#we're not in the us you can get a diagnosis i do not care how hard it is or how much you struggle with asking for help

[xxlelaxx]

I'm so over people making their problems someone else's problem. Listen buddy, you got issues, you take care of it. Don't make everyone else around you do it. Figure it out cause everyone else has to do that too <3

[obscurevideogames]

Tumblr’s Core Prodct Stratgy

Here at Tumblr, we’ve been working hard on trying to keep our sinking ship afloat for as long as possible. This means desperately trying to copy every new fly-by-night social media app that some multi-billionaire sh*t out during their daily Peloton routine. What follows is the strategy we're using to accomplish the goal of user growth. If you find the things we say here worrisome, please understand that is our exact intention. You've outgrown our target demographic. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.

The Diagnosis

It's lookin' pretty bad y'all!

After somehow losing hundreds of thousands of users during the great pr0n purge of 2018, we started to wonder if anything could be done to get back to where we were. We even brought in a management consultant who charged us a ridiculous amount of money. It would make you sick if you knew how much, but we got a few nice meals out of it at least. Anyhow, we handed this guy the app, and HE HAD NO IDEA HOW TO USE IT! It was f*cking hilarious! But suddenly it all clicked -- our users are a bunch of stupid idiots who can't even do basic arithmetic. I mean, they spend all day looking at their phones, so what do you expect?

Tumblr’s best feature is its unique content and vibrant communities. But who cares, right? We're just as happy getting traffic from people sh*t-posting memes, vague-booking, giving out-of-context hot takes to news events, and spewing whatever random thought is in their head at the moment. Plus that stuff doesn't p*ss off Apple.

To keep this thing going we need new people. And by "people" we mean teenagers, like we used to have back in the good ol' days. Unfortunately we're all in our 40s now, so we have no idea what they want. But teenagers are so cool! Imagine if they talked to us like we're one of them? We're getting hard just thinking about it.

Our Guidng Principls

To make Tumblr cool again, we must address these huge glaring issues.

People can look at a blog without logging in. How is that fair to all the poor schlubs who had to fill out forms to get an account? Also we haven't figured out a way to force ads onto the personalized pages yet. But we swear that's not the main reason.

People can see content they are looking for or linked to. People can keep up with blogs they follow. But the problem with this is, people don't know what they want. We know what they want! We're smart. We wrote this damn site, remember?

Promote posts that incite pointless conversations. Posts that are guaranteed to bait every troll into responding. Isn't that why all your Magat relatives love Facebook so much? We can do that!

P*ss off your content creators in every way possible (see #2).

Create algorithms that throw an unending barrage of irrelevant content in your face. Have you seen Instagram lately? We could do that so easy!!!

The app is slow. The website is slow. Obviously this is because of GIFs. Facebook and Instagram don't allow them, so why should we?

Conclusion

Our mission changes on a day-to-day basis. Right now we're super jealous of all the attention that new Threads thing is getting. We're still not sure what it is, but we're gonna download it after work.

[tobereadindiapers-again]

The Nurse Pt 1.

You laid on the cold, hard hospital bed starring at the ceiling, trying your best to hold back your tears. Your tears were the final thing you felt you still had some control of, the final connection you felt you had to your masculinity, they fell despite your best effort. The diaper wrapped around your midsection warmed as you felt urine trickle over your now hairless balls and absorb in the soft damp padding under your cheeks, as if to confirm your masculinity was indeed a thing of the past.

You tried not to let the diagnosis replay itself in your head for the millionth time, but it seemed, as if with all things, that too was out of your control. "The surgery had some unexpected complications." "Fully incontinent" "adult briefs". You ventured a feel under your blanket. Hand running under the hospital gown to collide abruptly with smooth plastic. You ran your hand over the swollen bulge probing gingerly at the soft padding. It was so thick you could hardly feel your own dick through all of the padding. 

"Diapers", you thought, "I'm going to be stuck in diapers for the rest of my life." The tears came unabated now. 

There was a sudden knock at the door, and it creaked open. 

"Mr.... Mr. Smith?"

You quickly pulled your hand from under your sheets, and tried to wipe the tears from your eyes.

You clear your throat and sit up with a sniffle. "Erhm, yes. Yes that's me."

You were dismayed to see the nurse that entered the room was some 5 years your junior, and absolutely beautiful. You could read on her face that your attempts to hide your emotions had been futile. She wore a mask of sadness and pity. 

"I'm sorry, do you... do you need a minute?" She asked, brushing her hair back anxiously with her fingers.

"No, no. I'm... I'm fine." You say trying to regain your composure. "What, what is it?"

"Well I'm here to ummm, well, to get you cleaned up."

"Oh..." you stammer, the reality of the situation donning on you. "No, there's no need for you to do that. I can manage it I'm sure."

"Yeah, um, I'm sure you can, but you see it's hospital policy I'm afraid. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. I uh, well I do this all the time, haha." She chuckled the last part uncomfortably.

"What? Why is that hospital policy? I promise it's not an issue."

"Yes, I know I know. I wish that wasn't the case, but I'm sure you can understand, a lot of our other patients who have... recently started using protection, are much less capable of you, and well some of them get embarrassed as well. We, need to be certain that you're changed" she paused "that you have adequate protection until you are discharged from our care. It's a legal thing, I'm sure you understand, right? Plus! Looking at your chart it seems we're just holding you overnight for observation, so you'll be out of here and on your own by tomorrow morning! Isn't that good news?"

Tears once again stung the back of your eyes. "Please be quick." You affirmed with a crack in your voice. 

The nurse nodded curtly and started pulling on her nitrile gloves. From under your bed she produced a fresh folded diaper, a plastic tube of ointment, a large plastic bottle, and a package of wipes. 'So much equipment' you thought. So much is needed for me just to use the bathroom now.' She placed all of it beside you and stopped.

"I'm Sarah" she said.

"Matt." You replied looking away.

"Nice to meet you Matt. I'm sorry that this is happening to you. But you should know you're not alone. I see patients everyday that need to wear protection. I know it seems like the end of the world right now, but I promise in the grand scheme of things it's really not that bad."

You nod quietly, afraid to speak for fear of loosing your cool, and crying through your first diaper change as an 'adult'. You knew she was lying. How many diapers did she ever change on a 30 year old man? ZERO. That was your bet.

"Now, I understand this is your first time wearing a brief?"

"Diaper" you thought, lips pursed tightly. She didn't continue. Finally you nodded.

"Right, well, with you being discharged tomorrow I'm going to show you some things ok. I promise I'm a real pro."

With that she unfolded the tightly packed diaper and crumpled it back and forth in her hands, as if to advertise: this is how loud and noticeable the diaper will be.

"We call this floofing. It breaks up the material so it's softer and more absorbent." She explained. "Now," she pulled your hospital sheet off of you and began to pull up your gown.

Reflexively you grabbed her wrist and pushed her hand away.

"Mr... Matt, please. I promise it's nothing I haven't seen. I'm trying to 'be quick' remember?"

You release your grip on the soft smooth skin of her forearm and let your hand fall. Suddenly ashamed and embarrassed at your outburst. 

"I'm sorry." You stammer, stealing yourself for the inevitable. 

"That's ok. I know this must be hard for you." She says pulling up your gown to reveal your sodden yellowed diaper. 

You couldn't help but look down at yourself. The infantile plastic fabric mounded between your legs seemed huge. Worse yet it was stained yellow, with your piss. "When did I do all that?" You thought. For the first time since Sarah had entered a tinge of fear overpowered your humiliation. "Do I really have that little control of myself now? Am I really that broken?"

As if answering your unspoken questions, Sarah continued. "Now, if you're changing lying down, you'll want to place the fresh diap.. brief underneath yourself in case you have a little accident midway through. That way it will all go in the new brief. Can you lift your butt up for me."

This was all too much. You numbly thrust your diapered crotch into the air for the whole world to see. Not least of which this poor beautiful woman beside you, whose face was practically pressed up against it, forced to endure changing the piss soaked rags of the invalid before her.

