#tw mental health

[dandelions-and-white-wolves]

Oh Full Discworld Reread, please save me from the deep and crushing depression I’ve descended into

[unholymaleficent]

I mean maybe this is true but also adam is playing with fire, britt is with jamie and doing that to someone... just doesn't feel right to me.

jamie is one of my friends... i .. this is .. wow.. i know, i don't either. i will hurt someone before they could ever touch you. we don't and i agree.

[tofumarinado]

it's so funny to me when i see pearl-clutching articles about how "teenagers are diagnosing themselves with mental disorders via tiktok" because like. this is not happening in a vacuum. teenagers are severely and i mean severely medically neglected. i cannot stress this enough. teenagers do not have free access to medical care. those same news outlets would be clowning on women with housewife psychosis in the 1950's.

i sometimes go pale when listening to some of what my friends have gone through in their childhoods and teenagehoods. they talk about it so nonchalantly, things that would be considered straight up torture if done to an adult, can't fathom the effect this has on children. they are on multiple anti-psychotics and several antidepressants and anxiety meds now that they are adults. medical neglect has legally and effectively disabled them. a timely diagnosis and intervention could have saved them. of course teenagers are self-diagnosing using tiktok. if your knee-jerk reaction is to scoff at the idea and dismiss it as dumb teenager shit instead of being radicalized because the best shot young people have at attaining the mental health support they need is a fucking dancing videos app, you're categorically a political enemy of the youth.

[21stc3nturyd1gitalb0y]

a lot of you got a kick out of my service dog’s battle jacket, so i thought i’d share some more pictures of the man himself.

i know people have a lot of stereotypes about what service dogs and their handlers are “supposed” to look like, and it confuses people to see a young, seemingly able bodied punk rocker with a service dog.

but i share this to say, that if you as a disabled person don’t see a life for yourself, you can create one. when i started to realize i was disabled almost 10 years ago, i certainly didn’t imagine this is where i’d be now. in fact, i didn’t even plan to making it to this point.

but a diagnosis doesn’t have to mean the end of the world. sometimes your world is just beginning. some people are of the belief that everything happens for a reason. me, not so much. i’ll never be grateful for the suffering i experienced in this world, but i will always, always be glad i chose to stay in it.

[winte-ry]

I'm sorry

Masterpost

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Previous

[maarlena]

Idk if thats a bpd or a me thing

[incorrectbatfam]

[therapy]

Leslie: You have a lot of self-awareness.

Tim: Yes, I actually think that is part of the problem.

[4threset]

"The Water Rabbit"

[pastorpresent]

When the dust settled of what Wade dubbed their 'super awesome Madonna world saving sacrifice', (don't fucking ask, god knows Logan doesn't) the TVA had offered to hire their services to round up variants that incorrectly stumbled into their universe. With a fucking paycheck.

Logan had been trying (and failing) to find work for a few weeks by that point. It was sort of difficult when he had no tangible work history in this universe, with no references that could actually be called. Or a social security number. Or a bank account. Or any form of ID, really.

Wade had already quickly agreed on both their behalfs, and Logan got the feeling he just needed a valid excuse to put the suit on now and again between his monotonous shifts at the dealership.

The only catch was that they had to undergo a physical and mental health assessment before hand.

He'd passes the physical with flying colours. The mental one... not so much. They'd still 'hired' him, but when he was given a folder with information regarding each fucking problem he had mentally, they'd heavy implied he needed to work on it to keep his job.

His plan had been to chuck it in the trash, or burn the fucker, but it'd slipped his mind to do either by the time they'd gotten home because Wade started trying to cook pasta for dinner and almost set the entire place on fire, somehow.

He left it on the side and Wade, being the nosy fucker he was, had of course read it.

There was a lot of shit Logan expected to find in there - depression, ptsd, alcoholism... stuff he didn't exactly need some fancy fucking doctor to tell him he had. A six year old could probably glance his way and identify that he needed antidepressants.

The one that he'd thought was odd, and the one Wade seemed to latch onto, was 'touch deprivation'.

The thing was, Wade was a shithead. He practically made it his goal whenever he walked into a room to be the most annoying person in that room. Usually successfully.

But he was also... good. He was a good person, despite what people might say to him. He wanted to help him, which was... sweet, he supposed.

A lot of the stuff in there was a bit tricky to 'fix', probably requiring some sort of medication or therapy (Logan point blank refused both) but a couple of things, Wade seemed hellbent on helping him with.

There was never any liquor in their apartment, for starters. Whenever Logan would buy any, it would go mysteriously missing the following day. Al didn't even know it had been there, and Wade was a shit liar with his innocent little shrug when Logan would ask.

Ar first it pissed him off but, well, Wade was just trying to help, and he was - helping, that is. Logan was actually sober more than he was drunk these days - which hasn't happened in at least a decade.

The 'touch deprivation' was another Wade seemed hell bent on helping with.

The merc was already tactile with his friends. Logan had seen him drape an arm over their shoulder, side hug them as they walked somewhere, hug them goodbye.

It seemed he dialled it up to a thousand with him, though.

If they both happened to be in the kitchen, Wade was brushing up against him every few seconds, murmuring apologies as he all but pressed against him under the guise of trying to move somewhere or reach something.

When they were out, Wade would let their arms and hands brush up against each other. If Logan was pushing the cart in the store, Wade would 'accidently' rest his hand over his on the handle bar.

