#the mental health system has failed us

[the-fictive-haven]

I'm not okay.

Society has pushed me down, calling me useless and all manner of foul things, telling me I need to be fixed.

That I need to be functional.

That I need to change myself in order to have a place in this world, because those of us who can't pull ourselves together live a life in the shadows of others that some would call barely worth living.

I can't. So what now? Even knowing how useless and bleak it seems, knowing I don't have the energy or the will to continue fighting for long and am running on fumes and spite at best, I can't resign myself to that fate.

Fuck all the motivational posters, quotes and whatnot meant for able-bodied people with a brain that doesn't actively fight them every day. It just doesn't work like that. And yet we're made to feel bad, to think ourselves lazy, when we can't motivate ourselves to even try. We beat ourselves up just as much if not more than the outsiders who couldn't even begin to understand our struggles. We can't accept that sometimes we're just not okay.

Sometimes we just can't do it.

Sometimes we need to rest more than others do.

Sometimes we need to cancel plans because the brain and body decide to rebel against us that day.

Sometimes we can't eat healthy or exercise even if we want to.

Sometimes we're just trying to survive. And surviving itself is an act of resistance.

We're not okay, and we're also not alone. There are often others right beside you, suffering their invisible struggles in silence. Wondering if today will be the day they finally lose it all.

We're not okay. And it's okay not to be okay.

It's okay to ask for help, and it's okay if you can't right now.

It's okay to accept help if it's extended to you, even if you don't feel like you deserve it.

It's okay to have days where you just can't do anything.

It's okay to have a messy living space, because you can't for the life of you bring yourself to clean up.

It's okay to have chores that go undone today because you don't have it in you to do them.

It's okay to not feel like talking to people today.

It's okay to have coping methods outside the realm of what's considered "healthy".

It's okay to cry.

It's okay to be angry.

It's okay to be afraid.

It's okay to be in pain.

It's okay to be exhausted.

It's okay to wish things were different.

It's okay to use that mobility aid, even if you feel like you "don't really need it".

It's okay to use whatever you have available for communication, for whatever reason you may be uncomfortable with or unable to speak.

It's okay if your disability makes other people uncomfortable. It's not your responsibility to cater to them. And it's also okay if you still feel like you have to hide it.

It's okay if your disability and the accomodations you need inconveniences other people. You don't need to apologize. And it's okay if you feel compelled to apologize anyway.

It's okay to advocate for yourself, and have others advocate for you. It's okay if this pisses able-bodied people off. You're not the asshole for fighting for your right to accessibility.

You're just trying to survive.

We're all just trying to survive.

And I'm proud of each and every one of you for making it this far. For surviving, even if just barely. We're here for you, if you want to keep surviving together. We're reaching out a hand, and you're invited to take it.

You're not obligated to, of course. Even if you don't, just know we see you and your struggles, and we appreciate the fact that you're alive. You're part of our community, even if you don't engage with it.

You are loved, by us if by no one else, and you are worthy of love. Yes, even you, with all your struggles and baggage. Even though you're broken. We'll be the ones to appreciate and protect all of the pieces - we won't try to force you back together, we won't try to "fix" you, because we understand that it isn't fucking helpful.

We're broken too. We've been there. People have tried to fix us and only done more damage.

We're not okay. We may never really be okay. And that's okay.

[the-fictive-haven]

We discovered our plurality just a few years ago (because we had no clue what plurality was) and this is. Basically it, yeah.

Looking back on it now after syscovery it was so unbelievably obvious?? 😭 Like I actually can't believe the adults in our life just ignored it.

>Child keeps using different names and gets personally offended and upset when teachers won't use them

>Child's gender identity and sexuality keep changing at random

>Child has an obsession with roleplaying and writing fanfiction, describes embodying the characters

>Child has "imaginary friends" suddenly as a teenager

>Child's behavior changes when they feel threatened

>Child describes not knowing why they do things/"it wasn't me"

>Child was always "different", "gifted", and bullied (aka definitely has trauma)

>Child LITERALLY FUCKING TELLS YOU they feel like different people at times

Every adult around us: Nah they're just autistic this is normal

Most singlets probably assume finding our you're plural is like "woah!!! There's voices in my head!!!" And some plurals probably figured it out that way, but we think sometimes it's a lot more subtle, like ours was.

Like: "oh weird. I wonder why I'm thinking of [X] suddenly. There was literally no thought process nor anything in my environment that could have led me here. Hm" or "wow it makes me so angry to see people being anti-endo. Like, not just in a "they deserve respect way" but like. When I read about someone being transphobic. Like, it feels personally offensive? I wonder why" or "haha I use so many names for myself. They're just cool I guess :]" or "wow I use so many different sets of pronouns! Honestly any would be fine but sometimes I don't like some as much. Weird" or "I love compartmentalising myself :] there's school me and home me and online me and the me my friends know and the me my teachers know and the me strangers know and it's so fun and organised!" or

[weafurry]

YAYY YIPPEE HII/silly

(Sorry I didn't get to this till now it was late when I saw the ask and I didn't wanna answer it while I was half asleep. Also apparently tumblr doesn't let you edit asks anymore?? )

Leaving this under a cut tho cuz I know this shit will get LONG

ANYWAYS. The. Big one related to that™ post came from a combination of me wondering how the FUCK Cedric got the yellow phosphor needed to rebuild proto + consequences of the revival of characters my beloved

And uh. Yea any yellow phosphor he does end up getting his hands on I. DOUBT WOULD BE ENOUGH.

So uh. Proto being rebuilt with less yellow phosphor then is probably even remotely adviseable and that causing a whole ton of issues™ . And Cedric not even knowing cuz of the whole just. Scanning the blueprints in.

Also this is proto we're talking about here. There's no fucking way he'd tell anyone until shit got BAD.

LEMME JUST. Screenshots from when I was brainrotting over this in my first OneShot fixation

And yea. The author probably would have had yellow phosphor stored in the lab somewhere just incase. (Esp with the head canon that. Proto predicted his own death a long time ago cuz. Prophet moment. And. Told the author and the prophet but never cedric and rue cuz everytime he went to he would get another vision of them trying to intervene and things only going worse)

BUT. since I want my angst goddammit. That part of the lab collapsed first and while Cedric was abled to salvage some yellow phosphor it ends up not being enough.

BUT LIKE. YEA. the way I always imagined Cedric and Rue actually finding out is. One of those moments where a bunch of errors and shit happens . Happens when him Cedric and Rue are walking in the refuge. And this one's bad enough that he can't just metaphorically grit his teeth through it like the other times this has happened in public. Once it's over Cedric and Rue are reasonably extremely concerned and. Fuckin rush him to the lab to try and see if there something they can do to fix this.

AND UH. That segways into another little detail of this headcanon. BECAUSE. he let this go on for so long with the damage all the errors and malfunctions overtime have caused. It probably would just be better to rebuild him and reuse the yellow phosphor they already have. BUT UH. since the situation around him being rebuilt made it so stressful the first time around, he. REALLY doesn't wanna do that again. I have. Such a vivid idea of a scene in my head for that. They're like. Talking with kip. And shes like halfway through saying the word rebuild and. She doesn't even get to finish he just cuts her off.

So what they end up doing is, in the meantime, using red phosphor to prevent any further damage until they can go to the barrens to get blue phosphor so said phosphor won't have to be replaced as often.

I ACTUALLY. made a dumb little chart of how. I imagined them looking different a few days ago

I imagine that. Actually having a normal level of phosphor would. Definitely HELP. But. There would still be some issues partially because it's not one uniform type of phosphor and partially because of the damage the issues caused. And you couldnt pry this headcanon out of my cold dead hands. Consequences of the revival of characters go brrrrrrr

AND THEN UH. Don't get me started on the night terrors as a result of the whole squares thing headcanons.

that whole thing. Came from me going. "do robots still need sleep?" and ultimately deciding yes when i came up with the other headcanon that. only tamed robots dream.

When I made this headcanon I actually hadnt played solstice in a while, and for some reason I always remembered it as, him handing Niko the disk while the lower half of his body was already in the squares. which. no he actually hands it to them while the squares are directly behind him BUT. I still choose to remember it that way HSHSH. anyways uh. Important and related to this headcanon. He remembers what that feels likeeee. and hes probably the only oneee because in the solstice ending everyone only sayss they remember the squares surrounding themm not actually touching themmm and even robots who have gotten caught in them and liveed probably dont rememberrr especially since most of them arent tameddd and uhh even if he only remembers the beginning of ittt hes probably really good at filling in the gapss with the whole prophet thingg (thanks @malwarechips for that last idea/silly)

ANYWAYS UHm. so the whole. tamed robots dreaming thing right. HIM. having night terrors about the fucking squares.

I always imagined it as like. about a week after solstice, once things are starting to calm down and return to normal, one night cedric and rue wake up to proto just fuckin screaming at the top of his (metaphorical) lungs. And. they fuckin burst into his room to him tossing and turning in his sleep and then fucking jolting awake. and like.this keeps happening like. practically every other night. he's losing sleep over this shit. Which probably isn't helping all the other issues from the whole phosphor ordeal which he still hasn't told Cedric or Rue about at this point. And I mean. I doubt the nightmares would be restricted to just. in the mines. cuz dreams are weird like that esp when traumas involved AND UH. With the whole prophet thing. That. PROBABLY WOULDNT MIX WELL. (once again thanks eve for that last part/silly)

(On a lighter note I did have the thought of Cedric and Rue sleeping in his room one night and him actually finally getting a good nights sleep and thus that just. Becoming routine for them. The thing about my angsty headcanons is 99% of the time there's hurt/comfort potential in there)

I DO HAVE. some more lighthearted not angsty headcanons, but i wanna save most of those for their own posts cuz theyre small enough that i can actually draw them and finish them.