She daftly slid the unfolded diaper beneath you. "And down. Very good!" She nearly cooed. "Now, we just take the old one off." With each deafening rip of tape your anxiety built to a crescendo. Finally the sodden diaper lay tapeless across your shame. Sarah smiled a fake smile to no one and peeled back the top of the diaper to expose your hairless, piss covered groin to the room. You looked down at yourself, and at her sitting beside you. You felt as though your dick wasn't even yours anymore. Useless now, dribbling pee at random, and hairless, shaved while you were out during surgery. It looked and felt so juvenile. YOU looked and felt so juvenile, you thought. And you to make everything worse you were experiencing your new body for the first time with this beautiful young stranger. You glanced over at her, as if to find some comfort, some understanding, but there was nothing but the same sad, pitiful look on her face.

"Now, your number one concern with incontinence is actually skin care." Sarah said putting on a brave face. "So you want to make sure you clean up thoroughly during every change." She explained pulling wet wipes from their packs. 

You flinched away as she began to wipe you down. 

"Sorry, they're cold." She said smiling at you, and making eye contact for the first time since the change began. 

They were cold, but you weren't sure that was exactly why you flinched. Perhaps it was the obscene humiliation of a complete stranger wiping your own piss off your most intimate area, and a beautiful stranger at that. 

It occurred to you that just a day or two ago, the only interactions you'd have had with a beautiful woman and your dick would have been a fun sexual encounter. This couldn't be any further from a sexual encounter, despite having her gloved hand petting your dick at that very moment. You weren't a sexual partner. You were just a smelly, humiliating burden. 

"Now, I know you probably don't want to hear this, but if I were you, I would continue to remove your pubic hair. I know that may make you feel... a certain way, but trust me, having hair down there makes clean up WAY harder, and it can hold in smell, and you DEFINITELY don't want that. But of course that's totally up to you. That's just my two cents!" She finished cheerily.

Just when you thought your humiliation had peaked, more is piled on. You had assumed your hair removal was part of the procedure. That you could grow it back like the man you are. But no, being clean shaven is just another part of being in diapers.

"Ok! You're all clean! So now you can change into your new brief!" She said with false cheer. "Lift up."

For the final time you thrust your groin into the air, right by this poor woman's face. She pulled the sodden diaper from beneath you, and you lowered yourself onto the fresh diaper. 'Never not in a diaper' you thought. 

"Very good." Sarah said rolling up your used diaper. "You can roll these right up like this and tape them back closed like this." She explained, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to teach someone how to dispose of their used diapers. "Now. Remember how I said skin care is  super important?" You nodded numbly. "This is where you will want to be very meticulous with that. The first thing I like to do is apply the barrier cream. According to your chart you're fully incontinent correct? And the doctor explained what that means?"

"Yes." You mumbled meekly.

"So we expect you'll be passing stool into your diapers as well." She paused, presumably catching herself using the 'd' word, then powered through. "Prolonged exposure to your feces will break down your skin much faster than urine, so you'll want to change yourself as soon as possible. However that's not always possible, so it's highly recommended you apply a barrier cream"

'You'll be passing stool into your diapers' she had said. YOUR diapers. YOU WILL BE SHITTING IN YOUR DIAPERS. This is your reality now. Presumably for the rest of your life.

Sarah squeezed a line of ointment onto her gloved index finger. "This should be about how much you want. Oh! And definitely you'll want to wear gloves. These ointments can be really greasy." She explained.

Without further explanation she reached down and pulled your nutsack back and slid her lubed finger between your cheeks. You could feel her smearing the greasy ointment outward across your butt. 

"Make sure at the very least you cover your bottom, and the back of your scrotum. That's the area most likely to be in contact with feces."

To your absolute horror, you felt your member began to grow at her touch. Pulsating as it filled with blood, despite your state. It was all just too much. Tears again began to fall silently down your cheeks.

"Oh!" Sarah exclaimed despite her attempts at professionalism. She looked back at you and exclaimed again. "Oh, no, no, no. Please don't cry. This is totally natural. I completely understand it's all beyond your control. And hey, this is really really good news for you right. We were uncertain in the procedure would result in importance as well right?"

Your tears continued unabated.

"Hey hey hey!" She continued trying to console you, "this is great news! Your dick still works! Right!" She smiled jokingly, relieving some of the tension in the room.

You smiled despite yourself. Wiping the tears away and nodding. "Thank you." You said.

"Ok, ok we're almost done! Hang in there." She said. "This is just oil. I'll be honest it's J&J baby oil. There's no getting around it, that's just what works as an all a round barrier to protect your skin." She was rushing now. Clearly as eager to get this over with now as you were.

She splashed a few dabs onto your groin where your hair used to be, and started rubbing it in around your now fully erect penis. 

"Just try and cover all of your private area with this AT LEAST once a day. I recommend after your morning diaper change when you're out of the shower. But after every diaper change would be better" She had dropped all pretenses in her hurry to get away from your erection that had become the hairless elephant in the room. 

You noticed with dismay that while Sarah oiled you up, urine trickled from the head of your penis onto your stomach, pooling a bit and rolling down your side into the fresh diaper beneath you. The realization that you truly had NO control dawned on you fully. What good was it being able to have an erection if it was always going to be leaking piss anyway?

"Ooops!" She said cheerfully, wiping the fresh urine off of your stomach. "Ok! Last bit, is the powder!" She said not missing a beat. She explained all of the different types you could purchase as she sprinkled the flagrant powder over your glistening freshly oiled erection and balls. You didn't catch much of what she said. All you could think about was the smell. Baby. It was baby powder. You smell like a baby now. And why shouldn't you? wrapped in your diaper, and covered in your own fluid. It was only fitting you now also SMELL like a baby.

"....use this EVERY TIME you change." She finished. "And that's it! Now we just tape you up."

She pulled the top of your new diaper up and over your penis. Pinning your still erect penis to your tummy.

"And then it's just one, two, three, four." She explained as she taped the fresh diaper in place. "Some people like to tape a different order, but that's what I like." She said, hurriedly pulling your gown back down to cover your new diaper before you had a chance to inspect it.

"Now what I would do," she explained "is stand up and test the fit. That's important if you change yourself laying down."

After such a thoroughly humiliating experience, you felt absolute relief at once again being covered and hidden from her, even if it was just by a thin hospital gown that did little to nothing to hide the outline of the diaper. Slowly you sat up and swung your feet over the side of the bed and stood. You winced painfully at the surprisingly loud crinkles your diaper made along the way. Finally you stood. You were a full head taller than Sarah you noticed. It felt weird standing in front of her like this. So close. Your boner, fully known to both of you, still straining against its new plastic prison. 

"Now how does it feel?" She asked "run your fingers along the leg holes to make sure it's not too tight there. You can always readjust accordingly."

"It feels pretty humiliating." You said half jokingly.

You hoped it would lighten the mood some, but she just looked at you with the same sad pity. 

"You'll get used to it. You'll see. This is your life now, and it's best if you try not to fight it. Okay? You'll be alright. Just a learning curve is all." She smiled and threw your used diaper in the trash by the door, and sorted your supplies back under your bed.

You shifted uncomfortably on your feet, feeling the slick ointment between your cheeks, and the heft of the diaper between your legs. You stopped moving to avoid the obvious crinkles you were producing not wanting to draw attention to it. Dumb you thought, given all that just happened.

Satisfied with her cleaning Sarah stood to leave. "I'll be on shift all night ok? So just press that button there if you need anything. It was nice to meet you Matt. You're going to be ok"

"Thank you Sarah." You said abashedly.

She turned in the door, "and Matt,"

You looked up expectantly from your diaper bulge.

"When your penis settles down, reach in and point it back towards the bottom of your diaper, or you'll leak." She smiled, nodded and was gone.

"Your diaper" you said quietly. You wear diapers now. "And you'd better get used to it."

