Luke smirked. “Serial killers?”

You chuckled, “How about all of the above?”

Luke nodded. “They say crime never sleeps, but we finally will tonight.” He set his drink down and scratched his beard in contemplation. “I’m thinking at least eight hours tonight.”

“Eight hours?” you gawked, “You’re living large!”

Luke laughed. There was a brief pause in the chatter, and you took another sip of your drink awkwardly. You were about to make a joke about the competitive pool game going on in front of you between Rossi and JJ, when Luke leaned over and said quietly, “You look really nice tonight.”

You faltered, you didn't know how to answer, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to look up at Luke’s gaze, because you weren’t sure you could handle it. And while you knew that you should say thank you, you only curled into yourself as if what Luke said was just a snide, nasty remark. Compliments like that were so foreign to you and you felt like you didn’t deserve them, so you had a hard time believing that what Luke had to say was actually genuine. You knew he wasn’t the type of person to ever poke fun at another, but wasn’t that what made the most sense? He certainly wasn’t hitting on you- so maybe it was a pity remark, or just a way to fill the awkward silence. 

You ended up just offering him a curt smile, pretending that you didn’t see the way his face fell. 

…

You were happy most of the time. Not as carefree as some on the team, but still. You joked with Tara and Emily and had meaningful conversations with Spencer. You asked Dave about his weekends and listened with intent as Matt told you stories about his infinite amount of kids.  

But then there were days where you’re nowhere near that feeling. 

There were bad days. And when they came, they were always so sudden and unexpected, it almost took your breath away. 

You were away on a case with the team in Colorado Springs when you had your first really bad day in a long time.  

The case, for the most part, kept you busy, and for a while you were able to ward off the negative thoughts. Instead of fixating on how worthless you felt, you thought about the four victims that had gone missing in the area, you thought of the Unsub and ways your team could find them. You thought about ME reports and patterns in each abduction, it was enough of a puzzle that you were able to stay occupied.  

But when you were back at the hotel, the rest of your team in their own rooms, and left to your own thoughts, that’s when the quiet consumed you.  

As a child, you learned that the one thing-the only thing- that helped when you were feeling this overwhelming sense of anxiety and dread, was to binge. It helped you stuff the negative thoughts so deep down within yourself, that for at least a little while, you were numb to all the pain. 

You knew you shouldn’t- you hadn’t in so long. But just this one time would be okay, right? Only this once, just to feel a little better, and then you wouldn’t do it again. 

The battle inside your own head raged on. You took deep breaths, you tried to journal what you were feeling, but the feeling didn't subside. Only when there was a knock at your door, and you were forced to pull yourself back to reality, did the argument get placed on the backburner. You blinked back tears that you didn’t even realize were there before hastily making your way to the hotel door. 

“J-just a minute,” you tried to make your voice sound normal, like the debate going on inside your mind about what you were about to do would be obvious to whoever was at the door. You quickly wiped your cheeks and brushed your wrinkled shirt off before hoisting it open. 

“Hi,” you managed to smile as you opened the door. 

Luke was on the other side, to your surprise, holding two brown paper bags and a couple of bottled drinks. 

“Hey,” Luke answered, his eyes lingering on your face for a brief moment. You wondered if he could tell you’d been crying. 

“What’s up?” you drawled, as if to politely ask, why the hell are you knocking at my door at eleven pm?

“Everyone else was asleep and I was hungry-” he held up the bag of what was apparently food and shrugged. “Except, I bought way too much, I’ll never eat it all. Are you hungry?”

You gave him a confused look. “I-”

“It’s just burgers, some chicken and some fries, nothing fancy- but I didn’t want to eat alone and I saw your light on..”

You sighed, but then stepped to the side, a gesture for him to come in. Luke gave you a relieved look before entering your room. He headed to the bed, which was the only place to sit. 

“Do you mind?” he asked, motioning towards the mattress. 

You shook your head, “No, go for it.”

You closed the door behind him and joined Luke, barely noticing that the dread in your stomach from earlier had been replaced by a light, fluttering sensation. 

As Luke began unloading the greasy food from the bag, you hesitated. Was this a trick? Was he secretly trying to see how much food you could put away? Was he going to go back and tell the team how much you’d eaten?  

Luke picked up on your apprehension. 

“Is everything okay?”

You don’t answer quickly enough before he asked, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Goddamn these intuitive profilers. 

“Nothing,” you said.  But somehow, Luke heard the lie. 

“I know I’m the new guy,” he said, “and it’s probably gonna take some time before you trust me, I know that. But I want you to know you can talk to me.”

“Yeah.. it-it’s nothing,” you managed to say, because you couldn’t talk. Not about this and not yet. Maybe not ever. 

“Okay,” Luke nodded. “Sometimes, it’s tough being the new guy. I can see how close you guys all are and I just want to be a part of that eventually, you know?” His eyes bore into your own and you caught a glimpse of the sincerity behind his words, and that was when you started to feel guilty for ever thinking he was here to make fun of you. Luke was here for a friend, for comfort of his own.  

You sat on the bed next to Luke and took a fry from the basket. “You are part of it.” You assured him. “Everyone here adores you.”

Me included, is what you didn’t say. 

“You wouldn’t be included in our group chat if we didn’t.”

That made Luke smile, his dimple evident in his cheek.  

He stayed in your room for a while, the two of you laughing and talking throughout the night. You never realized how much you didn’t know about Luke.  Like that he had a dog, for example, or that he grew up in Arizona and moved around a lot once he joined the military. He kept you laughing, his jokes and sarcasm thrown intermittently through his speech.  

You shared the chicken and fries with him, not even feeling self conscious when you reached for more to put on your plate. You were too wrapped up in whatever story Luke was telling and the way his eyes lit up as he talked about the things that interested him, to be insecure. 

Luke took the last drink of his bottled water before sighing. “I suppose I should head back to my room, and try to get a little sleep.” He lifted his arm and looked at the watch on his wrist. “I’m definitely not getting my eight hours tonight,” he laughed. 

You nodded in agreement, the two of you standing up in sync, and you walked Luke to the door. 

Luke stepped into the hallway before turning to face you. “Thanks for the company,” he said.

You smiled, “Thanks for the food.”

There was a brief, awkward silence, where neither one of you knew what to do next. But then, it happened quickly. One minute, you were studying the way Luke’s warm, brown eyes were trained on you, and then, before you could predict what would happen next, he stepped forward, one hand planting itself firmly on your hip and the other cupping your chin. He paused briefly, like he was giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t- and so the next thing you knew, Luke was pulling you closer to his body and his lips were pressing against your own, their warmth spreading the entirety of your body.  

Fat, fat, fat- your mind suddenly screamed. You suddenly became hyper-aware of his fingers digging into the soft, fleshy part of your hip, and wondered if he’d be repulsed by what he felt. But if he was, he didn’t make it obvious. 

There had to be a catch, you thought- some alternative motive for him to be kissing you like this. Guys like Luke didn’t go after girls like you. Fat girls like you, the voice said. 

He just wants sex.  

He’s not thinking straight. 

He’ll regret this tomorrow. 

You pulled away, breathlessly, your heart suddenly racing. Before Luke could suspect that something was wrong, you offered him your best smile. “I should get to bed,” you explained. 

Luke could sense the shift in your tone, you imagined that he wanted to ask what’s wrong, but you were already stepping away from him. Instead he nodded, trying to hide his confusion. “Okay, yeah. G-goodnight.”

“Night,” you whispered before shutting the door. 

…

Luke hoped he hadn’t fucked up.  

That was his first thought as soon as he saw the door close in his face. He bit his lips, they still tasted like you, and slowly backed away.  

His feet drummed against the cheap carpet floor of the hotel as he paced the few doors down to his own room.  

He really thought you’d liked him- thought you’d reciprocated the kiss even.  But judging by the look on your face when you closed the door, he thought that he might be terribly mistaken. 

He didn’t get his eight hours of sleep.  

In fact, he barely got any. Instead, he spent the night trying to figure out where the hell he could have gotten things so wrong.  

When Luke’s phone started buzzing loudly, he felt exhausted and not even close to ready for the inevitably long day ahead.  

Regardless, Luke got ready quickly. The one conclusion that he had come to after contemplating all night was that he wanted to find you and clear the air.  Despite his obvious feelings for you that were now right out in the open, he couldn’t risk your friendship, or making things awkward at work. Once he was showered and dressed, Luke departed the hotel in search of some coffee. 

He remembered that you liked it hot, with just cream and a hint of cinnamon.  This would be his peace offering, an apology for crossing the line, the promise that it wouldn’t happen again. 

…

You were answering a text from Emily on your phone, directing you to go to the ME office, when you heard a voice calling your name.  

Your head snapped up, and there, sure enough, like he was waiting for you in the lobby, Luke came jogging over. In his outstretched arm was a cup of coffee. 

“Hey.”

For a moment, you wondered if maybe Luke really was into you. A kiss one night and coffee the next morning? Surely that meant he wasn’t just looking for a hookup, right? 

You accepted his offering with a smile. “What’s this?” you asked dumbfoundedly.  Could you really be this lucky? Could he actually be interested in you? The butterflies in your stomach started flying rampantly as you quickly got your hopes up. 

“I wanted to apologize-” he said, his head falling, like he was ashamed. “For last night.”

Your heart sank. 

“I crossed the line, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Your friendship means a lot to me-”

And there it was. You were no stranger to the friendship line. Guys used it all the time as a way out.  After going on dates, after hookups- it was always the same response from them when they weren’t interested- I like you but I don’t want to risk our friendship. I really just want to be friends. I’m not ready for a relationship, can we just be friends?

To you that translated as, you’re not good enough for me.  

You were a fool for ever getting your hopes up- for ever thinking that someone like Luke could actually be interested in someone like you. 

You took the coffee and tried not to meet his eager gaze.  

“Don’t worry about it,” is all you could manage to croak out. 

Luke could sense the shift in your tone. “I really am sorry,” he said. 

But you shook your head, and feigned your best smile. You backed away from him, not wanting him to see the glistening tears evident in your eyes.  

Stupid, stupid, stupid, your mind was screaming at you. “It’s fine,” you said instead, your voice cracking slightly just as you turned to leave the hotel lobby. 

…

Luke knew he had fucked up.  

The peace offering that he had made was nothing short of a disaster, and now he’d have to come up with another way to make up for what he’d done. 

That much was obvious as he was left standing alone in the hotel lobby, gazing at the doors you’d just walked out of. 

... 

Three days later, on the jet ride home, Luke could barely get you to even look at him. Not that he had made much of an effort, but still. He wanted to give you space. Hadn’t he done enough damage already? 

He knew he’d have to think of a way to talk to you about what had happened.  Maybe if he just explained himself, you’d understand. 

But how was he supposed to talk to you when you wouldn’t even look at him?

He finally got his chance when the jet landed and the team was back at the BAU. He found you at your desk, hunched over a stack of paperwork. Rossi, JJ, Tara, and Spencer had already left for the night. Matt was gathering his belongings from his desk and heading out the door, meanwhile Emily was barricaded in her office with the door shut. If Luke was ever going to get a minute alone with you- it was now.  

He shuffled cautiously over towards your desk. You gave him no indication that you’d heard him at all, but nonetheless, he cleared his throat before getting too close. He didn’t want to startle you.  

You didn’t even look up from what you’re writing. 

“Hey,” he said. “Can I talk to you for a second?” 

“I can’t right now,” your tone is flat.“I have this whole stack I need to do before tomorrow.”

Luke felt frustrated and dismissed, but he bit his tongue. Instead of pushing, he grabbed half the stack of paperwork from atop your desk and took it back to his own desk. Before you could protest or argue, he sat down and flipped open the first file, ready to work. 

…

The entire floor was eerily quiet. Besides the occasional clicking of keys and scratching of a pen, you and Luke worked in complete silence. 

You felt bad. You really didn’t have to finish all of this paperwork by tomorrow.  That was just your excuse to avoid talking with Luke. But now, it was almost 1 AM and you were nearly finished with it all. 

You heard his pen click and you knew that was his indicator that he was done with his stack. Your heart clenched in your chest anxiously. You heard him approach your desk. There was a sudden thump when he threw the stack back where he found it. 

“There,” he announces. “Can we talk now?”

The man was persistent. 

You set your pen down lightly and sighed. Admitting defeat, you nodded. 

Luke pulled Spencer’s chair out from his desk, which was right next to yours.  He scooted it closer to you. 

Your gaze remained hyper focused on your hands, which were cupped and laid neatly in your lap. Luke ducked his head down, trying to catch your eyes. Begrudgingly, you looked up and made eye contact with him. 

“Listen,” his voice was soft, “I am really sorry for kissing you the other night.”

You groaned frustratedly. “Will you stop apologizing?” you finally said. “I get it, you didn’t want to kiss me. It’s fine- But I don’t need this- this pity.”   

Luke instantly looked taken aback by your frustration, but it was the most you’ve said to him in the last three days, so he took it all in. As your words played back in his mind, he frowned. “I never said I didn’t want to kiss you.”

“Well- whatever you did or didn’t say, I get it, okay? I get that it was a mistake and it didn’t mean anything. It’s fine.”

But Luke continued shaking his head. “I never said any of that-” he protested.  

You remained quiet, but he continued. “I never said any of that. Is that how you feel about it?” he asked, hands clasped tightly together. 

You shrugged. Your cheeks felt hot- you were insecure with Luke’s eyes trained so intently on you. You wished you could just forget this whole thing happened, wished you could just disappear. But Luke kept pushing.  

“Is that how you feel?” he repeated. There was a brief pause. “Because that’s not how I feel,” he said. “I don’t regret kissing you. I like you and I wanted to do it. And I thought you wanted to, too. If I had known you didn’t- I never would have done it. I regret making you uncomfortable, and I regret making things awkward between us, but I don’t regret the kiss.”