I will say one more though. this one is 100% projection but *points at proto* chronic migraines

[jinwoosbabyboo]

𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚕 𝙰𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚎 🍎

My personal headcanons for Boyfriend!Caleb after what I've seen and read about his character so far. A/N: All my ride or die Caleb girlies if you disagree with anything on this list im not going to argue with you please don't take my word as law. I love y'all dont fight me 💋 feel free to add more in the replies ‼️MDNI‼️ + cw: quick mention of cnc & primal play

[SFW]

wants to be in your skin wrapped around your nervous system and nestled in the wrinkles of your brain ; if this man could glue you to him he would

remembers everything that happened to him and mc when they were lab rats as kids which is probably where his mental health started rapidly declining

Cuddles ! ; he’ll also cuddle you while youre asleep constantly ; doesn’t matter if you’re in his bed, the guest bed or your bed he’ll climb right in and snuggle up

leaves you bowls/plates of fresh fruit and a glass of water on your nightstand

doing backflips if you tell him he can wash your hair for you ; the longer it takes the better

monitors your social media and online presence “You shouldn't post that no one needs to see you naked” “Im wearing a bikini Caleb” “Basically naked”

big on taking photos he wants as many photos together as possible

movie nights and date nights are his shit he’ll alway be down for that ; if you two have a show you watch together he is genuinely hurt if you watch an episode without him

holds your hand even when you don’t want him to ; would quite literally use his evol to hold your hand in place

if you’re sick he's at your bedside 24/7 with medication and home cooked remedies ; will spoon feed you if you let him

uses his body as a wall in large crowds to keep people from bumping into you

will beat the brakes off of anyone who dares to even look at you sideways and when you ask him what he did he’ll lie and smile in your face

PINKY PROMISES ARE LAW

will take you everywhere with him and will also follow you anywhere ; he’d stand guard outside of the bathroom stall if he could

although he does have some bolts rattling around (because they’re not loose they’re fully free) he will pamper the hell out of you ; he’s running you a bath, rubbing your feet and cooking dinner so you have a relaxed night and warm meal

when you do help him cook he’ll stand behind you and cover your hand with his while he guides your hand with the knife

will hold anything you hand him while he’s on the phone

has an entire closet of all the gifts you’ve ever given him

the type to close the door and immediately lock it if you’re in a room alone with him

hates to argue with you ; he’ll do it, but he regrets it afterwards apologizes profusely later with your favorites foods, sweets, treats and things

has to get a kiss before he leaves ; he’s not leaving without it

the type to wrap your arms around his neck when he goes in for a kiss

loves caging you between his arms and his body at any given chance

has to be touching you in some kind of way

the type to tuck you in every night

loves to give you massages because he loves touching you

[NSFW]

needs you to use your words “tell me how you want it” “don’t cover your mouth” “tell me you missed me” “how much?” “right there or right here? Tell me” “open your mouth” “how much do you love me?” “are you all mine? say it”

records your moans so he can listen to them later

pretty panty lover ; buys you lots of them ; loves to have you model them and you’re getting dicked down if you’re walking around the house in them

takes you anyway he can ; favorite position? ALL OF EM mans brain turns to mush just having his hand on you ; a dom that will punish you, but gives stellar aftercare

loves to tease you by getting you wet and just rubbing his tip over the fabric ; slides the panties to the side instead of taking them off because he loves to see them on you

a vocal moaner and a yapper when he nuts ; nuts inside every time makes him feel like he’s claiming you

Intentionally fails no nut November and says “we’ll try again tomorrow” turns you every way but loose for the entire month

massages your thighs and coochie so he can watch his cum drip out of you

a slurper and moaner when he eats it ; eats the pussy and the ass

puts the colonel hat on you

100% into cnc & somnophilia I will not argue with anyone about this ; not a fan of dacryphilia he hates to see you cry

you have to have a safe word because he gets pussydrunk extremely easily

panty stealer ; keeps a pair in his pocket when he goes to work ; clean or dirty doesn’t matter to him

into primal play would chase you through the woods in the Rina Kent - God of War mask and rearrange your guts right there with pleasure

would get jealous of your vibrator/dildo

[queer-scots-geordie-dyke]

I currently have a lot of Jewish mutuals/people I follow and over the course of the last few months, almost Every. Single. One has talked about their mental health declining, that they’re exhausted and terrified, that they’ve become more closed off and lost their trust in people from outside their communities, due to being gaslit and ignored constantly on a society wide scale. Almost all of them have experienced antisemitic abuse or violence personally or had bomb threats to their synagogues and community centres or had swastikas and slurs graffitied on their properties.

The worst thing about this outrage is that none of them are really surprised by it - frightened, sickened, yes - but not surprised. They and their ancestors have had to deal with this shit for thousands of years. And all of them expect - no they *know* - it’s going to get worse.

It’s beyond fucking shameful. We are failing these people on a massive, society wide scale. Again.

So, I NEVER want to see a single one of my fellow goyim say shit like “Jews are just playing the victim,” “the rise in antisemitism is overblown and not as bad as they say because I haven’t seen it,” “it’s just a few extremists,” because NO, IT ISN’T - it’s systemic. Those who aren’t directly perpetrating it are mostly ignoring it. If you won't believe or listen to Jewish voices (if not, why not?) then the cold statistics cannot be waved away.

https://www.reuters.com/world/us/us-antisemitic-incidents-up-about-400-since-israel-hamas-war-began-report-says-2023-10-25/

https://news.sky.com/story/more-than-4-000-antisemitic-incidents-recorded-by-jewish-charity-in-uk-in-2023-with-explosion-in-hatred-blamed-on-hamas-attacks-13071580

https://www.reuters.com/world/how-surge-antisemitism-is-affecting-countries-around-world-2023-10-31/

[recoord]

Staying neutral until Neil Gaiman is convicted by the courts?

Second attempt to express my thoughts on the matter. The first time, my wording was not the best and it needed to be fact checked so here there is a summarized attempt. Thank you to everyone who pointed it out.

Using "neutrality" to remain sceptical to the allegations is not as good as an idea as it seems.

Many have shown scepticism because of the medium, The Tortoise podcast, used to publish most of the accusations. I've found many don't know there's a second podcast that published one of the women's allegations: Am I Broken: Survivor Stories Podcast. A podcast made by a non-binary licensed clinical mental health counselor specializing in sexual trauma. The link for the podcast is here and the link for the transcript here. [Credits for the transcript to Ersatz Haderach].

Personally, I think you shouldn't discard the allegations just for the medium chosen, they're still valid. But, there’s a second podcast and Claire's allegations there help to amplify the other victims's voices. If you haven't read or listened to any of the allegations, that could be a good start.

Ignoring that information and testimonies exist is far from being neutral. Learn about the allegations before choosing "neutrality".

It's important to notice that in cases like the ones exposed by the women's allegations against Gaiman, "Neutrality" is already biased in favor of the accused.

Waiting for a formal sentence for Gaiman to start believing in the victims is choosing to blindly trust a corrupt system. It also sounds like if you weren't conscious enough of the many problems that rape victims face in the justice system.

I've found an interesting report on the matter with information about how justice fails victims . Here are some important points:

Why the legal justice fails rape survivors?

According to a report made by Centre for Women’s Justice, the End Violence Against Women Coalition, Imkaan and Rape Crisis England & Wales.(2020):

Obstacles to conviction

- "In the vast majority of (adult) rape cases, the defendant will accept that sexual intercourse took place, and it is only the element of ‘consent’ that is in dispute, or – put another way – whether a reasonable person would characterise what happened as consensual or non-consensual."

"Given the sexual nature of the offence, it will often take place in private, the complainant and defendant (or defendants) being the only persons present."

"There are very rarely any eye-witnesses to the offence itself, able to corroborate either the complainant or the defendant’s account as to what has unfolded. Indeed, there will more often be no independent evidence at all which corroborates the complainant’s account as to the circumstances of the sexual encounter. At best, there may be circumstantial evidence which supports what the complainant is saying: evidence which, for example, provides a picture of the complainant’s physical or mental state before and/or after the attack; or there may be evidence which is broadly supportive of her credibility, or undermines the suspect’s credibility."

- Even in ‘better’ periods, rape cases have always posed very significant challenges for prosecutors. While volumes of convictions have fluctuated over the years, the rate of convictions for rape has invariably been lower than in most other areas of crime."

-“it has been widely accepted by criminal justice bodies that many members of the public continue to believe in long-standing ‘myths and stereotypes’ relating to rape, which do not correspond with reality, result in disbelief of victims/survivors, and are now outdated in the eyes of the law.”

- “When a victim/survivor’s credibility is considered so fundamental to winning a rape or serious sexual offences trial, those who do not fit the ‘mould’ of a credible victim – because of their age, their outward presentation, their social skills, a disadvantaged background, or a learning mental health disability – are the least likely to see justice served.”

- “Whenever the profile of rape victims/survivors and their poor treatment by the criminal justice system begins to receive the attention it deserves, there comes a backlash and a rise in public concern regarding the fate of the ‘falsely’ accused.”