END OF PART ONE

As part of an AI Art experiment, please feel free to edit the photo used in this caption. If you enjoyed this story and would like to see it continue, please submit your edited photos to me. 

Thank you.

[interstellarsystem]

Endogenic Systems and Experiences in the Neurodivergent Community

We tend to stay mostly on the fringes of syscourse nowadays without directly interacting with it too often but I'm going to post this more broadly and less focused on our specific instance of this because community-wise I think it's important to talk about.

Endogenic and other non-traumagenic systems are so commonly excluded from so many neurodivergent-safe spaces where they would otherwise be able to gain knowledge about the disorders they might have, share experiences and coping strategies with peers, or at least have a sense of community that is so commonly valuable to disabled and/or neurodivergent people. In a lot of cases, even people who only support non-traumagenic systems get shoved out.

[Continued under the readmore as it's long.]

This obviously harms non-traumagenic systems, but I have to point out that when people sit there and say "we care about REAL disabled people!", I have to say.... Do you? Because if you did care about those with mental illness, physical disability or neurodivergence, you in my mind wouldn't exclude them based on something unrelated to the topic itself which might even be something as small as holding an opinion that other people get to be the judge of their own experiences. You can say that you care about "real" disabled people, but what about when a traumagenic DID system also has a tulpa that they consider just as valid and real as their alters? What about when a system labels themselves as quoigenic because in reality, you owe no one the knowledge that you are vulnerable and traumatised? What about when a system starts out as endogenic but gains so much trauma later on that they develop dissociative symptoms?

We're quoigenic because while yes we are diagnosed with DID:

DID does not have trauma in the diagnostic criteria so our diagnosis doesn't mean anything by way of origin. Nontraumagenic is not the same as nondisordered the same way that traumagenic isn't the same as disordered.

We cannot remember a time before we were plural so we cannot say with accuracy what our actual origin was.

We have headmates we consider to be from both traumagenic and endogenic origins and it feels unfair to pick one.

We don't owe anyone a quick little "hey, we have trauma!" flag on our pinned post which can easily paint us as a target. This is the exact reason we don't share our triggers online--it's not safe.

You don't owe anyone personal medical information including your diagnostic history, your trauma history or lack thereof, your current medications or how many times you've been in a hospital. That is your business and yours alone to decide who you share it with. It's downright dangerous to share some of it, especially so publically. So who is anyone online that clearly isn't your specific medical practitioner to decide whether your experiences are real enough to allow you into spaces meant for a usually completely unrelated thing? Why would someone holding the opinion that endogenic systems get to decide what labels they use be denied access to spaces just because they support people with differing beliefs and/or experiences?

If we as a system with multiple disabilities want to go into a space for people who are schizoaffective because we need others who won't immediately jump on the ableism train when discussing something we're diagnosed with that has so much stigma, should we be denied that just because we don't label our origin with a clear-cut "we are traumatized!!" label? Should we be denied access to spaces because we don't want to sit around and smile while parts of our system and other members of our community are called fake and evil and whatever else they come up with? It's so common in spaces for people with disabilities to be exclusive to traumagenic systems and people with an anti-endogenic mindset that people don't realise they're not only hurting the endogenic community, but literal chunks of their own community itself.

I can't even begin to understand the reason why.

Endogenic systems by just existing do not cause harm. They're not like a transphobe you would not be safe around by default of having a label. Not every nontraumagenic system is a saint but if you took any communtiy and called everyone in it the equivalent of an unproblematic holy angel, you'd be lying. People are bad in every community, some worse than others, but the nontraumagenic system community literally just wants to exist--and yes, sometimes a nontraumagenic system (or supporter of such) does have dissociative symptoms, or maybe they have autism, or maybe they're physically disabled. Should they be not allowed access just because of the way they chose to label their system, or their opinion of people picking their own labels for their personal identity?

What exactly is the reason they're so excluded everywhere? I'd try to assume that this level of exclusion (to the point of endos being on DNIs next to transphobes and racists) would mean there's some real harm being done on a community-wide scale, but even when looking for it there isn't any explanation we've been able to find. "They're fake" is all we seem to see which has no actual backing whatsoever. "They're harmful" is another but.. How? We might be looking in the wrong places, but we have never seen an actual explanation for how nontraumagenic systems cause harm as a community just by being themselves.

At this point, I have to wonder how many people who say "we care about real disabled people!" are just covering up their "we care about socially acceptable disabled people who I understand and/or do not find cringey" sentiment instead. Being neurodivergent should never be about fitting into tight little boxes--it's part of the whole point of having a community like this. You're not the majority, and that's okay. So why are we dividing the disabled community into boxes too?

Of course, this doesn't only apply to ND spaces. LGBT+ spaces are similar and even more divided from the concept of being a system that it makes even less sense to block nontraumagenic systems from entering the space. How does their system origin relate to their LGBT+ identity? Sometimes it can, but should a trans person be excluded from a trans space because they have a friend who is an endogenic system and they support them fully?

Overall, the main point is that it makes no sense whatsoever to be anti-endo in general, let alone so violently anti-endogenic system to the point where you hurt members of your own community due to it. Sometimes from something as simple as them supporting endogenics alone. Your safe spaces aren't actually safe if you exclude a nonharmful group who also belong in that space due to having a personal identity or opinion different to yours. If you want somewhere to be a safe, inclusive space, it should include everyone as long as letting those people in won't cause harm. People who are seeking to cause harm (racists, transphobes, etc) obviously do not belong in a safe space because they seek to harm others, thus making the space unsafe. But people who just want to be themselves without harming anyone should be included in your space if they fall under whatever it may be topic-wise. Even the "cringey" ones. Even the ones who don't quite make sense to you or have "contradicting" labels. Even the ones who use labels completely differently to the way you do. And even the ones who are uninformed or misinformed but trying their best to learn. Your safe space is not safe if it excludes those who do not follow your every single mindset and thought without any deviation.

[gayaest]

Hey! I've been loving your art for too long, I think what you're doing for the disabled community it's lovely, it's awesome, I'm so sorry that there are people giving you hate comments, keep doing what you do, keep including people, maybe I don't necessarily have the same diagnosis as your characters, as I have Tourette's and Autism only in regards of that, but... I think I can talk for many of us, that your art makes us really happy, I love seeing people go like ''Omg, this character is just like me!'' it makes my heart warm, thank you, for everything, seriously, I love representation, and you've done an amazing job on it.

Disabled people exist, we're everywhere, even if people don't notice it sometimes, even if people do realize sometimes and don't care, we are people, we are your friends, family, partners, we are everywhere, and we have the right to exist. <3

Thank you, It’s really nice and sweet to hear that. Sometimes it feels like I get consumed by hate comments, because due to the nature of what I post it is seen as “controversial” inherently, for being disabled people, or fat people, or people or color. It’s not fair, but that’s exactly what life is for me and people like me (my followers).

It’s okay not to share my diagnosis, I don’t expect it! (Though, I am autistic as well!) The disabled community is not a monolith, and that’s how I’ve gotten my art to the point it’s at! By listening to stories that aren’t my own.

Connection is key to community, and so is Listening. I always do my best with both (even if it means asking for repeats and research on my own when asked). It takes a lot of hard work, and my life is often consumed by researching disorders and understanding disabilities, but I wouldn’t have it any other way, because it has made me a understanding attentive person that tries to make everyone feel included somehow.

Thank you again, this is so sweet to hear. I appreciate it very much.

[misscammiedawn]

You may have discussed it before, but would you mind speaking a little bit on how you discovered you have DID?

I feel like I have a pretty stable core identity but there have been times under intense stress where I’ve experienced sudden “switches” in my personality. During a particularly bad period for a little over a year there was a time where I distinctly felt like a different person and did things I wouldn’t normally do, and I remember the specific moment where I came back into my body and became “me” again. This doesn’t happen often, but it has happened more than once throughout my life. When I see people talk about plurality I feel a little confused because their identities often seem to have their own names and genders and ages and backstories, and it seems so cut-and-dry.