Luke’s words swam around in your head, but they were a jumbled mess. You tried to piece them together slowly, in order to process what he was saying. Did he just say he liked you?

There was a part of you that felt like this whole thing had just been a cruel joke.  But yet, here he was- sitting in front of you with the most sincere eyes you’d ever seen, and suddenly, you started to wonder if maybe this was real. Maybe, for God-only-knows what reason, Luke actually had feelings for you- was actually attracted to you. 

“You like me?” you asked, your voice low. 

Luke laughed- like actually laughed- and when you looked up at him, his eyes were squinting as his lips were curled into a wide grin. “Uh, yeah- I thought I’d made that blatantly clear.”

But you shook your head. “I- I didn’t know..”

“I kissed you-” he said, like it’s obvious. 

“I know, but I figured you just wanted to hookup- I didn’t think you actually liked me-”

“But I brought you dinner- and coffee. Did you think I just do that for everyone?”

You remained guarded, because you still couldn’t entirely trust this. “Yeah,” you said. “Kind of, I guess.”

“Okay,” Luke nodded. “Let me spell it out for you then. I like you.” He said each word carefully and slowly. “And I liked kissing you. And I’d really like to date you. And if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. But I’d still like to be friends, and I’d really like for things not to be awkward at work.”

You stared in awe, not able to believe any of this was really happening. You wanted to ask why. Why did this handsome, kind, honest man like you? What made you even remotely good enough for him? 

But you didn’t ask. Because did it matter right now?

“Your turn,” Luke urged. “Since I seem to have such a hard time reading you, can you spell it out for me too?”

You hesitated. You’d never flat out told someone how you felt about them. You were insecure and terrified of rejection. And even though Luke had flat out told you rejection wasn’t a possibility, you were still embarrassed to tell him how you felt. You didn’t like how vulnerable that made you- how open to the hurt that made you. 

But Luke’s smile was so reassuring and kind, you tried not to think too much before telling him quietly, “I like you too. I have for a while, actually.”

He chuckled, which you think might just be your new favorite sound. “So why’d you pull away the other night?” he asked longingly.  “Why have you been so distant?”

“Because- I didn’t think someone like you would ever be into someone like me.”

The moment the words left your lips, you regretted it. And when Luke’s face contorted into a look of confusion, and then hurt, you regretted it even more. 

“What do you mean?” he asked.

You fumble with your words, because you weren’t sure how to explain. “I just thought someone like you would be more apt to go after someone that looked more like Tara or JJ or Emily is all.”

“What’s the common denominator there? Because Tara, JJ, and Emily look nothing alike-”

“You know what I mean,” you protested. “I thought someone like you would be more apt to go for someone-” you paused before saying the word, “someone skinnier than- well... me.” 

Luke’s face fell, but you laughed it off nervously. “Just makes me wonder why, is all,” you said. 

“I like you-” he assured you. “I like you because you’re smart and you’re thoughtful.”

Luke’s managed to scoot his chair increasingly closer to you without you noticing. When you looked down, you realized that your knees were practically touching. The first thing that ran through your mind is, oh my God, your thighs are bigger than his. But you shook the thought away. You weren’t going to let that voice ruin this- not again. 

“You’re intuitive- the best profiler.”

The way Luke was looking at you made everything else melt away. All you saw was him and those unimaginably warm eyes. 

“You’re kind and generous and you make me laugh,” he paused. “You’re beautiful.”

You remembered how soft his lips felt against yours when you kissed days ago, and all you wanted was to taste him again. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait long for your wish to come true. Luke leaned in, closing the gap between you two. Just when he was only inches from your face, he grinned. “I could keep going, you know?”

You ignored him and his cheeky grin and instead you leaned forward, and without thinking, cupped his face between your hands and pulled him closer.  

His lips were exactly as you remembered, soft and smooth and all-encompassing. Luke’s hand landed just above your knee and when you started to wonder whether or not your leg felt fat underneath his touch, you were able to silence it. Who the hell cares? Certainly not Luke, that much you were learning quickly. In fact, you wondered if maybe he even liked it. The thought passed quickly, and you were able to focus on the man in front of you instead- the one who was quickly claiming you as his own. The one you deserved. 

[r3d-m3dic]

alr alr headcanon time. Under the cut because this is long. I could ramble about this game for hours. This is probably just gonna be about Lukas and Aiden. Maybe some Maya and Gill. Also it's probably a disorganized mess.

Edit: hey hey! So i rewatched a mcsm play through, and have thought about some of the head canons i put here. I'll cross out ones I no longer believe, or add on a bit to make them make sense!

First up

Lukas headcanons (this section will also include some family things)

Transgender omnisexual.

Him and Aiden used to date.

Lukas and Aiden knew each other since Elementary school. Lukas met Maya and Gill in high school, and introduced them to Aiden.

Lukas went to college, but it was briefly paused due to the witherstorm bullshit.

Lukas is 20 during the events of season one.

His parents are divorced, and his father got custody. His mother got custody of Erik, his brother (my oc). They divorced in Lukas's sophomore year.

His father is a doctor.

His mother owns a barber shop, and always cut his hair at home.

When Lukas's parents divorced, him and his brother rarely saw each other, and drifted apart. Especially since Erik was always off doing some silly adventure with Lex (other OC. Jesse's younger sibling.)

In the beginning of the divorce however, Lukas was always with his brother, knowing what would likely happen. Him, and the rest of The Ocelots are very protective of Erik.

Lukas has always wanted to be a writer, and has been writing since he was in elementary school. He typically used to write fantasy and super heroes. His favorite author is Tolkien, and he loves LOTR.

Doesn't yell much. He prefers a mature discussion rather then an angry scream filled argument.

Slightly insecure about his weight. The moment he thinks he's gaining any weight, he'll barely eat.

When him and Axel were finally on good terms with each other, Lukas actually talked to Axel about this. Axel has helped a bunch. I love me some wholesome Lukas and Axel :3

After the skycity thing, when The Blazerods were in prison, Lukas insisted Jesse get Aiden a therapist. He didn't need to insist much really, Jesse was on board because Aiden very much needed mental help.

Lukas is currently on good terms with the Blazerods, he would always talk to them when they were in jail, give them food, listen. They were his friends, especially Aiden. He's gonna want to help them become better people if he can.

Had the biggest crush on Jesse during the events of season 1. This was obvious to everyone except for Jesse. Finally confessed before the events of season 2. Obviously Jesse accepted.

When the Admin was pretending to be Jesse, Lukas was absolutely heartbroken. The joy he felt when the real Jesse came back and explained the Admin Jesse wasn't actually him is crazy. He wouldn't let go of Jesse after everything calmed down.

Lukas doesn't live in Beacontown. He lives off in some small cabin.

He has two cats.

He was tiny up until high school when he got a growth spurt.

I should probably move on to Aiden now.

Aiden headcanons (this section will also include some family things.)

Most would say he's irredeemable, but I disagree. I believe that he can be redeemed, and got a chance after season 2. Lukas helped him out as said previously.

Aiden was surprised when Lukas actually wanted to help him get better, rather then ignore him and let him rot alone.

Therapy did help Aiden. He needed therapy, some help at least.

Aiden doesn't live in Beacontown. He built a house in a cave. Maya and Gill live there with him.

Whilst Maya and Gill visit Beacontown, Aiden never does. He's actually kind of scared too. Afraid he'll get shunned.

Whilst he used to be very loud on what he thinks, after season 2 he begun keeping to himself. He writes in a journal, that nobody even knows exists.

He is still in love with Lukas. But Lukas is dating Jesse, so he keeps that to himself.

Speaking of dating Lukas, nobody knew. Nobody except for Maya and Gill. Absolutely nobody else knew. And Aiden would prefer to keep it that way. Lukas never told anyone about it, not even after they broke up.

If past Aiden met current Aiden, I think he'd freak out about how he's gone soft.

Aiden's parents are not good parents. They'd rather drink until they can't think then take care of their son. This is where most of Aiden's hatred comes from. Despite how mean he was, Lukas stuck with him.

Aiden has always been an only child. He's the youngest of his cousins, on both sides of the family.

He has a Blåhaj. Yes he still sleeps with it. No, nobody knows.

Aiden dropped out of high school in his Junior year.

He would give anything to go back and stop himself from dropping out.

Aiden made the Jackets! He's incredibly talented with sewing, and making clothing. He actually made his own shirt.

His favorite member of the OG Order of The Stone is Magnus, hence the shirt. His parents refused to get one for him, that's why he made it himself.

He has not gotten taller since 7th grade. He has had that shirt since 7th grade. He still wears it, and it's somehow in mint condition.

He secretly enjoys the song It Girl, he likes it so much that it's his favorite song. He'd rather die then admit that. If you ask he'll say some rap song. He likes Kendrick. (Might be OOC but its funny)

He was an absolute menace in middle school. I mean, he still is a menace, but he reached peak menace in middle school. Only thing that topped what he did in middle school was him becoming an actual terrorist (the skycity incident).

In his sophomore year, there was a school dance. However, the rules were that women couldn't wear suits, and men couldn't wear dresses. Obviously people were mad about that, because like c'mon.. Who actually cares??

So anyways, Aiden showed up in an absolutely gorgeous dress, and Maya showed up in a full suit. Both slayed. The best Aiden had ever looked. They didn't end up getting kicked out for it, thank god.

Aiden still has that dress, it just hangs in his closet as a fun memory. It still fits him.. Well, it's a little tight.

It's a bit tight because he has gained some weight in the time between that dance, and now. He's a bit chubby.

He used to go to Endercon because he enjoyed building. But his enjoyment turned into competitiveness. Which turned toxic. Which results in him bullying the other competitors. Gill and Maya join in because it's fun. It's fun to be mean.* Lukas never joined in, but Aiden could care less. They did start having more and more arguments up to the events of season 1 episode 1.

*Little disclaimer. Whilst it may seem fun to you to be mean, it's always better to be nice. Don't get caught up in your own personal enjoyment. Consequences exist, and they're not fun.

Aiden is severely starved of physical anything really. Lukas hugged him one time and that almost made him reconsider being an asshole.

He stayed with Lukas's family a lot of his childhood.

He grew his hair out during his time rotting away in a cell, and actually liked it. So he kept long hair.

I can't really think of anything else. These might be OOC, and a lot for Aiden is after season 2 and him softening up a lot. Well, feel free to comment or reblog with your headcanons!

:3

[paintedmage]

Talking "Mama Kaiba" Headcanon

As I've said in my Yu-Gi-Oh headcanon list, I headcanon Kaiba as an intersex capable of childbearing, and he and Atem have too many kids to count. But I figured it's good to sit down and go over this in detail.

(if I got any science or anatomical stuff messed up, I'd appreciate it if someone let's me know! I tried to do some research on my own but any intersex individuals with their own knowledge are welcome to come forward and offer their own experiences)

Anatomy

Kaiba outwardly presents as a male, having a penis and testes, but internally has a fully female reproductive system, including ovaries, uterus, vaginal opening, etc.

His testes produce little to no sperm and his penis does not function properly, so he's not capable of getting anybody else pregnant and often goes into hospital to treat infections and slight incontinence.

His female reproductive system functions near normal, and Kaiba has irregular periods. His doctors tell him he's capable of becoming pregnant, but pregnancy opens up avenues of complications.

Kaiba eventually undergoes surgery to reroute and fix his urinary tract, to reduce his complications and UTIs that he frequently experiences. (now this is something that I'm not entirely certain about actually being possible so I'd appreciate insight) He tries to keep his testes to try and regulate his male hormones but it's not fruitful. He eventually has them removed in favor of hormone replacement to properly regulate his hormones

Conception and Contraceptives

Kaiba has to take hormone shots to balance his testosterone and has to frequently get bloodwork done to check his t-levels. This lowers Kaiba's chances of conception but not entirely

Atem doesn't use condoms since Kaiba has such a low window of conception. Kaiba is aware of this and doesn't believe he can conceive.

Eventually one of their "fun in the sheets" sessions yields an unexpected offspring

Pregnancy Symptoms and Complications

Kaiba has to halt his T shots and start taking estrogen to try and keep his pregnancy stable. The increase in estrogen causes Kaiba's features to soften, he gains small breasts, and his voice gets softer. It's a jarring change for many, but especially Kaiba himself.

During his first pregnancy, with the first set of twins, Kaiba nearly miscarries twice and is placed on strict bedrest by his OB. Kaiba does not like being unable to leave his bed or confined to working from his laptop.

Despite not wanting this pregnancy or wanting to grow attached, Kaiba does. It's hard not to when he envisions himself being a caring father, unlike anything Gozaburo had been to him.

Kaiba does experience body dysmorphia and gender dysphoria during his pregnancy. Atem convinces him to speak to his therapist about it, as Kaiba was forced into therapy by both Atem and Mokuba.

Kaiba has severe morning sickness during his pregnancy, and can only hold down ginger tea and lightly buttered toast during his first trimester. Anti-nausea medication does very little to help him.

Kaiba has a lot of back and hip pain due to the weight of the twins in his stomach.

Kaiba suffers from Braxton Hicks contractions in the last two months of his pregnancy.

Cravings (exclusive to his first pregnancy)

Chocolate Truffle and Pickles

Strawberries and cream cheese

Avocado and honey

Seaweed and peanut butter sandwiches

Mint ice cream covered in hot sauce

The smell of oil paint(he does NOT consume it, he just craves the smell)

Potato chips covered in caramel syrup

Labor and Delivery

Kaiba actually has a hard time realizing when he's in labor, as his contractions are light and feel like his Braxton Hicks contractions.

His water breaks on March 30th at 1 AM, waking him from his light sleep.

