#to the point it affecting my mental health. I going to go back to my assignments now but wanted to say:

[sophieinwonderland]

@systeminquiry

Comments like this make me want to ask, how educated are you on the history of DID?

You speak of small sample sizes, and yet DID as a whole didn't even have more than a couple hundred cases prior to the 70s. Large scale studies prior to the increase in diagnoses weren't feasible. You say that the proof is "word of mouth," and yet you seem to ignore that a lot of psychology and psychiatry has been based on listening to people.

A lot of psychological phenomena can't be objectively measured. And even for what we have found indicators for in the brain later, much of that wasn't until long after the conditions were recognized as real based on psychological research. On talking to the affected group and understanding them.

Despite "multiple personality" being recognized for a hundred years as a real condition, and added to the DSM in 1980, it wasn't until the late 90s that the first neurological studies started being conducted into DID systems.

You expect a higher standard of scientific evidence for endogenic plurality than DID could reach for most of its existence.

And while I would agree that proper sourcing is important, you expect sources for things that aren't reasonable to have source for, like the definition of a community term. You use it as a gotcha when his source for the definition of a community term is from the community that coined it as if that invalidates them as a source.

Because of the nature of community terms, all sources will inevitably lead back to the community. If a doctor isn't citing the community directly, they'll be citing another doctor who is. Or a doctor who cited a doctor who cited a doctor who cited the community. All citation roads for community terms are inevitably going to lead back to the community in question. Because the community is going to be the primary source for definitions of their words.

Moving away from the community terms like "plurality," we come to the actual psychological terms. Despite you repeating the false claim that there is a "massive body" of research that systems only form from trauma, you ignore the quotes from the creators of Structural Dissociation model saying that it might be possible that spiritual practices and hypnosis involve self-conscious dissociative parts of the personality.

Do you believe the creators of the structural dissociation model would be saying this if they agreed with your view that non-traumagenic systems weren't possible? If they believed it was only possible to form self-conscious dissociative parts through trauma?

You also have repeatedly ignored my citations of the World Health Organization's ICD-11. Not only here, but on the post you originally made your reply to.

But maybe you will dismiss this since it also has no sources other than being written by the World Health Organization?

But that seems like a dangerous game to play.

At a certain point, denial of endogenic plurality becomes straight-up dismissal of experts.

If you believe it's impossible to be plural without trauma or a disorder, then that means the America Psychiatric Association is spreading psychiatric misinformation.

If you believe it's scientifically impossible under the theory of structural dissociation to form self-conscious dissociative parts of the personality without trauma, then you are asserting that the creators of the theory of structural dissociation are spreading misinformation about their own theory.

If you believe the only way to experience multiple "distinct personality states" is through DID, then that means the World Health Organization is spreading misinformation about mental health.

And if you do believe these psychiatrists and institutions are indeed spreading medical misinformation, and that there's some scientific consensus that contradicts these works published by the American Psychiatric Association and the World Health Organization, then the burden of proof is on you to show that.

Something which sysmeds have been unable to do, because there is not one single psychiatrist who has ever gone on record claiming it's impossible to be plural without trauma.

https://www.tumblr.com/systeminquiry/764873762516697088/debunking-plurality-in-transgender-mental-health

Prefacing this by reminding people that Transgender Mental Health was reviewed and published by the American Psychiatric Association.

The main reason that this is being cited here is because of the reputation of the publisher in their commitment to making sure that their publications are accurate to our current understanding.

Asking this at the top for anyone who supports this "debunk," is your position that the American Psychiatric Association is publishing medical misinformation?

Anyway, I find that this is a pretty weak "debunking."

The first section defines being plural as "Having two or more people existing in one body or space" (Yarbrough, 2018). The highlighted sections on plurality have no source - these are unsubstantiated claims that contradict the scientific general consensus and research on how systems form, leaving the reader unable to determine whether the information came from a legitimate/reputable source or not. As it is now, the fact that the sections about plurality have no source seems to imply that the author couldn't find a legitimate source with their definition of plurality, instead fabricating explanations.

I'm not actually sure what would constitute a "legitimate source" for the purpose of defining plurality, given that "plural" is itself a community term popularized by non-disordered systems, as opposed to be more medicalized term "multiple" which had previously been used. It would be like trying to find a source for "Otherkin" or "Alterhuman." Any source that you get is going to be from online communities because they are community terms.

Also, the link they use that discusses how systems form is a now-deleted Tumblr post. I doubt it was very credible to begin with, but it's gone now so there's no way to know. 🤷‍♀️

This entire section makes claims about plurality that directly contradicts the body of existing research (see Dorahy et al., 2014 and Dell & O'Neil, 2009, but there are more) with no sources to support what they're saying. I cannot call this reliable or legitimate information if large sections are fictitious.

So basically, the reason this isn't reliable in saying non-traumagenic plurality exists is because... it says non-traumagenic plurality exists?

Can I just say something about a difference I notice when I cite sources compared to when anti-endos cite sources?

Generally, when I cite a source, I'll include a screenshot or quote so people know I'm not just making stuff up. Because I know that most people aren't going to click a 20 page document to read through to find whatever random line I'm using to support my position.

While the author of this Tumblr post does technically cite sources for their claim that Transgender Mental Health contradicts existing research, they don't provide quotes. And when you actually scroll down to their sources and read them, they aren't actually relevant. For example, the Dorahy source...

Entirely about dissociative identity disorder and doesn't address non-DID plurality AT ALL.

It is 100% useless and irrelevant to the topic of plurality in Transgender Mental Health, which discusses non-disordered plurality.

I can't find the Dell study, but seeing as it also is focused on DID, I'm going to assume that it also makes no statements on the existence of non-disordered plurality, and that the person doing this debunk is relying on readers not checking their sources.

The actual scientific scientific consensus!

This "debunk" is unable to find sources saying you need DID or trauma to be plural. The reason for that is because those sources DO NOT EXIST.

And the fact that they use these other sources that only talk about dissociative identity disorder so deceptively, and pointedly refuse to post the exact quotes or screenshots that would relate to plurality in general, makes me think that they know that.

It makes me think that they are intentionally lying and deceiving people, knowingly posting irrelevant sources with the hopes that nobody will look into them.

Many academic sources won't use the word plural because plural is a community term. But what they are painfully clear on is that you don't need to have a disorder to experience multiplicity.

For example, the World Health Organization's ICD-11 phrases this as a saying that you can experience multiple distinct personality states, a term it uses synonymously with DID alters, without having a disorder.

Back in 2012, when defining dissociation in trauma, the creators of the theory of structural dissociation commented on the possibility that spiritual practices and hypnosis could also cause the formation of self-conscious dissociative parts of the personality, albeit in a different way from dissociative identity disorder.

The actual consensus seems to be pretty clear to me.

Despite different words being used, all of these sources are saying the same thing. You don't need to have DID or trauma to be plural, you don't need to have DID or trauma to have multiple "self-conscious dissociative parts." You don't need to have DID or trauma to have multiple "distinct personality states."

The American Psychiatric Association did not publish misinformation when they published Transgender Mental Health. They did not publish something that went against a scientific consensus. They published statements that affirmed the scientific consensus.

To this day, system medicalists have continuously failed again and again to provide even so much as a single Doctor who has said that you need trauma to be plural.

To the extent that they provide sources for these claims, the sources never actually will say what they claim they do. They are consistently misrepresented just as they were by the OP.

Finally, there's one thing that I really want to drive home for sysmeds. Which is that, whether you like this book or not, it is still going to exist. It still was published by the American Psychiatric Association. It still is going to be used to educate psychiatrists and psychologists on how best to treat transgender people. And many of them are going to learn about plurality from this book.

It's very possible that if you are going to a psychologist or a psychiatrist right now for gender related issues, they could have read this book already and have been informed by it.

I just want you to remember that it exists, that it has the American Psychiatric Association's credibility backing it, and every psychiatrist who reads it is going to be just a little bit more accepting towards plurals and a little bit less tolerant towards your hatred.

Enjoy that final thought.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

.

[neverendingford]

.

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about Wade's life and his mental health issues a lot, and I just thought about this. Not only being abused, but his entire brain being made out of cancer, and the fact that oxygen was physically taken from his brain over the course of 2+ days multiple times?

We see him coloring a lot and claim multiple times that he doesn't/ can't read (this is probably a bit, I guarantee he can read), but it had me thinking what if some days were more childish then others as part of his coping mechanisms?

At first, Logans was really confused about why Althea puts up with it until he realizes that it's extremely good for him to just... be taken care of? Praised and given affection for the bare minimum? He thinks it's weird. This wasn't the same man he was fighting with yesterday.

Coming into the living room, he sees Wade sprawled out with crayons and markers all around him with multiple pictures already coloured, his notebook having pages ripped out of it as he kicks his feet and hums.

On the tv, there are cartoons playing. Once in a while, he'll look up at the tv and then go back to coloring. "What are you doing??"

"Hi wolvie. 'm colouring."

"He's behaving, so don't ruin it." Al says. There's pictures by her, and she is holding a box of cereal.

"O..kay??" Sitting down, he's almost too curious to just walk away, picking up puppins so she doesn't ruin his drawings, petting her confusedly.

Sometimes, Al will hold out some cereal in her hand. "Wade." And he will see him shimmy over and take the cereal. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, baby."

As hes scooting back to his color spot he stops and watches the tv for a bit longer then usual.

"...What.. the fuck." Logan says to her and she gives him a brow raise. "What?"