I know these are all things to discuss with my therapist but I love how you talk about your own experiences. How can you differentiate between DID and other kinds of dissociation?

Thank you for asking, anon! I'm glad you are going to talk to your therapist about it while also doing the reading and reaching out-- heaven knows our own journey within the US mental healthcare system was rocky at best. The latest chapter of Madison/Belladonna is heavily sourced from IRL circumstances both in receiving the diagnosis and the decades long journey in the mental healthcare system to get there.

But to answer more directly-- (as always we are answering from a psychopathology lens for care and treatment, we recognize the beauty of plurality and do not reduce ALL experiences to mental healthcare concerns, we are approaching our own situation and experiences this way as it is how we lived it)

Our journey was guided from the outside. Both therapists and our partner who was able to see these "mood swings" in us were able to gently guide us to water despite our fierce denial and rejection of our situation. What started as "we're fine" turned to "mood swings" turned to "BPD" turned to "---maybe we should read up on OSDD?" Turned to our current therapist telling us over a year ago that we had DID after months of testing and interviewing to determine.

I should also note I likely realized it MULTIPLE times in my history and buried it again and again. I legitimately think that people in my former life knew and either assumed I knew too or worse I had told them and forgot that I told them. It worries me because I cannot ever be certain. I once asked my ex-wife about it after the divorce/diagnosis and she did say it was weird how she had a "different husband" depending on environment and social group. She said she never noticed it during the interactions, but she would always think back and feel that the "me" in any given moment was different from the ones she observed in social/work situations etc.

So like--- even if people notice, sometimes they don't even realize what they're seeing. Honestly I go full No Mask at work even when a male part fronts and no one really bats an eye. I don't think *most* people are as observant as we worry they are.

ANYWAY! Looking back these are the signs that I ignored:

- I not just wrote a consistent journal through every phase of my life (even going as far as to have a "memory list" that I populated "when I felt like it" (<- IE: when a part that associated with the memory was fronting and wanted to type about it) and more importantly I READ it. Often. I sometimes think that the majority of our memories are just imagined versions of what we wrote. That notion is helped by the fact we [used to] stop journaling during times of crisis or delete journal/chat log to prevent us thinking about distressing things.

- I wrote a lot of plural characters in my stories since my teenage years. Kinda like I kept writing female versions of myself? Funny how the Trans and DID acceptance arcs are so dang similar.

- I would emotionally cave in on myself after gatherings, berating myself for how I had acted all evening. Getting deeply upset at how "out of control" I was. We outright AVOID mood altering substances like alcohol or weed.

- When talking about traumatic memories we typically just tell the story rote. It doesn't bother us. We told therapists without batting an eyelid. This is dissociation. We were disconnecting ourselves from our memories. Emotionally distancing ourselves from the experiences.

- In the same vein, when we remember things we imagine things in locations like a 3rd person camera. Not populated. We don't hear or feel or associate. It's just a place and a knowledge. Our whole "context packet" thing where we just understand something without *feeling* it.

- Deleted emails and chatlogs, references to things we don't remember. Discord messages with people we don't remember talking to. It bothers me how many people in our online communities we were actually close to at some stage of our life and then erased. This is specific to us but Dawn has opened many accounts in the hypnokink community and Camden has shut them down and this has happened so many times that we don't even get upset when we find a buried email from 2013 with sign-up to a Yahoo Email account we don't remember having. That sounds dramatic. It's more just. Go into your emails, pull stuff up from 5-10 years ago and just scroll a while. See how much you remember and associate into. It's NORMAL to forget what websites you were browsing a decade ago. It's not normal to have an entire *LIFE* you hid from yourself.

- Sometimes people just... saw/knew us before we did and there were times when they would describe a version of us they weren't supposed to see and we got complete dysphoria over it. Sometimes it as joyful. Someone we love saw Cammie well enough to say when we transitioned that they wanted to see that "windswept girl with the big smile" all of the time. Sometimes it's mortifying, like when someone approaches Camden as if she is Dawn and Camden REJECTED that side of us so heavily that it caused emotional meltdowns and turmoil because Camden didn't WANT to be a sexy confident domme, she could barely see herself as a woman, when people saw the wrong version of us *without permission* it was just a violation that made things WORSE.

- On that note-- meltdowns-- we mentioned the whole "after a social gathering we'd emotionally cave in on ourselves" thing, there was a lot of that. After work we'd get a complete drop from having to be in Manager Mode all day or we'd have a crisis after erotic intimacy encounters because we're sex repulsed ace. The fact is our nervous system was activated during those times, our survival instincts were kicked in and brought the part associated to the surface to DEAL and when they backed off our body was still reacting to the trauma trigger and it would cause us to implode.

All of these things in therapy brought us to the conclusion of BPD. Because therapists be like that at times. A *TRAUMA* therapist gave us some DES-II, MID and ACE tests and worked out what was going on within 3 months.

It took a further 6-9 months with constant support from loved ones who were able to see us as individuals to *ACCEPT* it. This is a denial disorder, it doesn't want to be found. Asking questions, being honest and being accepting is the best way to come to terms with it. I wish it were easier and I wish you luck and support in your journey. Our inbox is always open!

You're not alone <3

[decolonize-the-everything]

"Okay, here's my guess. As humans evolved, the first big problem we had to overcome was me vs. us; learning to sacrifice a little individual freedom for the benefit of a group. You know, like sharing food and resources so we don't starve or get eaten by tigers, things like that.

The next problem to overcome was us vs. them, trying to see other groups different from ours as equals. That one, we're still struggling with. It's why we have racism and nationalism and... why fans of Stone Cold Steve Austin hate fans of the Rock.

What's interesting about you is, I don't think you ever got past the me vs. us stage. I mean, have you ever been part of a group that you really cared about? The Brainy Bunch is basically the first group that became a part of your self identity and now that it's breaking up you're feeling this new kind of loss, and you're scared of going back to being alone. I mean, that's my guess. The other possible medical diagnosis is that you're just a bit of a dick."

More The Good Place posting because I think the show is underrated and none of the actually good parts have clips or gif sets cuz they aren't funny. For context this was Simone (a Black woman) speaking to Eleanor (the white woman main character).

This is a very good quote to remember, as we dismantle whiteness and you find yourself getting defensive about it. Although, this also applies to other communities and interests you've used to define yourself (like when you see criticism of The Thing you identify with as criticism of you.)

Remember this quote, for example, when you feel so strongly about a show that you want to donate money to keep it from being cancelled. Or when you find yourself unable to make a sacrifice to the 'me' like say your morning Starbucks for the 'us' that wants to limit human suffering.

Maybe you actually are afraid of the gang (white ppl) breaking up and all that implies. Maybe you are scared of being alone if there is no (white) community."

And building on previous convos we've had here; since being alone outside whiteness is something y'all have talked about extensively on my blog..

Defining yourself outside whiteness might literally feel like an attack on your self but it's not. You are you and you are a person whether you're white, mixed, or not at all ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Whether you want it to continue being the defining aspect of your personhood will show through your actions.

But it is time to move on.

Because whiteness tries to force it's beliefs onto you when you identify with whiteness -ignorance, individuality, superiority- and it shows through that "do it yourself/not my problem" attitude if not through blatant racism. It's up to y'all to reject that pre-set definition and define yourselves, now.

What are your values? Your principles? Your likes and hobbies and dislikes? Like in a world without racism or sexism or transphobia or taika waititi or Stan lee... Who are are you when stripped of bigotry and socially constructed identities, ykwim? Y'all gotta figure that out.

And you won't be alone in that endeavor and I really can't stress enough how much easier it would be to our shared goal of destroying racism and white supremacy if it wasn't an abandonment trigger that put white ppl into a literal identity crisis to imagine a world without those things.