Atem rushes him to the hospital immediately, both anxious to meet the twins. Kaiba is admitted at about 1:45

Kaiba takes about 12 hours to dilate to 6 cm. The doctors have him walk his room to try and help him with his contractions and help him dilate. Despite his anxieties, Kaiba is calm and collected, viewing this as his greatest duel yet.

Kaiba is then moved to his bed despite him not wanting to lie down. Atem has to keep him from screaming at the doctors too much.

It takes Kaiba about 5 more hours to fully dilate. By then their friends have arrived, all ready to meet the "little Kaibas"

Kaiba delivers the first twin, Kaida Rose Kaiba-Sennen, at 1:26 AM on March 31st

The second twin, Yami Ryuuki Kaiba-Sennen, shortly follows at 1:34 AM

Post-Delivery and Beyond

Kaiba, shockingly, is a natural mother. All he wants is to hold his kids close and protect them from the cruelty of the world, to shield them from the hardship HE had to face in his life to get where he is now. He can provide his daughter and son with the security and love he was denied.

Atem actually has to fight to hold his kids after birth, as Kaiba almost never puts them down. Just passing the kids around for their friends to meet barely goes over well. And Joey holding the twins nearly sends Kaiba into a fit if the look from Atem had not silenced him.

Atem recognizes that Kaiba is overprotective of their kids based on his own life experiences. And Atem knows it's something Kaiba will need to work through it eventually with his therapist.

Despite his overprotectiveness, Kaiba does not baby his kids or spoil them rotten. Despite the financial security he can provide them, he recognizes their need to find their path in the world and learn maturity and responsibility. He's strict, but not overly so. He wishes for them to grow strong like him and Atem, and not be spoiled and entitled. He can't let power go their heads like it once did his own.

As their family slowly grows, welcoming Ryuuki, then Sara, the second set of twins Koyo and Noctis, and finally partially deaf Samira, Kaiba slowly learns the ups and downs of parenting with each addition. The anxiety sickness brings, the pride of his childrens accomplishments, and the struggle of teaching all the kids sign language for Samira's sake.

Parenthood changes Kaiba, making him compassionate and loving, but it sharpens his protective drive and fierce nature. Anyone who dares bully his children will soon find Seto Kaiba at their door with a dark glint in his eyes.

When his kids hit their teen years, Kaiba begins to prepare them, teaching them about KaibaCorp to decide who will take his place as CEO and President of the company. He tells them that whoever does not becomes his heir will still have a valuable role in the company. (For example, Noctis could run the KC Space Program like he dreams of, and Samira the Accessibility program)

And that is my deep dive into Mama Kaiba! Feel free to send questions to my ask box if you want something regarding this made clearer, or if you have any questions about anything I did not discuss here!

[king-crane]

INCURABLE / TERMINAL.

In light of more talk about Batman Beyond in the rpc (good, it's fucking peak), and talking with @2ndbat (FANTASTIC BLOG GO FOLLOW), I have revamped my Incurable/Terminal verses to go from just Old Man Crane to straight up Batman Beyond.

That said, I will be outlining the general setting and the differences in both verses here! Enjoy!

NAME: Professor Jonathan Ichabod Crane SPECIES: Metahuman AGE: 68 HEIGHT: 7’10” WEIGHT: 280 lbs. OCCUPATION: Professor of Psychology at Gotham University, Professional Therapist and Psychiatrist, Career Criminal (formerly), Supervillain (formerly) AFFILIATIONS: Gotham University (formerly and currently), Di Vaio Crime Family (formerly), Quorum (formerly), Secret Society (formerly), The Injustice League (formerly) PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: A veritable colossus of muscle, Jonathan Crane’s rehabilitation worked out far better for him than any could have ever hoped. After finally receiving proper treatment and diagnoses, Crane’s medications and fear suppressants allowed him to finally regain some sense of routine beyond getting up in the mornings and putting his body through Hell. Eating, sleeping, and exercising regularly has enhanced Crane’s physique, to the point where even at 68, the giant still seems to be in his physical prime… “seems” to be, that is. Though his hair has begun to gray and his face is showing signs of his age in the form of wrinkles and laugh lines, Crane is no less gorgeous than he was two decades prior. Crane has gone completely blind in his right eye, and still uses a prosthetic left arm and right leg thanks to injuries suffered when he was 30. MEDICAL INFORMATION: McCune-Albright Syndrome, Sleep Apnea, Asthma, Fibromyalgia, severe burn injuries, blind in right eye, missing an arm and leg, severe brain damage and nerve damage MENTAL DISORDERS: DID, Bipolar Disorder, Autism Spectrum Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Seasonal Affective Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

BIOGRAPHY: After a lifetime of pain and insanity, Crane's reprieve, ironically enough, only came about when the foundations of Arkham itself were shook to their very core, and he was finally assigned a new doctor. Instead of approaching Crane as though he were completely sane, the new doctor, Mannfred O'Malley (who had experience with Crane) immediately diagnosed him with DID, Bipolar Disorder, PTSD, Autism, and a slew of other diagnoses. CAT scans supported this, and Crane was immediately put on anti-psychotics, mood stabilizers, and anxiety relief medication. Crane had never been better in years, and at the age of 36, he was finally recovering. He began to sleep and eat much more regularly, and corrective surgery helped many of his physical maladies. Eventually, upon his release from Arkham, Crane stopped returning as frequently, and stopped completely once his prescriptions were moved to a regular psychiatrist in the city.

After 2 years living on his farm in good health, Crane gained an astonishing 100 pounds of muscle, no longer malnourished from his unhealthy lifestyle, and even had a growth spurt of 2 inches. Emboldened by his change, he applied once more to Gotham University, where he had taught so long ago, at the age of 40. It had been 15 years since his abrupt departure, but they still welcomed him back with open arms. At the age of 60, Jonathan Crane was now a tenured professor of psychology, winning multiple awards for his theories and experiments in regard to fear and the human mind.

And then, it all came crashing down.

On the eve of his 62nd birthday, Crane suffered from a horrible mental break - his hallucinations began to return, this time with a vengeance, and recognizing the pattern, Crane took an emergency leave of absence.

The news he received after returning to Arkham was horrid. After being physically examined, it became clear that Crane's spinal and cerebral implant, his constant companion for 55 years and a mark of Qorum's involvement in his life, had been spreading itself through his body, upgrading itself with cybernetic modifications. In addition, the fear toxin in his veins had irreparably damaged his mind, and he would suffer a complete and total cessation of brain activity soon. They could not give him an estimate of how much time he had left. Left only with the choice of how he would receive this news, Crane's path diverges.

INCURABLE.

SEEKING to prevent himself from repeating the mistakes of the past, Professor Jonathan Crane seeks treatment to prolong his life as much as possible, and experiments with the dosage on his medications, even against professional advice. Taking a sabbatical from Gotham University, Crane travels the world, looking for a cure for his condition. In distant lands, and lands not far from home, he dons the guise of a helpless old man, when in truth, he is far from it. After seeing the pain in the world, the same pain he once spent so much time contributing to, he dons the visage of "The Ward", a traveling alchemist seeking to protect the weak and the innocent, and to save problems. He frequently returns to Gotham whenever he can, even occasionally checking himself back into Arkham during particularly brutal episodes, but thanks to living frugally over many, many years, he has a good chunk of money saved up for his travels. Ironically enough, Crane is currently the closest he has ever been to activating his metagene, a feat which would completely halt his neural degradation and remove the implant, as well as halt his aging - if only he was even aware he was a metahuman.

ABILITIES: Vast intellect, resilient body, martial arts training, decades of experience, heightened awareness

WEAKNESSES: Frequent hallucinations, neural degradation, moves slow due to injuries and age

TERMINAL.

SOMETIMES it can be impossible to truly recover what one has already lost. Already cracked and fractured by his ongoing condition, Crane left his appointment with Doctor O'Malley a despondent and heartbroken man. Was this his reward, for trying to be better? He twitches, as though he can feel his body building itself up and breaking down at the same time. It isn't until his return to the city proper that he finds himself on the other end of a would-be-mugger, and he realizes nothing has changed. The Waynes, the di Vaios - even Zsasz's life had changed at the end of a blade. There was nothing to change for Crane, though. His hand shoots out before he can stop it. He breaks the criminal's hand - and then his neck. And he looks upon Gotham with a profound sadness. His past would only continue to haunt him, for as long as he let it. His mind fractures, and finally his metagene is activated... slightly. With enhanced strength, speed, and senses, but at the cost of his physical health and sanity, Crane dons the mask of Epimetheus, an amalgamation of all that he once was - Crane, Crow, Bones, Beast, and even Jonathan. He will slaughter his past, no matter how long it takes.

ABILITIES: Shapeshifting, heightened reflexes, enhanced speed, enhanced strength, semi-intangibility

WEAKNESSES: Complete loss of sanity, animalistic intellect, lack of higher thought (maybe)

[magnetic-maverick]

The Second Time: Dr Horrible's Sing-Along Blog Fanfic (RandySlashToons)

Slash, non-con/dub-con

“Well, well, well, if this isn't my old buddy...”

Billy's remark took Moist away from his phone and coffee. He looked at his roommate, puzzled by an odd tenderness in Billy's words, a cadence clearly missing from his voice in the last five years since that... well, that day when Death Ray misfired. Any warmth felt somewhat out of character for red-coated Dr. Horrible, the most feared super villain of the E.L.E. in recent history. But one look at his friend turned these warm notes on their heads (did notes even have heads, thought Moist for a second), as Billy was sitting on a couch with his laptop, lazily dressed in a t-shirt and faded sweatpants, yet even without his formal villain getup managed to look more sinister than ever. He was smirking at some news website, his eyes like cold glistening shards of ice, hands clutching the laptop, so what sounded at first like genuine joy now struck Moist as borderline psychotic.

Those borders were probably crossed long ago, though, thought Moist.

“What is it?” said Moist.

“Captain Motherfucking Hammer, my friend,” replied Billy, still not taking his eyes off the screen. “The city issued an official press release stating Captain is coming back to his duties as our savior. What a perfect timing, don't you think?”

“So he's, what, out of therapy?”

“It appears so. Hammer's back and supposedly ready for action. Didn't lose all the weight he gained in last years, though. But we have to admit, he doesn't look like a bloated walrus anymore, just like a regular one.”

The grainy surveillance photo taken around eighteen months ago served as a new dartboard in their apartment. Captain was caught on camera sneaking into grocery store, baseball cap and sunglasses not really concealing the identity of who was once the city's most praised protector. This black and white still captured Hammer stupidly looking up directly at camera, unmistakable behind big shades, but hardly his former hunky self. Captain was huge, not morbidly enough obese, if you asked Billy, but still a pile of chins atop one clumsy, slow, sad memory of former buff self.

“The press release has his old publicity shot attached to it,” chuckled Moist, browsing the news on his phone. “Tabloids are already making fun of him, someone from E.L.E. leaked Cap's actual pics.”

“Well, someone must have glued the guy to the treadmill after all, there are photos from a press conference, and I hate to say it, but you can almost see Captain Hammer somewhere inside the fat suit he's become. Oh, what wonders science performs.”

“It's not much of a science to gag him and weld the fridge, really.”

“I can sooo see the mayor giving this order! 'Gag him and weld his fridge until our city gets back the hero it deserves!' Captain Fat Douche to the rescue!” laughed Billy a little too heartily, sending shivers down Moist's spine.

Moist knew this was what made his roommate such an unstoppable villain, but he couldn't help but wish Billy had a therapy session every once in a while, or at the very least talked to him about anything besides his nefarious plans. Being aspiring villains used to be fun, but not since Billy swapped his white lab coat for a red one. Although, come to think of it, now Billy finally changed the subject, and it felt even creepier, so maybe he was better off brooding and not sharing thoughts with his friend. As much as Moist wanted to help Billy, he was also scared of what may lurk beneath this recent supervillain persona: supervillains were fine, but emotionally twisted, traumatized nerds underneath those could be too much for Moist to handle. He was not a therapist, just a guy who makes things soggy and happens to share an apartment with the world's most renowned evil doctor, after all.

Furthermore, one broken hearted nerd supervillain AND one wrecked back-from-the-therapist's-couch jock vigilante was most definitely more than Moist has ever signed up for.

“So, where is my webcam?” said Billy, breaking Moist's train of thought.

“In 2009, I guess. Because, you know, iPhone?”

“Look who's snarky. Fine, to hell with nostalgia, I'll record a welcome back video with my phone, just need to somehow not make it look like Instagram selfie. Or do I post that short looped video on Vine? Nah, that's just ridiculous. Oh, I'm so inviting Captain to tonight's operation. I have just the welcoming gift for him.”

Moist looked at what Billy nodded at and saw a ball full of purple liquid casually laying on a coffee table. And for the first time in years he suddenly heard Billy utter his best maniacal laugh.

* * *

Once great at deceiving himself and averting his eyes from inconvenient truths, now Captain Hammer could not fool himself into thinking he'd look good on his motorcycle or, moreover, in the Hamjet. He wasn't even sure the Hamjet was still able to fly with him on board, but was too ashamed to check. He lost weight all right, but self-loathing, uncertainty and that constant dash of hunger he gained in previous five years were not that easy to leave behind, and, most importantly, so was fear. That girl, who was hit by shards of Death Ray, it was tragic and all, but what kept Captain's therapist busy was the fact that on that day his patient felt vulnerable for the first time – and that one time was, apparently, enough to break the seemingly solid shell around Captain Hammer's insecurities.

Well, at least that was what Captain kept saying at his sessions.

So Captain was driving his SUV, which surely fit his stature the most these days, reviewing the details in Dr. Horrible's latest blog entry.