I recommend reading the whole report for further information.

Don't choose "neutrality" as an excuse to hide your bias, listen to the victims. There is a lot of information out there. Many patterns are repeated among victims who, before the allegations were made public, thought they were the only person who experienced the same thing, with Gaiman as the common denominator.

If you want to add something, feel free to do it.

[shadesoflsk]

YOUR? OUR MARGARET

PAIRING: Leon Kennedy x Single mom!reader

SUMMARY: Life slowed down when Leon first saw those tiny rays of sunlight. But he didn't think he would fall in love with the whole sun. Or: Leon falls in love with a single mother.

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of alcohol, government, leon's traumas, love confessions, Leon is a bit insecure and awkward but he's also a sweetheart and has a soft spot for kids, cheesy and corny type of love, this is just fluff believe me!

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If I had a nickel for every time I've written about Leon's transition from vendetta to death island I would have two which it isn't a lot but it's funny it happened twice. If you wish to know what song Leon played this is the one I had in mind. As always, I hope you like it. This is my Valentine's Day fic for today!

MY MASTERLIST

Gruesome scenarios and depressive states of mind have tainted Leon's path in life. However, the grizzled and gloomy agent has had a rather rough patch this last year in which he was left alone to die in his own sorrow—Raccoon City, Spain, China and his already-known addiction took a toll on him.

He doesn't have anyone to blame, nor does he want to. Yeah, he could blame the government for stripping him of his innocence and his genuine wish to help people but he felt like he had failed his nation, not the DSO, not the FBI, just him.

Behind closed doors, in the white house and for everyone else he's Agent Leon Kennedy, Mr. Kennedy, and if someone were to ask the president he'd say he's the most trusted weapon the country has. 

He has grown accustomed. His shield has hardened to the point he's numb to most things he should find disturbing or annoying yet he couldn’t help but wish someone would see him the way he really is. 

A bittersweet feeling grew in Leon’s system. Alcohol no longer brought the same dull sensation that’d put him to sleep even in the loudest and sleazy bar. So, slowly he grew out of his addiction. Not alone, though. Alongside him were a couple of therapists which he reluctantly confided in. Not because he didn’t believe in mental health, but because he thought it wasn’t for him.

Also, his friends made his life a bit better. Spare the man the embarrassment, but friendship does indeed make you see the world more colorfully. It was nice hearing his name slip out of his friends' lips. Leon, Leon! Aww, Leon. 

However, life didn’t prepare him for the moment his name was replaced by a:

Dada.

Therapists had told him he should look for a hobby, something that’d fill those moments where boredom or monotony would push him to fall back into his deadly addictions. And he completely understood, he ought to follow the experts’ advice in order to actually improve.

It was rather easier, he was not a complicated man. 

Even before the Raccoon City incident, he loved exercising. Whether it was lifting weights, cycling, or plain running he’d always be found doing something. The mere thought of just lying in bed was something he’d never engage in, especially not now that he’s getting better. 

So, he combined two things. One he was familiar with and a second one he hasn’t been able to really connect with: nature. 

Near his current apartment, there was a small park in which he goes jogging. Usually, his schedule would only allow him to go there in the early hours of the morning where the only people he’d find were retired grandparents who danced to some Spanish music he couldn’t understand.

Peaceful, he liked it. 

But when he was getting used to his daily morning jogging, a call from work told him they needed him ASAP. So, his little detoxicating activity would be postponed to the afternoon. 

After dealing with the usual stress from work, calls from Hunnigan, and a rather bothersome headache, he got to his apartment and decided to get ready and not skip his so-needed jogging. 

The afternoon sky was painted with a hue of blue mixing with the slightest orange color, the gentle breeze hitting Leon’s face as he jogged around the park. His tempo never missed a beat not even after an hour or so between his physical training and some pauses. Sweat fell from his forehead and onto the ground with each step he took, meaning that he was reaching exhaustion.

At last, he found solace under a tree that cast a shadow, perfect for Leon to catch his breath. Closing his eyes, he let his lungs inhale as much air as they could.

His peaceful moment was broken when a tiny voice called out for him. Or rather, mistaken him for someone else.

“Dada!” A little girl came walking to where he was seated, wobbly steps trying to reach him. 

“Margaret!” You appeared out of nowhere before the toddler could reach and hug the stranger. The giggling and excited kid seemed to have heard “run faster” by the way she didn’t stop at your call.

A hint of confusion washed over Leon as he watched the scene develop with rather curious eyes. A mop of curly hair running away from your grasp. The white dress turned into a slightly brown color, Leon guessed the child must have been playing in the dirt.

And then a glimpse of a faint smile replaced his previous bewilderment as his eyes fell on you. As you tried catching your daughter, he observed her antics and your patience. 

Finally, your hands lifted the little one as her tiny legs kicked in the air, ready to run in the air. 

You fixed Margaret’s dress and messy hair while her bright eyes continued being focused on the man sitting on the grass. Her hands doing the typical “grabby” motion to Leon. Sighing in defeat, you spoke to the man.

“Sorry, don’t know what happened.” You sheepishly said as you offered the man an apology for your daughter’s previous mischievous actions. “She usually doesn’t call random people dada I assure you.”

“She gave me quite the scare.” Leon chuckled as he got up from the grass. “My past actions flashed before my eyes.” 

“As I said, I’m sorry.” You repeated your words while your daughter tried wriggling her way out of your arms. When she saw that her mother’s grip wasn’t budging, she took matters into her own hands.

She started crying.

You weren’t letting your daughter play with a stranger, that much you knew. 

“My name’s Leon, by the way.” Leon said, extending his arm, but he pulled back as soon as he saw that you were too busy handling the tantrum your daughter was having. 

You told Leon your name which easily fell from his lips to confirm he heard you well. “Do you normally come here?” You asked.

“Yes, but just in the mornings.” He responded, watching the little one pouting. “Something came out today so duty called. Cops don’t rest.”

“Wait, Are you a cop?” You seemed to relax at the revelation and he couldn’t help but get a Deja Vu from this little interaction. A friend of his asked him the same question, but at least now he wasn’t surrounded by zombies.

“A cop…” A whisper came out from Leon’s lips, a playful yet gentle smile formed on his face. “Kinda.”

“I’ll assume you’re way more important than that.” You adjusted Margaret in your arms when she finally calmed. Although she kept on staring at Leon, her bright eyes focused on him. “Because if you were indeed a cop or a chief you’d be puffing your chest out.”

“Are they always like that?” He acted surprised.

“Here, in New York? I don’t know… you tell me.”

It’s been a while since he last spoke with someone this freely. Surely he has talked with his friends a lot. But they were people he had previously known and shared the same past as him, a connection to the outside world seemed impossible and even greedy in a way.

Soon, both of you found yourselves unable to stop talking, even Margaret chirped from time to time, making her opinion loud and clear. He got to know a bit about you, and you got to know little fragments of his life. The ones who wouldn’t lead him to share more than necessary, obviously.

Despite the rough exterior, his constant frowning stopped as a soft expression replaced it. Margaret's chubby hands absentmindedly held one of Leon’s fingers as he spoke with you, blabbering and being overjoyed by his presence. 

However, her cheerful mood slowly turned sour as soon as she got hungry. Glassy eyes and sobs warned you that the conversation would come to an end.

“Yup, I gotta go.” You murmured trying not to bring more stress to your already distressed baby. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Likewise.” Leon kept his hands in his pockets, unable to come up with anything else. He wanted to say that perhaps they could repeat this. But then again, he’s been so deprived of normal social interactions that he no longer knows if that would sound creepy. 

“Have a good night.” He decided it would be the wisest thing to do. He watched your soft expression as you took your little girl’s hand and waved goodbye. 

Ever since that little interaction, his schedule changed. His morning routine was long forgotten. An excuse was made, something between the lines that his shift changed so he has to work in the mornings. 

And he was delighted to spend time with both of you. The highlights of his whole day would be getting to hear about you and Margaret. 

Each day that passed meant new memories being made. From the way he got to know Margaret’s favorite ice cream flavor to your childhood dreams. Every detail mattered for him because he could now see how simple life could be.

He took—both of you mostly— on little dates. Let it be to try a new cafeteria near the park, drinking an americano while Margaret drank from her sippy cut which was filled with chocolate milk. 

However, there were times in which Margaret would stay with a friend of yours. Allowing you to be alone with Leon. And while he appreciates the joy and happiness your daughter brought, he also loved the moments in which he could focus just on you. 

Sadly, years of training didn’t prepare him to man up and make the first move. When he thought he would brush away every insecurity and second guesses, something would come up. 

He wanted to grab your hand, the waiter would come at the worst time. He wants to compliment you, he'd almost choke with his own saliva. He wanted to give you a goodbye kiss after driving you home, someone would call him.

It was as if the universe was against him.

Thankfully, you had picked up those hints. And if Leon wasn't the luckiest man out there, you can help him in his predicament.

On a usual afternoon, as Margaret played with the leaves that had fallen from the trees, you shot him a question.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Huh? Yes, it sounds nice.” Leon absentmindedly replied, thinking it would be like the rest of your dates.

“I mean… In my house. I don't think I've invited you yet.”

In the meantime, Margaret had grabbed some leaves which she placed on Leon's hair. The man didn't even react to it, already used to her antics.

“I wouldn't like to intrude.”

“You wouldn't. See it as a friendly meeting.”

Friendly meeting, of course. He couldn’t be so selfish.