Like at it's core that's what those feelings are and idk about y'all but it feels like a huge disservice to literally every person on earth to keep compromising on human rights because white supremacists made y'all scared to be outside whiteness where the rest of us are when you don't even like how it feels to be white anyway.

Have some solidarity. Give a little of 'me' for the 'us' so we All can have better.

[call-me-mrs-winchester]

𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐀 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

PAIRING : dean winchester x original female character

STORY SUMMARY : in series masterlist

CHAPTER WARNINGS : age-gap. pining. fluff. angry dean. injured sam.

A/N: check out the teaser and prologue if you haven't already. this chapter is more filler but every story has to start off somewhere, and this one starts at the beginning of season 9. here we go!

Maricela's POV

I nearly dropped my phone at Dean's words. "It's Sam... He's in the hospital."

"What?! Is he okay? What happened?" I pour out my questions in panic.

"He's not doing so good," Dean's voice faintly but audibly cracks. "They're running tests now."

"Where are you?" I jump in my car, ready to have the open road fly underneath my wheels.

"No, Mari, you don't need to come—" He begins, but I quickly reject his effort to be left alone.

"I'm coming whether you like it or not, so you can either tell me now or there's gonna be hell to pay after I track you down."

"You're stubborn, you know that?" He asks rhetorically before caving in. "We're at Linwood Memorial Hospital in Randolph, New York. I'll tell you more when you get here."

"Okay. I'll take a plane out there," I put the pedal to the metal, making my tires squeal as I drove off. "Be there as soon as I can."

"Be careful," Dean mutters.

I can't help but smile at his concern. "Always am."

Dean texted me the room number just shortly after I landed. Once I arrived at the hospital, I raced to the room where the Winchester brothers resided. I stop in front of the open doorway to see Dean, back facing me, sitting beside Sam's unconscious body that lay hooked up to various machines.

Dean peeked over his shoulder, and as soon as our eyes met, he stood from the chair. After shutting the door behind me, I walk into the arms of the older Winchester. I hold on to his jacket like my life depended on it, never wanting to let go. My eyes shut to prevent the tears from spilling as he pulls my body closer. His warmth envelops me with comfort as I nuzzle into his chest. A sigh of relief escapes my lungs, feeling safe for the first time in months.

My serenity gets interrupted when his lips suddenly press against the top of my head. I gaze upwards, stunned at the tiny gesture, only to see how close our faces are. With his large, calloused hand, he gently brushed the hair that concealed my face away. His fingers lightly comb through my hair, triggering a brain orgasm and rendering me useless beneath his touch. I get so lost in his eyes that I barely hear his whisper.

"It's good to see you, Mari."

"You too, Dean," I respond as his hand travels to my neck. His thumb softly strokes my throat. "I've missed you."

He blesses me with a slow, small smile. "I've missed you more, princess."

With his rare affection and added pet name, I'm thankful his arm's secured around my waist, or I would've toppled over already. With detestation, I use every ounce of willpower to pull away from his embrace. With a pained heart, I move around Dean and see my best friend lying unconscious. The monitor announces his steady heartbeat while I take his left hand into mine and use my thumb to caress the back of his palm. Leaning over him, I place a kiss against his stubbled cheek, ignoring the short hairs prickling my chin. Without letting go of his hand, I sit on the edge of his bed.

"Did they tell you a diagnosis yet?" I ask, studying Sam's face.

Dark shadows cast around his eyes while a horizontal cut ran across his right cheekbone. He looked as though the life had been drained from his body.

"No, not yet." Dean settles into the chair he had been sitting in before.

I shift my gaze towards him. "What happened? I thought once he finished the trials, he was going to get better."

He shakes his head. "We were wrong." After quickly glancing at the ground, he meets my eyes again.

"Cas and I... We were retrieving a cupid's bow for the second trial to restore Heaven while Sam prepped Crowley for the final trial to shut the gates of Hell. Metatron and Cas had already killed a Nephilim for the first trial, so I called Kevin for the third. He said he found the angel trials in the tablet, but they weren't anything like Metatron had told. Then, Naomi shows up, saying he's been lying. He wasn't trying to fix Heaven—he was trying to destroy it. Cast all angels to earth as revenge for driving him away.

"Then she—she said if Sam completed the trials, he would die. 'The Ultimate Sacrifice.' Castiel took me to Sam before going upstairs to straighten it out. I had walked into the church just before he cured the evil son of a bitch. 'Told Sam the truth, that if he continued, he'd die. But you know Sammy, he didn't care. He wanted to end it, ban the world of demons. Hell, I don't blame him... but when he confessed that his greatest sin was constantly letting me down—thinking I would choose—"

His voice cuts abruptly, attempting to swallow the tears that formed away. His expression tightens, forcing all the muscles in his face to keep its composure as he refuses to give in to his emotions. Seeing him in this rare form tugged at my heart. I let go of Sam and quickly kneel in front of Dean, pulling his body into mine.

"Hey, hey. It's okay." I assure him, rubbing circles on his back. His breathing becomes shallow as I hug his stiff body. "He doesn't think that."

He grabs my arms before pushing himself out of my hold. "But he does. He would've rather die than have to face me for the rest of his life, thinking that he wasn't enough. That I can't trust him, that I would choose anyone or anything, past or present, over him."

Dean shakes his head at the foolish thoughts his brother had believed. "Luckily, I talked him off the edge. We thought the power from the trials had vanished from his body, along with his will to end them. But instead, he hurled over in pain, collapsing to the ground. I practically dragged him to the car while calling out to Cas, but he didn't answer. And that's when it happened; Angels began falling from the sky."

Worried, I inquire, "Have you been able to get a hold of Castiel?" He shook his head, his frustration evident due to our angel friend's silence.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Immediately, I stand and add distance between us. I walk to the opposite side of the bed just as the doctor enters the room. He introduces himself while displaying Sam's MRI scans against the X-ray Illuminator. Dean walks over and examines the scans while the doctor finally reads the diagnosis listed on his clipboard.

"The MRI shows massive internal burns affecting many of the major organs. Oxygen to the brain has been severely deprived." Dean uncrosses his arms as he begins to make his way towards me. "The coma is the result of the body doing everything in its limited power to protect itself from further harm."

He walks around me and stands on my left, closest to Sam. He stares at his brother before breathing out, "This wasn't supposed to happen."

"If your brother continues on this trajectory, the machines might keep him alive, but—"

Dean interrupts, "He'll be dead."

The doctor nods. "Technically, yes. I'm afraid so."

"So, there's—there's no recovery? I mean, there's no bounce back. There's no nothing."

"I'm afraid that's in God's hands now." I look up at Dean and watch his head tilt ever so slightly, taken aback by the doctor's remark.

"You're a doctor. You're a medical professional." Oh boy, here we go. "You're trying to tell me that my brother's life is in God's hands? What, is that supposed to be a-a comfort?" Dean questions.

My left arm curls around his bicep while my right hand rests on his forearm for support, a reminder that I was with him in this. When he doesn't seem to have noticed, I gently whisper, "Dean," moving my right hand in his own, wishing to be a calming presence in this nightmare.

"Mr. Dougherty—" the doctor tries speaking, but Dean ignores us both.

"No, God has nothing to do with this equation at all," He shakes with anger as each word becomes louder than the next.

"I didn't mean—" the physician tries again, with no luck. If he only knew the real reason behind Dean's anger.

"That's not good enough!" He shouts, no doubt striking fear into Sam's doctor.

"Hey," I tug on him, forcing Dean to tear his attention away from the man and stare at me. "Why don't we go take a breather?"

His dark eyes search my pleading ones before offering a tiny, unamused nod. I lead him around the bed towards the hallway, thanking the doctor on the way out. Once we were out of the room, I let him go. Dean's face instantly changes from anger to fear as the news sinks in. Just like Sam would, I step up to reassure the older Winchester.

"We'll figure something out, okay? We always do. Everything will be fine—" I begin, but he cuts me off.