It was little stuff, things that somebody on the outside of them would probably not even notice, until one night on the couch.

They'd been running around for the TVA all day, and Logan was irritable and exhausted. He felt about ready to claw his own skin off out of general frustration, built up from a day of shitty, all over the place missions.

They'd both showered and were sat watching gossip girl, but he just couldn't settle. He was switching position every few seconds, growling under his breath every time his discomfort returned, and he must've been annoying the fuck out of Wade, he thought.

After maybe an hour - and Logan wasn't going to cry, but he damn sure felt like it, Wade sighed next to him.

Logan immediately found himself growing defensive, ready to argue that it wasn't his fucking fault his skin felt all tingly and wrong, and that the couch was too soft, or that there was a dumb ache in his chest that he didn't understand.

Wade didn't start arguing though. Instead, he lifted an arm in invitation.

Logan stared at him like he'd lost his fucking mind. How many hits to the head had he taken today? Could his regenerative abilities repair concussion or should Logan be taking him to a fucking hospital?

"Come on, peanut. Let me help," Wade said, which only confused Logan more. He didn't even know what was wrong- so how did Wade reckon he could fix it?

"I'm fine," he gritted out with a glare, trying to keep still to prove his point but fuck, his skin felt painful and tight.

"Alright," Wade held his hands up in surrender before letting them drop, turning back to the TV.

Logan watched him for a few seconds, then scoffed loudly, moving to lay a bit more on the arm rest.

It felt like it was digging into his ribs. He scratched his arm, barely resisting the urge to unsheathe his claws. He adjusted to lie back into the cushions. He sunk in too much, and the soft cushions felt like sandpaper against his on-fire skin.

Something dangerously close to a whimper escaped his lips, and he had to blink back a dampness building in his vision. Fuck, what the hell was wrong with him?

"Lo," he thought Wade had went back to focusing on the show, but apparently he'd been wrong, because the merc was staring at him with soft, concerned eyes, and Logan wanted to scream.

"What?" Logan snipped, but it was missing any of the intended edge.

"Let me try and help. No one else is here, it's just us - and if you don't like it, you can just sit back up," Wade lifted an arm again, an invitation for Logan to curl up against him and... it pissed him off how nice that sounded.

He hesitated for a few moments longer. Too long, really, and he expected Wade to rescind the offer entirely out of impatience.

He didn't. He just adjusted himself to be more sprawled back against the couch cushions, parting his legs a little and keeping his arm raised.

Logan made a defeated noise in the back of his throat, crawling closer. He hovered awkwardly between Wade's legs, unsure how to proceed, and Wade just gently pushed on his shoulders to get him to lie down, his head and upper torso covering Wade's chest and lower body.

He worried he'd be too heavy for Wade, but the younger man didn't seem bothered whatsoever. Perks of him being built pretty indestructible, probably.

"Good boy," he praised quietly, running his hand through Logan's hair. Essentially petting him, really, and Logan couldn't explain it but it's like everything in his head and everything with his body quietened down. He could breathe again, and he found himself going boneless against the younger man.

He wrapped his arms around Wade's torso, nuzzling into his stomach with a content sound, his eyes slipping shut as Wade continued to play with his hair, stroke over his back, brush fingers over his neck, calming the burn of his skin wherever they went.

It became a regular occurrence after that. Every night when they settled down to watch TV, Wade would wordlessly lift an arm, and Logan would wordlessly crawl over to lie against him. Sometimes they reversed it, because Logan discovered that having Wade lying atop of him felt incredibly grounding. Usually though, he'd be the one pressed up against the merc, tangled around him like some sort of extra clingy and extra heavy octopus. Wade would always 'pet' him, mumbling occasional praise as he ran gentle fingers over his body, scratching his scalp or dragging blunt nails over his back and arms.

Logan didn't realise how desperately he needed the touch until it was gone.

They'd been arguing all day. It was all stupid shit, really - moreso driven by the fact they hadn't had a mission in a while. Wade grew antsy if he'd been out of commission too long, and if he had to work so many back to back shifts at the dealership. And Logan grew irritable being stuck in the tiny apartment with no real purpose all day.

He'd went to the store and bought himself a bottle of whiskey to occupy his mind, to stop the thoughts of his old found family dead on the ground from a fight he could've aided in leaking into his brain.

Wade, as usual, had poured it down the drain. Something that, ordinarily, Logan would've been pissed about but let drop fairly quickly- because despite what others may think of him, his sort of almost sobriety did matter to him. It mattered to Wade too, which is why Logan never usually got all that mad at him for pouring perfectly good alcohol down the drain.

Maybe it was because of the irritation already brewing within them both, or maybe it was because Logan had really been relying on loosing himself in that bottle, but the argument quickly spiralled out of hand.

"You can't just pour out my shit, Wade!" Logan yelled, gesturing to the now empty bottle.

"Yeah, I'm being totally unreasonable. Next time I'll let you drink yourself into a stupor, pinky fucking promise!" Wade yelled back.

"You had no fucking right!"

"Do you think I want to, huh?! You think I just love having to control your alcohol intake like your some sixteen year old girl who discovered fucking smirnoff for the first time?!"