“...and so, Captain, I'll be waiting for you at the charity auction, and be sure I'll come prepared,” said Dr. Horrible once again as the clip played back on the loop. “Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

Hammer grinned, getting his villain-fighting groove back, or at least trying to tell himself that, and tried to remember those days when he was on top of the crime-fighting game. That felt like another life now, hidden behind years of fear and self-loathing, indulging himself in comfort food to quiet his anxieties, gaining weight and loathing himself even more. At first he thought he'd take a short break from heroics, but than the break suddenly spanned years, when Captain Hammer became just another unemployed guy next door. He was living off the rewards received during his vigilante career, which sufficed for his now more than modest lifestyle, only big expense being the occasional therapy session. At times he had the consulting gig for a bank or a gallery, but slowly the bar fell lower to the level of mall security – well, that payed the bills, anyway.

The bedroom Captain was always so proud of turned lonely, only seeing an occasional groupie hookup every once in a while, and even those were becoming rare and somewhat uninspired. Sturdy bed, custom-made for superpowered ladies man, now stood empty, as its owner mostly slept on the couch, lulled to sleep by Netflix marathon, in his oversized t-shirt and boxers, and not naked on red silk sheets under blinding white faux fur blanket. One sleepless night he took off his underwear and crawled under the soft welcoming furs, only to feel grossly out of place and get back to the couch. The mirror ball stopped spinning long ago, handcuffs dangled idly from the headboard, and the drawer with toys, lubes and harnesses stood undisturbed – but tissues were resupplied regularly, since when Netflix failed to soothe Captain, he had to seek help from Redtube.

“Oh, Captain, my Captain...” began Dr. Horrible again, more sarcastic than ever.

Okay, he was the Captain, and he was going back no matter what. He parked his car next to the mansion that held an auction and went in, hastily suppressing his shame of being the only fat guy in a t-shirt among these people in tailored tuxes and cocktail dresses and one fleeting thought that this slob of a man will be what meets Doctor Horrible for the first time in years. He wasn't fat anymore, come on, get over it. And what of Billy seeing him like this. That is, Doctor. Doctor Horrible. Oh, and here go the scared tuxes and dresses, running from bright flashes of light that engulfed the mansion. Right on time, then.

* * *

It happened a few months after the Death Ray incident.

Captain was at his therapist's office, which he has been visiting for quite some time now without much effect. He was whining about these newly found ideas of pain and defeat, fresh concepts introduced to him by one Doctor, the man who was, apparently, haunting Captain's dreams – nightmares, Captain corrected himself hastily. This slip might have caught therapist's attention, but at this point he had already learned to filter out Captain's constant complaints, and had written “Whiny bitch” in his pad, cursing himself for being so unprofessional, but unable to come up with a better diagnosis for the guy who was all talk and no progress.

Hammer's rant went on and on, carefully positioning Captain at the center of the Universe, the first person to ever experience humiliation and either barely able to grasp such a bizarre idea or really desperate to go through this experience once again. He closed his eyes visualizing the source of his unease, as doctor suggested, but it only brought back all the confusing feelings and made Hammer's ears burn red, so Captain repeated again his go-to story of Death Ray and defeat – but no response came.

Captain Hammer opened his eyes and froze in shock on the couch. His bespectacled old therapist laid frozen on the floor, grimace of disgust on his face, and in his armchair there was the person Captain has just hastily unvisualized – red lab coat, goggles, gloves and a glowing gun in his hand.

“So, you're feeling vulnerable, is that right?” said Dr. Horrible calmly with a faint smile on his face.

Captain was at a loss for words, eyes fixed at a blue spark ready to emit from Doctor Horrible's sleek new handgun.

“I hope you were not making any progress here, since I thought we could make your situation somewhat more sour today. You see, it came to me that there's one more line of defense I didn't breach, and as much as I'm repulsed by the idea, you'll have it so much worse, so, naturally, I can't resist. But enough monologues.”

Before Captain managed to utter a single squeak, Doctor pointed his gun at him and zapped Captain with a bright ray of energy. Captain Hammer was expecting his death at the moment, but what came was even scarier. His whole body went numb for a second, and then he felt all his limbs again, but wasn't able to move a muscle. He laid on the couch terrified, only slightly turning his head, barely able to move his lips – yet no sound came out – and able to close his eyes but too scared to do so.

“Don't worry, we're alone in the whole building,” said Doctor Horrible, sitting down next to paralyzed Captain. “We can keep it all between us. You like cherries, don't you?”

Doctor pulled a small bottle from his pocket and brought it to Captain's nose. Captain's wildest nightmares, the ones he woke up from both in cold sweat and sticky jizz, were coming to life. Now they smelled of fake cherries and Doctor Horrible's aftershave, his nemesis leaning closer to have a better look at Hammer's petrified grimace. He felt Doctor's heavy rubber glove on his neck, squeezing a little, then Doctor gave him a broad smile, loosened his grip and turned Captain's face directly at himself. Doctor looked him in the eyes and leaned even closer, so suddenly Captain felt his foe's lips on his own. The touch was oddly careful and tender, and Doctor's lips felt soft and gentle against Captain's. One gloved hand held Captain's head in place, while the other slowly stroked his body, and what Captain only heard was the thumping of his racing heart.

“Oh please, don't get into it, really,” said Doctor, finally breaking the kiss.

Captain opened his eyes, only then realizing he has closed them when Doctor kissed him.

“I mean, I planned this more as a mind fuck, than actual, you know, fuck – don't you worry, though, you're getting your butt stuffed anyway – and you, what, wanted this all along? To be fair, it's hard to read people, even as dumb as you are, when they can only move their eyes, but seriously, you liked me kissing you. Who even makes couches so small, gosh,” said Doctor, laying down next to Captain, one leg thrown over him and one arm resting on Hammer's chest. He was speaking directly in Captain's ear now. “But come to think of it, maybe you'll just enjoy this more than you've ever thought you would, and that will send you down a spiral of self-doubt! That would be fun, right? One blink for yes.”

Captain blinked twice.

“That's denial talking,” whispered Doctor, his lips lightly brushing Captain's ear.

Unable to even flinch, Captain felt Doctor's glove sliding into his pants, slowly sneaking into his boxers and resting on his most prized possessions.

“Can you even get it up these days?” asked Doctor. “Don't bother blinking, I can feel you're loving this.”

In a moment Doctor got off the couch and pulled Captain Hammer's pants down. Wet glove slid between his legs, going further down, reaching for Captain's rear entrance, and in no time he felt a finger thrusting into his tightly clenched hole. It barely hurt the superhero, but the humiliating idea of him playing a fucking life-sized cherry-scented sex doll for his arch-enemy was too much for Captain to handle – and even less so was the anticipation building deep inside him. It seemed like Doctor knew his way with dolls, deliberate moves stretching Captain's hole, and now Doctor turned him on his side in one swift move, as cold sweat covered Captain's forehead.

“Oh, just so you know, I don't do it for any badges or the League. Think of it as a payback. Or a date, if you like,” said Doctor, unzipping his pants. “Time to nail the hammer.”

* * *

There wasn't much left of the mansion's lush interiors now. Doctor Horrible was giving Captain Hammer a really tough time, ray-guns blazing and balls of some weird purple goo flying around, but nothing a few well-timed dives and human shields couldn't help with. Captain was getting closer to his enemy, feeling better about himself with every instant, his bravado returning after years of absence, when one of the balls finally hit him. The purple goo spilled all over Captain Hammer, holding him in place stronger with every Captain's move. Hammer felt it burn like a whole lot of jellyfish when the goo touched his bare skin, and now the room around him was slowly spinning and getting brighter, flashes of day-glo surrounding him. Day-glo was not a good sign.

Captain Hammer fell on his knees unable to stand straight in the middle of spinning room, when he heard someone coming at him from behind, and in an instant Captain was put in a chokehold, tied by purple tentacles and unable to resist.

“Hello, chunky,” said Doctor's voice right above Captain's ear as a grip on his throat tightened. “I see you were going to march in victorious, saving the day and such, but oh well.” The room stopped spinning, but now Captain started shrinking against Doctor, who grew into a giant all of a sudden. “It's not how it works these days, you see. You don't march in unless I let you. And I don't let anyone do that.”

Doctor's voice was now a sound of thunder booming from the sky above tiny Captain.

“I wonder what nightmares you experience now. I just thought the toxins in this nice purple stuff will help me drive the point home, the point being you are my bitch now, Captain. Have been for a long time.”

Captain felt every word crawling under his skin, body growing weak and pants suddenly being too tight, heat rising inside of him and strands of purple wrapping around him even stronger, but still not as strong as Doctor's hands around his throat.

“Well, it was lovely to meet you again. You can hand all this stuff to the mayor, or whatever, I don't really need it. I just wanted to make sure you'd come to see me, Captain. Think of it as my way of taking you someplace fancy, okay. See you.”

Captain felt air coming through into his lungs, took a deep breath and gladly saw everything around him starting to turn its natural boring colors, his sticky skin not burning so badly anymore. Doctor's voice still echoed in his head, when he finally managed to get up and get out of mansion into the sea of flashing cameras, smiling at another day saved, but dizzy and barely there. He needed to go home, now, to the secret place where he was safe from outside world till this day.

* * *

Captain's place was even cheesier than Doctor imagined.

Doctor's been looking for Captain Hammer's hideout for quite some time with zero results. Captain might have let himself go from a hero to a slob, but he still knew how to keep his place private. But now a little help from Time Science Blood Cloud, who hacked a military satellite, let Doctor trace any specific radiation signatures, so the tiniest amount of thorium was a perfect ingredient for the purple goo. As Captain fled the scene covered in drying purple remnants, there was no place for him to go other than home, and the whole route from the wrecked mansion and right to Captain's shower was transmitted from the satellite to Doctor's phone.

“Good luck washing my goo off your hair,” mumbled Doctor, walking into the apartment, when Captain ran into the bathroom. “That didn't come out right.”

He was standing in a dimly lit living room, a messy place with clothes, magazines and a couple of empty takeout boxes scattered around. A nearly full bottle of vodka was sitting on a coffee table, and after a second of hesitation Doctor grabbed it and took a large swig. “Oh, now this is just cute,” said Doctor, noticing a tissue box on the floor. “Crying, or jerking off, or hopefully both.”

He listened closely to the sounds coming from the bathroom. Was that sobbing? He sure hoped it was.

“Man, I knew you had a bad taste, but this?”

Doctor walked around Captain's bedroom, a much cleaner place than his living room with a slight air of being abandoned. Red sheets, fur, candles and handcuffs, everything looked untouched for a long time.

“This is ridiculous. It's not a bedroom, it's a damn porn set, and not even a good one,” Doctor looked around and saw a tripod standing idly in a corner. “Well, naturally.”

A shadow crossed Doctor's mind, but before he could even realize what it was, he got distracted by the sounds coming from the bathroom. Steady noise of running water was now accompanied by what seemed like moans and heavy breathing. Doctor grinned and made himself comfortable in one of Captain's armchairs with his new friend, vodka. “So, crying, or jerking off?” In a minute moaning got louder, and it definitely didn't sound like Captain was sobbing in the shower.

“Billy!” Captain's voice was muffled, but there was no doubt he said Doctor's name.

“Huh.”

Doctor Horrible didn't expect Captain to take the title of Doctor's bitch so literally and with such enthusiasm. In a minute the bathroom door opened, and Captain entered the room in clouds of steam, a towel quickly wrapped around his thighs for lack of a waist at the moment. There wasn't even that much of a belly hanging on top of it, though, to Doctor's surprise.

“Isn't this a lovely view.”

Doctor Horrible chuckled at Captain's confused face as he was blinded by the phone's camera flash.

“Don't look so stunned, I didn't shoot you yet, Captain. Come take a sit, let's have a nice chat like civilized men, without neurotoxins or throwing cars at each other, what do you think?”

Captain walked slowly to the couch and took a seat, trying to not take his eyes off Doctor. The mixture of shame, anxiety and excruciating anticipation overwhelmed him as he sat in front of his nemesis, painfully aware of a damp towel barely covering only his crotch, exposed and most likely disgusting.

Doctor tried hard to keep a straight face and not ogle Captain's naked body, sad, ridiculous, yet oddly comforting in its softness. This guy really let himself go, and whatever torture he was put through to get back in shape didn't quite work, leaving just enough to please Doctor Horrible's desire to see his arch-enemy turn into a mockery of himself. The man could probably still throw a car at Doctor, only now it would come at a price of a heart attack and a ripped pair of pants. And still there was something more to the man sitting uncomfortably in front of Doctor, a hint at another life, when he was still Billy, a beaten up nerd with a dream and not an actual supervillain, which turned out way less fun. There was once a dream, a nemesis to destroy, a friend and a girl, however fleeting her presence was, and now with great power came a job, a friend who avoided him lately, a broken heart and not a single chance to overthrow the system – Doctor was now a part of it, a cog in the machine routinely balancing crime and justice. So, yeah, this was his past sitting in front of him, his pathetic, fat and scared wreck of a past he wasn't able to admit he missed.

Doctor Horrible suddenly realized he was sitting silent all this time, basking in shadenfreude and staring at Captain with misty eyes from the shadow.

“You know, I missed you.”

Fuck, did he just say it sincerely? It was meant to be menacing when he thought of breaking the silence, and also wasn't going to sound so slurred. Did he get drunk already?

“I mean, it would be so much more fun with you around, all fat and traumatized. It's curious how tables turn sometimes, don't you think?”

“Why are you here?”

“I said I miss you! Wanna drink?” Doctor offered a bottle to Captain. He stalled for a moment, then grabbed it and took a gulp. “Can't I just come to see my old buddy, to make sure he's still a wimpy douchebag with an overblown ego who can't take a punch, yet is so eager to give them? Maybe I just want to hang out and keep you company for awhile as you descend deeper into obesity and irrelevance? It's what friends do, come on.”

“I didn't know you were now everyone's darling superstar, Doctor”, said Captain, looking more confident now that he had a bottle of booze in his hand. “Oh wait, you're not. So, what were you saying about tables, again?”

“I'm not a fame whore that you once were, Captain. I'm fine alone.”