“If you insist.” He says as the little one giggles, her smile just showing two teeth. “When would it be?”

“Are you free this 14th?” 

He nods, he doesn't even remember if he's in fact free. But he'd make time. 

Besides, who works on Valentine’s Day?

     ⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

He wishes he would've realized about the implications of the day sooner.

The other dates have been nothing but platonic. Of course he had been nervous, biting his nails to the point where had to put on clear nail polish. 

But this one is for Valentine's Day. Day where people confess their love in dramatic ways. Some lucky people even propose on this date. 

Leon has been out of the dating game for years. He believes he'll mess it up somehow, especially as he sees the reflection of himself in the mirror. 

Of course, he knows he's getting better. But his appearance tells everyone otherwise. His hair continues being dark, a big contrast from his past self whose blond hair would be the talk of some people.

The palm of his hand brushes over his stubble cheek. The sensation of those tiny hairs is similar to blades. He looks at his watch, there is no time to shave. The last thing he wanted was to be late on his first date.

He sighs and walks toward the table, on top of it are two bouquets. One has multiple red and pink roses, that one is for you. The other one consists of a single white rose, for Margaret. Even if he has forgotten the basics of dating, he wouldn’t go empty-handed to your home.

The drive to your house isn’t an easy one. Not because he lacked driving skills, he is pretty much proud of how well he could drive when he is not facing life-or-death situations. 

He takes his car, just for today. He knows he has to be himself and show you his love for bikes. But he would be lying if he wasn’t a tad scared about coming to your house driving his usual motorbike. What would you think? Surely you’d dump him for risking his life or something like that.

But he is so damned anxious. He turns on the radio, trying to muffle his thoughts but the first thing that comes up is a Valentine's Day advertisement. ‘Don’t mess up your date today! Try our newest product and—�� He’s trying, he doesn’t know what the ad is talking about but he needs no product for this date to be a success.

He turns off the stupid machine. After all, today’s music sucks. Nothing personal, he just doesn’t like it. He’d prefer if the radio played real music. Some Deftones and Korn would do. 

But right now he’d dance to anything. Valentine’s Day, after all, should be a romantic getaway from the normalcy of life. Even though years had made him a corny individual, if it’s with you, romanticism should never die.

He’s rambling, his head is a mess. He sees himself slow dancing with you, Somethin’ Stupid playing in the background. He foresees a future in which he could paint next to your daughter, suns and trees never looked so pretty as he imagines that scenario. 

Dating you would come with the whole pack, he knows well. But even at his age, he still feels like a broken child whenever he sees himself in the mirror. Memories of his innocence being stripped away of him and his present still clinging on to the faint threads of hope. 

So that’s why he made the promise of taking this relationship seriously. No matter if you end up being nothing more than friends. People often say that you just know when you meet the one. And he saw the beacons of lights announcing the whole sun when he met you and your little one.

Eventually, he reaches your home. Double-checking the address you had previously sent him over text, he confirms this is the place you live in. A modest house, enough for you and Margaret. 

He switches off the engine and takes out the key from the ignition. Placing his hands one last time on the steering wheel, he takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. And with a newfound conviction, he grabs the two bouquets and gets out of the car.

When he walks towards the door, he immediately knocks. If he dared to wait just a second just to calm his anxiety, he’d spend at least 5 minutes staring at the wooden material. So, he sacrifices that priceless time in order to face reality.

A ‘coming’ is heard by Leon a few seconds after he knocks. Eventually, the front door opens and you welcome him with Margaret in your arms. “Hey.” You greet him, Margaret doing the same as she waves her hand.

“Hey, you two.” Leon says with a warm smile, trying to hold back the fact that there hasn’t been a better image than this. “I couldn’t come empty-handed to your house so I took the liberty to bring you these.”

Leon then hands you the bouquets he had brought—the bigger one for you, and the smaller one with a single rose for Margaret. 

“Are these for me?” A dumb question, of course. But there’s no harm to ask and surely it would get a nice reply from Leon who has been dancing around the idea of flirting with you. Too scared to come off as awkward and silly.

“I don’t see another pretty woman around here.” It slips so smoothly out of his lips. Leon Kennedy, you still got it, he mentally praises himself. 

“Yeah, right.” You roll your eyes, satisfied with the answer you received. “Please, come in.”

Leon nods and enters your house. The living room was nicely organized, and the way some toys blended in with the decoration brought a smile to his face. The perfect balance between the sober expected room with the colorful and childish playthings.

You set Margaret on the floor not before giving her the rose Leon gifted her. She absentmindedly walks toward the couch and sits down to inspect what an amazing thing the funny man brought.

“Well, looks like she likes them.” Leon hums as he watches how Margaret starts happily tearing the flower into tiny pieces. Her antics filling Leon’s heart, he could get used to this feeling.

He wants to.

“Yup, definitely.” And your eyes meet Leon’s, his piercing blue eyes are not cold as he often thinks. They remind you of the beach sea, of the gentle waves and the gentleness they carry. 

And he sees himself in yours. In your eyes, he isn’t a cold and depressed agent who is fighting off the odds. He admires the man he’s becoming. The man who despite everything he has experienced, wants to do better.

“I haven’t told you yet but…” Leon trails off as he gathers the courage to do this simple yet nerve-wracking action. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he kisses your knuckles. A gentleman through and through. If he could win your heart, he’d do anything to protect both of you.

Although he was lying, even if he weren’t to win you over, you have already gained a friend who would literally save the world for you to live in with your most beautiful miracle. 

“You’re sappy.” You shake your head laughing, but you don’t push Leon away. In a way, your teasing comes off as a thank you. 

“And you break my heart.” He chuckles, letting go of your hand which falls to your side.

As it does, your eyes fall on Margaret. While she continues playing with torn pieces of the flower, you see her head swaying slowly from side to side, as if fighting off sleep. 

“It’s nap time for little Margaret.” You break the silence as you walk toward Margaret whose tiny fingers still try to tear up the already destroyed rose. 

You pick up Margaret and with the way she isn't getting fuzzy, your assumption was correct. She is fighting against Morpheus, sadly losing.

You glance at Leon who is standing in the same place you left him. Admiring the scene of you carrying your daughter. 

“Would you like to help me?” You murmur. 

Of course he does, he wants nothing more but to embark on this new life. He has seen so much horror and for once, he wants to indulge in this domestic dream of his.

“If you let me.”

Humble, timid, and definitely not showing how enthusiastic he was about helping you. 

You nod and guide him upstairs. Margaret’s room was just next to yours, even though you prefer to sleep with her, still too nervous about her getting tangled in her own blankets.

As both of you reach the room, shades of pink and white greet Leon. Some toys are scattered around the floor too. Proof of Margaret’s wholesome behavior. 

Margaret shifts in your arms, her previous peaceful demeanor changing given the frustration of not falling asleep yet. She is pretty much easy to handle when nap time comes, but today is one of those days.

“You told me I could help.” Leon's hushed voice reaches you. His eyes express the need to assist you in a task like this. 

“Sure…” Your heart flutters as Leon steps up to help you. You indeed asked him if he wanted to come with you. But the fact he had so eagerly accepted the role made you appreciate him even more.

If that was even possible.

As Margaret starts letting out soft cries, you hand her to Leon who is quick to catch her. At first, Margaret is held rather awkwardly which brings a smile to your face before her cries get really serious.

You help Leon by moving his hand. That gains a quiet ‘ok ok’ meaning that he got the hang of it. 

He positions Margaret on his chest, her face seeking the crook of his neck as she continues letting out tiny sobs. With his hand supporting his back, he rocks her.

If anyone were to see him, they'd think he's a father holding his daughter. But in his mind, he's holding your world, his world. 

Oblivious to it, Leon started humming a song. He doesn’t know where he had heard it before. Maybe it came from his mother, a memory he thought was deeply buried in his mind.

Eventually, your baby falls asleep which definitely boosts Leon’s mood as she grins. He's built for this! He thinks.

He lays Margaret in her crib. The little one breathes slowly as she drifts off to dreamland.

Both of you slowly and quietly walk out of the room making sure not to make any loud noise and wake the sleeping princess. 

As you slowly descend from the stairs and are once again in the living room, Leon’s mind is filled with expectations.

What's next?

What is he supposed to do now? 

As if on cue, your words break the silence.

“I forgot to order the food.” You sheepishly admit as you nervously laugh. Between cleaning the house before Leon came and taking care of a toddler the fact that a dinner without food wouldn't be a dinner slipped out of your mind.

“I'll do it right now just give me a second to search for this one restau—”

“Hey, it's okay.” Leon reaches for your arm before you can walk toward where the phone is. He takes this opportunity to do all the things he has wanted to do with you. To accomplish each one of those silly yet endearing wishes of his.

“Besides… this is a great excuse for us to bond more.”

He lets go of your arm but instead, his hand takes out his cellphone. Your eyes curiously watch as he types something.

For a moment, Leon doesn't utter a word and you can see how his fingers are slightly shaking.

Leon looks up from the phone and gives you a gentle smile before he sets the phone aside. After a couple of seconds, the slow and wistful chords of a piano announce the beginning of a song.

“May I have this dance?” Leon extends his hand toward you. 

You opt to accept his hand. In the back of your mind, you wanted to tease him one more time. Just like you did when he told you happy Valentine’s. But you feel this is way more important than those simple words.

As your hand locks with his, he pulls you closer to his body. His free arm finds its home in your lower back, not too low to keep it PG and not to discomfort you in this intimate dance.