"Then fucking don't! I don't need you to do anything for me! I managed by myself for two hundred fucking years, I don't fucking need you, and I certainly don't fucking want you!" Logan shouted, probably loud enough that they'd get complaints from the neighbours later.

The ensuing silence felt even louder.

He regretted it immediately. He didn't mean it, and he knew that as soon as he'd said it. Because yeah, he might be able to survive by himself- but that's all it ever was. Fucking survival.

Wade showed him how to live.

He was still too angry to take any of it back, though. To admit he'd crossed a line.

"Fine. Do whatever the fuck you want, Logan," and Wade left, their bedroom door slamming echoing throughout the whole apartment.

They avoided each other for days. Even when they were together, there was silence. Wade didn't crack any of his usual jokes. They ate in silence. They stopped waking up tangled up in one another, and Wade no longer opened an arm in invitation when they were sharing the couch alone. No hand over hand on the cart, or arms brushing in the street, none of it.

Logan didn't give a shit, obviously. He bought ridiculous amounts of alcohol and drank until he passed out on their kitchen floor, waking up a few hours later cover in his own vomit and Mary Puppins peering at him curiously. Even the fucking dog was judging him.

It was the week mark, and Logan actually hadn't had a drink that day. Only because he had ran dry on money to buy any, and he'd considered stealing some but thought it wouldn't be worth losing his job with the TVA. He did maybe try drinking some of Al's nail polish remover, but he was halfway into the bottle when he realised she used the type that was fucking alcohol free.

Not his proudest moment.

His body already felt weary from the slight pulls of withdrawal when he sat on his end of the couch, purposefully not glancing Wade's way. It was very much like how he'd felt when he stopped drinking so much in this universe. The tiredness that ate down to his bones, the cravings niggling his brain constantly.

He already didn't feel great - but then the itching started, and it got intense fast.

His efforts to keep still were futile. It was so much worse than the first time around, and worse still because he knew what was missing, and it was his own fault he didn't have it anymore.

What the fuck was he supposed to say? 'Hey I know I said I didn't need you and to stop treating me like a child, but if you don't cuddle me right now I might fucking explode'.

No. He couldn't do that.

Everything hurt. He couldn't draw a breath in properly, and even the feeling of his clothes against his skin felt fucking wrong. Like it was too... light.

The final straw was when one of those tears welling in his eyes actually escaped, rolling down his cheek. He wiped at it harshly, and got up without another word, heading straight for their bedroom.

He couldn't let Wade see him like this. He was fucking pathetic.

He stripped down to his boxers, needing the stupid fabric to stop touching him, and got onto their bed. The covers felt scratchy, and he kicked them away with a growl. In the process of his aggressive attempts to find a comfortable position, he got a whiff of a familiar scent.

Wades. Wade's pillow smelt exactly like him.

It was the first time since the itching feeling started that he felt some sembelence of calm. His skin still burnt, but he could sort of zone it out for a moment.

He tried to turn away. To ignore it, because it was fucking stupid, but he didn't last long before he was grabbing the pillow and pulling it towards him, pressing his face into it and inhaling deeply.

He didn't remember when he started crying, but the pillow was soon wet with tears. He was so fucking stupid. Utterly fucking ridiculous - a grown ass man crying into a pillow because, what? He didn't have someone playing with his fucking hair?

He was so, so beyond furious at himself. At how ridiculous he was, and at how massively he'd managed to mess everything up.

Wade was good. He was bad. He should've known from the get go that he'd fuck it all up.

"Jesus, Logan," the soft gasp startled him from his thoughts abruptly, and he panicked. He sat up, shoving the pillow aside despite the fact Wade had seen exactly what he was doing.

Maybe he'd get lucky and one of those stupid ring portals would appear beneath him and send him elsewhere. Anywhere, really- he didn't care, it would be better than this.

"What?"

The biting tone wasn't all that effective when he had to scrub at his eyes to get rid of the tears.

It didn't even work anyway. They wouldn't fucking stop now that he'd let them start, and the fact Wade had caught him sitting there breathing in dredges of his scent while fucking crying - maybe part of it was just the utter humiliation of it all.

"Oh, Lo. It's alright," Wade murmured, and then he was shutting the door and crossing the room, climbing onto the bed.

He reached out, but seemed to hesitate, his arm dropping, "can I touch you?"

Logan only cried harder, his body practically vibrating, as if it was attempting to force him to move closer even unconsciously. He gave a jerky nod, "please."

Wade was on him in an instant, pulling him in so tight that to anyone without super strength and regenerating abilities, it would probably hurt.

Logan didn't care. He needed more. The fire was tamed, but it was still there, the embers tickling his body and threatening to overtake him again.

His hands tugged at the hem of Wade's shirt, seeking permission. He needed the stupid itchy fabric gone. The press of it was too soft and gentle. He needed skin. Needed something solid. Needed Wade, now.

"Shirt off?" Wade clarified, and Logan nodded where his head was tucked into the crook of his neck.

He hadn't accounted for the fact that they'd have to break their embrace to do it.

Wade tried to pull back, but Logan gasped, digging his nails in and keeping himself plastered to Wade's front.

"I'm not going anywhere, peanut. I'm just taking my clothes off, alright? I'm not leaving you, I swear," Wade put both hands on the side of his face, lifting it so he could look into his eyes as he spoke, the pad of his thumb wiping away his tears.

Logan reluctantly let go, shivering violently when everything hit him again.