“And yet, here you are.”

“Don't fatter... ha... flatter yourself, Captain Hammer!” This exchange started to annoy Doctor.

“Don't fool yourself, Doctor.” Captain kept his voice calm, but his cheeks were blushing now and eyes sparkled more with every drink he took from the bottle. “The city loved me. Women loved me. A lot of men loved me, too, if Tumblr is any indication. But nobody ever liked you, Doctor. Not even those girls who drew porn with me and supervillains, they didn't care about you either, and they drew me doing it with everyone. And I mean, everyone. You barely registered then, and you barely register now.”

“You know shit about me, Captain Tightpants. Captain No Pants. Ha.”

“I know enough, Doctor. You're an average nerd a dime a dozen who can't speak to girls and invents stuff that doesn't work, but you're hellbent on turning yourself into a supervillain, only having seen supervillains in Saturday morning cartoons, and you can't get over a girl who slept with me and not you.”

Doctor froze in his place, clenching fists and breathing heavily, squinting at Captain who only seemed more satisfied with every word that got under Doctor's skin. Was this fucker asking for a fight? Doctor's obvious lack of strength and muscles didn't bother him now thanks to alcohol, and Captain Hammer's face looked more and more punchable.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” chuckled Captain. “Me and your girlfriend, we made a movie that night. Well, she wasn't aware of it, but she gave a delightful performance on top of me. Wanna hear her scream my name along God's? It's short... I mean... Not that I...”

Doctor jumped from the armchair, face burning red, and aimed a fist at Captain's mocking smile, only to have it caught in his enemy's large hand and find himself placed in one move flat on a couch, a t-shirt falling from its back on Doctor's face to complete this humiliating manoeuvre. Captain's hand on his chest held him firmly in place, legs thrown over Hammer's. His other hand rested on Doc's inner thigh, and a t-shirt smelled of stale sweat and something nasty Doctor couldn't quite figure out, yet now he didn't want to make any other move or leave this degrading position. Just a couple hours before he held his nemesis in his hands, scared shitless and tripping balls on neurotoxins, and now what? The tables did indeed turn in mysterious ways.

“You know what?” said Doctor from under a t-shirt, voice suddenly shaking. “I think you've really worked hard to earn these last five years, and your efforts finally paid off handsomely. You did so much to achieve all this. Your morbid obesity, loneliness, your pathetic attempts to boost your ego at my expense, and nobody but a bunch of homemade sex tapes to keep you company. You deserve all this, Captain Jerk-Off, congratulations.”

“Didn't you just describe yourself, Doc? Only, like, fat? Oh, and this stings so badly coming from a loser homicidal psychopath, a joke even for his fellow villains, a nobody who has nobody, a sloppy drunk and, last but not least, a guy who raped me to make a point.”

“And you enjoyed every minute of it!”

Doctor felt Captain moving on the couch, placing himself on top of him. He didn't care if Hammer was going to smother him or beat into a bloody mess. Who gives a fuck anyway.

“Just like you seem to enjoy having my old cum-drenched t-shirt all over your face.”

Doctor Horrible hastily threw it on the floor and saw Captain's face a few inches above his.

“Get off me.”

“No way.”

“The hell do you want? Revenge? Break my neck and don't waste my time.”

“No. It's you I want, little buddy. All to myself. I don't like sharing, you see. Couldn't let you settle with that girl that time. Ever wondered why no other superhero bothered to fight you? I always told them you're mine. I didn't even realize this until some time ago. I blame my therapist, really. It was easier just getting my hands on you without understanding that I want to get my hands on you. And your hands on my hammer.” Captain leaned closer and whispered into Doctor Horrible's ear. “And yes, Billy, I love cherries.”

“There's no Billy anymore.”

“Well, it's worth taking a look, maybe you're just hiding him somewhere.”

Doctor laid there petrified and barely able to grasp what's going on. Proverbial tables turned, spun a little, hit him on the head and flew away in a flock, leaving him seriously confused. As tables gracefully soared into the setting sun, Captain was undoing the buttons on his lab coat.

“How sweet,” smiled Captain, as he revealed a well-worn t-shirt with a yellow hammer logo under Doctor's red coat.

“Laundry day,” grumbled Doctor Horrible.

Captain's large hand slipped under Doctor's t-shirt.

“Missing a human touch for some time now, are we?”

“I hate you. You're an asshole,” said Doctor trying to suppress his whole body shivering.

“Then use me like one. They say it's better the second time.”

* * *

Nothing made any sense anymore, as Doctor laid on a couch, suddenly feeling his lips part, welcoming Captain's kiss, and his tongue eagerly entwine with the Captain's. Hammer's tongue was very deliberate in entering Doctor's mouth, rough and hungry, and his hand was exploring Doctor's body under that damn t-shirt, generously stroking his skin, caressing his chest and playing with nipples. Doctor was pretty sure his erection has never felt so painful, ready to release any moment.

As Captain broke the kiss, Doctor instinctively raised his head, following the other man's mouth, but had a finger seal his lips.

“We shall get back to that in a moment, Doc. Now, there's other business to attend to.”

Captain started hastily pulling off Doctor's clothes, t-shirt and lab coat the first to go, then he pulled off his boots and unzipped his pants. Horrible's tightie whities barely managed to hold his hard-on in place, and Doctor made a loud gasp as Captain laid his hand on a bulge, slowly rubbing it. One stronger stroke, and he pulled down Doctor's underwear, revealing his cock leaking onto the stomach.

“Man, a nice mess you got here,” said Captain, running his fingers up and down Horrible's shaft, balls and pubes damp with pre-cum. “Let's take a peek at the head, now shall we.”

Captain's fingers gently held Doctor's cock and slowly pulled back his uncut foreskin. This move was too much for Doctor to handle, as he felt his abs clench, balls tighten and a thick spurt of semen rush from his penis, splattering all over his body. The first one was followed by a few more, less strong but still making a puddle of hot jizz on his stomach. He didn't even manage a scream and just breathed heavily, his chest heaving and mouth agape, face burning red with shame and arousal. He was afraid to open his eyes.

“Damn, that was quick. And hot,” said Captain's voice.

Doctor looked at Captain with one eye. Hammer was kneeling between his legs on the couch, smoldering look on his face, and towel gone, revealing his throbbing erection.

“Go on, Captain, I know you want to,” said Doctor, his voice hoarse from panting. He stretched on the couch, placing his arms behind his head, and looked Captain directly in the eye.

Captain put his left hand behind him and arched forward as he stuck a thumb in his ass, thrusting hard into his clenched fist. He kept stroking his dick and pushing fingers deeper inside to rub a prostate. Eyes fixed on Doctor's blushing face, he felt the approaching orgasm in his whole body, and his movements lost their rhythm, harder strokes on his penis bringing him sooner release. Captain's whole body tightened and with a long moan he spilled his cum on Doctor's stomach. Breathing loudly, he collapsed on top of him, spreading sticky puddle of semen all over their bodies.

Everything that just happened seemed completely wrong to Doctor, yet he couldn't help but feel satisfied and, of all things, relaxed and secure, lying here covered in cum under the weight of his supposedly still arch-nemesis. There was a dash of self-deprecation somewhere below all this, but Doctor was genuinely surprised how simply good it felt right now. His sober and drunk self suddenly changed their parts, and now his drunk self, who felt used, spent and humiliated, was giving up to the sober part of his brain, however small, telling him to go for it and have some messy fun. He'll kill the guy later, if there's a problem, no big deal.

Captain silently sat up and grabbed his old t-shirt from the floor. He carefully wiped Doctor's body clean with it and then cleaned his chest and stomach as well. He dropped it back on a floor and stood up. He then took Doctor in his arms and, still silent, carried him to the bedroom. Doctor felt Captain's heart beating rapidly and chest heaving with heavy breathing. In a moment they were both in a spacious Captain's bed, under his ridiculous fur blanket, warm and quiet. The blanket felt really nice, though, thought Doctor.

Captain Hammer turned to Doctor and wrapped him in his arms, smiling.

“Keep in mind, I can still break all you limbs and crush your windpipe in a matter of seconds.”

“I've never heard a sweeter thing.”

“Shut up and let me finish. But you should not be afraid of anyone if you're still mine. Anyone looks at you funny, I'll rip their heads off. You're my nemesis, and nobody messes with my pronounced enemies. Especially little cute ones. As long as they don't leave me.”

“Are you saying we should give up our lives of crime and crime-fighting and engage in an abusive relationship?”

“Pretty much. Is there a problem?”

“None at all. Have you always been so cuddly? I wasted years not knowing it,” Doctor moved closer, holding tight onto Captain's huge body, one leg wrapped around his thigh. “Do you mind if I fuck you later, it's so warm here I'm all sleepy. And also please don't turn it into a trap and kill me while I sleep, okay?”

“Okay. I won't kill you, and you can fuck the hell out of me later.”

“Pinky promise?”

“Don't be ridiculous, dude.”

Now Doctor's persona has finally faded away, and it was Billy breathing into Captain's neck. He was smiling at the idea of Captain having his own army of porn-drawing fans, not grinning in an evil fashion, but just being genuinely amused by the fact.

“Oh, I need to ask one thing. Like, really badly. Your fans drew porn with you and every supervillain ever, right? So... Bad Horse?”

“You have no idea.”

Captain smiled back at Billy.

[bilightningwhumper]

Mangst 2024- Day 17

<<Previous . Masterlist . Next>>

Caged Bird (Swan Lake) Masterlist

“I love you. I wish I didn't.”

Summary:

Teddie visits Rosalin at the medical center after her rescue Potential spoiler excerpt from "Caged Bird"

Notes:

Little warning needed here. Talk of strict dieting to the point of malnutrition and loss of wait, as well as hospital setting; some talk of child abuse Characters: Rosalin- Odette Teddie- Odiele Teddie's father (mentioned)- Rothbart

Teddie’s POV

The beeping of the heart monitor was the only noise to fill the silence of Rosalin’s room as Teddie walked in.

She was grateful Rosalin was still sleeping. The doctors told her that she hadn’t woken up since the operation, so the omega still didn’t know about her miscarriage.

Sitting by the bed, Teddie took Rosalin’s hand in hers. She could feel every bone and the skin was so pale it was almost translucent. It was terrifying to think about what would have happened if her father hadn’t left on a business trip. An opening like that hadn’t happened since Teddie was in high school.

What scared Teddie maybe even more than Rosalin almost dying was that this might not even hold. Her father might still be able to take her back. Even with the Huntsman group on their side, with the doctor’s records… Her father always got what he wanted. Why would Rosalin’s freedom be any different?

“You’re worth the trouble, though.” she said aloud to the sleeping girl. “If I had to do this all over again, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Preferably without you almost dying, though.”

She let out a shaky sigh, watching Rosalin’s chest rise and fall under the covers. She was so small. The doctors assured her that she wasn’t malnourished, but her body weight was only so low because of the way her father had formed Rosalin’s diet. In the simplest terms, she had been given all the nutrients she needed, but nothing to have her gain weight. And because of that, her growth had been stunted. Her hair had turned more white than blonde, thinner than it had been before she’d left. Teddie had always insisted on the same dishes, well made balanced meals, that her mother had made before her untimely passing and that Rosalin would share in that. Her father had clearly discontinued that after he’d sent her away.

Sighing again, she put her head in her hands. Her therapist had been telling her not to blame herself, that her father had hurt her as much as he'd hurt Rosalin, even if it wasn't in the same way. It made sense, with all the blank spots in her memory. Well, not truly blank. Bits and pieces still haunted her dreams. Or came back to her randomly when she was just going about her day. Memories of how he...

Pain radiated from her scalp and she moved her hands down, strands of hair between her fingers. She shook them off, wiping away a few stray tears that had started to fall. Glancing up, she made sure Rosalin was still asleep. No movement, no change.

Anything she had gone through was minimal compared to what Rosalin had been through, no matter what her therapist said. That was the truth, plain and simple. And Teddie had been a part of that, whether she'd wanted to be or not. She should have stayed, even with her father's threats. At least she would have been there.

"I love you, you know." She burst out, sudden confidence on the silence of the sleeping girl. "I wish I didn't. Because if I didn't love you, I wouldn't have left." Tears fell freely, even as she tried to stop them. "My father threatened to sell me. He said his friends would love to break in a beta. They don't get them that often, I guess." She laughed, hands shaking as she wiped away her tears, pushed her hair back on her head, not sure what to do with her hands. "He just- he would've- I don't-" Then she broke down, bursts of laughter among the tears.

Partway through her hysterical fit, she felt a hand touch her shoulder. Jolting up, she met Rosalin's soft blue eyes. Dull and tired, but they grew brighter the longer they just looked at each other. Rosalin didn't say anything, just looked at her with those wonderfully open blue eyes, searching her face for something. Then she gently tugged at what she could reach of Teddie's shirt, weak but insistent.

Unsure, Teddie moved to sit on the bed instead of the chair, wiping the last of her tears away.

Rosalin tugged at her shirt again and Teddie recognized the motion this time. It was the same one that Ros would use when they were young, when she didn't want to be alone in her nest. Before Teddie's father had decided they were too young for such antics.

Chewing on her lip, she glanced at all the medical equipment attached to her friend. "Ros, I don't think-"

"Please."

That melted her resolve instantly. Just a small simple word. And the hope and trust in Rosalin's eyes...

Carefully as she could, extremely mindful of all the wires and tubes, Teddie curled up into Rosalin's side. Resting her arm gently across Ros' stomach, she took in the scent of her best friend, finally close enough to catch it under all the medical center's neutral ones. It wasn't as sour anymore, like it was when they'd found her in that house before taking her away to safety. There were still traces, but the smell of lemongrass and the lake shore grew clearer as Teddie's eyes fluttered shut.