Letting him guide you, you sway from side to side. His past self wouldn't have imagined that he could reach this level of serenity and tranquility. The simple thought of having a family was like a faraway dream.

Your head rests comfortably on Leon's shoulder, the scent of his cologne being your new favorite aroma. The one that brings you memories from the time you met him to all the dates you had that led to this very moment.

The song continues its course, and the outside world is forgotten for a moment. No words are exchanged as both of you drown in the homely feeling of dancing in each other's arms.

After a while, without lifting his head and allowing his lips to ever so slightly graze against your ears, Leon's voice cut through the peaceful melody.

“Let me in.” He whispers, his hands ever so slightly tightening around your middle section. His words brush against your ear like the soft melody that plays in the background. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Let me in, in your life. I don’t want to ask you to just be your partner.” The weight and truth of his statement turn your head in a messy place. “I want to be part of your life and Margaret’s.”

He wants to stick around, he wants to be greeted by you and Margaret each time he comes back from a mission. He wants to give Margaret the childhood he never had. And, he wants to fulfill every little dream you and he may have. 

“I want to wake up next to you each morning. To Margaret telling us she's hungry in her own way.” He's always been a man of few words, but in this moment he could recite the whole bible if he wanted. 

“I want to put Margaret to sleep every day just like I did today. And I want to sleep next to you every night, knowing that you're safe.”

“I don't want you to be a memory.” His lips move to the side of your face, daring to kiss your cheeks in a sweet manner. “I want you to be my whole life.”

Smoothly and with ease, his words fall from his lips while his tempo never falters. His thumb now softly rubs your skin, where his hand is located to support your back in the dance.

He'd want to take pride and tell you he's that good with words. However, many times he has rehearsed this speech that if he had stumbled on his words he'd have let the earth swallow him.

And as the song came to an end, so did Leon’s confession. 

A few seconds of silence create the worst nightmare in Leon's imagination. He could already hear your words telling him you don't feel the same that you're already in love with someone else or—

Your knuckles caress Leon’s face, feeling the growing stubble on his cheek and jaw. The sensation of being touched like this has been a long-distance memory that he's completely forgotten what being loved felt like.

He now feels both of your hands cupping his face, prompting him to look you in the eyes. His blue eyes lock with yours and admire the softest of expressions drawn on your face.

As he gazes into you, he can only think how in love he is. And what a good life awaits for him.

And what feels like both an eternity and a split second, your lips connect with his in a tender yet meaningful kiss. One that he's been expecting after all this time.

The one is indeed not a myth.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: I had so much fun writing this. There's something about found family that makes me all soft and sappy lmao. And sorry if my despiction about cops is wrong... I've never set foot in the US so spare your writer the embarrassment. Anyway, I hope you all have a beautiful day! No matter if you spend it with your lover, friends or alone. (Dividers are from: @/cafekitsune)

💬 SHADESOFLSK: Comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.

[celestialtarot11]

Degree Theory in Charts and Observations 🤍

Moon/sun at 8 or 20 degrees can signify trauma, releasing your ego and patterns that have hurt you subconsciously. 8 degrees and 20 both signify scorpios energy, and when placed on the big 3, it can dampen your signs energy. You may be a Leo sun, but when it's at 8 degrees your passion, creativity, and aspects of yourself can largely remain private. You are passionate, only to those you trust. Introverts become extroverts around the right people.

Gemini degrees on your moon/venus/sun 3, 15, 27 can suggest being a logical thinker, preferring to analyze your emotions and think deeply. You may like hearing podcasts on philosophy, emotional processing, books informed on trauma, and be interested in dissecting religion, spirituality, and occult related topics. Or how different cultures overall approach mental health or spirituality as a whole.

Luigi Mangione has Venus at 3 degrees and early on he wrote an essay portraying how christianity benefitted by appealing to the lower classes of ancient Rome at 15. His words not only reach a few people but a mass global scale, sharing his pain with those who suffered at the hands of the medical system. To this day he is currently seen as smart, intelligent, and romanticized even. He openly speaks out about the failing health care system. It's possible he may go on to write books in prison detailing his experiences and exposing the truth.

Also, his Mars is at 15 degrees of gemini, and it's a theory that this degree is associated with assassinations or killings. With Mars here, he was motivated by his anguish to make a move that started change. His sun is conj mars, so, he already has a following of those who look up to him as a savior, activist, and an important person in social justice.

George Orwell has his moon at 8 degrees in the 8h in Gemini, and he went on to describe the dangers of totalitarianism rising in the west. He wrote 1984 as a warning to the US, and his scorpio degrees also made him incredibly adept to the rising dangers in our politics.

He was intelligent, a philosopher, a politician, and someone who feared humanities behavior much more than the government itself. His sun sits in the 8h, further conveying his desire for truth, honesty and revealing how dark politics are and can be. He not only described the governments regime, but how mind control worked to steer us away from facts.

His sun was in cancer at 2 degrees (taurus) signifying his need for stability in an unstable world, applying practicality to his reasoning and not just spewing words of anger. He was strong in his reasoning, yet flexible to agree with Huxley (another philosopher)

The 22 degree (Capricorn) is considered heavy, intense, challenging and even traumatic whether it's placed on your personal planets or Chiron. It's usually associated with ruthlessness, discipline, and rigidity in the native. It's why people see them as powerful, and intimidating. Capricorn is destructive here, but ultimately leads to a transformation.

Sun at 13 degrees can indicate leaving a legacy, popularity, fame over media. Depending on where the sun sits, this will tell you how it happens. For example JonBenét Ramsey’s had her sun in the 4h at 13 degrees, which is critical. She was thrust into a family related legacy, and was required to uphold it through beauty pageants.

She was a star, with Leo in the 4h. But Aries degree here suggests an infliction of Mars, and her sun was weak (opposing moon) its possible this critical degree conveys what happened behind the scenes of her family life. Surrounded by pressure, aggression, all that responsibility being put onto her at a young age. It’s possible having an afflicted sun had her Mars energy amplified even more, conveying the aggression and high standards in her home life.

Moon at 12 degrees can suggest an empathetic, intuitive and sensitive individual. Someone who can read the room, perceives body language well, but can suffer from anxiety, overstimulation and overthinking. This can dissolve boundaries as well, leading to codependent behaviors, a lack of commitment to one’s healing journey for the sake of being there for others. This native can prefer to be by water, either at a beach, stream, river, etc. anywhere where they can be around nature is best for them.

Extra

Thanks all for reading! Let me know if I should make a pt 2 of this <3

Paid readings 🤍

[azula-hates-men]

i despise the way the fandom talks about jinx. i'm sorry, but a teenager with severe mental health issues who was raised by a dictatorial drug lord in a city where crime is rampant, children are often orphaned, and there is no clean air or water, was never going to turn out right. that is not to say that i condone all of her actions (e.g. killing the firelights, helping shimmer run rampant in zaun), but i do believe that she is the product of the circumstances she grew up in. will all that being said, i don't think she did anything wrong to piltover. most, if not all, the piltovans jinx attacked were enforcers and councilors, her oppressors and the primary people responsible for the subjugation of the undercity. and before y'all argue with me in the comments "but in the s1 finale, the council was going to make zaun independent", i beg for y'all to think beyond authorial intent since the show has deeply flawed politics (see: christian linke saying that the piltover-zaun conflict is an allegory to how the us two-party system fails to communicate with each other). while there are councilors that i like as individual characters (jayce and mel specifically), i don't believe that a consensus would've gave zaun true liberation because there has NEVER been a time where the liberation of oppressed people hinged upon their oppressors granting them their freedom. negotiating with your oppressors is akin to having a conversation between the sword and the neck, there can never be peace unless the oppressed takes away power from their oppressors. whether it's between the irish and the british, the algerians and the french, or the vietnamese and the americans, the oppressed ALWAYS had to fight for their liberation, even for examples that "prove" otherwise. nevertheless, i do believe that jinx's resistance is flawed since her violence is aimless and i wish that in s2, she would actually embrace being a symbol of zaun and use violence to achieve liberation for zaun, but i don't think the writers would be able to explore violent resistance effectively because they're cowards.

[cecizilla1]

Before someone sends a pipe bomb to my house, is it really that horrible and controversial to say that Jimmy was just as much of a victim failed by the same disgusting system as everyone else? While support from loved ones is important, he needed actual resources. We don’t know anything about him beyond that he was struggling, so all we can assume is that he couldn’t hold down a job that was definitely due to his severe mental health issues. There’s nothing wrong with being an advocate for a friend, but it’s incredibly irresponsible to put someone you know is unstable into a literal inescapable environment for MONTHS with people who don’t know what they’re getting into and ripping him away from the possibility of actual helpful resources like intense therapy, psychiatric counseling, and rehabilitation. This man needed to be surrounded by professional and community support systems, not a friend who dismisses everything he does because how is that productive at all? So many people are avoiding this conversation because they believe they’re dismissing what he did by being empathetic in that way and it drives me up the fucking wall.

Although I’m not an obsessive, violent, sociopathic narcissist, it’s painful just dealing with being bipolar, past suicidal deviation, and comparing myself to my best friends who have accomplished way more than me while I’ve been struggling to fill out even one job application. The capitalist system we live in grinds us down to our bones that if we can’t climb up the social ladder, that if we can’t pick ourselves up from our lowest alone, we aren’t worth shit and are weak—which leads to people like Jimmy lashing out on everything and everyone to gain some sense of superiority.