"What is he doing?"

"He's coloring. And I thought I was the blind one."

"No no I mean.. those aren't murder plans. That's puppins."

"Yes? And?"

"And.. what did you do to him?"

"Treated him like a human being. Give it a try once inawhile." She says, and he comes back with more pictures, climbing in between them with no regard for space as he leans into her.

"Oh thank you. What is it?"

"It's you."

"Oh? How sweet. Do I look good?"

"Mhm!"

"Im glad. How about you show our friend here your amazing pictures. And he better be nice!"

So wade turns and now is leaning on logan as he points to a different picture. One of Logan with Puppins on a leash with a sun in the corner and crappy grass, a hearts all over the place.

At first he wants to tell him to get off of him, but seeing the pictures and how excited his eyes were to show him, it hits him and he understands.

".. uhm.. thank you?" But he puts it back in his hand. "Oh- you want me to keep it?"

Wade nods and starts cleaning up his crayons.

Logan turns to whisper to Al "How long does this go on?"

"About 2 hours or so."

"Why?"

"God only knows, but it helps with his nightmares."

"Colouring helps with his nightmares??"

"Its more then that. Hey sweetheart? Why don't you bring your ponys out."

"Theyre horses."

"Oh im sorry, my mistake. I think logan here wants to play horses."

Logan gives her a look like excuse me? When did I sign up for that? "No.. uhm.. I think im good."

Wade gets this look of sad innocence but goes to get them anyway, beginning to play by himself, brushing them and making them talk to each other quietly. As if he speaks any louder, he would get hit.

Logan groans and is like "Gimme a fucking horse.."

From then on, Logan is quick to understand what's happening and is much nicer to him, starts giving him snacks, buying him actual coloring books, and has pinned his drawings to the fridge each time he's gifted one. His horses name is Buttercup, by the way.

[girllblogging777]

𝐻𝐸𝐴𝑅𝑇𝑆 𝑅𝐸𝐶𝐿𝐴𝐼𝑀𝐸𝐷

↳ mattheo riddle x fem!reader drabble (fluff, angst)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1,02k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : mattheo’s jealousy causes an argument, but both find yourself comforting eachother

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"i told you i don’t care about that ravenclaw guy, he was just asking me about a potions assignment," you snapped, the frustration of your argument with mattheo finally reaching its peak. your boyfriend had found you talking to another boy in the great hall this morning, and he hadn’t let it go since, making you the main target of his pent up anger.

"well, i care! i care that my girlfriend was being all giggly with some guy in front of everyone, and i care even more that you’re brushing it off like it’s nothing!" he shouted back, running his hand through his brunette curls in frustration. you knew mattheo’s short temper well, how his mental health and past trauma affected his ability to express emotions, but he rarely lashed out at you like this. today had been different, and you’d sensed it the moment you saw that flicker of harshness in his usual soft brown eyes.

you sighed, trying to explain yourself calmly and hoping to ease his anger before things escalated, silently aware that it wouldn’t change anything. "look, i understand how you must be feeling right now, but—" he cut you off, his voice sharp and unyielding.

“no, you don’t ! stop playing therapist all the time. you don’t get it, and you’re never fucking going to." his words were harsh, and you tried not to let it get to your head, knowing he wasn’t thinking clearly. you braced yourself for what might come next, knowing he was too far gone to appreciate your gentleness. "maybe if you weren’t always trying to fix me, it would be easier. not my fault you’re oversensitive and can’t take anything !"

that was the breaking point. he’d crossed a line, and he didn’t even seem to care. mattheo knew how much you hated being yelled at, how it made you feel small and vulnerable, and yet, today he hadn’t held back. deep down, you knew the reason : he hated how much power you had over him, how easily you could mess with his heart. in this entire school, you were the only one who dared to stand up to mattheo riddle, to tell him the truth even when it hurt. it was why your relationship worked, but also why you ended up having those arguments so often.

something shifted in your gaze, and he noticed it : the tiny spark of pain mixed with the tears welling up in your eyes. you whispered pleadingly, "don’t yell at me like that, i can’t do this." your voice was small, but the impact was immediate. the anger faded away from his eyes, when he remembered you telling him the reason why you couldn’t stand shouting. he realised he’d just reenacted the past trauma you had told him about and his lips curved into a barely-there frown. you saw the regret settling in his expression.

"i know… i took it too far. i shouldn’t have." his voice was softer now, the anger draining from his features. you didn’t move or say anything, still reeling from the sting of his words. mattheo took a hesitant step towards you, his eyes searching yours, filled with a mixture of guilt and desperation. he hesitated, he saw the hurt he’d caused, the way your body tensed as if waiting for more. he hated himself for letting his temper get the better of him, for hurting the one person who had always stood by him.

“baby, please…” he said softly, his voice trembling slightly as he took another step towards you. he reached out, but you instinctively flinched, and he froze, the guilt getting to him. you turned away, swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. “mattheo, you know i care about you more than anything, but i can’t keep doing this. you can’t keep lashing out at me every time you’re upset. it’s not fair.”

“i know,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret. “i just… i don’t know how to deal with it sometimes. i get so scared of losing you that i get jealous and push you away. it’s messed up, i know that.” you finally looked at him, seeing the pain in his eyes, the vulnerability he so rarely showed. it was the side of mattheo that made you fall for him, the boy beneath the act who just wanted to be loved and understood. but that didn’t make the hurt disappear.

“i’m not going anywhere,” you said, your voice steady but soft as you tried to comfort him. “but i need you to be with me in this, mattheo. i can’t be the only one trying to fix it.” he nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek, though he quickly wiped it away. “i promise, i’ll do better. i don’t want to lose you. you’re the only good thing i have.”

the sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment, and then slowly closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him. his arms enveloped you immediately, holding you tight as if you might slip away. you had never seen him cry before but that single tear on his cheek was enough to make you forget what had just happened

“i’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair, his voice muffled but heartfelt. “i’ll work on it, i swear.” you nodded against his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow as he calmed down. “i know you will. just… talk to me next time, okay? before it gets to this point.”

“i will,” he promised, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “i love you, and i’m not going to let my stupid temper ruin what we have.” you pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a small, forgiving smile. “i love you too, mattheo. just… no more yelling, okay?” he nodded frantically, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “no more yelling. i’ll keep that in check.”

you both stood there for a moment, just holding each other, letting the tension melt away. the storm had passed, and in its place was a new sense of understanding and commitment. mattheo might not be perfect, but neither were you, and that was okay. as long as you faced your flaws together, there was nothing you couldn’t overcome.

“but you have to promise me not to let anyone get too close to you” he finally said, his voice lighter, almost playful. “and besides, you’re only supposed to laugh at my jokes.”

you smiled, chuckling. “he didn’t stand a single chance.” whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you’d face them together, and that was all that mattered.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : thank you @reys-letters for your request !!! please like/comment/reblog and leave requests if you think of something <3

tell me if you wanna be added/taken off the tag list

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[reginaofdoctorwho]

encouraging and not encouraging that i look up my new meds on reddit and find people having absolute shit times on it. fantastic would love to see that on the multiple papers my pharmacist gave me outlining "every" symptom i could get.

like pharmacist/doctor, you couldn't fucking tell me before i got started??

at least i know it is not just me getting fucked up again

[bau-drabbles]

say it again

a/n: fluffy fluff w the team and spencer. it was gonna be smut but i was having a mental breakdown over my exams so it took a diff turn lmao.

hope you enjoy 🤍

"hey pretty girl-" "no" "but i-" "no"

wrapped up in a thick warm blanket, you narrow your eyes at morgan while everyone still boards the jet. he's annoying you and you know it. but combined with your health and tiredness, you really don't want to play into it tonight.

however morgan is morgan and he has other plans, obviously

you were just so grateful to be going home where your bed desperately awaits your presence. it had been an awful two weeks, the unsub was meticulous and smart. and he worked with several people, it took days to track them all down. not to mention today was also the delightful day your immune system decided it no longer wanted to work resulting in a high fever and the flu. you passed the worst of it but not yet well enough to do most things.

"are you sleeping?" rossi poked your head and you gave him a slight glare, indicating towards yourself

"does it look like i'm having a party here?" you ask sarcastically, making him raise his arms in defense. rossi chuckles as he sits next to morgan, undoubtedly the two were going to be a pain in the ass the whole entire time.

"you cut us deep kid, you cut us real deep" morgan placed a hand over his heart, feigning sadness and pain. you both went back and forth with the comments until you groan slightly, leaning your head back.

"emily" you complained, pointing to the men opposite you. they laughed a little and slowly coughed when she gives them both a stern looking over.

"you leave her alone morgan, y/n isn't feeling well" emily scolded lightly, turning the page on her book.

"neither am i" he whines back, dramatically flopping his hand to his head.

"aww you poor baby" jj playfully mocked derek, coming back from the kitchen. she warmed a hot water bottle for you to have, her motherly instincts kicking in.

"there ya go" she gave you a sweet smile, standing up as she ruffled your hair. everytime a member of the team were sick, jj always made sure they were comfortable and rested. it was always without hesitation, always making you thankful there was someone in the team like her.

"how you feeling gumdrop?" garcia walks in with all her bags, setting them down as she feels your forehead. your frown is still fixated upon derek with whom you both start playfully bickering with each other

"hey hey, none of that sass mister. y/n is ill tonight, okay?" penelope narrows her eyes at him who blinks in shock.