Wade made quick work of stripping off his shirt and sweatpants, leaving him in his briefs. He lay down, and opened his arm.

Logan could've started crying again in relief. He all but dove at the younger man, burying his face away in his chest, wrapping his arms tight around him. Wade held him tightly, pulling him in enough so their bodies were pressed together solidly.

He lifted a hand and started stroking his hair, shushing him softly and rocking their bodies a little.

"I'm sorry. 'M so sorry, I didn't mean any of it," and ordinarily he might very been reluctant to say it, never being all that good at swallowing down his perceived pride, but it felt too important not to say.

Because despite everything, Wade had came in here to check on him. He could've just continued to watch TV. He could've so easily made fun of him for what he'd walked into, mocking how fucking stupid he was, and walked straight back out. He could've and should've done all of that, but he didn't. Because he was Wade, and he was good, and Logan would never fully understand what positivity he put out into the world to earn him.

"I know, me neither. Just calm down, Lo. It's all good now, I've got you," Wade assured, squeezing tighter, and Logan made a small satisfied sound, nosing at Wade's chest and then his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo and body wash.

The itching had ceased, but he still felt like he needed more, like it wasn't enough until he sliced Wade open and crawled inside of him, curled up contently next to his beating heart, burrowed beneathe his ribs.

He didn't verbalise it, but Wade seemed to understand, as usual.

"On your back, baby," he directed, and Logan did so without complaint.

Wade moved with him, lying on top of him completely, tangling their legs together, a solid weight pressing him into the mattress, and ironically enough he finally felt like he could breathe again.

"Good boy. You're so good, peanut," Wade hummed, running fingers over his shoulders. Logan disagreed, but he was too out of it to really argue. He felt like he was floating on a cloud, hovering out of his body.

He didn't realise he was biting until Wade let out a soft sound above him, and the metallic taste filled his mouth.

"Fuck, sorry I... I didn't realise," he tried to move away, eyes wide, but Wade shushed him again, his expression something fond.

"Does it help?" Wade asked simply, and Logan swallowed. It did. It was... it was like Wade felt closer to him, somehow.

"Mhm, but don't wanna hurt you," he felt almost drunk, his words slurring a little as he watched the small wound on Wade's shoulder close up.

"I'll heal, angel. Have at it," Wade tilted his head in invitation, and Logan nosed at his neck for a moment, still not entirely sure, before sticking out the tip of his tongue and licking experimentally. He moaned softly at the taste of Wade on his taste buds, pressing his nose against his adams apple simultaneously to breathe him in. He let his teeth sink in lightly, nibbling at the sensitive area.

Wade groaned atop of him, and Logan went to pull away, but the merc held him there by the back of his head, "keep going. Please, Lo," and he sounded breathless and needy, and it made Logan growl with animalistic possessiveness, biting down a bit harder, blood running to the surface, which he quickly lapped up.

He couldn't really tell who connected lips first, he was fairly certain it was him, but it didn't really matter ultimately. They were high off one another, Wade grinding down while Logan rutted up, both of them rock solid against each other.

Logan bit at his lip, drawing blood before licking it away filthily, dragging his nails all over every surface of Wade he could reach. He needed him. He needed him so fucking badly. He wanted to worship every square inch of him then crawl beneathe his skin and make a home there.

He reached between them, wrapping a hand around Wade's length, but the merc caught his wrist, using the other hand to grip Logan's jaw and direct their eyes to meet.

"Logan," he knew vaguely that Wade wanted him to listen, but he was too busy whining beneathe him, pushing his hips up trying to chase the friction that every cell in his body was fucking screaming for. He didn't want to stop, and he didn't get why Wade was making him.

"Logan. Hey, eyes on me, peanut," Wade ordered firmly, and Logan finally reluctantly ceased his movements, blinking Wade's face into his focus.

"How are you feeling?"

And Logan huffed, glaring a little, because did Wade really stop what they were doing just to ask him that? Seriously?

"I'm fine," he replied shortly, trying to go for Wade's mouth again, but found himself held down by a hand against his bare chest.

"I'm going to need a bit more than that before we go any further, peanut. Especially with how upset you were just twenty minutes ago," Wade was stroking a hand through his hair again, and the calmness that filled his body from the touch was enough to get him to settle down just a little, sinking into the bed and giving up his valiant mission of jerking off against Wade's solid form.

"I just need to know you're okay, and I need to know you're doing this because you want it, not just because you feel like you need it."

"I want it. I want it a lot," he said after a few seconds, looking up at Wade. It was the most vulnerable he'd felt in forever, and all he could do was hope that Wade took that and handled it carefully.

Wade smiled, kissing Logan firmly. Logan gasped into it, letting his mouth open wider, inviting Wade in to explore as he pleased.

Wade pulled away suddenly, and Logan very almost ripped his head off of his shoulders in order to keep him close.

"Easy, boy. I'm just trying to sort you out," Wade explained with fingers teasing the waistband of his boxers.

It was ridiculous, but he wasn't certain he could handle the younger man's body weight leaving him. That press, being able to feel every inch of Wade against him, it was the only thing keeping him tethered in reality. He couldn't handle his skin setting alight again. Especially not when he had went a whole week without Wade's touch.