She was so, so tired. The doctors probably wouldn't mind if she stayed the night. After all, Ros had asked for this and it'd be distressing to both of them to be apart so soon again.

As exhaustion took over, weariness seeping into her limbs, Teddie couldn't be sure, but swore she hears a small, weak "I love you, too" before the darkness of sleep took over completely.

[faulty-writes]

Bit of a heavy request so feel free to turn it down if you don't feel comfortable writing for it. How would the BNHA boys react to finding their trans partner has self inflicted scars on their chest? You can choose the characters 🙂

[ In my last post, I had actually mentioned that I was a psychology student and as such, I know some people may dislike these kinds of requests. But I mean...they're real issues and I enjoy, in a way, helping promote awareness of them. I also love it when I get to choose the characters. So I picked some of our underrated boys. I hope you enjoy it. ]

Eijirou initially acts with concern and care when he sees the scars on your chest. "Who made you feel this way!? That's not manly at all, your body is beautiful babe!" He tries to use positive words when talking to you because he knows this is a sensitive issue and a little physical affection never hurts, so he doesn't hesitate to embrace you in his arms.

"You don't have to worry about that! This is a non-judgmental zone. You can just tell me as little or as much as you want!" Eijirou gave an encouraging smile as he sat in front of you on the floor of his bedroom or "safe zone" as he called it and remained understanding even as you explained the reason behind your self-inflicted scars and the possible body dysphoria issues you were experiencing.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't think of them as scars and more like manly marks! After all, we heroes get scars all the time from the dangerous battles we face! Yours is no different and you're just another brave hero!" He hoped his words would help you embrace a sense of worth just as he embraced you in another hug.

While Eijirou doesn't have the best book smarts, he tries to educate himself on the matter of transgender persons and self-harm behavior. But he ultimately finds it too confusing and settles for being your emotional support partner instead. After all, with skin as tough as his, he'd happily be your rock.

Whenever he noticed you were getting antsy or looking in the mirror too much, he'd try to distract you by suggesting the two of you do activities you enjoyed, or he'd start doing random things like lifting weights to gain your attention and make you laugh.

He tries to respect the fact that you refuse to see professional help and that your scars are embarrassing to you. "Well, what if I go with you? After all, I could never let anyone, not even a therapist talk about you the wrong way. Whaddya say?" He'd do anything for you, and if the two of you had to go through therapy together, so be it.

Being a student of medical welfare, he immediately examines the damage of the self-inflicted scars on your chest much like a doctor would. After ensuring they were clean and stable, he demands "Why the hell did you do this to yourself?" While his words come off as insensitive you know he tends to get emotional and that his anger came out of the concern he felt for you.

After his initial anger wears off, he grows determined to understand the reason behind your self-harm. "So...how long have you felt like you needed to do this?" He tried to be considerate and gentle with his questions like any healthcare professional would.

He understood more than anyone how exhausting it could be to try and handle your emotions by yourself and what happened when they were finally released. "You can stay here as long as you want, I just want to hold you until everything is okay," he said, embracing you tightly in his lap but the truth was, he didn't trust what you'd do once you were alone.

He knew that your position wasn't easy, being transgender had its own set of problems just like anything else. Since finding out about your self-harm tendencies, he tried to remind you every day how much he loved you and how terrible he'd feel if he lost you.

He didn't want to come off as overbearing, but he also didn't want to avoid setting precautions in place in case you engaged in self-harm behavior. So, he uses a bit of first aid to encircle medical wraps around your chest, just loose enough for you to breathe and serve as a reminder. If by chance, you did engage in self-injury, at least the wraps could absorb the mess to some degree until he could clean it.

While he wouldn't push you to get help, he did research about the challenges of transgender individuals and sought out resources and support groups for you. "Some of these groups are anonymous and they may help," he suggested, but if not. He would continue to assist and support you the best he could.

"This is quite an injustice that such beauty and perfection is damaged by these scars," Neito's reaction was more lackluster when he saw the self-inflicted scars on your chest by accident. Yes, it seemed he was a little too impatient waiting for you to change and as such, he walked in on you topless.

"There's no need to worry, your dear Phantom Thief will never allow anyone to so wrongfully judge you if they happen to find out what lays underneath that shirt, etched into that still perfect skin of yours," he stated, embracing you. The fact he treated your self-injurious behavior and your transgender status with such acceptance was certainly comforting.

"You may step in now," he instructed, and you were bewildered that he had transformed his room into some sort of makeshift therapy office. "Heh, heh. Do you truly think I trust anyone but myself to aid you in this dilemma? Why go through the hassle of therapy when I can provide it to you," he insisted and while this was unusual, you did find yourself exploring the debts of your emotions and issues with him.

"My, my. Don't squirm now, else you're going to make me miss one," Neito in a word, was bold and he thought that pinning you against the bed and exposing your scarred chest and kissing every scar was some type of radical new method to help you. While overwhelming, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed at the amount of attention he was giving you.

"There you are! Don't try to sneak off now! We have things to do!" Neito took extreme methods to engage in activities that had everything to do with self-care and mindfulness. Usually, this meant the two of you would have a spa day or participate in another relaxing activity to promote your self-esteem.

"Now, now, don't be ashamed. You look beautiful, ravaging even!" His positive affirmations never ceased to amaze you and his overall effort to make you feel beautiful even when your scars were exposed only proved his undying dedication to you.

[harrison-abbott]

Michaela and Me

My sister Michaela had had problems with her sleeping for years. So she went to the doctor and the doctor prescribed her a form of sleeping pills. They worked at first. Michaela would call me up and tell me that she had managed to sleep for a full eight hours – for the first time since she was a girl. ///// Then she began to sleep in for work. And this wasn’t good. And when she turned up to work her manager noticed that she was groggy and not functioning as well as she used to. He asked her what was up. Michaela said she didn’t know. She wasn’t aware of the changes of her body. And thought it would only be a temporary thing. ///// And then at the weekends she started to take a sleeping pill in the afternoons, because she wasn’t at work. Michaela lived on her own and didn’t have any kids or a cat or dog. She did have a boyfriend. Then her boyfriend stopped coming around. Michaela called me, again, and told me that he’d broken up with her. She was crying. It wasn’t like Michaela to cry, but I understood heartbreak pretty well and so I consoled her as best as I could. ///// Then her boss gave her a disciplinary because she didn’t turn up to work when it was a super important day. It was a temporary warning. Michaela messaged me about it. She said, “I took two of the pills the night before instead of one. And it knocked me out. But I won’t do it again. My boss likes me so he won’t fire me. Haha.” ///// I couldn’t really judge Michaela for what was happening because I’ve had an issue with beer for most of my adult life. And for most of those long, long years, I have kept it secret from other people. I find it embarrassing, and I do it on my own, in my bedroom, mostly, in the dark. I didn’t criticise Michaela. But it wasn’t as if I was a champion of sobriety and that I could advise her, either. So what I suggested she do was book some time off of work, and that she could come and visit me for a while. I lived by the sea. It was nice here. Maybe the beach air would do her some good. ///// She agreed. And she came over to stay with me. ///// She’d gained quite a bit of weight. Again, not judging. Because I had as well, in recent times. It was weird because when we were little we were both so skinny. Michaela is my older sister and we’ve always been quite close. ///// In the afternoon she would start to shake. I first noticed it when we were out walking on the beach. Her fingers would tremble and her shoulders would spasm and she seemed agitated. And she wasn’t rude or anything; she was distracted and couldn’t link in with the conversation.

When she got back to the flat she would disappear into the bathroom for ten minutes. I knew what she was doing. And then she’d come out of the bathroom in a relaxed manner. And suggest that we watch a movie, or that we cook some food. If we watched a movie, she would zone out and her eyes would go all gooey; and if she was preparing the food for the meal, she couldn’t cut the vegetables fast and she would sway about as she stood over the counter. ///// I thought about seeing whether she wanted to go and see a therapist about things. I looked up the sleeping pill drug she was taking on the internet. None of the pharmaceutical information made much sense to me. And, by the way, I was drinking throughout this period as well. And the alcohol made me affably naïve that there wasn’t a louder problem. ///// She took her pills in the afternoon and before she went to sleep and probably in the morning too. And I drank from the morning up until the afternoon, and when she slept, I did as well, and at night it seemed like we had achieved something by the fact that we were still alive. ///// I loved my sister. She was funny. And intelligent, too. We talked about books and she told me entertaining stories from her travels. It was just that those hours when she zonked out with the pills kinda cut off the chapters from each of her days, so that she was like an abridged version of herself. And, again, it was the exact same with me. ///// There was one day when it was particularly hot. We walked along the beach and the sunlight dazed out senses and we went back home early. We slept early. Slept into the afternoon. ///// I woke up around six in the evening, feeling like crap. And then I went into the living room. Michaela was on the sofa. She’d forgotten to hide her tub of sleeping pills and it was right there on the table. She was lain on her side, awkwardly, with her elbow under her back. So I moved her on to her back, in fear that she might puke up. And I went down to the shop in town and bought two crates of beer and I came back. ///// When I came back home, Michaela was up. Sitting up on the couch. I had an opened beer in my pocket and I came in and looked at her and she looked up at me. She started crying. So I went and sat next to her. I was afraid that she might smell the beer off me. The tub of sleeping pills was there on the table. Was she crying because I had seen it? I put my arms around her. She ducked her head into my torso. And she shook and shook. And she said, “How did I ever get to this stage?” I gulped, as I was trying not to cry as well. And I didn’t want to say anything in case my voice would crack and so all I did was hold her tighter and closer. And she moved in to me harder as well. So I think that helped a little bit.

[sentimentalmachine]

I'm so heartbroken. My brother's cat died today. I loved that cat so much and my brother loved him even more. He was only 8. He was such a sweet guy. I haven't seen him in so long and now I never will. We were supposed to have a family Halloween party today but my brother didn't make it because he was taking the cat to the emergency vet. I didn't know until I got home and saw facebook what the outcome was. I really wanted it to be that he would be ok, not gone. Ever since my cousin very unexpectedly died a few months ago, we all decided we needed to make more effort to see each other. We all regretted how little we had seen him these past several years with him living overseas. So my other cousin, his brother, put together this Halloween party. The only time I've seen him since before covid was at the funeral and memorial when we were focused on other things. But today the first thing he said to me was "is everything ok, you're looking really frail" and that kind of broke my heart. Because it's really the first thing people notice about me now. I knew I was looking frail, but hearing so many people point it out lately hurts. I'm just a frail sickly old lady now, and that's all anyone sees when they look at me. People at doctors and physical therapy talk about how tiny I am, how I have no substance to my body as if pointing out the obvious is supposed to do any good? I've tried so so hard to become well these past few years but this year more than any other time of my life the sickness just shows on me like flashing red lights. And no one can find out why and nothing makes me better and I'm trying everything I possibly can and going into so much debt it scares me but nothing helps and sometimes I just get so tired of trying I don't want to even try anymore. I had to get a mammogram this week to recheck this suspicious spot they have been keeping an eye on, the lady who administered it was so concerned about my appearance and loss of tissue since my last scan. I told her I'd been sick and hadn't been able to gain weight and she just looked at me with this sad worried look and in a sad worried tone said "you can't gain any weight"? and I just shook my head. Thankfully for the first time in years my scan was all clear though so at least I don't have to get another one for awhile. But it was just another incidence of how horrible I must appear to others. People who don't know me. It's not just in my head anymore. It's real and it's out there. And I don't understand why I can't gain weight. I've always been able to gain weight. (except in 2013/14 when I was recovering from a difficult surgery) I never thought I'd reach middle age and be tiny and frail, this is the time of life women usually put on weight. It makes no sense. Then my GI visit was so bad he thinks it's just IBS. Despite all my symptoms and how sick I look, despite IBS shouldn't affect your weight, make your stomach swell and bleed, suddenly be allergic to things you were never allergic to, loss of muscle and so much more. I BEGGED him to at least test me for sibo, but he doesn't think it could possibly be that. And maybe it's not but it's something they haven't checked for and is easy to check for but I'm pretty sure he just thinks I'm crazy. He actually bulged his eyes out when I told him I just wanted to be able to eat more types of food and gain weight, as if it was some unreasonable thing to want. I like my 2 physical therapists a lot though, they recognize how bad my condition is and are trying hard to help me improve. But I haven't been making any improvements and I'm scared they are going to have to dismiss me. My main PT person assures me that it will take a very long time to see improvements with how bad my condition is but since I can't find someone who will even try to find out exactly what causes me to be in this horrible condition will it even be possible to improve with any amount of time?

[peachel-ayam]

my first post on this personal blog

on being ridiculously skinny — I’m not proud of it

All I want to do is gain weight

Disclaimer: This post was initially published on my Medium account under the "Bitchy" publication, and received hundred readers per week. Given that this is my personal journaling blog, I wanted to share it here as well. You can find the original post here.

(image by me)

Toxic body positivity doesn’t only apply to those who are overweight; I’ve experienced it too — an underweight individual.

People would tell me, “You should be grateful for God’s gift,” or “Being thin is a favor,” or even claim, “All women want a body like yours.”

But at the same time, I also received tons of, “Whoa, you look like you haven’t eaten in months,” or “You are thinner than paper,” or the worst of all, “If there’s a windstorm, it can be strong enough to push and float you.”

These words echoed through my mind, causing me to question my self-worth and validity.

“You MUST accept your body or you will never be happy”

I don’t want to invalidate all the words they say because I do feel concerned about my weight. I’ve noticed that I’m significantly underweight compared to others around me.

My clothes seem to hang loosely on my frame, and I feel self-conscious about my appearance. While some people may think being thin is a blessing, I can’t help but worry about my health and well-being.

I’m not proud of it. There, I said it. The truth can be hard to face, but I can’t keep denying it any longer.