"babygirl you're supposed to be on my side"

"hey i always am! but you, my delectable chocolate thunder, are getting on everyone's last nerve right now" she taps her pen at the end of his nose. he frowns in confusion but she settles beside him, giving him a nudge.

you give derek a cheeky smile knowing you've won that round and he narrows his eyes at you, knowing he would pay you back when you were better. you rolled the blanket over your head, cocooning yourself in a ball.

"are you feeling better, l/n?" hotch enters, settling in his usual place. you mumble a response from under the blanket, shivering slightly as the hot water bottle pressed firmly into your body. why was it so hard to warm up?

"hey l/n y'know-" derek begins but you cut him off with an annoyed sigh.

"leave me alone" you grumble under the warmth of your layers, hearing chuckles coming from the plane.

you feel something warm wrapped themselves around your lap and you stiffen, ready to tackle some sense into derek. but you see curly hair splayed on your lap. arms coming to snake themselves around your waist, beautiful honey eyes coming to give you some comfort. you relax, holding him that much closer

"never" spencer whispers, his hands coming to holds yours. his fingers interlaced with yours, he brings the back of your hand for a kiss, rubbing your knuckles tenderly. it felt so incredibly intimate, every part of you warming up to his affections.

he can't help but brush some hair back, just observing how beautiful you looked. even when you were sick, you had him in a trance that he never wanted to wake up from. he wants more, you feel his lips brush against your cheeks, breaths mingling until a pillow on your lap completely cuts you from your daze.

"get a room kid!"

[darkmatilda]

ׂ╰┈➤ the pumpkin reaper

part 1: first day of investigation

part 2 here!

in which you and the BAU are handling the case of a murderer in a small, sleepy town

tw: decapitation, description of a crime scene etc, mention of a suicide attempt, mental illness

contents: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, solving a criminal mystery, angst, slow burn

words: 4k

“And how's school?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“It could be worse,” said Jeremy after a moment, in an indifferent tone. You sighed, wondering if, as a teenager, you also answered everything, even more serious, open questions with vague remarks, driving the person asking how you were doing to frustration.

Answering that question, no, you didn’t do that. When you were a teenager, you didn’t have anyone who cared about you. Precisely for this reason that you practically tormented your brother with phone conversations, feeling immense guilt for leaving him with your parents. The same parents with whom you ultimately decided to cut off contact. You had never faced a more difficult decision — cutting them off or continuing a relationship that tragically affected your mental health? After each interaction with them, you felt weak, defenseless, insignificant, and above all, exhausted. It wasn’t even about your mother’s illness. They were just terrible people.

Your sixteen-year-old brother didn’t have that option. He had to deal with them until he turned eighteen and moved out. You regularly made sure he was okay. However, lately, you had the impression that his voice was becoming more and more devoid of emotion. Depressed. And you couldn’t do anything about it.

Prentiss appeared right in front of you. She noticed you were on the phone, so to avoid interrupting you, she tried to convey something silently. With her thumb, she pointed toward the main deck of the jet. From the movements of her lips, you were able to read, “Hotch is calling everyone.”

“Don’t think I’m going to let this topic go,” you said again to your brother. You could imagine him rolling his green eyes. “I have to get back to work; I’ll call as soon as I have time. Don’t get into trouble and take care. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You ended the call and noticed a smile on the brunette’s face. Together, you joined the rest of the team.

“I heard part of your conversation,” she confessed. “Don’t tell me you have a kid that you’re hiding from us?”

“Who’s hiding what from whom?” Morgan chimed in as he walked in, holding two huge cups of coffee. He handed one of them to Reid.

Prentiss nodded in your direction.

“Did you know that y/n has a kid?”

You nudged her.

“I don’t have any kids. I was just talking to my brother,” you explained briefly. You didn’t like discussing your family, even with friends. In fact, you were often accused of being too secretive.

“I didn’t even know you had a brother,” Reid added, frowning. 

He, along with the rest of them, looked at you with mild surprise. You muttered something under your breath, shrugging. You felt a bit embarrassed that your family was the center of the discussion. You were saved from the awkwardness by your own boss.

“Can we start?”

JJ handed out the case files. As soon as you opened yours, you were met with an exceptionally graphic scene.

“ The bodies were discovered by someone from the forestry service, but according to the local police, anyone could have found them. It wasn’t hidden very carefully, as if someone didn’t care about it being discovered. A man and a woman, both decapitated. Before you ask, the heads were found in the same place as the rest of the bodies. Except for that, no serious injuries, just a few minor bruises and scratches. As if they were trying to defend themselves while they still could. “

No one spoke; the only sound was the turning of pages as the whole team focused intently on analyzing the photos. Your brows lowered in concentration, your entire face tense. Maybe you looked at things like this every day, but that didn’t mean it had become pleasant or that it didn’t disgust you. Sitting across from you, Reid was the first to speak.

“What do we know about the victims?”

At that same moment, as JJ spoke up again, you flipped the page and were met with two photos that looked like they’d been pulled from a social media account. Both people were alive, happy. The man was crouching next to a young boy who seemed to be pulling away, unwilling to be in the picture with his father. In the background, there was a garden, a tall white fence typical of American suburbs, and a slide. You barely stopped yourself from glancing at Hotch — he had a son around the same age, and this case might hit him particularly hard. The woman in the photo wore square glasses, with a cheerful, friendly gaze peeking out from beneath them. Round cheeks, a wide smile.

"Andrew Ward, 37 years old. He was one of the city councilors. He had a wife and one son, and he’d lived in this town his entire life. Then there's Jessica Larsen, the deputy mayor—she and her husband were both heavily involved in public life."

“A city councilor and the deputy mayor?” Prentiss repeated, thoughtfully resting her elbow on the arm of her seat. “Does anyone else feel like this could be some kind of score-settling? Revenge? Maybe from someone who was wronged by the city council over… I don’t know…”

"Higher bills," you said absentmindedly, blurting out the first thought that came to mind, immediately wincing at your own foolishness. You were still distracted by the conversation with Jeremy. You pinched your arm, trying to force yourself to focus on the case.

"Raising bills doesn’t typically drive people to murder," Reid corrected, pausing to glance at the files again. You never felt embarrassed when he pointed out your mistakes—he had a way of doing it so skillfully and politely. "Prentiss is on the right track; it could be revenge. Our UNSUB might hate authority due to some personal experience, maybe sees themselves as an anarchist, though it's hard to lean in that direction with so little information. Garcia, have you checked if the victims were connected in any way?"

The blonde woman on the laptop screen nodded.

"I’ve checked everything I could find about them, but unfortunately, I couldn’t uncover a single connection that might move the case forward."

Hotch raised a hand, stopping you from further speculation.

"That’s not all," he began, looking at each of you in turn. "Right after those two bodies were found, three more were discovered."

Morgan raised his eyebrows high.

"Five bodies? No wonder they called us in."

"And here’s where our biggest problem arises," your boss continued “Look at the photos. These three bodies were also decapitated but except for that, treated in a completely different way”

You turned the page again, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Other victims were killed with much more brutality, all covers in cuts and bruises. It was even hard to define their gender, but when you looked at the description you knew that this time, they were all women."Were two different people responsible for this?" Prentiss asked.

“Two murders cutting their victims' heads in such a small city?” spoke up Rossi, skeptically. 

"I don’t think it’s two different killers," you said hesitated, unable to look away from the photos. As you studied them, you absorbed every detail, trying to imagine the murderer inflicting these injuries. If anyone could have peered into your mind at that moment, they might have gotten serious PTSD. “Just…take a look at the wounds. There’s much more on these women and are visibly more brutal. But they look like they were inflicted by the same hand, the same person. The placement is often consistent," you noted. "How much time passed between the murders?"

“We haven’t gotten this information yet" said Hotch. "But based on my experience, I can say we’re looking at a matter of weeks."

You noticed that Reid was watching you closely. It seemed he was doing it unconsciously. When you sent him a questioning glance, he slightly blushed and immediately cleared his throat.

“I’m curious about what y/n said,” he admitted. It was clear to see the many calculations and analyses happening in his mind. This was evident in the increasing pace of his speech. “It really does look like the same person, but in different circumstances, perhaps influenced by different emotions. Maybe even with different motives. I realize the possibility of that is close to zero, but what if we’re dealing with a murderer with multiple personality disorder?”

A silence fell as everyone contemplated Reid's words. You made eye contact with him again — your tracks of thought began to overlap, your conclusions intertwining. Looking at his face, you felt, in a way, smarter and understood; it became easier to connect the fragments of ideas that had surfaced in your mind.

You shook your head.

 "No... I'm not sure. I understand what you're saying, but it seems to me that this isn't entirely true in our case. Your theory would suggest that two different personalities of our UNSUB committed these crimes, but in such cases, the crimes usually contrast more with each other. It's much harder to connect them, and here... I immediately noticed that this was the work of the same person."

Reid leaned in with interest over the table. Everyone seemed to look at you encouragingly, waiting for you to continue your theory. Yet you only took on a resigned, apologetic posture — nothing else came to mind. Any potential ideas felt too chaotic; some instincts accompanied you, but it was nothing you wanted to share out loud. You felt that they wouldn't help at all.

"We'll definitely know more after seeing the crime scene," Hotch stated, closing his files. With that, he ended the official discussion, giving you time to review the photos alone and think everything over one more time.