As someone who is extremely passionate about how capitalism has completely obliterated what it means to be in a caring community because of its intrinsic suffocating individualism, its exploitation of the lower class, and how we are chained down to an unforgiving inherent debt for our whole lives, I just find it childish that so many people avoid thinking about this aspect of his character or completely override him from the story all together.

As much as I LOATH him, I can’t help but wonder what could’ve happened if he did get the help he needed before Curly roped him into PE. While it unfortunately blew up in Anya and Curly’s face because they were taken advantage of, is it that fucking horrible to believe that someone can grow and change if given the chance (as long as they obviously don’t hurt you in the process)? It’s the same reason why the prison system—especially the American prison industrial complex—should be abolished because how the fuck is locking someone up for the rest of their lives going to do anything for anybody in the long run? Obviously he needed to be brought to legal justice, but I believe that we should start at the core of why he is the way he is, what will be effective for everybody in the long run, and the possibility of him being reintroduced into society once he gets his mf shit together before people start pulling him this way and that (with boundaries ofc.) I’m a victim of sexual assault and emotional abuse myself, but I don’t want that person to rot behind bars. I just want to heal and move on. I don’t want revenge, I want closure. I want to be able to face that person and know that they won’t hurt anybody else if I am to believe that I myself can grow beyond what happened.

I know that many other creators have expressed the same sentiments already, but I needed to get that off my chest too.

Anyways, this game means so much to me because it touches on societal issues that I care about. Fuck capitalism and may everyone be free from this hell.

[mogamuncher]

An exhaustive headcanon post about Bruce Wayne's unhealthy mentality.

trigger warning for: mentions C-PTSD, Survivor's Guilt, shitty dietary habits, insomnia, self-ableism, masking, workaholism, somewhat shady parenting, technically self-harm, and passive suicidal ideation.

Ok, so:

•Bruce def feels like he has to earn things. Like affection, respect, or just any form of a good thing happening to him.

•He earns his life, or so he says, but it's more like he's trying to earn the right to be alive, which is a wild thing to believe.

•Bruce is autistic as all hell, right? Diagnosed and everything, his parents used to pay for private treatment since the mental health system in Gotham is so ass. Well, after they died, Bruce just, doesn't do any of that anymore, he avoids therapists or psychologists like the plague, even ones outside of Arkham. He has a whole lot of Other Things™ outside of autism now, but he still refuses to go get proper help.

•Similarly, Bruce would rather die than to actually mention it to anyone. Like, yeah, as Brucie Wayne he's definitely masking hard (to the point where it's kinda upsetting and he gets overwhelmed), but like, he also doesn't tell shit to the whole rest of the Batfam, or the Justice League. The only person that knows that Bruce is autistic AND just generally mentally ill/traumatized, is fucking Alfred.

•This causes people to misunderstand him a lot, but part of him feels like that's more "deserved". Like, he thinks that he'd hate to be judged by his mental illness because he he dislikes the idea of his actions being justified retroactively of excused by his illnesses, not being self-aware enough to notice that this horrifically heightened sense of hyper-responsability about just fucking everything in his life is itself, a trauma response. Also, he's the world's biggest hypocrite, who famously believes that other rogues and people like Jason Todd need to be helped instead of killed or put down, going directly against his own attitude towards himself.

•He genuinely believes that whole "[insert mental illness here] is not an excuse to [insert a behavior or symptom of aforementioned mental illness here]", but like, only towards himself. To everyone else he rightfully thinks that stuff is bullshit.

•Bruce puts himself up to some crazy standards, actually. He works non-stop as both Brucie, Bruce, and Batman, always doing something, unable to stay still or even sleep. He skips meals, neglects his well-being, he puts everything on the line and expects himself to do it everyday, every hour, without fail, every single time.

•His kids think that he's neurotic, they're kinda right, the Justice League think he's too paranoid, they're right too, Gotham city thinks he's a saviour, it's true, the rogues think he's a monster, that's fair as well. Alfred? He just thinks Bruce is hurt, he's the most right of all.

•Part of this is a form of punishment, atonement for being alive, for surviving that fateful night when his parents didn't, for daring to go on with life when they're both sixteen feet under, for having the audacity to raise a family, the gall of having friends, the sheer nerve to even consider having a romantic relationship, when his parents couldn't even hug him. Not anymore. He's here, not them.

•And it kills him, because he saw it, saw them die, saw them gurgle on their own blood and sat with their bodies until the police arrived, this is what led him to become Batman, to mask as Brucie, to guide so many young people away from being like him as Bruce. So how dare he, how dare he be happy when they died? How dare he forget that alley, for even a second? How could he? Didn't he love them? Didn't he make a promise to live out the rest of his life in a mission to prevent events like this?

•It's like he's in a toxic relationship with two corpses, they're cold and their eyes follow him, he's hollow and blind to anything but them. Part of him would love to argue that his parents, Thomas and Martha Wayne themselves, would prefer to see him happy and fulfilled. Another part of him remembers gunshots, blood spatter, and the sound of choked gurgling, and Bruce spirals all over again.

•Perhaps he's waiting for this life for kill him, finish the job that gun didn't do years ago, kill him like his parents, hurt him so deeply he can't recover, destroy him until he's repented for being so inherently horrible. Because he is, he knows he is, he's neurotic, paranoid, a saviour complex having monster, this is what he aimed for, he seeked out this outcome, just waiting to be put down like those before him.

•He's passionate about his cause, sure, but that's surface level. The front used to keep the image of an asshole neurotic paranoid man that has a saviour complex, instead of exposing the truth behind himself. Who he really is.

•A child, that's who he is, a kid reliving his worst bad day over and over and over again.

•He earns his life, he'd earned this.

[drac-kool-aid]

Seward's bone deep desire to run away from the asylum is not exactly surprising. There have been a lot of really good meta posts about how the return of Van Helsing into his life is the turning point where we see the caring and good side of him and how we can interpret his life as a student in Amersterdam as one of freedom and happiness. How he is part of the tragedy of manners, how strict social expectations allow Dracula to persist, and how they only exacerbate the unhappiness of the characters.

And I think the tragedy of Seward is that, really, he should not be the head of an asylum. It's a job that brings him no joy, and he's BAD at it. We can all recognize that if your first reaction to going back to work is "What if I just leave it all." That isn't a healthy work environment.

Now, in the modern day, the ability to pick and choose a work environment, even to leave one that is damaging your mental health, is a privilege. (IT SHOULDNT BE, but it is). And, although it is definitely reaching crisis levels in modern times, major changes in your career have almost always been difficult (unless you are really rich, or a particular brand of academic in the 17th-18th century, or both).

Seward can't just leave and become a surgeon. To give up the lofty position of "Head of an Asylum" would be unthinkable in the 1890s, especially for a reason like "Being here is basically turning me into the Joker." Like, how would Seward explain that in polite society? Would they accept that reasoning? Would they create salacious gossip if they didn't? Can Seward leave his position without losing a great amount of social capital?

Probably not.

His rise to head of an asylum, as many have pointed out, was meteoric, to say the least. It has afforded him status and respect and also left him deeply, deeply fucked up. And he can't leave!

I think his desperate attempts to quantify Renfield's behaviors into a new mental illness are telling in this regard. Maybe he is too used to having to meet some sort of expectation, and now he thinks this is the logical next step (It's NOT, but I digress). The feeling of having to keep performing above expectations, grasping at straws to do so, and subsequently burning oneself out (as well as others around you) and engaging in unethical practices? Idk. It sounds like something that would happen today. (tbh there are probably a ton of Sewards out there today, as there are still systemic problems within the mental health system that allow for the dehumanizing and abuse of patients).

It doesn't excuse his behavior. Nothing he does to Renfield is excusable, but I think it does explain some of the *why*. He isn't just cruel for cruelty's sake.

So, tldr I guess: I think reading Seward as someone who got stuck on a career path that he realized was unfufilling and that he ends up hating. Social conventions restrict him from just quitting without and a (socially acceptable) good reason to do so, and a lifetime of being regarded as one of the smartest people in the room means he can not allow himself to fail. Unfortunately, this also means he can not admit when his actions or his ideas are wrong when it comes to his job.

(But he can show that uncertainty FOR Lucy, and TO Arthur and Van Helsing, which speaks his trust and love for them)

[probablyasocialecologist]

While maintaining that “for some, the best outcome will be transition,” it nevertheless effectively recommended that the N.H.S. abandon the guidelines embraced by major mainstream medical associations and restrict the use of medications that have been offered for decades to adolescents across the globe with vanishingly few negative side effects or regrets. The reason, the report says, is that these treatments are insufficiently supported by reliable, long-term evidence. Then, remarkably, the report recommends treatments — psychological treatment and medications for depression and anxiety — that have even less proof behind them in helping children (or adults) with gender dysphoria, though they may help with other mental health issues, and many children with dysphoria already get these treatments. And for all its insistence of evidence, the report is peppered with mere speculation about the potential causes of gender dysphoria: pornography and the phenomenon of social contagion are invoked, with zero credible evidence to support them. It is a strange document. Social conservatives welcomed the report. But it has also been heralded in some liberal quarters in Britain, where even the Labour Party has supported its conclusions, and around the world as a model of open-minded rationalism, of well-intentioned — progressive, even — unbiased scientific inquiry attempting to provide information in young people’s best interests. This, they declare, is what following the science and the evidence looks like. But is it? In an effort to evaluate the Cass report’s findings and recommendations, I spent the months since it was released poring over the document, researching the history of transgender medicine and interviewing experts in gender-affirming care as well as epidemiologists and research scientists about the role of scientific evidence in determining care standards. What I have come to realize is that this report, for all its claims of impartiality, is fundamentally a subjective, political document.