Yes, I may have a naturally slender figure, but that doesn’t mean I don’t struggle with body image issues. The pressure to fit into society’s narrow definition of beauty is relentless, and it affects all body types, including mine.

My self-esteem plummeted, leading me to avoid social interactions and feeling too insecure to wear certain clothes that I feared wouldn’t flatter my thin frame, making me look like a walking pencil in strange costumes.

I’ve been doing some research about being underweight, and it appears that there could be various factors contributing to my situation.

Stress and anxiety could be affecting my appetite, and I may not be consuming enough calories to maintain a healthy weight. Moreover, my busy lifestyle has led to irregular eating habits, often skipping meals or opting for quick, unhealthy snacks.

I realize that I need to make some changes to my daily routine. Eating a balanced diet and incorporating more nutritious meals will be essential in healthily gaining weight.

I was once confused about whether to see a therapist — for a possibility of anxiety — or go straight to a doctor for my weight problem. In my confusion, I turned to the internet for answers and unfortunately fell for weight-gain ads instead, purchasing a high-priced honey-like product that had no effect.

I also tried making smoothies from various online recipes, but they yielded the same disappointing results. It was a valuable lesson not to trust random ads or articles on the internet.

Then, I decided to talk to a nutritionist who suggested meal plans and specific foods to increase my caloric intake healthily. I started a little food journal on my phone to keep track of my eating habits.

This will help me identify any patterns or deficiencies in my diet. I'm not going to lie, it was challenging to break old habits and adopt a new diet, but I’m determined to give it my best effort.

Weeks and months have passed, and I’m starting to see some positive changes in my weight since I’ve been following the meal plan prescribed by the nutritionist. However, I won’t lie; it’s still a struggle.

Some days, I feel bloated and uncomfortable after eating more than I’m used to. My self-esteem is also taking a hit when I think about how much effort — and money — I have to put in to reach a healthy weight.

I remind myself that this journey is about my health and not just my physical appearance. It’s essential to stay focused on the bigger picture and continue working towards a better, healthier version of myself.

A year later, I got sick. Stomach problem. My busy schedule in the new office has interfered with my good and healthy eating habits. Forgetting to take lunch and eating unhealthy foods late in the evening became a common occurrence.

The long commute to work with an empty stomach and sleepy eyes only worsened the situation. Months of unhealthy behavior led to my hospitalization, resulting in further weight loss.

I was devastated, knowing that I had to start my healthy behavior from the beginning and endure all the struggles again. However, I realized it was necessary for the sake of my health.

As a first step, I made the difficult decision to resign from that office, prioritizing my well-being.

I started keeping a food journal again and attempted some exercises to gain weight — though I must admit, due to my 9–5 daily schedule, finding time to exercise is hard, resulting in rare opportunities to do it. To compensate, I maximize my efforts by consuming more weight-gaining foods.

I understand that this is a slow and gradual process, but I’m determined to continue. My new eating habits are becoming more natural, and I don’t feel as overwhelmed by the calorie intake as I did initially.

It’s essential to clarify that my decision to focus on gaining weight is not influenced by others’ judgments of my appearance, but rather driven by my genuine concern for my body’s health.

People often assume that because I’m thin, I must have it all — that my life is perfect and carefree.

But they don’t see the battles I fight with myself or the times I avoid social situations because I fear judgment based on my appearance.

Back to the first topic: toxic body positivity doesn’t discriminate. It affects us all, regardless of our size or shape. Society’s obsession with body ideals has created an environment where any deviation from the norm is met with criticism and scrutiny.

I want to embrace body positivity just as much as anyone else, but it’s hard when the world constantly sends mixed messages. On the one hand, I’m told to love my body and be confident, but on the other hand, I’m bombarded with comments that make me feel inadequate and ashamed.

“You have to be thin, but not too thin. And you can never say you want to be thin, you have to say you want to be healthy. But also, you have to be thin — — It’s too hard, it’s too contradictory, and nobody gives you a medal or says thank you!”

The monologue lasts longer than that and serves as a reminder of the importance of embracing authenticity and acknowledging the complexities of our emotions and experiences.

Body positivity should be about celebrating all bodies, not just those that fit a specific mold. It’s about recognizing that every person is unique and deserving of love and respect, regardless of their appearance.

To anyone who has experienced similar comments or struggles with body image, know that you are not alone. We must challenge society’s unrealistic beauty standards and foster an environment of acceptance and understanding.

Despite still being underweight and facing the challenge of regaining it, I refuse to give up on loving my body and striving to be the best version of myself, as evidenced by finding and wearing more suitable clothes for my current weight and not shying away from social interactions, as embracing self-love means giving my body and appearance the best care.

My worth is not determined by my size, and I refuse to let toxic body positivity bring me down. I will continue to work on loving myself for who I am, and I hope others will do the same.

Let’s strive for a world where body positivity is truly inclusive and where everyone can feel valued and appreciated, regardless of how they look. It’s time to break free from the shackles of judgment.

I am more than just my body, and so are you. People who say otherwise can f themselves.

[queendopamine]

Opening up about mental health, the healthcare system, and my diagnoses

I'm no stranger to therapy. Though I've never lasted longer than 6 months, I've tried different therapists over the years. I know I need to dig in and do some deep, hands-on work. I've gotten by with some of the tools they've given me, as well as my own efforts at attempting self-help.

In May, I went back to therapy and also saw a psychiatrist for the first time ever. I did a psych eval with her last week.

I received a diagnosis of anxiety, PTSD, and Bipolar. These are also things the therapist had evaluated me for and talked to me about. I scored high on her tests for them. I've always been good at tests...The damn test was how I got my bipolar diagnosis in 2010. Some NP at a walk-in clinic gave me a couple assessments and heard my story about how I reacted on Prozac. Said that depression was only telling half the story and gave me some meds. I had to go off them after a couple months because I got pregnant, but that was as far as I ever went in my Bipolar journey.

Since 2010, I had distanced myself from the Bipolar dx and label. Not only did I not like the stigma, but I just didn't relate to it as much as other things. Borderline seemed to address a lot of similar symptoms. At one point, I even thought I had DID. In 2020, like many chronically-online Millennials in the pandemic, thought I might have ADHD. For much longer, I've considered that I have OCD.

But for now, my doctor is choosing to treat the Bipolar and said she didn't "get ADHD vibes from me" and for now, she wouldn't agree that I have ADHD (I got through school, I finish my work on time, I paid attention to her questions --those were her reasons). She said I might have OCD tendencies based on what I described but she didn't fully label me as OCD or change my treatment at all.

She did say that over time, things could change--as in additional dxes might be given or they might be changed. And of course, we might try different treatments. It's all trial and error.

To start, I'm going on a mood stabilizer (Vraylar) and an anti-anxiety medicine (hydroxizine). I hope I can find the right combination of meds and that the side effects will be minimal and manageable. I havent been on a mood stabilizer in a long time. I don't really remember much about it. I've tried many different anti-depressants and Xanax. The anti-depressants always seemed to make me worse and Xanax just makes me sleepy as fuck.

My doctor gave me an overview of the Vraylar and Hydroxizine. She told me the symptoms and what to look out for. But then reading the pamphlets about them gave me a whole different perspective. Drowsiness was the big one that stuck out to me for both--not only did she not warn me about this, but she even told me hydroxizine wouldn't cause me to be sleepy and I could take up to 400mg a day and I'd be fine. It would help me sleep, but it wouldn't put me to sleep, like Xanax would, in her words.

Like many anti-depressants or mood stabilizers, Vraylar warns of potential weight gain. But it also can cause high blood sugar and high cholesterol. I already have elevated cholesterol so that's unfortunate. I didn't tell my psychiatrist this and now I am wondering if she'll switch meds when I do tell her. I'm not sure why I didn't mention it. All those potential side effects worry me though. I already struggle with my weight and because of my PCOS, I am pretty much already at risk for diabetes--though no tests have come back to indicate that I'm even pre-diabetic, so that's good. The cholesterol is something to worry about though and I will bring that up when I see her again.

Drowsiness is the worst symptom though and I'll tell you why. It's because I switched back to Zyrtec for my allergies and even though I take it at night, it's just a lot. it makes it hard to get up the in the morning. I can handle it okay during the day when I halve the pill, but I still end up dragging around, fatigued. I hope my body adjusts. I don't want to be tired all day. I have horrible allergies and have been receiving allergy shots for them, which contributes to fatigue on shot days. I can't live my life like a zombie all the time.

Just feeling overwhelmed and frustrated and annoyed. I know it's going to take time to adjust to both new medications and even to the Zyrtec. And if Vraylar and Hydroxizine don't work, it will be onto something else. I'm just eager to get it right and feel fulfilled and content. I want to be able to workout if I want to. I want to relax if I want to. I just don't want to be ruled by fear or lack of energy or zero motivation. I want to be in control of my body. Drowsiness is opposite of this.

Onto the PTSD...that shouldn't have surprised me, but it did. I wasn't expecting that. I don't know if the meds will help with my PTSD symptoms. But I know that my stepmom and her sister both receive ketamine treatment periodically. Both of them have bad depression and it helps them tremendously. According to the website, it helps with PTSD and bipolar symptoms as well. So I've considered that as an option, but I want to try meds first.

That brings me to the other issue--cost. I'm lucky that I can pull together the funds when needed and tighten up spending enough to afford these expensive-ass therapy/psych appointments. I also have a boyfriend I live with who makes almost 2x what I do and can pick up the slack or give me money if I really need it. Most people are not in that situation. There are people in my own family who cannot afford certain things. Mental health is a luxury to them.

Something so important and life-changing is a luxury that they can't afford. It's tragically common. Health insurance in the US is a joke. I can't even bill them for these sessions. It's not that they don't cover any mental health/behavioral health (though that's part of it sometimes), it's that the places I have visited do not bill health insurance for some reason. Maybe it's harder to work with them. maybe there's something about the way they bill. I truly do not know. But it's expensive as hell and I know if it were easier, they would bill insurance.

So yeah it's hard enough that I have to scrape together the money and really budget out my spending and think of every dollar. But there are people who have to do this with groceries, with feeding their children! People who have to choose which bills to pay. They can't just scrape together some extra money and spend it on mental health. Those people are fucked. and then their kids, who grow up in poverty or who are surrounded by this constant survival mentality, will grow up traumatized and in need of therapy they can't afford either. The cycle continues.

Does the government care? No. This system isn't built well and it's failing the people who need it the most.

I could talk more about the PTSD and Bipolar. what they mean to me and the symptoms I'm having. But I'm tired (go figure) and this is all I can manage.

[astridthevalkyrie]

trauma dump so my dad and i work in the same company right. he sits about twenty feet away from me (yeah it's fantastic i don't wanna jump out the window somtimes at all) but anyways today he comes over to my desk and in english and loud enough that my colleagues could hear he's like "your shower is clogged you need to fix it!" and a. my sisters and i have been telling him this for weeks so the fact that he is acting like he didn't know shows how little he actually listens to us and b. he only knows now bc since her bathroom is being painted my mother took a shower in ours and inconveniences only matter when it's inconveniences for them and c. he could have said this QUIETLY or in URDU and it would be fine but no apparently asking for respect in the workspace is too much to ask for so i told him "can you be a little less condescending about it?" and he got even more peeved and said he wasn't being condescending and was just telling me to clean out the clog (something i didn't even realize i could do like i didn't know i could lift the thing in the shower bc it looks screwed on and he's never told me this before) so i was like "okay whatever" and he walked away and i KNOW at least one of my colleagues overheard bc he joked something like "that sounded serious" so um. and yesterday my mom randomly got pissed at my sister and told me to stop teaching her to blame everything on my mother and i didn't wanna fight so i just said kay and tried to keep the mood positive with my mother because who am i if i'm not playing emotional support eldest daughter all the time and my dad heard the sound of conflict and went into the basement like the bystander and enabler he is!! anyways i have started another keigo fic that will most likely flop as well but idc because i'm having fun writing for him but i'm not having fun at home and i still lack the energy to find a therapist especially bc i know i'd have to pay for it out of pocket and i'd hear it from my parents (SEPARATELY ffs) that they don't think i need therapy but my sister has had trichotillomania for years and they're only now kinda seriously registering her into therapy after being told my several different doctors to do that because she has a fucking ANXIOUS TICK and they just don't see the correlation they don't see why she would have that and my mom keeps calling her crazy as though the woman doesn't have a barrage of mental health issues that she just refuses to address she has a therapist that she chooses not to talk to she takes depression pills she has meltdowns but it's oooover the second anyone else feels an emotion and now (and always) i'm being told that i'm teaching my sister to hate her and disobey her like BABE!!!! you are UNLIKEABLE and there is a reason no one in the house wants to spend time with you!!!! i'm already in this one stupid class that my parents pushed me into that i don't wanna get into but it's so annoying bc it takes up at least two hours aside from my 7:30 to 5 pm shift which if i go into office means i have to catch a 6 am train and be back at like 6:30 pm so i always push myself to stay up as late as i can to get some alone time where i can relax and then i wake up miserable and i push goals for myself to eat healthier and exercise bc i've gained weight even though everyone says i look like i don't eat (i don't) my mom will just randomly make a comment like "i can see your stomach poking out" or some SHIT like that and she's constantly trying to get me to drink her goddamn disgusting homemade mint water that will make my skin clearer and brighter but i like my brown skin and i'm not SELF HATING like some people! and she keeps bugging me to text the lady from this matchmaking service she enrolled me into but i do not WANT to because none of those men will like me because i god forbid put in my bio that i have ideals that i will not budge from and that i am a feminist and i need someone who will respect that i'm allowed to have as much freedom as them and desi men can't stomach that shit so. and my grandma uncle and his two kids are visiting this

(hit the character block limit) weekend and i have to make it into a fun game for my sister to always be around him and interact with everyone bc if me or her try to refill our social batteries in our rooms or interact with EACH OTHER instead of everyone else my mother will think it's the equivalent of stripping naked in front of everyone despite how she embarrasses us every fucking CHANCE she gets especially around her family and my grandma is back to living with us for at least a few months after this which means she'll sleep in my bed which means she'll use my pillows and take up half the bed and every time this happens my CHRONIC BACK PAIN FORGOT ABOUT THAT acts up more than usual so i'm considering sleeping downstairs but i tend to get anxious when i do that i'm just hoping it doesn't happen this time bc i'd rather be depressed as shit instead of anxious and anxiety scares me so bad i get into my own head so easily and i hate taking meds apparently i need vitamin d pills for the rest of my life and taking them makes me feel sick and i don't drink water no matter how hard i try bc the more i drink the more sick i feel and sometimes i go days without drinking water and sometimes i don't eat and sometimes i'm starving but after a single bite i'm full and somehow i'm still gaining weight and i can't expect anyone to care about this constantly because i'm no one's goddamn concern or burden anyways today i'm feeling really introspective and i want to sit with my feelings for a bit but i can't because once i get home (in the train right now) i have to have a one on one meeting with my course instructor and i miss acting but at the same time every time i think of it i think of that horrible incident a few months ago where i agreed to be in the ensemble of wizard of oz and the experience was so bad and the people were so awful and i was the only woc there and they treated me like dirt under their shoe and every time we had a show to put on i felt ill from how miserable i was and now i'm scared all my acting experiences will all be like this and i'm so tired i want to be held and comforted and i want someone to allow me to cry without telling me to cheer up and i want to stop being so nervous every time i meet someone new and i want my skin to be clearer and i want to be healthier and i want my mother to stop abusing me and i want to just sleep in for a whole day and have no one bother me and i want to answer all these asks in my inbox because some are more than a year old and i feel so bad and i go back to school in the fall and i'll be working full time and i can't even say well i guess i had a good break year because i didn't i was working the whole time and i'm almost always around one parent and i want to write without my wrists feeling pain and i want everyone to leave me alone.