That’s exactly what you focused on for the rest of the meeting. You sat with one leg crossed over the other, a closed folder resting on your lap. You didn’t need to look at the photos anymore; you just needed to close your eyes and listen to your intuition. It definitely had something to say about this case. You just weren’t sure what…

Just before arriving at the scene, Hotch asked to speak with you privately. You couldn't hide it; you felt a bit anxious.

Maybe it was about your recent distraction. Of course, it was about your worry for your brother, but that shouldn’t have been an excuse; nothing should be distracting you. Or maybe he wanted to discuss something completely different, and you had just imagined this whole scenario in your mind. Knowing you and your tendency to overthink, both options seemed equally likely.

 "As I mentioned, y/n, I need to talk to you about something. It’s regarding your accommodation."

First, you breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn’t anything more serious. Then, your eyebrows raised in surprise. Accommodation?

"There have been some issues with the hotel we’re planning to stay at," Hotch continued. "We couldn’t secure separate rooms for each of you. You’ve been assigned to share a room with Reid. If that’s a problem for you, we can always look for another place, but that would mean you'd be away from the rest of the team..."

“No, it’s not a problem,” you assured him, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. You were relieved that the conversation didn’t involve any serious issues, just a trivial problem with the room. Besides, why would it bother you to share a room with Spencer? It was only for a few nights. "I was afraid you wanted to talk to me about something else," you blurted out.

“About what?” he asked suspiciously. 

“Oh, nothing,” you replied quickly and somewhat squeakily.

Hotch smiled slightly at your reaction, but his gaze seemed to analyze you closely.

 Oh you idiot, why couldn’t you just shut up? you thought to yourself as you walked away.

*

The weather decided to play a trick on you.

 As you were driving to the crime scene, the waterfall was sliding down the windshield, almost making it impossible to see anything. In any case, there wasn't much to look at. After passing the main part of the town, you were surrounded only by forest — trees shimmering in shades of orange.

The view didn’t impress you much. You definitely preferred warm, sunny weather and lounging in the sun, rather than freezing every day after stepping outside and dealing with frizzy hair from the humidity. You liked the town better. It felt small and cozy, as if it were taken straight out of Gilmore Girls.

Prentiss was behind the wheel, and you were sitting next to her in the passenger seat, while JJ was your navigator. The boys took a different car.

“So,” Emily began, turning left at the intersection with her eyes fixed on the road. “You care a lot about your brother, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, sinking deeper into your seat. Why did she have to bring this up again? It wasn't that you didn't trust them; you just didn’t like talking about your family. It wasn't even about being ashamed — why dwell on unpleasant topics? Besides, as was well known, you were private. You had to be incredibly close to someone to open up, and even then, you didn’t lay all your cards on the table.

Together with JJ, they looked at you kindly and encouragingly. You acted like you were fascinated by what was behind the glass. Soon, you arrived at the crime scene. 

That means, before you reached your destination, you had to walk quite a distance into the forest. Since it was late October, the days had grown particularly short, and you could already see the first streaks of darkness between the enormous trees that seemed to watch you with their ancient gaze.

If you hadn't had the girls with you, you would have felt a thrill on your spine. 

The location where the bodies were found had been secured very thoroughly. Local police cars gathered there, and soon the rest of your team arrived. You glanced at your muddy shoes and made a mental note to start dressing more appropriately for the weather from tomorrow on.

The rain intensified. Emily pulled her hood tighter around her head. 

“Working in these conditions...'"

Her sentence was interrupted by the appearance of an incredibly tall man, somewhat resembling a bear. Long hair protruded from under his sheriff's hat, and he seemed to be about the same age as Hotch, with whom he immediately shook hands. 

“Agent Hotchner, we're from the FBI.'"

"Sheriff Russell” he introduced himself, pressing his hand to his forehead with concern. 'I've never seen anything like this, and I've seen a lot. I can't believe anyone from this town could do something like this; I know these people and...'"

“Can we see the bodies?" you asked. It was getting dark, and you wanted to get as good a look as possible. There was something intriguing about this case that had unsettled you since the moment you first opened the file.

Without waiting for an answer, you and Emily moved toward the secured area. Despite the circumstances, the corner of her mouth twitched.

"God, I hate this chatter," she sighed in annoyance. "I know these people; they’d never do something like this," she mimicked the sheriff’s deep voice. "Neighbors of serial killers always say that. Someone can be polite in conversation and keep five bodies in their basement — it’s not mutually exclusive."

You stifled a laugh. 

"Don’t forget the how could he have done it? He always said good morning in the hallway!"

“Or about kids. Sure, he was killing small animals since he was four and had a knife collection, but deep down, he was polite! I can't believe he shot up half the school…”

Hotch appeared right next to you, so you cut her off with a firm elbow jab. You accidentally hit her in the ribs, causing her to let out a groan. This only intensified your incredibly inappropriate amusement. Your boss was standing so close, so you covered your mouth under the guise of a cough. 

In the next thirty minutes, the laughter faded away.

You began by examining the bodies of the first victims, in chronological order. These were the three brutally murdered women. The whole scene seemed to be waiting for your arrival. Not a single detail had been altered, making it easier for you to connect emotionally with the situation. Most of the profilers you knew were meticulous about keeping their feelings detached from their work. It was the only way to endure this job for more than a year without committing suicide. You applied that strategy yourself, but not entirely.

When investigating a case, you tried to imagine yourself in both the shoes of the perpetrator and the victims. Often, you would close your eyes, attempting to visualize and feel it all in vivid detail. To step away from pure theory and let intuition take over.

It was likely the reason that, for the past year since you started this work, you hadn’t imagined a day without at least one tranquilizer and a sleeping pill.

After thoroughly examining the first crime scene, you drove to inspect the next one. This time, the victims were two people connected to the city council. The previous victims had been a teacher, a former resident of the orphanage, and a social worker. When you learned this, a heavy feeling settled at the back of your mind. You were certain there was a connection between these victims.

"Let’s consider what drives the unsub to remove the victim’s head" Rossi suggested.

Before you could even define the meaning of the question, Reid rushed to answer.

"Decapitation is one of the most symbolic acts of violence. The head represents thought, intellect, and control. By removing it, the killer may be expressing a need to destroy those aspects. It could also be a form of humiliation, a metaphorical stripping of their power and authority," he explained in a slightly robotic tone, as if reciting from a Wikipedia entry.

You smiled subtly at the thought. He noticed and gave you a questioning look, which you chose to ignore.

“That would fit for the two later victims," Morgan said, resting his hands thoughtfully on his hips. "They were on the city council — the unsub might have felt he was stripping them of authority and power. But how does that apply to the others? A social worker, a teacher, and an orphanage employee?"

You fixed your gaze on your dirty shoes, Derek’s question echoing in your mind.

 What was it all about?

*

You’d forgotten your sleeping pills.

Once more, you searched your toiletries bag, where you usually kept them. Not a trace.

You pressed your lips tightly together, angry with yourself. Your sleep problems weren’t that serious — were caused mainly by overthinking and constant worry. You didn’t have the motivation to take care of yourself in that regard. It was much easier to rely on the medication, and as long as it worked. Sometimes you forgot that you were even struggling with it at all.

“Is something wrong?” Reid asked, stepping out of the bathroom. Following Hotch’s words, you were sharing a room with him. “You seem upset.”

You shook your head dismissively.

“I just forgot something.”

Only then did you look at him. He was wearing plaid pajama pants and a gray t-shirt. You realized it was the first time you’d seen him in such casual, everyday clothing. He usually wore shirts, blazers, and vests — somewhat grandpa-like, but you thought it suited him well.

You realized you had been staring at each other in silence for quite some time. To break the awkwardness, you cleared your throat and decided to return to one of the exhausting topics.

“There’s something strange about this case. You know, I’ve thought a lot about your theory regarding personality disorder, but something doesn’t sit right with me. Aside from the fact that it’s very, very rare, it’s just… my intuition doesn’t agree with it. I hope I don’t sound like a shaman. 

Spencer bursted out and sat on the edge of his bed. In your room, only the standing lamp illuminated the space, casting a dim orange light around. Despite that, you could see the thoughtful expression on his face.

“We once dealt with a case where the unsub was struggling with that very disorder. He was abused as a child and developed a separate personality, Amanda, who harmed men similar to his abuser,” he shared in a quiet, less confident tone than the one he used on the jet. He must have been tired after a long day at work, and like you, frustrated that you hadn’t found anything.

Above all, the circumstances were different. Your conversation had shifted to a more personal level, concerning two friends rather than coworkers. 

“Do you see any similarities between these two cases?” you asked, intrigued since you had never dealt with a similar case yourself.

“Not exactly,” he shook his head. “At one time, I read a lot about that disorder. There was another instance where we had an unsub who…” he trailed off, a visibly tense expression crossing his face.

“It’s okay,” you quickly reassured him. You didn’t know what was bothering him, but it was clear he regretted bringing it up at all. You had never been one to push for more; you often felt uncomfortable with certain topics, and you were incredibly grateful when someone recognized your withdrawal and changed the subject. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks” he whispered. But I think there’s something to your intuition. This whole case is exceptionally peculiar.”

““Well, you can call me a shaman now. By the way, are you planning to go to bed already?”

“And you?” he replied with a question of his own. “Actually, I’d prefer to read for a while, but I don’t want to disturb your sleep…”

Your broad smile clearly surprised him.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I wanted to spend some time with a book too”

In fact, it didn’t stem from your desires at all. You loved reading, but your brain was usually too tired for it in the evenings. However, you were aware that falling asleep would take you an unusually long time, and you preferred to make use of that time rather than stare at the ceiling.