"Stop. Not now. I just—I need time to think." He tiredly states before turning away. He stares into the distance, something catching his eye. I follow his gaze and see the sign that caught his attention; 'Chapel.'

"Do you want me to go with you?" I ask softly but get a head shake.

"Just stay with Sam. I'll be back." With that, he heads toward the hospital's safe haven.

I walked back into the room, quietly shutting the door behind the doctor so it was just us two. Planting myself in the chair beside Sam's bed, my eyes grow hot, tears welling up far quicker now that I was alone. With Dean gone, I allow the tears to tumble down my cheek, unbothered to wipe the sorrow away. Hot tears splatter against my jeans while a few run past my chin, finding refuge beneath my shirt. My throat painfully fights the words I force out.

"Please, Sam, stay with us. We'll do whatever we can, but we need you to fight. Please."

I sat up straight, my head no longer resting beside Sam's hand, once I heard the door open. Looking over my shoulder, Dean closes it before making his way around the other side of the bed. I quickly wiped my tear-stained cheeks dry before he could notice.

"I figured out a way to help Sammy." He says, leaning against the cabinets.

I immediately perk up. "What—How?"

"When I was in the chapel, I prayed to Castiel. When I realized he wasn't going to answer, I..." He trails off.

"You what?" I ask warily.

"I decided to make a house call to any angel out there who's willing to help Sam for a favor in return." I tilt my head with dismay, knowing it wasn't the smartest idea but a desperate one. "I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, but that doesn't matter now. Sammy needs healing."

"Do you honestly think someone will show up to help? It hasn't always been sunshine and rainbows, so what makes this time any different? They want us dead, Dean. And you just put an A.P.B out on our heads. We can't even move Sam! We're literally sitting ducks." I could tell he didn't like my input, but it didn't matter. It needed to be said.

"Well, if anyone tries something other than fixing my brother, I'll take care of it." He answers.

"We." I correct. "We'll take care of it."

We lock eyes, and he nods in agreement. Now, to wait and see if any angel will show.

After a while, silence fell between us, and hope diminished with each passing minute. Dean was leaning against the ash wood cabinets, lost in thought, when the door softly opened. An unfamiliar lady walks in, offering a small smile. Dean uncrosses his arms before pushing himself off the counter. He walked near Sam's bed as I stood from my chair, turning to face her.

"Hi," he says eagerly. "I'm just gonna break the ice. Are you an angel?"

She nervously chuckles at his remark. "Sometimes I wish I were. My name is Kim Schortz, and I'm a grief counselor here at the hospital."

"Right. Uh, uh..." He gazes downward in disappointment as he struggles to find an excuse for his direct question. "I'm sorry. I'm just tired."

She flashes him an understanding smile.

"Well, all due respect, but, uh, I'm not grieving—not yet at least, so—" I hear the sadness in his lowered voice, wondering why no angel has come to help.

"I'm afraid as hard as this may be, this might be a good time to talk..." She looks past me and down at Sam before finishing. "About the inevitable."

"Look, I'm sure you're a nice person and that you mean well, but 'inevitable'—that's a fighting word where we come from. There's always a way." I interject.

"And I am a prayerful woman who believes in miracles as much as the next, but I also know how to read an E.E.G. And unless you're telling me you guys have a direct line to those angels that you were looking for—"

"Yeah, no, I uh... guess we don't." Dean interrupts, anguish taking over his features before the realization dawns on him. "But I might have something better."

He chuckles before the first genuine smile displays on his exhausted face. "I got the King of Hell in my trunk."

My eyes widen. "Crowley?" I ask in shock that he hadn't mentioned it before.

He happily strides out of the room. A surge of excitement courses through my body, knowing there could still be a chance, other than angels, to heal Sam.

"Uh, is—is that... I'm sorry. Is that a metaphor?" The confused counselor inquires.

"Sure, sweetie." I pat her shoulder and begin guiding the woman towards the hall.

"We appreciate you stopping by. Please, don't come back. It'd be a shame to waste more of each other's time. Thanks for understanding." I say in the most polite way—given the situation—before closing the door behind her.

I skip over to Sam and pet his hair, smiling at his beautiful, still face. "Don't worry, Sammy. You'll be back soon enough."

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | JOIN THE TAG LIST

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[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Hi, What do you think about the cheating rumors? I stopped watching royals 4 years ago, and I am shocked! What has happened? WTF is Rose back? Is Will stupid enough to get rid of her?

What happened recently? So much happened, anon. Let's see if I can give you the TL;DR.

January 16: Kensington Palace announced that Kate was having planned surgery on her abdomen and wouldn't be making any public appearances or sharing further details.

January 29: Kensington Palace announced that Kate had returned home from the hospital. People were upset there was no "proof of life" photo of Kate.

February 9: The Waleses go to Sandringham/Anmer Hall for the kids' half-term break. There are two sets of gossip from royal reporters. Gossip #1 - Kate is well and healthy and with the family. Gossip #2 - Kate's situation is worse than we're told and it's dire.

February 27, in the morning: William pulls out of attending King Constantine's memorial service of thanksgiving. KP says it has nothing to do with Kate but it's later confirmed that it wasn't true, that William pulled out because of Kate's diagnosis.

February 27, in the evening: Sussex Squad makes conspiracy theories about Kate go mainstream and viral on Twitter/social media. I won't rehash them all here but the rumors get dark and blame William and bring back the original Rose affair rumors.

March 4: Kate and Carole papped in a car around Windsor near the kids' school. Kate doesn't look like Kate, jumpstarting conspiracy theories again.

March 10: UK Mother's Day. The Waleses publish a photo of Kate and the kids taken by William. Sussex Squad goes after the photo for having been edited. Getty, and other agencies, kill the photo. It blows up into a huge thing. Celebrities pile on with their own jokes and memes about editing their photos, including Blake Lively and Kim Kardashian.

March 11: Kate issues a statement taking responsibility for editing the photo and apologizing for it. William and Kate are papped in a car leaving Windsor Castle.

March 12: Stephen Colbert jokes about the Rose affair rumor on his show.

March 16: Kate is papped with William at the grocery store. People claim it's her lookalike double because her hair is too hair and she's too skinny. (WTF, yes, I agree.)

March 22: Kensington Palace drops bombshell video statement by Kate that cancer had been found in whatever was removed during her operation in January and she was beginning a course of preventative chemotherapy. No further work or public engagements for Kate at this time. The celebrities that piled onto Kate during "March Madness" (the conspiracy theories and photo-editing weeks) get served humble pie and issue meek apologies that mean nothing.

April 23: Louis's birthday. As a consequence of the way the media flipped out over the Mother's Day photo, the Waleses publish the birthday photo (taken by Kate) exclusively to their social media and don't distribute it to media / photo agencies.

April 29: The Waleses publish an old new-to-us photo from their wedding for their anniversary on their social media.

May 2: Charlotte's birthday. Same deal with Louis - Kate takes the photo, they publish exclusively to their social media and don't distribute it in advance to the photo agencies / media.

May 12: Camilla is papped at the Badminton Horse Show talking to Rose Hanbury. No one cares.

May 14: Sussex Squad finds the photos of Camilla and Rose from the weekend and bring back the affair rumors. They claim that Kate is dead and the BRF is soft-launching William's mistress as his new girlfriend/future wife.

May 15: Charles and Camilla attend the OBE dedication at St. Paul's Cathedral. So do the Cholmondeleys but because they're not photographed with Charles or Camilla, no one notices they're there and no one cares they're there.

So that's what happened. That's where we are today.

How did the affair rumors start?

Discussion about whether the affair rumors are mainstream and how damaging they could be to William and Kate's reputation

Commentary about Rose

[7nessasaryevils]

Ahhh my favourite day of the week! I wanted to watch earlier but today's been so hectic so this is a very late screaming crying throwing up review of Wandee Goodday! Let us begin!