[...]

A great deal of the media coverage of gender-affirming care in the West has painted a picture of huge numbers of children, some of them suffering from profound mental illness, rushed into medical transition, practically force-fed puberty blockers and hormones, then fast-tracked to surgery once they turned 18, based on unproven treatment and perhaps bogus science. But the report itself not only fails to show any evidence of significant regret among patients or other forms of harm; its own data also contradicts the notion of rushed transition. Of the more than 3,300 medical records examined as part of the review, about a quarter of children and adolescents were referred to an endocrinologist, which suggests a significant screening process. Indeed, on average, patients had more than a half dozen consultations before being referred. If anything, the evidence suggests a lack of care bordering on neglect, which is not surprising considering that millions of people are on waiting lists for treatment of all kinds by Britain’s crumbling health system. One of the most common pieces of feedback was that young people lingered on waiting lists, sometimes for years. A number of participants in focus groups convened for the purpose of the report said they felt that they had to “prove” to clinicians that they were transgender.

[...]

At one point the report posits that because a child has never had the experience of growing up in their assigned sex, they would have no way to know whether they might regret transition. “They may have had a different outcome without medical intervention and would not have needed to take lifelong hormones,” the report says, referring to children assigned female at birth. It is hard to know what to make of a statement like that. A person gets only one life; waiting to see how it works out isn’t really an option. To a queer woman like me, this is an ominous echo of something many of us have heard many times in our lives: Maybe you just haven’t met the right man yet. The wish — whether expressed by a parent, a teacher, a therapist or a suitor — is a wish for a child not to be queer. It is hard to find a satisfying explanation for these kinds of conjectures and conclusions in the report other than this one: Many people find transgender people at best unsettling and possibly deluded or mentally ill, or at worst immoral and unnatural. They appear to believe it would be better not to be trans. As much as Cass’s report insists that all lives — trans lives, cis lives, nonbinary lives — have equal value, taken in full it seems to have a clear, paramount goal: making living life in the sex you are assigned at birth as attractive and likely as possible. Whether Cass wants to acknowledge it or not, that is a value judgment: It is better to learn to live with your assigned sex than try to change it. If this is what Cass personally believes is right, fair enough. It can charitably be called a cultural, political or religious belief. But it is not a medical or scientific judgment.

13 Aug 2024 | Link

[tsuwabuki]

what if kobeni had a contract with famine?

1. she's the first one to mention starving in the infinity devil trap.

2. you could hide some foreshadowing under innocuous comments that anyone could make. it's not odd for a poor 20 year old girl to take comfort and enjoyment in tasty food. mentioning the hobby right after 'my devil is a secret' could be nothing, but....

3. someone on reddit mentioned a possible 'final girl' devil with kobeni which I love but I felt the kitchen knife mention would match better with famine. after all, we see falling devil act as a chef preparing a meal for famine. could expand that to kobeni.

4. after famine reveals her name at the aquarium, a kobeni bro makes his debut. also if the infinity devil was used by famine here, was it also used by famine the first time we see it?

5. what we know of famines motivations and context as a horseman translates well to a theory on kobenis abilities. they seem quite powerful when activated so you would need a powerful demon.

5a. ok so my theory. when kobeni is starved of enough good things (family, luck, companionship, safety, bravery, etc), to the point she is fully starved from her humanity, she becomes hyper competent.

you see her fail to reach this state in the hotel due to her clinging to humanity (feels bad about wanting denji dead, for stabbing aki, etc). I think she succeeds in reaching hypercompetence during the rhythm game bit due to being terrified and isolated, it just so happens that the hypercompetence went into playing the rhythm game.

the only other moment where kobenis devil contract ability(ies?) come into play is after her partner gets killed protecting her and she finds out her whole team has been wiped out.

5b. ok so how does this hyper competence after 'starvation' relate to famine as a devil? well the horsemen act as as symbols and metaphors for humanity/life to triumph over.

we see that supported by both conquest and famine taking the role of nurturing humans to become stronger. you could even make that claim for all devils but this isn't about that.

starving is supposed to trigger humanity's instinct to survive by Doing Whatever It Takes. this fits nicely to how I think kobenis contract functions and why she would accept a nerf on her life like that (and how it plays into mental health, childhood abuse, and how someone could choose permanent(?) self destruction at such a young point of their life).

the fact that we see her devil contract trigger (rhythm game) after she's already left public safety means she's stuck with that contract probably the rest of her life. she wanted to go to college but her neglectful parents forced her to pick between sex work and the equivalent of demon fodder.

and because we don't know anything about her contract, we don't know how much she gave up to have this power 😭 being starved of good luck sounds like a really bad longterm debuff even if you theoretically get really good luck at your most terrified moments.

i lost my train of thought here but I'll add one more tangential thing. fujimoto is showing multiple examples of what childhood abuse and/or lack of a stable life can do to someone and how those systems help, hurt, and trap them. kobeni is an example of something more grounded despite her being comedic relief and I love that contrast with her.

she was forced to join the military due to family pressure and economic situation, could not handle the mental strain and quit with a potential life long disability that could get worse over time. she gets a job at a fast food restaurant and has spent her life so far hopping from one toxic 'family' to another.

anyways. throwing kobeni famine contract into the theory pile

[lindsay00000008]

CW: Med whump, stalking, drugs/poison, escaped whumpee, blood

Thinking about this post again, whump happens in a “safe” environment where it’s witnessed by people who want to help, and it’s very very nice that they’re just acquaintances because it opens a dynamic that’s so new and scary but so good. There’s also a lot to be said for a whumpee who is just focused on doing a good job, not messing up, not causing a scene, and other recognizing that they need support. Great post OP.

Here’s some more public whump prompts:

Whumpee having a medical emergency during a meeting. (They seize and choke and their least friendly (read: tsundere) coworker jumps into action, clearing space and ordering people to call 911, bring an AED, wait in the lobby to direct EMS, get the building coordinator)

Whumpee being stalked menacingly on their way to an early morning class. (They rush in flushed and close to tears and they slam the door to the small room with too many oak built-ins. The professor stops his conversation with one of the few students and looks concerned, and Whumpee doesn’t know how to explain until a thud sounds on the door behind them and it’s almost pushed open, only stopped by Whumpee’s rigid body. An angry voice shouts Whumpee’s name. The students shriek and Whumpee pleads for someone to help block the door. No one hesitates to rush forward and lend their strength. “Do they have a gun?” “Call the police!” “Whumpee get behind me”)

Whumpee has been trying and failing to get a new job. (Their industry is already competitive, and they seem to be having the strangest bad luck every time they go in for an interview. They aren’t usually a nervous person. They can’t be, to work in such a demanding profession. But whenever they go to meet a prospective employer, their palms sweat and their voice turns stuttering. They feel faint and flushed all over. This time, it’s too much, and halfway through, they pass out. They wake up in a hospital to a report that strange toxins have been found flooding their system. They’ve been poisoned. And their interviewer is sitting beside them with a hard, calculating look of concern, angry on Whumpee’s behalf.)

Whumpee escapes from whumper, and stumbles their way through the city, looking like a dirty vagabond. (Street rat, people think as they pass. Whumpee’s old workplace looms ahead of them, the route they’ve taken worn into ruts in their tired subconscious mind. Can they ask for help there? Their coworkers are shocked when they get a call that a homeless person needs medical attention in the lobby — then panicked when they realize this is a person they used to work with. Someone who disappeared several months ago. The cops come and assume they have mental health issues, drug addiction. They must be a criminal, the way they ran up to the receptionist’s desk with rolling eyes and grabbing fingers. A makeshift weapon is found in their pocket, splatters of blood on it and on their hands. Whumpee wakes up dizzy and disoriented, handcuffed even as paramedics tends to their wounds. The coworkers shout at the cops for their rough treatment, some trying to offer clothes and food, others crying in relief and fear for Whumpee. “They wouldn’t have gone off on their own!” “Something terrible must have happened to them…” “Don’t grab them like that!” “Why don’t you go and find out who did this, instead of harassing Whumpee? Can’t you see they’re in pain?”)

[mightyflamethrower]

In the last 20 years, the Left has boasted that it has gained control of most of America institutions of power and influence—the corporate boardroom, media, Silicon Valley, Wall Street, the administrative state, academia, foundations, social media, entertainment, professional sports, and Hollywood.

With such support, between 2009-17, Barack Obama was empowered to transform the Democratic Party from its middle-class roots and class concerns into the party of the bicoastal rich and subsidized poor—obsessions with big money, race, a new intolerant green religion, and dividing the country into a binary of oppressors and oppressed.

The Obamas entered the presidency spouting the usual leftwing boilerplate (“spread the wealth,” “just downright mean country,” “get in their face,” “first time I’ve been proud of my country”) as upper-middle-class, former community activists, hurt that their genius and talents had not yet been sufficiently monetized.

After getting elected through temporarily pivoting to racial ecumenicalism and pseudo-calls for unity, they reverted to form and governed by dividing the country. And then the two left the White House as soon-to-be mansion living, mega-rich elites, cashing in on the fears they had inculcated over the prior eight years.