You pulled out the only novel you had brought, Kafka on the Shore. You were about halfway through. Then you remembered you had meant to call your brother, but when you glanced at the clock, you realized that due to the time zone difference, it was already late at night for him. You sighed with a pang of guilt. You promised yourself you would do it tomorrow.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” you said when you both agreed it was finally time to go to sleep.

“Goodnight, shaman” he responded. 

You smiled in your pillow. 

part 2?

[claraswritings]

Reader runs a daycare but it’s taking a toll on her mental health and carmy notices (they’re married)

Aww 🥰.

Blurb BTC- mentions of work stress but mostly fluffy

It had been… the

Between a flu bug sweeping through the kids and then the staff leaving you short staffed, the parents complaining about a schedule change, and trying to keep several babies and toddlers in check, you were completely wiped out mentally.

You just felt so drained and stressed and you hated how it was affecting you. All you wanted was to lie down and just shut off.

Carmy could see it. Gradually as the week went on, you got quieter and quieter. You’d stopped talking, you’d barely eaten your dinner, taken to pushing the pepper rigatoni around the plate and answering his questions with hmmm’s and uh-huhs.

“It’s fine, Carm” you muttered “Just nothing”

“It’s not fine, baby, you’ve been acting off all week.” He insisted.

“Haven’t.” You said a little stubbornly, feeling a bit embarrassed at how your husband had noticed.

Carmy crossed his broad arms over his toned chest “I think I know when my wife is acting off.” He paused, worry entering his voice “Is it me? I know I’ve been working non-stop but…”

You felt your heart ache at that, feeling a little guilty “No! Babe no, of course it’s not you!”

Carmy’s expression relaxed but he still shuffled closer to you, taking your hand in his. “Then what’s going on” he was careful, lifting your face to meet his big blue eyes “let me help you, you’ve always supported me…”

“It’s just…it’s work” you said hoping it didn’t sound silly. It had been your dream to manage your own daycare and you loved it, you really did but sometimes it just got so heavy. You hated complaining about it because you never wanted to seem ungrateful.

“What’s up, please talk to me?” Carmy soothed, his hand coming to brush your hair back off your face.

“It’s just a lot… I don’t want to bother you, but it’s been so stressful and…” you looked down and took a deep breath.

“Hey, hey….” Carmy soothed taking you into his arms “just because it’s your dream doesn’t mean it’s not stressful.” He paused “trust me! I’d know all about that”

You bit back a reluctant laugh. He had a point.

“Let me make you a hot cocoa babe, with extras how you like it….and then you can talk me through it?”

You nodded as Carmy stroked your hand offering you comfort. He gave you a kiss before heading to the kitchen, and when he returned he was back with your hot cocoa and a warm blanket.

“Come on, talk to me angel” he said, wrapping it around you and placing the mug in your hands.

“Well okay…so Isabella’s parents have been kicking off all week because…they don’t want her to take part in some of the activities we get the kids do to but she loves it….And Connor, he’s a sweet kid but he just will not go down for nap time…”

You began listing off your stresses as Carmy gently rubbed your shoulders.

“And I’ve had four staff call in sick so it’s just been me and Amy…and she’s brand new so can’t do half the things yet because she’s still training…”

You continued listing and talking through your stresses as Carmy listened occasionally interjecting with a question or to offer a comment.

“Those kids are so lucky to have you looking after them, you are the best at what you do” he said when you’d finished and flopped back against him, feeling like the weight had subsided a little.

“Thank you for listening babe” you smiled at him “And you know what. I’m so lucky to have you.”

“Anything for my beautiful wife” Carmy leant in and gave you a kiss

[gaywarcriminals]

Qijiu Findom is Canon

So we've all seen this scene, right?

This scene is a fundamental piece of YQY characterization to me. There's a lot to be said about how this ties into YQY's desire to protect, provide for, and spoil SJ, but today I am here to talk about how this man would be really into financial domination. I truly can't believe that only one such qijiu fic exists (thank you to kat8cha I owe you my life). 

The core tenants of my qijiu findom manifesto are as follows: 

YQY doesn’t like spending money on himself 

YQY belongs to SJ

YQY loves providing for SJ 

SJ would rather take than receive

(Most of this post is more headcanon than directly evidenced, but I think it’s a logical jump from canon!)

YQY doesn’t spend money on himself 

This was the starting point of my thinking when I started spinning qijiu findom in my brain back in 2022. Yue Qingyuan, in my opinion, doesn’t like taking care of himself. I think he’s better about taking care of his physical needs to some degree because he’s aware that the consequences of him passing out or qi deviating would affect more than just himself, but his motivation is a.) to be a well functioning machine capable of fulfilling his role as sect leader, and b.) to Not Fuck Up. (One of adult YQY’s core traits is that he lives in perpetual fear of fucking up. More on that another day). Aside from the risk of heart demons damaging his cultivation, YQY doesn’t see any possible consequences to neglecting his mental health. 

And so, does YQY really deserve a comfortable bed? Does he really need any nice wall hangings in the parts of his home that guests will never see? The only seemingly indulgent purchases YQY makes are those needed to uphold his image as sect leader, like fine clothes and hair oils. Those are functionally business expenses, because YQY is aware that how he presents himself reflects on the entire sect. (SJ surely doesn’t see it that way— he only sees YQY putting on the affects of nobles and spending money like water, as bad as any of the natal lords in this sect). In the modern era, YQY would come home, take off his perfectly tailored suit, and flop face first onto his bare mattress on the floor.

YQY’s everything belong to SJ

I think that if SJ had asked, YQY would be willing to give him basically anything he owned. Fundamentally, YQY puts SJ’s life before his own. He would not have walked into near-certain death long after SJ became irredeemable to the rest of the cultivation world if that was not the case. Yue Qingyuan literally offers SJ his life. 

YQY would die if he thought it would make SJ happy. If YQY’s life and the sword that is his life can be forfeited to SJ, what’s a bit of money, or the material possessions that YQY cares little for? What’s his is SJ’s, and if it would make SJ happy, YQY would not hesitate to hand over whatever SJ asked for. 

YQY likes taking care of people.

Although the fanon of YQY being overly solicitous and constantly pushing gifts on SJ contracts canon (as far as I can tell, there's not a single instance in the novel of specfically Yue Qingyuan giving SQQ a gift-- at most, there's references to all the peak lords doing so), I think there’s a little truth to it— if YQY thought SJ would allow him to, he would absolutely give SJ whatever he thought the man might like or need. I would go as far as to say that he probably longs to do so. He is a service dog, after all.

Yue Qingyuan most often expresses his affection as protecting, taking care of, or expressing concern for others. Most of his 'wet puppy in the rain' moments in canon are not due to his own misery, but because he is concerned for SJ or SQQ. Yue Qingyuan is bad at existing for his own sake; he is constantly shown to be putting others and the sect above himself, and none more so than SJ. Personally. I don’t think this is just due to YQY’s strength of character. I think he gains a sense of purpose and identity from being the one to protect and take care of others. There is a reason I say YQY had eldest daughter syndrome: he needs someone to take care of For His Health.

Being allowed to give or buy things for SJ, or have SJ use YQY's assets to buy things himself, would fulfill YQY's needs. It would give him vital enrichment. After their long estrangement where SJ constantly ignores YQY, someone as simple as being able to express affection by providing for SJ would literally be a privilege to YQY. 

That's all well and good, but doesn't that just mean YQY's wants to be SJ's sugar daddy? Why do I specify findom instead? Well that's where we get to SJ.

SJ would be suspicious of gifts

SJ is a paranoid person, and many gifts come with some expectation of reciprocity. I think SJ’s ability to appreciate gifts would be hampered by his immediate unasked question: “what do you want from me?”. While gifts for Peak Lord Shen may pose less of an issue, as he’s able to quickly identify the motives from deference to bribery, gifts to Shen Jiu The Person may pose more of an issue, as the lack of a clear motive besides expressing affection leaves room for SJ’s mind to invent one. Honestly, SJ reacts similarly to most kindness— he himself is so rarely kind without a motive, so it’s hard for him to imagine that others might not be the same. (Any kindness Xiao Jiu showed his Qi-ge doesn’t count— SJ was only protecting what belonged to him 😤).

Because of this twisty brain maze he’s made for himself, SJ is far more comfortable taking something than receiving it. SJ learned as a child that he will be given nothing, and that taking things is necessary for survival, and he had no compunctions about it. Taking is an act of initiative and aggression: taking is winning. I actually think this is how he framed begging in his mind— by thinking of it as tricking people, he gets to feel like he’s won or stolen something, rather having to linger in the pity. 

Gifts, affection, and love can all be given this treatment. If SJ tricked YQY into loving him and must now cling to his rightfully earned possession, SJ needn’t address his own feelings. If YQY’s money is something SJ takes, he gets to feel like he’s taking advantage of YQY instead of having to feel like he’s reliant on YQY or like he's YQY's charity case.

SJ is a massive control freak, and he is always most comfortable in a relationship when he can tell himself he’s in control of the  dynamic, even if that makes the relationship appear unhealthy to an outside observer. Once YQY catches on to this, he would do absolutely everything he could to accommodate SJ (without SJ realizing he’s being accommodated ofc).

In short, YQY leaves his wallet on the nightstand, SJ takes or “steals” it and buys some overpriced designer good he doesn’t need, silently daring YQY to challenge him on it, and they both feel fulfilled by this. 

This is what peak performance looks like.