"Baby," and something about Wade calling him that made him want to crumble. Want to get onto his knees and suck him off and worship him like he deserved, because he must be a God- that's the only explanation as to how he can breathe a single word and make Logan unravel. Because he'd never been that. He'd never been anyone's 'baby', because no one ever bothered to be tender with him before. He was The Wolverine. He was supposed to be rough, and rugged, and maybe 'handsome', but never 'pretty'. Never 'baby'.

And yet everytime it rolled off of Wade's tongue it was so genuine, so sweet and caring, and it was almost like a permission slip for Logan to let the gruff exterior drop just for a minute, and be somebody's 'baby'. Be Wade's 'baby'.

"You don't want me to leave, peanut? You want me to stay on top of you?" Wade asked, because he was genuinely bothered by the idea of Logan not being one million percent happy with this experience.

Logan found his mouth and kissed him again. This one was gentle. So, so gentle. No blood or biting or back and forth - just a barely there press of lips. A thank you, sealed away in a kiss.

"Please," he answered quietly, speaking it into Wade's parted mouth, "I just... I need to know you're here, I think. I need to..." he trailed off, unsure how to finish.

How could he verbalise that he needed to feel him so completely, that he needed Wade everywhere all over him, all at once? How could he say that without scaring him away entirely?

Maybe that would be for the best, in all honesty. He couldn't be so damn reliant - not when Wade had a fucking life to live. A future to build. Why should he put that on hold just because Logan crash landed into his reality?

He should be going on dates with Vanessa right now, trying to fix things. Or hanging out with his actual friends. He should be doing a lot of things- but trying to fix something in Logan that had been irreparably smashed to pieces years ago was not one of them.

"I need- we need to stop," he spoke, even as every cell in his body was screaming no, fuck no.

Wade frowned, the hand that had been tracing over his arms pausing.

"What?"

"I can't. I can't do it. I can't."

He couldn't drag Wade down into the fucking abyss. He couldn't force him to live out his eternity like this.

"Okay, that's okay peanut. You want me to get off of you?" Wade offered, and Logan nodded.

It killed him, but he nodded.

Wade lifted up, manoeuvring onto the edge of the bed.

Logan wanted to throw up, that cold and empty feeling returning to his gut, spreading through all of his limbs like poison. 'This is good, Wade is good, you are bad' was like a mantra in his head, growing louder and louder until all Logan could hear was the rapid thumping of his own heart and those words, screamed, being etched across his organs like a warning.

Maybe the repeated frying of his brain was finally catching up to him.

"Logan, what's wrong?"

Logan wanted to tear his own fucking skin off.

"Did- was it too much? Did I go too far? I'm sorry, I just thought it's what you wanted," Wade was apologising, he was fucking apologising, and Logan was barely holding it the fuck together, his chest tightening.

"No. No, it's... I need to be alone," he choked on the last word, as if his body was physically fighting him from saying it.

Wade was looking at him with a small frown, reaching out for his hand resting on the mattress which Logan quickly moved away.

He'd never forget the look of hurt etched onto the others face. He might very well of tried to hide it, but he caught the flash of upset that filled Wade's features so intensely for just a moment.

"Of course. Yeah, sorry. I'll just," Wade gestured vaguely to the bedroom door before all but racing out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Logan sighed shakily, curling up on himself and trying in vain to stop the tears coming.

Part 2 up now

[so-worthless-so-empty]

There was a time where I was a child, sobbing in my pillow begging God to help me. Begging him to take my life because I couldn’t take living anymore. I was a child. I’ve been fighting depression my whole life.

I’m so tired

[peachesofteal]

🔮👻🎃

Third year in a row spending Halloween on the front stoop, handing out candy to neighborhood kids while blasting Halloweentown on the TV inside. Mr Peach always cooks chicken parm (fun fact Mr Peach cooks 90% of the meals in our house) and then we watch another movie before falling asleep at ten. It’s such a stark difference from when we’d be riding the train home at two thirty in the morning practically cross eyed, but I like it way better. When I was younger, I wasn’t convinced I would make it to the age I am now (the world didn’t end when I was seventeen, or nineteen, twenty one, twenty two, twenty three, etc) and these transitions to the next stage of life get sweeter and sweeter.

Anyway, happy Halloween I hope you’re all doing at least one little thing you love or enjoy 🎃

[traumatizeddfox]

me doing anything:

my brain: i should kill myself

me: ??????

[redcrowncafe]

[severussnapemylove]

Sometimes I wonder if JKR even realises she wrote Snape as a victim of sexual assault. Because he unambiguously is, and she writes him as traumatised by the incident. So it seems mad to suggest that she might not have thought through the implications of her own writing, but if she did get it, I am baffled by how sympathetic she remains to James. Harry is never really made to confront how vile his actions were, because he looks for comfort from Remus and Sirius rather than telling Hermione who would react in horror and disgust, and he gets to skip over it completely in The Prince’s Tale. JKR clearly considers James a hero, and has confirmed that in interviews. She’s even more sympathetic to Lily, who is portrayed as an absolute paragon of goodness, morality and virtue, despite her being attracted enough to James *after* he publicly commits sexual assault on a less privileged kid to marry him! What a malfunctioning moral compass. JKR also has no sympathy at all for Tom Riddle Sr, who is a victim of rape, and his rapist Merope Gaunt, who is herself strongly implied to be a victim of incestual abuse, is condemned by Dumbledore and the narrative not for what she did to Tom but for not being as courageous as nice, pretty, middle class Lily Evans because Merope committed the crime of…dying in childbirth. The only conclusions I can draw from this is that JKR is the sort of ´feminist’ who doesn’t believe men can be the victims of sexual crimes, and that deep down she thinks being a member of the underclass who can’t drag themselves out of it alone is indicative of moral failure.