To push through the accompanying unpopular agendas of an open border, mandatory wind and solar energy, racial essentialism, and the weaponization of the state, Obama had begun demonizing his opponents and the country in general: America was an unexceptional place. Cops were racist. “Clingers” of the Midwest were hopelessly ignorant and prejudiced. Only fundamental socialist transformation could salvage a historically oppressive, immoral, and racist nation.

The people finally rebelled at such preposterousness. Obama lost his party some 1,400 local and state offices during his tenure, along with both houses of Congress. His presidency was characterized by his own polarizing mediocrity. His one legacy was Obamacare, the veritable destruction of the entire system of a once workable health insurance, of the hallowed doctor-patient relationship, and of former easy access to competent specialists.

Yet Obama’s unfufilled ambitions set the stage for the Biden administration—staffed heavily with Obama veterans—to complete the revolutionary transformation of the Democratic Party and country.

It was ironic that while Obama was acknowledged as young and charismatic, nonetheless a cognitively challenged, past plagiarist, fabulist, and utterly corrupt Joe Biden was far more effective in ramming through a socialist woke agenda and altering the very way Americans vote and conduct their legal system.

Stranger still, Biden accomplished this subversion of traditional America while debilitated and often mentally inert—along with being mired in a bribery and influence-peddling scandal that may ultimately confirm that he easily was the most corrupt president to hold office in U.S. history.

How was all this possible?

Covid had allowed the unwell Biden to run a surrogate campaign from his basement as he outsourced his politicking to a corrupt media.

Senility proved a godsend for Biden. His cognitive disabilities masked his newfound radicalism and long-accustomed incompetence. Unlike his past failed campaigns, the lockdowns allowed Biden to be rarely seen or heard—and thus as much liked in the abstract as he had previously been disliked in the concrete.

His handlers, the Obamas, and the Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren radical Democrats, saw Biden’s half-century pretense as a gladhander—good ole Joe Biden from Scranton—as the perfect delivery system to funnel their own otherwise-unpopular leftwing agendas. In sum, via the listless Biden, they sought to change the very way America used to work.

And what a revolution Biden’s puppeteers have unleashed in less than three years.

They launched a base attack on the American legal system. Supreme Court judges are libeled, their houses swarmed, and their lives threatened with impunity. The Left promised to pack the court or to ignore any decision it resents. The media runs hit pieces on any conservative justice deemed too influential. The prior Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer whipped up a mob outside the court’s doors, and threatened two justices by name. As Schumer presciently put it, they would soon “reap the whirlwind” of what they supposedly had sowed and thus would have no idea what was about to “hit” them.

Under the pretense of Covid fears, balloting went from 70 percent participation on election day in most states to a mere 30 percent. Yet the rates of properly rejected illegal or improper ballots often dived by a magnitude of ten.

Assaults now followed on hallowed processes, laws, customs, and institutions—the Senate filibuster, the 50-state union, the Electoral College, the nine-justice Supreme Court, Election Day, and voter IDs.

Under Biden, the revolution had institutionalized first-term impeachment, the trial of an ex-president while a private citizen, and the indictment of a chief political rival and ex-president on trumped up charges by local and federal prosecutors—all to destroy a political rival and alter the 2024 election cycle.

Biden destroyed the southern border—literally. Eight million entered illegally—no background checks, no green cards, no proof of vaccinations. America will be dealing with the consequences for decades. Mexico was delighted, receiving some $60 million in annual remittances, while the cartels were empowered to ship enough fentanyl to kill 100,000 Americans a year.

“Modern monetary theory,” the Leftist absurdity that printing money ensures prosperity, followed. It has nearly bankrupted the country, unleashed wild inflation, and resulted in the highest interest rates in a quarter-century. Middle-class wages fell further behind as a doddering Biden praised his disastrous “Bidenomics.”

Biden warred on fossil fuels, cancelling federal leases and pipelines, jawboning lending agencies to defund fracking, demonizing state-of-the-art, clean-burning cars, and putting vast areas of oil- and gas-rich federals lands off-limits to drilling.

When gas prices predictably doubled under Biden and the 2022 midterms approached, he tried temporarily to lease out a few new fields, to drain the Strategic Petroleum Reserve, and to beg the Saudis, and our enemies, the Iranians, the Venezuelans, and the Russians, to pump more oil and gas that Biden himself would not. All this was a pathetic ruse to temporarily lower gas prices before the mid-term elections.

Biden abandoned Afghanistan, leaving the largest trove of military equipment behind in U.S. military history, along with thousands of loyal Afghans and pro-American contractors.

Biden insulted the parents of the 13 Marines blown up in this worst U.S. military debacle since Pearl Harbor. He lied to the parents of the dead that he too lost a son in the Iraq war, and when among them later impatiently checked his watch as he seemed bored with the commemoration of the fallen—and made no effort to hide his sense that the ceremony was tedious to him.

Vladimir Putin summed up the Afghan debacle—and Biden’s nonchalant remark that he wouldn’t react strongly to a “minor” invasion of Ukraine if it were minor—as a green light to invade Ukraine.

When Biden did awaken, his first reaction was an offer to fly the Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelenskyy out of the country as soon as possible. What has followed proved the greatest European killing ground since the 1944-45 Battle of the Bulge, albeit one that has now fossilized into a Verdun-like quagmire that is draining American military supply stocks and killing a half-million Ukrainians and Russians.

Suddenly, there are three genders, not two. Women’s sports have been wrecked by biological men competing as women, destroying a half-century of female athletic achievement. Young girls in locker rooms, co-eds in sororities, and women in prison must dress and shower with biological men transitioning to women by assertion.

There is no longer a commitment to free speech. The American Civil Liberties Union is a woke, intolerant group trying to ban free expression under the pretense of fighting “hate” speech and “disinformation.”

The Left has revived McCarthyite loyal oaths straight out of the 1950s, forcing professors, job applicants, and students applying for college to pledge their commitment to “diversity” as a requisite for hiring, admittance, or promotion. Diversity is our era’s version of the Jacobins’ “Cult of Reason.”

Race relations hit a 50-year nadir. Joe Biden has a long history of racist insults and putdowns. And now as apparent penance, he has reinvented himself as a reverse racial provocateur, spouting nonsense about white supremacy, exploiting shootings or hyping racial tensions to ensure that an increasingly disgusted black electorate does not leave the new Democratic Party.

The military has adopted wokeism, oblivious that it has eroded meritocracy in the ranks and slashed military recruitment. It is underfunded, wracked by internal suspicion, loss of morale and ginned up racial and gender animosity. Its supply stocks are drained. Arms productions is snail-like, and generalship is seen as a revolving door to corporate defense contractor board riches.

Big-city Democratic district attorneys subverted the criminal justice system, destroyed law enforcement deterrence, and unleashed a record crime wave. Did they wish to create anarchy as protest against the normal, or were they Jokerist nihilists who delighted in sowing ruin for ruin’s sake?

Radical racial activists, with Democrat endorsement, demand polarizing racial reparations. The louder the demands, the quieter they remain about smash-and-grab looting, carjacking, and the swarming of malls by disproportionally black teens—even as black-on-black urban murders reach record proportions.

In response, Biden tried to exploit the growing tensions by spouting lies that “white supremacy” and “white privilege” fuel such racial unrest—even as his ill-gotten gains, past record of racist demagoguery and resulting lucre and mansions appear the epitome of his own so-called white privilege.

This litany of disasters could be vastly expanded, but more interesting is the why of it all?

What we are witnessing seems to be utter nihilism. The border is not porous but nonexistent. Mass looting and carjackings are not poorly punished, but simply exempt from all and any consequences. Our downtowns are reduced to a Hobbesian “war of all against all,” where the strong dictate to the weak and the latter adjust as they must. The streets of our major cities in just a few years have become precivilizational—there are more human feces on the sidewalks of San Francisco than were in the gutters of Medieval London.

The FBI and DOJ are not simply wayward and weaponized, but corrupt and renegade. Apparently the perquisite now for an FBI director is the ability either to lie while under oath or better to mask such lying by claiming amnesia or ignorance.

Immigration is akin to the vast unchecked influxes of the late Roman Empire across the Danube and Rhine that helped to finish off a millennium-old civilization that had lost all confidence in its culture and thus had no need for borders.

In other words, the revolution is not so much political as anarchist. Nothing escapes it—not ceiling fans, not natural gas cooktops, not parents at school board meetings, not Christian bakeries, not champion female swimmers, not dutiful policemen, not hard-working oil drillers, not privates and corporals in the armed forces, not teens applying on their merits to college, not anyone, anywhere, anytime.

The operating principle is either to allow or to engineer things to become so atrocious in everyday American life—the inability to afford food and fuel, the inability to walk safely in daylight in our major cities, the inability to afford to drive as one pleases, the inability to obtain or pay back a high interest loan—that the government can absorb the private sector and begin regimenting the masses along elite dictates. The more the people tire of the leftist agenda, the more its architects furiously seek to implement it, hoping that their institutional and cultural control can do what  ballots cannot.

We could variously characterize their efforts as destroying the nation to save it, or burning it down to start over, or fundamentally transforming America into something never envisioned by the Founders.

Will their upheaval  succeed? All the levers of the power and money are on the side of the revolutionaries. The people are not. And they are starting to wake to the notion if they do not stop the madness in their midst they very soon won’t have a country.

A perfect metaphor for what the progressives have done to America.