(Side note: there are a couple other ways to execute a findom for dynamic for qijiu! The main two I can think of are "Stupid Qi-ge’s money is so easy to steal: obviously I must steal it First, and use it Better, to Protect Him." and "Stupid Qi-ge is languishing/never takes care of himself. I must take his money and use it to force him to do self care." My tastes run angstier tho 😂)

[kyxuu]

my family was forced to move out of our house on monday, and ive been staying at a friends house since. i have no way to do commiss1ons currently and we're needing money to fix our car + money for an apartment we're looking at :-)

we're doing everything in their power to make sure we get our lives back on track, but its been really difficult the past few months so any help is greatly appreciated. its gotten so bad to the point where im unable to continue my schooling because of how uncertain my future is

i appreciate everyones patience with me over the past few months, i know i havent made much fanart and its been really affecting my mental health. currently all my time goes towards doing commissions and trying to keep myself sane :'-)

[vaspider]

So I need a more adult persons take on this. Is it wrong to ask people to tag gory/graphic images from gaza? I'm not trying to bury my head in the sand. I don't want to block mention of palastine but god these images are triggering the shit out of me and it isn't making me more aware or more empathetic, I'm already angry and heartbroken and praying and donating what I can.

It is never wrong to ask someone to tag something for any reason. I've asked people to tag animals that I have a phobia of, and mentions of Laika (the first animal in space), because Laika was a good girl and she didn't deserve what happened to her. It was cruel and horrible and it upsets me in a way that I recognize is out of scope for the death of a single dog seventy years ago. That person may decline to tag things for whatever reason, and if that's the case, it isn't wrong for you to unfollow them, block them, add their username to a filter list, whatever you need to do in order to curate your online experience. Without talking directly about the topic you brought up, 'cause it's something I don't do, as I've said about ninety squintillion times -- I used to reblog/post pretty disturbing images of human bodies out of a misguided sense of justice. I have been online for a really long time, and a lot of the stuff that was posted as 'necessary education' Back In The Olden Times were images of police and/or mob brutality visited on Black & brown bodies. Out of a sense of white guilt and a feeling that I should be 'bearing witness' rather than turning away, I perpetuated some of those images, until -- very kindly and gently, I think, for the scope of what was happening -- it was pointed out to me that:

it is unkind to subject the people who have been or might be subject to that sort of racialized terror to images of bodies broken by it, and

it is almost invariably the exact opposite of what the families of those people want, and

it does nothing to actually make me a better person or to advance any sort of real justice, and instead

it simply acts as a grotesque sort of terror tourism or war porn for people who can simply turn off their computer or phone screen and go about their lives.

I am really grateful to the person who took the time to gently shake me. They didn't owe me that, and I'm glad they thought I was a worthwhile investment of time and energy.

Whoever is posting images of bodies or gory images of victims from any injustice like that, especially without appropriately tagging the images so that people don't have to engage with that? They may be motivated by the best of intentions, but as long as they are engaging in that sort of casual, continual terror tourism, they're ... not helping.

There was a great article about this back during Ferguson that really flipped a switch in my head about the subject, where it basically said this is just another way that dominant cultures, Americans especially, seem to treat the bodies of people they view as Other as theirs to consume. There are ways to talk about whatever is going on which do not require people to utilize the bodies and blood of the dead as tools of persuasion (or emotional bludgeoning, tbh), as symbols to show how Righteous we are by "not looking away," and at the cost of those who have been or are more directly affected by the images.

Doing that sort of thing isn't a good idea in the first place, and you're not wrong to ask anybody to tag anything, or to disengage from those people if they find themselves unwilling or unable to tag that content so that you can care for your own mental health.

[formyloveoflove]

The Bear S3 and the Choices We Make

Ok. After a second watch of S3, I'm feeling a little bit more optimistic about the future. Trust - it's a sad ending. It's my worst nightmare for Sydney. But there's still hope, and that all lies in what Carmen and Syd decide to do next. Season 3 Spoilers - read at your own risk :)

In S3 E10 Forever, we see our two mains go through a breakthrough. Starting with Carmen, he finally confronts his former boss (who has a name, i think, but fuck him, I ain't using it). It's the first (and only time) that we see Carmen proactively voice his resentment. He avoids his mom (rightfully so imo). He never got the chance with Mikey. But he approaches him, expects the man to have repent (maybe), or at the very least, have a little remorse.

He doesn't. He regrets nothing. In fact, he takes credit for Carmen's success: his hard work, his skills, and his talent. He tells Carmen that he should be thanking him, and that's not even the worst of it. No, for me, it is when he says

Carmen: My life stopped. Chef: That's the point, right? [...] You wanted to be great. You wanted to be excellent. So you got rid of all the bullshit, and you concentrated, and you got focused, and you got great. You got excellent. It worked. You're here. Look at all this

Sound familiar? It should. It's the same sentiment that Carmen said in the Season 2 finale. Remember, he said,

I wasn't here. Right? What the fuck was I thinking? Like I was going to be in a relationship? I'm a fuckin' pyscho. That's why I'm good at what I do. That's how I operate. I am the best because I didn't have any of this fuckin' bullshit, right? I could focus, and I could concentrate.

Carmen's thoughts about himself aren't even his own. They were drilled into him by a man who wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire. He was emulating the abusive behaviors and patterns that crushed him, that gave him "uclers, panic attacks, and nightmares" on the people that he cares about. On his sister, on Richie, on Tina and Marcus. and especially on Sydney, who is the only one who knows exactly how bad it can get. He's hurt those closest to him. He hurts them daily. And for what? And for why? For his own ego.

And this realization leads us to Carmen's first cry.

For three whole seasons, we see this man lose his idolized brother to suicide, witness his alcoholic mother physically, emotionally, and mentally abuse him, and experience mental degradation to the point where it affects his physical health. Not once did he shed a tear. This is the first time Carmen Berzatto lets himself cry. And I think this is the best thing for him. If he chooses to acknowledge the err of his ways, turn back course, and begin again, I think The Bear could be what he wanted it to be. He needs to decide to stop running, stop fighting himself and everybody around him. He needs to let go. Let it rip, right?

However, if this is what he decides to do, the cards ultimately fall into Sydney's hands.

If anybody's been through hell and back, it's Ms. Sydney Adamu. All season she's been forced to work in a volatile environment, putting herself between Carmen and whoever's the victim of his anger. She has her ideas shut down, her skills demeaned, and her credit is outright non-existent. Staff keeps quitting; they're not making any money; and Cicero and Co. is doing some shady background shit.

She's trapped, but not really. Not until she signs that Partnership Agreement. But like she told her dad in S2 E9 Omelette, she doesn't think she has another one in her. She can't have The Bear fail like Sheridan Road. She doesn't want to make the same mistakes she did last time. She wants to grow and learn and make her mark on the industry - prove she's not a failure.

She's waiting for Carmen to make good on his promises from The Table Scene, but he's not.

"You deserve my full focus." But his focus is not on her. Remember the Carmen that noticed when something was off with her? Remember the "say more?" or the "what's up with you?" Remember when they worked together, when the menu was truly theirs? Where was Sydney's "margin" moment? What did Carmen do this scene that signaled to Sydney that he was there and present.

"I couldn't do this without you." He does everything without her. Don't even get me started. From the menu to the list of nonnegotiables. Syd gets to make no decisions after being forced to make ALL the decisions. What is she there for? To be Carm's wrangler, his doormat? What has he does to convince her that she is invaluable?

He's egotistical. He's verbally abusive. He's the exact person that she warned him not to be. That he assured her that he wouldn't be in S1 E3 Brigade. She said,

You know I think this place could be so different from all the other places we've been at. But, in order for that to be true, we need to run things different. [...] But you just didn't really listen, and if this is going to work the way I think we both want it to work, I think we should probably try to listen to each other. The reason why I'm here, and not somewhere else or for someone else, is because I think I can stand out here. I can make a difference here. We could share ideas. I could implement things that make this place better. And I don’t wanna be wasting my time, working on another line or tweezing herbs on a dish that I don’t care about.

He didn't follow through the first time, so she left. But now, it's different. She's put her blood, sweat, and tears into this place. She's made a place (a home even) at The Bear. Leaving is not as simple anymore.

S1 Syd would've taken that CDC offer in a heartbeat. But building something and it failing (like The Bear. like Sheridan Road.) is terrifying. Slowly but surely, Carmen has been chipping away at her confidence and her fire. So much so that good things, like The Offer or the review of her risotto from The Beef, don't feel like good things.

Sydney's Panic Attack is HUGE for her character. We see Sydney at her lowest: her most frightening and vulnerable. She's uncertain. She's in a constant state of panic. And the person that she trusted with her fears and insecurities facilitated this, drove her to this point. It's heartbreaking. I cried when I saw it. No one would blame her for jumping ship. At this point, I encourage it (but she has to talk about it, acknowledge it. no running).

Now, if Carmen decides to change his ways, he'd have apologized to Sydney twice without changed actions. She'd have to believe him after many, many broken promises. At this time, she doesn't trust him, can't rely on him. But when having to decide between staying or going, will she try to trust him again?

Will she? Should she?

That's where I'm at so far. I have more thoughts, but I'll write those out when I get back from my weekend trip.