This! All of this!

I don't think she puts it together at all. She's incredibly tone deaf about a lot of the abuse she puts these characters through. And with the blasé attitude she has about male victims of SA in the books definitely goes along her brand of toxic radical "feminism". It looks like she just doesn't recognise the severity of what happens to these characters. On top of Severus's attack and Tom Riddle Sr, remember that Ron was roofied with love spell that was intended for Harry, and Moaning Myrtle is incredible predatory towards the boys. Sadly, this attitude carries over from the author to a chunk of the fandom too. I've seen so much dismissiveness of the assaults against the male characters, especially Severus. And it's even more disappointing when I see people who have experienced abuse saying that what Severus endured "didn't count" as abuse. Had someone today on another platform having an absolute meltdown at me, saying that what happened in SWM wasn't sa, and that he wasn't traumatised from his abuse and if his anger was caused by trauma then why wasn't Harry the same. Seriously, you can't tell another person that what they experienced wasn't "bad enough to be abuse", that's a very warped mentality. Survivors are supposed to support each other, not belittle each other's trauma. Also, what book did they read that they think Harry doesn't have issues from the life he endured? He has different issues than Severus, yes, because he had different life experiences and everyone's reactions to trauma are different.

"Merope Riddle chose death in spite of a son who needed her, but do not judge her too harshly, Harry. She was greatly weakened by long suffering and she never had your mother's courage."

WTF is this!!!??? This is just plain victim blaming. "Your mothers' courage"? Lily had supportive, loving parents, was loved by her peers, admired by her teachers, had a very comfortable, secure life. Merope was physically and mentally abused for her whole life. They really criticized the poverty stricken, abuse victim for not being as "strong" as the Mary Sue of the Wizarding World??? Toxic as hell. Personally, as someone who has dealt with self-harm, mental illness and generational trauma in my family, this attitude of "they weren't strong enough" is nauseating and infuriating.

There really is a disturbing trend of extreme poverty equalling a dead-end life with no hope. Which is again an extremally toxic and judgmental attitude and a very dangerous message to put in a book aimed to children. The attitude towards abuse, poverty and indecent assault of men is beyond problematic, not only in the books but in far too many members of the fandom.

I could rant more but this will go on for pages.

[so-long-soldier-writes]

One of Those Days

poly!mikaelsons x reader | request

summary: between the constant fighting and city clamor, you're overstimulated from the minute you wake up. you try to isolate until you feel better, but sometimes, that only makes things worse. luckily, your loving vampire partners are always there for you.

tags: sensory issues, mental health, overstimulation, arguing, mild emotional hurt / comfort

word count: ~2.6k

a/n: requested by @asexualaromosafezone - i am SO SORRY this took me literal months to complete. a couple days ago, i suddenly remembered i never filled it and finished it asap. i hope you like it, and again, so many apologies!

Sometimes, you wake up, and can immediately tell it’ll be a hard day. The sun has barely risen, yet there’s already a million noises coming through your window. Chatters of people having their morning walks, car horns from those too impatient to let them cross, the distant clang of a dropped pot, and-

“REBEKAHHH!”

-Klaus, yelling for his sister. At seven in the morning. 

“What the bloody hell are you shouting for?! I’m right here!”

You sigh, glad that mystery solved quickly.

There’s probably a few more minutes until your alarm rings, so instead of getting up a little earlier, you opt to enjoy your last minutes of peace. Though you soon realize that’s impossible, given your circumstances. On top of the city sounds, there’s a bird right outside your window, and when you try to turn away from it, the tag on your blanket itches the inside of your thigh. 

“Ugh!” You toss the blanket off. 

Your alarm sounds not a second later. 

With a slap to your phone and then another to your forehead, you decide to just get ready for the day. Luckily, not much is planned. Marcel still has control over the city, and with you being human, your Mikaelson hosts don’t want you outside at all. 

See, you live with the family of original vampires. You used to be a Mystic Falls’ resident, but then after developing a close connection with the siblings, decided to move to New Orleans with them and get a fresh start. You were tired of the small town life, and while the big city can be overwhelming at times, you’ll never get sick of the culture it has to offer. Besides, living with the most powerful family makes you happier than you ever believed you could be. 

As much as you love them, though, they can be a pain. Like when Klaus can’t find his sister, but forgets a whisper would summon her just as effectively. Instead, he has to wake up the whole quarter, and inconvenience you with a headache. When you reach the dining room that day, you slump your head on the table. 

“Everything alright, darling?” Kol’s voice floats over your head, making you aware of his presence. 

“Tired.”

“Is your bed comfortable enough? Do you need more blankets?”

You haven’t been in the city long, and his consideration warms your heart. 

“Oh, I’m okay. I’m very comfy. Just haven’t gotten used to the city yet.”

“Ah, I understand.”

His attention drifts to his sister. You busy yourself with a plate of food and ignore how tired you feel. When Elijah sits beside you, you offer a smile, but don’t say anything. The man, polite as ever, does the same. Though while two of the siblings are quiet, the other two aren’t. Klaus and Rebekah are still on the same topic from earlier. They bounce off each other quickly, childish banter turning into an argument.