- oh lovely... pain right out the fucking gate why won't you assholes let me breathe???? Poor Cher having to watch the men he loves fight 😭😭

- ohhhh that Cher Yei hug... (gwenchana count 1)

- both yak and yei breaking down in the arms of the men they love most... fucking hell we haven't even gotten to the opening credits! (Also Cher and Dee just silently comforting their boys... gods I'm soft 🥹🥺)

- Dee taking care of yak by physically comforting him and then making sure he eats is just so goddamn sweet... fucking asshole

- Dee pouting because yak says he loves granmama is so boyfriend coded im smacking my head against a wall

- oh wow this is a yei-pain centric episode and we are really putting my son through the wringer

- Cher and Dee becoming the in-laws we needed ♥️♥️

- fuck the simple domesticity of you and your partner working in silence each doing your own thing ♥️♥️♥️

- Dee verbally reinforcing his belief in yak (gwenchana count 2)

- ZAZAKI NY BABIE HI!!!

- oh gods I love him immediately asking why yak isn't doing the fight

- real talk: I get why Yei is so mad at his father... to be that young and lose your mom and then be told by the only other adult in your life that you are now responsible for your little brother, a business, and a legacy is a lot. The resentment he has against his dad is understandable and so is Yak's forgiveness for him. While Yei decided he didn't need his father anymore, Yak decided to stay connected to the only other parent he does have because in that way he's still connected to his mom. My babies have been through it 🥺

- oh look the in-laws are all meeting!

- while I love that we're showing off Dr. Dee... AUTOMATIC DISCREDITING SIR!!! How in the fuck is that doctor telling you - a nonmember of the family- about papa phadetseuk's diagnosis??

- HOWLING 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 are you two cursed to be stuck with my sons is such a sad thing to say I love it!!!

- Cher really said "I'm sick and tired of you idiots fighting I'm telling your dad!" 🤣🤣🤣

- yei's heartbroken face... oh gods why do these brothers always look so good when they're devastated?!?

- I'm so fucking fine look how goddamn utterly fine I am so so wonderfully fine (sobs in the corner)

- I love that we address how grief can break people in the worst way and that both papa Phadetseuk and Yei are taking accountability for the past few years

- this episode really was out to hurt and yet heal my little boxer family and I love it!

- awww cute yei and Cher scenes!

- WHAT THE FUCK OH MY GOD FUCK ME (fuck Cher actually) HOLY SHIT

- FAMILY KARAOKE!!!

- ohhh... here we go dee backstory time!! (Tiny Dee is precious and I am going to steal him my goodness)

- granmama and yak being besties is exactly what I needed in my life ♥️

- SAY THE DAMN WORDS WANDEE!!! Although finally understanding that you love yak is fucking great!!

And for next week!

Out fashionable grim reaper is back, my son gets hurt, and we have actual clowns!! Perhaps a little less pain than this week ♥️

The exhaustion has set in so I bid you all adieu!!

[not-goldy]

Sigh I'm not hung up on it but calling something what it's not is annoying to me. If I looked at the blue sky and someone called if blue-green I'd be annoyed at that too if there's no trace of green. A duet is a duet. A ft is a ft. Background vocals are background vocals. You can talk about their other collabs - I never said anything about them so?

I think you're implying I'm not happy they're collabing or something but truly I'm just annoyed at this over exaggeration of the importance of JK's background vocals. Shippers have hyped it up for no reason. Its non-shipping equivalent would be ot7s hyping up Namjoons contribution in Like Crazy. Obviously both JK and NJ were important but the amount shippers / armys talk about it versus the actuality of their contribution is tiresome

Finally I'm not trying to be condescending but if you say things that are factually untrue (letters a duet) or that are guesses but not facts (letter is something special between jikook that we're unaware of), why is there such an aversion to push back? Surely it's good to question these things? And I'm harping on about letter only as an example. It is one situation amongst many. Again the hope is that you all won't become taekookers version 2 but this resentment towards anyone even slightly questioning your worldview is not a good sign. Anyway I came to check once if you replied. You can answer this or not since I won't be back but I hope you consider what I said. But based on your last response I doubt it right?

These are feelings you need to share with your therapists to be honest. I'm closed for business for the rest of the month.

But thanks for being honest about your feelings because you confirming all my diagnosis of you and your kind_ bigotry plain and simple.

Bigotry:

One who is narrow-mindedly devoted to their own ideas and groups, and intolerant of (people of) differing ideas, races, genders, religions, politics, etc.

That annoyance and frustration you feel stems from your discomfort with how others perceive things- is called borderline psychopathy. I can't help you with that unless you want me to choke it out of you.

But I can help with your narrow mindedness.

Perhaps your annoyance stems from the fact you feel it's an overexageration- but what if you are the one downplaying Jungkook's Bg vocals on Letter???

Because it goes both ways. If we feel you are downplaying his role are we equally entitled to get annoyed and hit you on the head for it????

I personally would rather bitch slap you across the face but I can't do that because you are entitled to your opinion and that shouldn't annoy me AT ALL💀

It's just background vocals so people shouldn't be excited about it???? If it's just background vocals Hobi or Jimin himself could have done it.

Perhaps we place importance on Jungkook's involvement because JIMIN CARED TO INVOLVE HIM

Perhaps we feel exactly how Jimin wants us to feel? Lose our shit and go ape shit????

Perhaps we exaggerate because Jimin exaggerates Jungkook every single time sweat like holy water yea he definitely exaggerates Kook

To quote Jungkook:

Hope you get the help you need somewhere else

[intersex-support]

I've always suspected I was intersex since I was young and heard of it, now that I'm older and I'm getting close to a diagnosis of PCOS, I got checked for high testosterone I have high testosterone, even after everything; I still feel so hesitant to call myself intersex. I just want advice about this? It's been hard for me to accept this despite all the traits I show. I feel so hesitant to use intersex terms, to call myself intersex. Advice?

Hi anon.

You're definitely not alone in struggling to accept your intersex identity and feeling conflicted about what it means for you. When I first got diagnosed with my intersex variation, I felt really overwhelmed and emotional. Even though I was already a little bit familiar with what intersex meant, realizing that it applied to me, and that I was actually intersex, brought up all these other questions and insecurities about my gender, my childhood, other parts of my identity. And so, so many of my intersex friends have had similar experiences.

I think something that makes it really hard to accept yourself as intersex is the amount of systemic discrimination we face. We grow up in a world founded around compulsory dyadism--the way that the (mythical) sex binary is forced onto everyone, and how people who deviate from the sex binary are erased, "fixed," and have our intersex traits eradicated. When we grow up in a society where every form only has an "m" and "f" box, where there's all this shame surrounding things like body hair, micropenises, etc, where we're told that intersex is incredibly "rare"--it's so hard to feel like we can actually exist as intersex! Our society makes it feel like it isn't even possible in the first place, and then also places all these dehumanizing and pathologizing stereotypes on us once we do find out we are intersex.

But the truth is, of course we're allowed to exist as intersex, and we aren't rare! One thing that's really beautiful to me about the intersex community is that we have so much variety, in terms of our different diagnoses and life experiences. There truly is not one singular universal intersex experience. There's not a "right" or "wrong" way to be intersex. There's as many different intersex experiences as there are intersex people. You know that you have intersex traits, you have test results, you are the expert on your body. You are intersex enough, and your experiences are a meaningful and valuable part of the intersex community.

It's definitely a journey to embrace your intersex identity, and it's not something you need to rush before you're ready. I'll share some things that really helped me when I was in that process, and other intersex followers, feel free to add on things that helped you!

Learning more about intersex history, culture, and politics. It was super meaningful for me to understand that there is an intersex community and that we do have this in depth history, that we're not alone and that people have been intersex for years and years! You can check out this post for a bunch of resources about intersex community, videos, art, articles, etc. It helped me a lot to find people experiencing intersex joy and understanding that as a possibility.