[sunkissedscribbles]

The Beach

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x poet!mentally ill!reader

genre: angst, a wee bit of fluff

tw: mental health issues, swearing

word count: 2008

summary: enzo comforts you when having a mentally rough period

a/n: my soul needed this one. i don't really want to label reader's mental state because in my mind bpd was the starting point but I think it would fit under the terms of depression as well, that's why I haven't specified it in the pairing (and because i'm not a specialist). also, it contains one of my poems I have not yet posted on my main.

playlist: The Beach - The Neighbourhood

masterlist

dividers by @chachachannah

It hasn’t even been a month since the new school year started, only two weeks. Two weeks got you utterly exhausted, and even that was an understatement. It felt like you had forgotten to talk, taking a little too long to answer, to process things – to think. Your head felt heavy with emptiness, your entire body ached as it didn’t seem to be able to release stress, holding onto it deep in your bones, low in your back.

It wasn’t just fatigue, it was emotional and mental exhaustion that made you want to lie in bed all day, yet your sensible side made you get up every day and go to your classes.

Those damn lessons.

You went to all of them, tried to siphon in as much of each subject as you could but your mind was elsewhere all the time.

At how sick you were.

At how tired you were.

And in the afternoons you did nothing other than lie in bed, trying to convince your mind that it was okay, there was nothing wrong with you, and that you needed to study.

Just five more minutes.

Oops, It’s been ten minutes ago.

Anyway.

You’re gonna start studying at next-hour-o’clock.

You didn’t.

At dinner you were only pushing your relatively small portion of food back and forth on your plate, your mind foggy with very negative thoughts as the chatter of your friends next to you blurred into an indistinctive mess of different voices over your head.

You were silent,

and lethargic,

all the time.

It was after dinners when you lay in bed, hoping this was a phase or something you’d eventually get over. But in the back of your mind, you knew you wouldn’t.

And you didn’t really want to, either – you felt so down, so numb that you felt like you couldn’t move in the direction of getting better.

Not properly.

Not permanently.

Lying there, alone, you couldn’t think of anything better than causing your own pain, physically – at least you’d feel something, wouldn’t you? Even if it’d hurt – maybe you’d deserve it. Maybe you’d deserve it because you had spent your entire summer not doing anything valuable, pushed down these feelings of despair, hurt, pain, depression. You didn’t study saying you couldn’t pay attention and you were tired – of course you were when you kept staying up endlessly, only getting mere hours of sleep and not eating enough.

Maybe you did deserve to feel this way.

You missed the affection, just a hug at least, from your friends. But you have been so withdrawn from them and they were all beating around the bush, not knowing how to corner the question of your visibly deteriorating mental health.

It was Enzo though, who paid the most attention to you; he knew you like the palm of his hand, even if you hadn’t realised it. He cared about you, probably more than he should’ve. He’d known all your mood swings, and even when you had better days, he knew you were going to be just as down, if not even worse in just a matter of days.

He couldn’t bear seeing you like this, he missed the carefree, loving Y/N you were. He missed his Y/N. Every word you spoke felt like a dagger to his heart as your tone only made it obvious just how tired and ill you were. Every time he saw you scribbling into your notebook he knew contained your poetry his heart ached, even when it was just two words.

He knew you were starting to give it all up.

Life.

You didn’t cry, and that was obvious – you’ve never been one to cry much or cry immediately when something relatively bad happened, or when it was something that you took too personally, nor when one of the bandages you thought were securely protecting your wounds were ripped off, not suddenly but slowly to hurt even more as it stuck to the surface of your heart. No, you took it, held yourself together, trying to maintain the facade you built so well and perfected over the years of suffering from whatever game your mind was playing with you.

Because the more people knowing you’re hurt the more able to hurt you.

Because the more pain you show the less people will think of you.

Because the more you trust the more leaving you and hurting you in the end, the more betraying you.

You were more on the bottling-up side, but the bottle always spilt in the end when it couldn’t hold more.

More suffering, more floating, more silence, more pain.

So, two weeks after your seventh and last year at Hogwarts had started, here you were, writing a new poem in the Astronomy Tower.

I find nirvana; I’ll exist in eternal peace, you wrote the last two lines, the cool autumn breeze in your hair.

“Y/N?” Enzo’s voice echoed through your ears, and closing your notebook, you looked up at him. This was the day the bottle broke – you’ve been crying before writing your poem.

Startled by your red eyes, he looked at you with concern. “Y/N, were you crying?” he immediately crouched down in front of you, and as he took your face in his palms gently, you could feel the dam break again. You didn’t like this. No, you couldn’t be crying in front of him.

“Just, uh, tired,” you answered in a low tone, trying to convince him – or yourself, rather.

He looks down at the notebook and shakes his head, “Liar. Let me see.”

You hesitated – how could you possibly show him what you were feeling? It took you weeks to be able to put it into words, and it’s not too happy. “Please,” he asked softly, one hand caressing your cheek, the other reaching down for the notebook in your lap. And you let him, knowing he’d get what he wanted anyway.

You saw his facial muscles twitch and tense up as he read its title, his hand falling off your face: ‘goodbye.’

His eyebrows knotted in a frown at first, glancing up at your once lively eyes, now missing the bright, pure shine they used to have.

You watched as his expression became sad and even more concerned as he breezed through your lines written.

these lines; I plan them to be the last ones I write and speak, so that I can be free in a world where pain doesn’t exist, where no clouds disfigure the sky. I go tonight; I don’t regret and don’t look back, I’m not afraid to leave anymore, I give up the fight, I end the war. i lie down tonight and drift to sleep, I unite with nature forever, and release the built-up hurt and pain. I find nirvana; I’ll exist in eternal peace.

“Y/N, you–” he shook his head as he lifted his head again, meeting your eyes. But you, you couldn’t look into his, you felt like you’d break immediately. You were afraid of what emotion would look back at you. Hurt? Sadness? Disappointment? Or would he look at you differently?

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, shaking your head, keeping it hanging low.

He cupped your face again to make you meet his gaze, gently yet forcefully tilting your head upwards. His eyes, as always had that caring look in them, mixing with concern, and a sense of fear that he’d lose you washed over him.

He’d lose you, before it was nature’s job to cross your path together, before he could even confess to you.

“...Why haven’t you told me?” he asked in a low, broken voice. Fuck, he couldn’t lose you.

You couldn’t answer him at first – how could you tell him that you’d been feeling like shit for weeks again? That the longer you’re alive the less you’re living? The more days you survive the more of your want to live, and the more of your shine you lose. you took a long breath and with a tremble tugging at your lips, you shook your head while a stray fat tear rolled down your cheek.

“Y/N, darling…” he pulled you in for a hug and as his arms enveloped you tightly, your salty tears started raining down your cheeks again, lading on the fabric of his hoodie.

“I’m sick…” you sob into his chest, not able to hold anything back anymore, not in front of him as your fists clutch the fabric on his back. “And I’m tired too.”

You weren’t fireproof, that was for a fact, and he knew it too, probably better than anyone. You didn’t want to burn in your own flames but you felt it, felt it burning you and spread over onto him, burning him too. You were holding on to him for dear life, hoping your own miserable state of mind wouldn’t murder you.

“...I hope I don’t burden you,” you trembled against his body and he held you tighter.

“You could never,” he assured you, shaking his head. “Never, honey. You’re not a burden.”

You didn’t need to say much, he’d known almost everything already. He just held you tight against him, as if you could just slip away and disappear if he wouldn’t – and the truth is, you could’ve, especially in this state. And you kept gripping his hoodie as you slowly calmed down in his arms, while his heartbeat gave yours a soothing rhythm to follow. 

You were slowly coming to your senses that felt numb all this time – his cologne was a nice mix of sandalwood and citrus which filled your nostrils and made you feel at home, even more at ease, his touch warm and soothing under your sweater, rubbing your skin through the thin layer of your shirt, his voice sending your mind into a state of contentment as he kept whispering sweet nothings into your ear, and yet again, you couldn’t help but wonder what his lips would taste like. You’d been friends for a long time and you didn’t want to ruin the relationship you two have built up over the years.

Then the three little words left his lips involuntarily; “I love you.”

You felt him stiffen against you as the realisation that he indeed said that out loud hit him, and coming down from your surprise, and trying to control your rapid heartbeat, you lift your head from his chest and meet his eyes. How could he love an emotional wreck like you?

“Y-you what?” you asked as if you hadn’t heard it right.

He gulped, trying to swallow his fear of rejection before repeating his words, “I said I loved you,” he led his hands onto your waist under your sweater as you pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, but kept drawing you in lightly.

Without any further hesitation, you crashed your lips against his, afraid this was only a dream, hence wanting to enjoy every second of it and take it to the fullest.

His lips were so soft and moved so in sync with yours, and you wanted nothing more than to stay like that forever, wrapped in his embrace, with your lips connected, your tongues dancing around, making your mouths a ballroom, available for only them.

You pulled back just to come up for air and to clarify one thing. “I love you too.”

Your words sent a jolt of electricity and happiness down his spine, and he leaned his forehead against yours before reassuringly whispering to you, “I’m not leaving. We’re in this together and you can count on me, anytime, anywhere. Just- don’t shut me out. Please… I need you here with me.”

You nodded against his skin and let out a heavy sigh. You knew it would be a long way, a really deep dive. But until it was him swimming with you it didn’t matter that you were out in the open. It wasn’t a sudden light, a newfound wave of relief taking you out to the shore, but the beach seemed closer than ever. 

tag list: @inksoakedparchment @mqstermindswift @reys-letters @girllblogging777 @myysunshine @yelanare

[sh4dys]

Fluff Alphabet » Chris Sturniolo

summary: alphabetical fluffy headcanons <3

warnings: 99% fluff, tiny bit of a suggestive tone

A/N: sorry for being gone my lil shadow babies, school has been difficult for me and i found myself struggling with my mental health due to personal problems in my life, so i took a short haitus. but im back!! tryna get my posting schedule back in check, so bear with me!