You try to eat in peace and ignore them, but it’s difficult. And it doesn’t help that you’ve been feeling down lately, anyway. It’s rather unexplainable, the way you feel. Some days you’d rather stay in bed all day than face the world. Your whole body could be begging for you to get up and get things done, but you just can’t. No matter how hard you fight your own mind, sometimes there’s no winning the raging war. 

To make matters worse, you’re always hypersensitive when you find yourself in these low moods. Every little thing is overstimulating and there’s no pause button. This morning, you didn’t even get a chance to wake up before the sounds started. (Thanks, Klaus.) You roll your eyes in your head, annoyed. 

“Hey.” A poke to your shoulder startles you, making you jump. “You okay?” 

“Ooh, you caught me off guard.”

“Sorry,” Kol smiles, “you in deep thought, or rolling your eyes at Klaus’ statement?”

“Uh…” You bite your lip. You were rolling your eyes about Klaus, but missed whatever statement it was that he just made. “What did he say?”

“That he was on his way to have a little chat with Marcel. That will go swimmingly.”

“Oh.” You snort and decide to joke. “Both.”

Kol grins at you, but then, thankfully, leaves you alone again. 

After breakfast, you retreat back into your room, not in the mood to face the day. If Klaus is really going to start shit with Marcel, it’ll be an intense day. You’ve never met the current king of the French Quarter, but Elijah’s told stories. Marcel and the family used to be close, but then, like all their other relationships, ties ended drastically. 

“But not with you, of course,” he had promised. “You’re our girl.”

You were skeptical for a moment. Who wouldn’t be, knowing the Mikaelsons? But then Klaus approached you from behind with a kiss to your hair and confirmed his brother’s words,

“As long as we have your loyalty, you’ll always have ours.”

You could see the truth in his statement. Everyone who ended up on their bad side had betrayed them in some way. So, as long as you didn’t repeat others’ mistakes; as long as you kept your trust in the family, you would be considered family. And ever since the day you first grew close, you have been their family. 

You’re close with all of the siblings. Elijah, first, when you couldn’t take your eyes off him at Damon’s dinner party. Then Rebekah, and then Kol, when he undaggered. Even Finn, before his untimely death - thanks to Matt, your good friend now worst enemy. Klaus took the longest to trust you, and you can’t blame him for having trust issues, but once he realized how much his siblings adored you, he was quick to accept your place with them. 

Now, the five of you live together, nine hundred miles from your hometown. It’s certainly a change, but every day with them is an adventure.

Like today, you suddenly think, overhearing Elijah’s footsteps in the hallway. Today has definitely been one of those days. 

“Y/N?” He stops outside your door.

“Mhm?”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

Elijah opens the door, but doesn’t fully enter your room. He looks you up and down before smiling. “I just thought you seemed sad earlier and wanted to check on you. Is everything okay?”

“Oh!” You put on a brave face to mask the tiredness you feel internally. “Yeah, I’m just out of sorts today. It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure? Because if someone’s bothering you, that’s something we can take care of.”

“No, no, I promise. It’s all just me. Just having a day.”

“You’re positive?” He asks for confirmation again.

“Have I ever lied to you, ‘Lijah?”

He looks down at his shoes, embarrassed. “No, you haven’t. I apologize for doubting you.”

“It’s okay,” you step closer to him, resting against the door frame. “No need to apologize. But I swear, I just… woke up on the wrong side of the bed or something. New Orleans is a loud city. I’m still adjusting.”

“Okay. Well, call if you need anything. Even the smallest thing.”

“I will.”

“Oh, and be careful in the off-chance that Marcel storms in here. There’s a fight brewing in the quarter.”

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Better yet, stay inside for the day. So you’re not in harm’s way at all.”

“Okay, ‘Lijah.”

He smiles at you, then kisses your hand. “Now, I need to neutralize my brother. But I needed to make sure our girl was okay first.”

“She’s okay. Go deal with him.”

Elijah straightens his collar before speeding off to no doubt defend his brother in a fight. You love Klaus, but man, does he get angry. And then from anger, comes pure rage, then absolute chaos. Once situations escalate that far, the whole block better hide if they want to keep their hearts in their chest. 

You sigh, thinking of the carnage that may come. You’re not sure you can deal with his anger issues today, especially not coupled with those of Marcel. Of all the days they have to fight, it’s the one that you might snap, too, if he raises his voice one more time. 

Suddenly, your bed looks like the perfect oasis away from the mess behind your door. A good pillow over the ears might prevent an impending meltdown. You crawl into it at once and let your body melt into the mattress. 

You hadn’t lied to Elijah, though you hadn’t given him the full truth, either. Yes, you are, in general, okay. Not necessarily today, but at that moment, you were. Also yes, you’re not feeling great today, partly because of all the city noise. And, finally, yes, most of it is just you and your body not in the mood to be awake. Though Klaus is contributing, just a little bit, to your mental distress today. Elijah would understand, of course, but then he’d have a talk with his brother about it, and you really didn’t want to burden either of them in that way, so you put on a smile and didn’t mention it. You’d bet Elijah knows the full truth, and knows why you won’t admit it, but he respects you if you don’t want to talk about it. That’s one of the reasons you love him so much. 