[aevyk-ing]

2024 review and other stuff

2020, 2021, 2022, 2023

I'll be honest with you... I was expecting more of this year. Like, things weren't that bad until they plummeted around the middle of the summer. And I'm still recovering. Anyway, let's see what I can get with this.

Mental health (not that good, maybe, I guess?)

Okay... I was back into the Deep and didn't even realize it. It's weird how you can spend so much time trying to walk away from it and then you're back to square one... but it's not the square one you remember. I told my parents I'm autistic (my therapist helped) and things haven't changed at all. We still don't talk, they treat me the same. Also, trying to get an official diagnosis is way more difficult than I thought. The first doctor was so rude to me I've been dealing with that for months. I'm trying to be kind to myself, but most of the days I struggle a lot. It's hard to find a reason to keep on living when you feel so alone. Also, they demolished my house this summer and we still don't have the money and... yeah.

2. Writing (wait, could it be great?)

Yeah, I don't get it. But it's like my brain was wired that way. Finally something I can do, I'm good at (I think)... but I can't live just doing that... yet, let's say yet. I've published... 3 books, translated more of them and worked on some many projects. There's a collection of books coming next year (I have to publish the four of them at the same time) and I'm currently working on several stories that have me hooked.

Also, I can't forget my fanfics! I wrote two versions of Wish (1/2), finished publishing Lights and Shadows of Camelot and I'm currently working on Side effects may vary.

3. Art (okay)

I'm still fighting a huge art block. Like, huge. The last one I had that was that big only lasted three months or so... (shivers). At least I'm improving. I have to learn to draw for fun again, and not just for my projects.

4. Cosplay (sigh)

My stuff is still in boxes, I'm working to lose the weight I gained last year and cleaning my skin, so... yeah, it's been really difficult. I managed to do some things, but smallish projects and a couple of photoshoots.

Also, I've discovered I'm allergic to polyester after having a really bad skin rash when I wore my Anna from Frozen II.

Okay, now it's time to talk about what has helped me going through this hell of a year (there, I said it).

Gingaria

Although I've been working on a lot of books, my fantasy ones still keep that special place in my heart. I've been developing more stories, published the fifth (Kneia) and sold quite a lot in several events. I'm also getting closer to creating my own brand and I hope it'll keep on growing next year. Here you have the whole list (in English and Spanish)!:

Historias de Gingaria (10 libros) Versión Kindle

2. Webtoons

I've been reading a lot this year (and not only webtoons), but they're something to look for each week and, boy, do I need that. My favorites this year are: The Blind Prince, Atnomen (the author is on Tumblr!) and Your Smile is a Trap.

3. Escape games

Yeah, I don't get it either. I found out about escape games and, as someone who used to play a lot on the computer when she was a kid, it was like going back to those days. I've played some minigames, but my favorite are the escape games. They make me focus on the now and forget the rest of the world for a while. Surprisingly, my favorite ones where the Forgotten Hill collection.

4. Series and movies

Even though I've watched several movies and series, not many of them have left an impact, but everything counts. I rewatched WandaVision (still love it) and Agatha All Along was great. I watched Warm Bodies for the first time and loved it so much I had to buy the DVD (second hand) and the same goes with Lisa Frankenstein. I guess you can see a pattern there, and that connects with the next point...

5. Monster High

All my dolls have been in boxes for almost three years by now and, after not buying a doll for years, I caved in and got a G3 Frankie. And it spiraled quickly. You see, back then, I didn't care much about the main dolls, but got secondary characters and boys for Ooaks. Last year, I got a Clawd that I was going to use to make Krel Tarron, but decided to keep it as it was. Now, I've gotten some G3 dolls and others are second hand. I made my own Hoodude and I'll try to find more clothes when I'll declutter my old doll collection. I love these ghouls and they've helped me a lot with my mental blocks.

6. You

Yep, you, all those wonderful people on the other side of the screen, reading my posts, liking them and sometimes reblogging them. All of you who have read my fanfics and my books, who have bought my designs in my shops. Thanks for being there, for making me feel less alone. I wish you the best.

Happy New Year!

[metamorphosisme]

Curls hair, puts on makeup, and new dress to pick up my man. Not only does he not acknowledge me at all but as soon as we get home he jumps in the shower then half way threw calls me over. "Me and our daughter are going over ***s house for a bbq idk how many people is gonna be there but there will be kids ectect" after I say ok and a long pause he goes "you can come if you want"... I just said it ok and made up the excuse for taking care or the baby. I just had that gut feeling that he didn't want me there, it sucks, I thought I looked ok even though I gained 5lbs back... I just wanted to feel... alright? ... anyway Then right before I leave he goes "what did you do today?" I said worked, nothing why? He goes "you smell like a dog I keep gagging.".... broke my fucking heart dude... he did ask for a kiss but then left... back for another binge once he was gone... im so fucking sad man and if I show him I'm sad he gets mad it's so ridiculous.

When he gets home I'm sleeping on the couch and I open my eyes, he looks down at me and says "why do you have that fucking face on for already". Like 😭😭 legit all I did was open my eyes.... I just went upstairs away from him he was obviously drinking.. he's been drinking for about 3 or 4 months straight everynight.. only 6 16oz millers but the "only" is me trying to tell myself it's ok because he works.... how am I supposed to tell him to kick something when I can't even cut down my fucking eating... ive gained 5 pounds in 2 weeks. I legit feel like the fat I can see in my face, and my stomach is puffed out, like I see it and maybe that's why he's being mean to me again.... ha... another thing we were sitting on the couch he ate this peanut butter thing and threw half on a napkin on the table, time goes by so I broke a piece off to try and he looked at me horrified, " just because I didn't eat it doesn't mean I wanted you too"..... you think it would have been a sign...

Idk if he only likes me when I'm skinny because I only like me when I'm skinny but mam screaming sick kids, his bipolar / drinking, + trying to work and running a fucking house and running everywhere the fuck else everyday is tough man... I just wanna be happy so bad. My doctor just puts me on any new medication that's on the market, my therapist said I need a psychiatrist and a nutritionist, the psychiatrist won't call me back and the doctor shit needs to be done in secret because my man doesn't believe in that.... (he went to my doctor for his bipolar and he almost killed himself multiple times from the meds..) I've been debating ozemp or the off brands but I'm seeing A LOT of people having suey thoughts on it, it's like a whole underground thing nobody is talking about and it's not like self ouchy it's like felt so low one day did some crazy shit and is now in a coma... idk man I just don't know... I just ordered elevate from avantera to see if maybe that helps with my compulsions. I don't have add as far as I know because I can take an addi and feel my body pick up... could be wrong but I've always heard if you have add and you take one you get slow so trail and error I don't believe that's my case.. oy idk now im rambling to my damn self.. Hopefully I'll read this later and maybe it will give me the strength to be strong and not give in. Eating helps for a moment like a drug but the reprocussions of it are just foul... oh ha and side note deff the weight plus my sugar cuz I'm back to being in pain.. again omad I'm done I can't go on like this... lol no eating was so easy when I was able to just work and sleep all day haha now add having to make 10 meals a day not for yourself and everyone eating different shit on top of daily stress and cleaning... lol whole shit is wild...

[itsnotresilience]

Is this forever or just for now?

I’m changing up my longtime blog that I haven’t touched in awhile. I had a lot to say but no time to say it. Now I have time and reason. My body has been a mystery to almost every doctor that has encountered it and at the same time labeled essentially surviving so not important enough to expend time on.

Todays blog though will be about extreme body changes brought on by medication. I have a friend, who, poor soul, has bravely agreed to be my voice of reason while I have no chemical clarity in my brain. Before you say co-dependency, this was actually suggested by my trauma counselor. The point is that I’m the type of person that crowdsources advice and perspectives before I make decisions sometimes to make sure I am considering all sides of a situation but there are many many things that I trust my gut instinct on and I’m known to be an incredibly decisive person.

All of that seems to be gone right now.

1) instead of the intellectual, quick, imaginative and productive pathways I take pride in, the chemicals steer me into the easier well rehearsed anxiety and trauma response zones almost immediately. Example. My boss engaged me in a brainstorming exercise on a work problem yesterday. I instantly felt like me again, thinking through a process and the issues I understood, the implications, ideas we could think about. Minutes later I wondered if he did it to placate me because he knows I’ve been feeling useless work wise

2) I am not in a space to even get a read on the event I’m asking about, let alone process the advice I’m getting and whether it makes sense for the event - which may not have been the event I perceived it to be because prednisone rage or sadness has tapped into what I thought to be a long dead trauma response. Example: I get an email suggesting I pause my run coaching so I don’t pay for something I’m not doing but the wording sends me into a complete tailspin of “everyone is abandoning me” and “my whole life is falling apart”.

3)I get overwhelmed by the advice I used to be able to parse through and kinda see what blend of perspectives made sense. I’m also needing it too much and burning out my amazing friends who have their own shit to manage.

So this was the idea from my trauma therapist- that for the meantime I’d have this one person to help filter things through because of the brain changes, plus- also increasing talk therapy of course.

Back to extreme body changes. The following is an excerpt of an exchange with my voice of reason through text. This has been edited for public consumption. Note that I am not body shaming anyone. This is about me, not anyone else. I’m not censoring thoughts based on what people think I might be saying or whatever else. We can have conversations in some other posts about body positivity and body dysmorphia. This is not that post.

“I was taking a bath and I thought I saw Ursula from the Little Mermaid in the mirror except she was white and had sticky stuff on her skin from EKG bruises from the 6 day IV and blood draw battle.

I was literally looking at Meghan pre-2019. The one I worked so hard to get rid of, except this one has an even more deformed shape in my minds eye- Prednisone face (one side is literally different than the other) and there seems no hope of losing it again.

I was crying, telling my husband I fucking hate everything right now and he really did try to console me. Except, he said, our 20 year old bodies are gone babe gotta let it go.

Something about his statement made me viscerally angry. I’m not pining for my 20 year old body. I’m pining for a body I literally was able to have 3 fucking months ago. I cannot wear my normal clothes and I probably have to go buy a bigger size. I’m not dreaming of my ultimate weight loss goal. I’m dreaming of “last week I was 163 pounds and feeling like I could feasibly get back on track” and I know from my last scale check I had gained 10 pounds in a week. You can tell yourself these are all steroid pounds but it doesn’t make a difference.

All I see is that horrid body I hated and worked so fucking hard to get back into shape. Back to this shape. I’m defeated and I had to tell Eric three times to let me be sad about it. It will be even harder to lose it again as I was already struggling in peri-menopause to find the right diet combination to deal with the hormone fluctuations.

I had a nutritionist appointment scheduled Monday, which I cancelled because I there is no sense in focusing on this when I can’t even breathe all the time. “

Anyone reading this is probably wondering why the fuck I am caring about this when my oxygen levels aren’t normal and I’m on bed rest and could have to go back to the hospital at any time.

I don’t know that I can explain that well enough for all of you to not judge at all. I am a perfectionist. I take care of myself. I want to describe I’m an avid runner but cannot even run or exercise right now. I’m having major memories and trauma from my last experience with this and it’s ok that you don’t understand. It’s not your body.

It’s a lot of change and loss to process at once and sometimes I just break and sound like a child who says, “it’s not fair”.

And yeah, our super favorite toxic response is, “life isn’t fair”. How exactly is that helpful? That obvious statement that everyone knows? It seems to be used just to put upset people in their upset place which is far away from spaces we have to listen to them and they could ruin our “positivity”.

I’ll say it this way, some times there are people that get lots of shit at once and others get less. There are entire swaths of people who I believe live with a lot less shit because their basic needs ++++++++++ are met. Then there are those that every day is a struggle so that “isn’t fair”compared to those who maybe their Tesla couldn’t find a charge station. That kind of comment then becomes demeaning and we should maybe think of something else to say like, “life can suck”.

Anyway, so life can suck and you just have to be sometimes.

Be kind to each other