A - affection (how affectionate is he?)

he’s not too affectionate in public, but he’ll definitely hold your hand or hand a hand on your waist or thigh. in private however he’s extra affectionate, holding you close, playing with your hair, having you sit in his lap.

B - beauty (how beautiful is his partner to him?)

you are THE worlds most beautiful person to him. he could never find himself even thinking someone else looks good because he’s dating the most attractive person like ever, hello?

C - cuddling (how does he react to them?/is he big spoon or little spoon?)

he loves cuddling, he’ll find basically any excuse to cuddle with you. when it comes to big spoon or little spoon it just depends on his mood. if he’s upset he’ll want you to hold him, but if he’s in a good mood he’ll hold you close to his chest.

D - domestic (does he settle down?)

definitely at some point he’d settle down with you, it would start off with smaller steps like after so long of being together you’d move in with him and his brothers—even though you practically already live with them

E - equal (is he the more domestic one in the relationship, or more passive?)

definitely more domestic, he loves the small moments you two share together. whether it’s cooking, cleaning up, or simply basking in one another presence

F - favorite (what’s his favorite thing about his partner?)

everything. but if he really had to pick, your smile. especially when it’s the small smile you do when your eyes find his in a crowded room

G - gifts (how often is he getting you gifts?/how does he react when his partner gets him one?)

he’s spending money on you 24/7, if he catches your gaze drifting onto something you want for even a SECOND longer than usual, he’s making a note to get it for you. plus he’ll steal your phone occasionally and go through your amazon wishlist/cart, sending himself some things and ordering them for you

H - hugs (how does he hug his partner?/favorite way to hug them)

bear hugs and hugs from behind. he loves feeling your body held close to his, being able to rest his chin on your head or chin, and sneaking the occasional kiss on your cheek

I - i love you (how fast does he say the L-word?)

he would probably be way to shy to say it first, waiting for you to say it to him. probably around a month or so into you relationship is when you let the word slip, and after that he is saying it as much as he can. he’ll randomly text it to you while filming videos, while you’re asleep, he’ll call you just to remind you that he loves you. once he says it, he doesn’t stop

J - jealousy (how jealous does he get?/does he show it?)

i feel like he’d only get jealous when a guy CLEARLY wants you. like if he can tell a dude is just moving by and accidentally touched you, he won’t mind that much, but if a guy is 100% doing it on purpose, he’ll step in and practically start making out with you to show you’re taken

K - kissing (how often does he kiss his partner?/what’s his favorite place to kiss them?)

every. chance. he. gets. he’ll kiss anywhere he can reach, it doesn’t matter. he loves kissing every part of you as well. if you’re laying down he’ll jump on you and kiss whatever skin he sees. if you just got out of the shower, he’ll kiss you and here it tickles, making you drop the towel so he can kiss all over your body and worship you. but if he had to pick a favorite spot, it would definitely be your lips. he just loves feeling you kiss him back

L - love confession (how would he confess his feelings for his partner?)

he would probably just blurt out a random confession while y’all are hanging out or have nick say it. you’ll be at the triplets house and he’ll say smth like “btw, i’m like in love with you” or nick will have to tell you to just date him because he’s dying without you in his life

M - marriage (would he want to get marriage?/when would he want to?)

i think he would wanna get married at least before he’s 30. after a while, let’s say 2-3 years, if he realizes you’re definitely never leaving, and he of course won’t either, he’ll make occasional jokes about marriage. eventually he’ll sit you down and genuinely discuss it, probably agreeing on a small wedding with only close family and friends, and wouldn’t broadcast it to the world

N - nicknames (what’s his go-to nickname for his partner?)

ma, baby, sweetheart. dude is classic with the nicknames

O - open (how open is he with his partner?)

extremely open. at first he might be a bit wary about certain subjects, but eventually he will tell you anything and everything in great detail. you might want him to be a bit less open after that

P - physical touch (does he enjoy it?/his favorite form on touch)

he loves it. he always has a hand somewhere on you. your own hand, shoulder, waist, thigh, anywhere he can reach. he loves when you’re cuddled into his side though, being able to wrap and arm around you and keep you close

Q -quiet (how quiet is he around his partner?)

this dude does NOT shut up. he’s louder than he is around nick and matt when he’s with you. and if you’re all hanging out? god it’s even worse. sometimes he’ll probably apologize tho and stay quiet for a while, especially if he gives you a headache

R - remember (what’s his favorite memory from the relationship?)

your first date and kiss. the cliche moment where he drops you off at home and kisses you on your doorstep, it lives in his brain like a movie scene constantly on repeat

S - support (how supportive is he of his partner’s decisions?)

extremely, depending on the decision. if you wanted to, let’s say, start youtube he would 100% support you and even help with it. but if you wanted to go live in a different country, he’d give you puppy dog eyes and say smth like “why are you leaving me :(“. other than that tho he’s the most supportive person you can find

T - try (how much effort does he put into the relationship, dates, etc?)

he’s putting so much effort into everything he can. he’ll go all out on dates, he’ll remind you of the most random anniversary dates, like 69 days or 4 1/3 months. he’s doing the most he can

U - understanding (how understanding is he of his partners feelings and boundaries?)

extremely understanding. it may take a bit of time to explain things to him, especially if he doesn’t understand what you’re talking about, but he’ll listen and respect whatever boundary you’ve set up

V - value (how much does he value the relationship?)

with his entire being. he’d rather have a tiger bite off his arm than leave you, he cannot imagine living without you

W - weird (what is one weird thing he does in the relationship?)

stealing your clothes. you steal his and wear them, so he’ll show up to your house wearing one of your shirts, making it look like a crop top. if you judge him he’ll pull the “but you’re wearing MY hoodie” card every time

X - xtra (lil personal headcanon)

i don’t think he can sleep without hearing your voice for at least 5 minutes. he’ll call you in the dead of night just so he can sleep for a good couple hours

Y - yearning (how often does he yearn for his partners affection/attention?)

24/7. if he’s been away for some time, he’ll nearly cry from missing you, and eventually beg matt to cuddle with him

Z - zzz (what are his sleep habits with you’re around?)

he’ll fall asleep on your lap within 5 minutes of hanging out with you, or he’ll stay up to listen to you ramble and yap about your day. it overall depends on what time of day you’ve chosen to hang out at imo

[brucewaynehater101]

Hello I have an idea for Tim.

What if he got those game screens pop up whenever he's doing some side missions or quests. And after that he'll get some cool and valuable stuff like: cool weapons with superpowers that are not from his world, advantages of gaining more information than the whole hero community, etc..

The Batfam probably thought that he was doing those missions because he was bored and wanted to relieve some stress, which is kinda true but whenever he does these quests he also makes a lot of allies from across the planets and helps him through it while also being part of the "Tim protector squad".

Also the screen will always congratulate him and give him some praise, plus the screen can also help Tim by upgrading his stuff or watching him from any danger and giving him a warning to be careful. Just a guy with his screen, what could go wrong? Hahah-

But. The screen can also give him some weird quest like "protect your loved one from [Redacted]" which confuses Tim but the screen doesn't have any power only providing him so who's the one controlling the screen???

Anyway these are just silly thoughts that I want to give :333

Heck yeah! I love exploring unusual/non-typical powers.

I really really want to develop this some more, so let's set up a power!

My favorite genre of games is horror. The fighting styles, gameplay, concepts, stick layouts, and all of that can be drastically different between games [at least Tim isn't stuck with game powers where he can't fight back]. Because of that, the end goal may be impossible to reach and thus changes to a new objective.

Here is an example of where this happened with Tim:

Convince Dick Grayson to become Robin Become Robin

Tim's thoughts and feelings can affect the missions he's given. He will never be given an objective he would not do (e.g. Kill Alfred). Not completing any task (side or main) can have consequences. Main ones have drastic outcomes that he can only somewhat control if he attempts them.

Upon completion, he gets points and rewards. His rewards are anything from new skills, connections, weapons, resources, etc.

His points can be used either in the "shop" or for his skill tree (Tim desperately wishes it was a "pay to play" game so he can get more points).

The shop has weapons, elixirs (one of which is Lazarus water), one use spells, maps, information/clues, outfits with effects, armor, etc.

His skill tree has three main branches: Body, Mind, and Soul.

For Body, he can enhance any of his characteristics to the upper limits of humans: eye sight, health, stamina, strength, sense of smell, etc. His points can also lower the difficulty or time needed to learn a very specific skill (ex. spending 5 points to decrease time needed to learn how to wield a pistol).

For Mind, he can hasten his thinking speed, create defenses against multiple mental attacks (including emotional manipulation and telepathy), decrease the mental energy required per tasks, decrease time spent learning languages/information, etc.

For Soul, this includes abilities to protect himself from magical/whatever interference, increase charm, increase ability to understand/read others' emotions, etc.

If he sounds OP, worry not! Tim suffers from never having enough points (he learned the hard way that he also needs to keep an amount saved up in case he suddenly needs to buy a tool or skill to save his or someone else's life.). There's so much he can buy, but there are only so many hours to complete side missions

Tim's least favorite quest was when he was chilling alone with his Zesti and suddenly got the notification:

Run

Jason's a jerk for scaring the shit out of Tim like that at TT