You get a couple hours of rest until your slumber is interrupted by a new knock on your door. It’s not soft, like Elijah’s, so it must be one of the younger two. 

“Oh no,” you mutter, wondering what it must be now.

“Y/N?” Rebekah’s voice comes from the other side. “Are you awake?”

“I am now.” 

She opens the door as you reply. “Oh what the bloody hell are you still doing in bed?”

“Sleeping.”

“Obviously! Come watch a movie with Kol and I! We’d love your company.”

“An actual movie, or the public display of violence happening outside in the quarter?”

“We haven’t decided yet!” She grabs your hand. “Come on!”

You yawn. “I’m gonna pass today, I’m not up for it.”

“Awh, Y/N! It won’t be as fun without you!”

“I have a headache, Bex,” you fib. 

“Do you want some blood for that?”

“Does that even work like that?”

She shrugs, “not sure.”

You cuddle into your pillow. “Another time, okay?”

The girl smiles, then leans forward to kiss your head. “Okay. If you change your mind, come find us.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“Dinner’s at seven. Will you be there?”

“Yeah,” you promise, “I should be better by then.”

You are not, in fact, better by then. If anything, your foul mood progressed into an actual headache within thirty minutes of Rebekah leaving. Shouts throughout the city managed to penetrate the thin glass of your windows, and you could hear almost everything as Klaus heckled the current king. For hours, it went on, until the sun went down and they assumedly put it off for another day. By seven o’clock, you were able to sneak in another nap, but you still felt way overstimulated from the day’s events. 

Not to mention the fact that you spent all day in bed. Sometimes, you’re overstimulated by too much going on, but today you partly did it to yourself by hiding away all day. The guilt of avoiding everyone weighs on your chest. Rebekah had invited you to a movie; Elijah went out of his way to check up on you, and you had more or less dismissed them both. A bitter taste sits in your mouth when you think about it. Water doesn’t wash it out.

Hopefully dinner will. 

For the first ten minutes, the night passes peacefully. Most of the conversation is focused between the meal and the movie the two had watched. The events of the day, seemingly, are left in the past.

But then, of course, Kol has to make a comment on something he overheard that he thought was funny. And that set Klaus off into a spewing of anger. He’s pissed at Marcel, but now, also, at Kol for bringing it up. Elijah puts his face in his hands, and Rebekah sends both a huge eye roll. 

What was a moment of much-appreciated silence is now a yelling match. After five minutes, you reach your breaking point. 

“Why do you feel the need to comment on that, Kol? It was so insignificant, but you’ve felt the need to bring it up, and now I’m reminded of how much Marcel has done to piss me off!”

“I didn’t mean to make you upset, bloody hell! I thought it was funny!”

“It wasn’t funny to me when he was spitting in my face! I-”

“Oh my god! Are you ever not arguing?!” You suddenly shout. 

The table goes silent and all eyes are on you. A needle could be dropped and it would be heard across the quarter. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize quickly, embarrassed.

“Love,” Elijah puts a hand on your shoulder, “are you alright?”

At his touch, you flinch. He retracts his hand quickly, but doesn’t move his body away from its proximity to yours. 

Klaus, although upset at the interruption, notices this and calms a little. “Everything okay, Y/N?”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

“That little outburst didn’t sound like nothing.”

“I’m just stressed.”

“Darling, what’s got you all upset? Tell us and we’ll sort it out now.”

“It’s no one, Kol, I’m just not feeling well.”

“Still have a headache, sweetheart?” Rebekah asks. 

“You have a headache?” Klaus butts in. 

The assortment of questions makes you drop your head. It nearly hits the table, but Elijah grabs your frame before you can fall. Tears form in your eyes, visibly. 

“I’m just really overstimulated today. I woke up weird and this city is loud, and then there was all the fighting all day long, and then I hid in my room all day, but then I felt bad about hiding, and now I’m making you all worried because I can’t get my shit under control!”

“And that’s your fault, how?” Elijah asks, “you cannot blame yourself for the way you feel.”

“But I need to handle my emotions better. I’m sorry.”

“No apologies necessary, love,” Klaus adds, “I certainly haven’t helped, fighting with children all day.”

“Niklaus,” Elijah warns, but Klaus doesn’t argue with him this time. 

“I should’ve stayed with you when you said you had a headache.”

“Don’t blame yourself either, Bex. It’s not your fault.”

“But we could’ve cuddled,” she frowns.

“It’s okay. I got a nap, and it helped a little. I just need to get used to my life being different now. None of you are at fault.”

“Nor are you,” the eldest reminds, “it’s been quite a day for us all.”

Kol clears his throat, “say, after dinner, if you feel up to it, we could all watch a movie and cuddle around you? I think some comfort is much needed.”

“Sure,” you agree, “but I might fall asleep during it.”

“That’s quite alright,” he smiles. He then stands up to hug you, but when his arms wrap around your neck, you freeze.

“Not yet, please. I’m still a bit stressed.”

He gives you a wink. “Of course, darling. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Klaus flicks his napkin across the table. He’s folded it into the shape of a heart. “We love you. You know that, right?”

You take the heart, kiss it, and put it in your pocket. “I do. I love you all, too. Thanks for understanding.”

[incorrectbatfam]

How would you rank each member of the BatFam from most to least mentally stable?