Practicing calling myself intersex in welcoming spaces. At first, I was only out as intersex online in an anonymous blog, because that felt like a safer way to practice referring to myself as intersex without having to come out to people yet.

Joining in intersex community spaces and lurking! I wasn't necessarily ready to start talking about my experiences right away, but meeting other intersex people who welcomed me was super important. If you're under 30, @interactyouth has a discord server. Interconnect also has a discord server and online support group meetings for people of all ages. @intersexbookclub is a super great community that has a discord server and regular book club meetings to discuss books.

Taking it slow and practicing self care. Discovering that you're intersex can be such an emotional experience. For me, journaling is a way that I really like to help process my thoughts and take care of myself. It can sometimes be helpful to incorporate whatever self care looks like for you.

Overall, know that you are intersex, you are allowed to call yourself intersex, and you are not an imposter here. You belong here, and there's a whole community that has your back.

Welcome to the intersex community. I'm glad you're here 💜💜💜

[anths-girl]

So...I haven't had to do this in YEARS (was hoping I'd never HAVE to, again, either...), but...here I am, BEGGING.

I know basically EVERYONE is struggling financially, these days. The world is a complicated, shitty place, and we're all in some kind of trouble. However, I am in VERY DESPERATE trouble. Or rather, my family is.

My mother (76), has been severely ill for months. The last few weeks it has gotten very, VERY bad. She can't eat at ALL. Some days she can barely take a drink of water, without getting sick. We live in South-Africa, and we are dependent on social grants - social welfare, basically. As such, we are also dependant on public health care.

Now, to try and describe the state of said public health care...well, let me just say, there aren't enough trigger warnings in the GALAXY, for that. To compare it to mid evil torture, would be being kind. And I'm saying this as someone who has LIVED it, witnessed it, several times. Most people choose to rather just go without medical help, and die at home, rather than go to any of these "facilities."

BUT... I'm not ready to let my mom die at home. I'm not ready to let her go. So, we bit the bullet, and went to a private hospital. The thing is, we have no idea how long we can stay here, because I am draining what very little savings I have as we speak, just having gotten her here in the first place. And we aren't even close to any kind of diagnosis or anything, yet. We might not be able to afford any actual testing she needs to get done.

So...here I am, BEGGING. Guys, every cent counts. ANY dollar that ANYONE has to spare, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE, help us out. Again, I don't even care if it's one dollar from a few people. Literally ANYTHING would help, right now.

And if you can't donate, PLEASE SHARE THIS POST!!!!! I'm going to tag just about everyone on my friend's list, and I ask all of you, AGAIN, even if you can't give anything, just PLEASE help me spread the word, somehow.

Love to all of you, and peace and health to you all!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

PayPal Link: paypal.me/anthsgirl

Tagging for sharing purposes!!! HELP SPREAD IT, GUYS!!!!! Or, if you can help...please do!!!!

@anxietyproblem @artgroves @alatherna @binickandros @brimbrimbrimbrim @thisgameissonintendo @cesperanza @cobaltmoonysart @chiyume @deliriumsdelight7 @dorkbait @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @ebongawk @eddiebigbang @fairydropart @frostbitebakery @floggingink @gingertumericlemon @gyrhs @gyrhs @hopelessartgeek @hardwired-to-self-destruct @idyllic333dreams @intergalacticaquarium @jemmacdraws @kurozawa46 @little-scribblers-heart @nade2308 @ooihcnoiwlerh @one-in-a-world @petite-madame @quirly @ride-the-hammett @ridethehammett @uwusillygirl @why-write-at-all

[dearestro]

Oh Baby! Part 3

Warnings: Sick baby, brief mentions of bodily fluids, Innuendos , and crude language. Sorry if I missed anything!

Disclaimer: I know nothing about healthcare, diseases, etc. I read a case file on the internet about the disease I wrote about. Almost everything I wrote (symptom and disease wise) I got from the internet, so I apologize if I messed up.

Summary: As time marches on desperation sinks in.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Coming Soon...

Your Pov

Before I knew it, we were on our way to Princeton-Plainsboro. Everything felt numb. Lights flashed when I closed my eyes, and the screams and cries of our baby filled my ears.

I didn't realize that we arrived until James had come to my side of the car and opened the door.

"Sweetheart…we're here." He gently prodded my shoulder. I finally looked at him. His shirt was still covered in Rosie’s blood. I only stared. "Y/n…come on. They're waiting for us in the ER." I shook my head, breaking out of the trance.

"Right…" I quickly unbuckled and got out of the car. James wrapped his arm around my waist to keep me stable as we made our way inside.

Once inside, James sat me down and went to the front desk to find the whereabouts of our baby.

We were moved to a private consultation room. We had yet to see Rosie or find out any information, but the doctor's face didn't relay much hope.

"Dr. and Mrs. Wilson…unfortunately your daughter is not doing very well. She was immediately moved to NICU." My hand flew to my mouth to stifle a sob as James wrapped his arm around me and held my head to his chest.

"So-so who's the attending doctor? What's the course of action?" James grilled the man, intent on getting as much information as possible.

“I, along with Dr. Oro, will be taking care of her. Right now, we will monitor and observe her so that we can find the right diagnosis and treatment. It’s been a long day, and there’s nothing you can do for her right now. I recommend the two of you go home and try to get some sleep. We’ll keep you updated, Dr. Wilson.” He left to go attend to business and leave us to think. We stayed silent as we took in his words. James shook his head and rubbed his hand down his face before sighing.

“I’ll-I’ll drop you off at the house…pack a bag, stay the night in my office for any updates.” He stood up and stuck out his hand to help me up. I looked up at him to see tears in his eyes. He looked like a mess. I could only imagine how bad I looked. I took his hand and we started walking to the car. I wanted to see our Rosie, but with the state she’s apparently in, it might just kill me, so I continued silently.

Once we got home, I sat on the couch and just stared…there was still blood on the carpet, and the forgotten items from earlier were thrown about. James had gone to get a shower, change, and pack. When he came back, he noticed my trance-like state.

“Why don’t you head to bed.” He whispered as he caressed my hair. “I’ll clean up out here.” I just barely nodded before he helped me get up and walk to our room. “I’ll call you in the morning.” He said as he kissed my hairline. “I love you.” I looked up at him sadly, still not able to say a word, but he seemed to understand and kissed me one more time before leaving.

Wilson’s Pov

I woke up to a loud banging on my office door. It took a second for the events of last night to flood my memory. I sighed and looked at my watch. It was ten in the morning, and I had overslept. I sighed and rubbed my face before getting up to find House on the other side of the door.

"About time." He shoved his way into my office. "You look like shit by the way."

"Gee, thanks. Look, House, I'm really not in the right state to deal with you. Please just leave."

"What? Trouble in paradise? Rugrat keep you up all night crying? And by that, I mean the baby made you cry all night."

"Please, House." I pleaded.

"Oh! I know! Wifey number 4 finally had enough and kicked you to the curb? Couldn't stand having two pathetic creatures wanting to suckle her breasts 24/7?" He would have continued, but I had finally had enough.

"House!" He turned and seemed to fully take in my disheveled appearance. A confused look crossed his face.

"What?"

"It's-it's…" I tried to get it out. To say it. I could feel tears well in my eyes as I took a deep breath to regain my cracking composure. "It's Rosie… she's sick." I could hear my voice crack at the words. I looked up, finally meeting House's eyes. He only stared. I scoffed. "What? You're not going to say anything?" I asked in disbelief at his silence. "I didn’t expect much sympathy from you of all people, but the least you could do is act like you feel bad!" I sighed again before looking back at my packed bag. "I have to pick up y/n so we can figure out what's wrong with our daughter. Lock up or don't. I don't care anymore." And with that, I left to get my wife.

Your Pov

It took forever but eventually exhaustion took over and I was out like a light. I woke up to James prodding my shoulder gently and whispering my name.

"Honey, honey, I know you're tired, but you have to get up. We've got to eat and get dressed so we can see Rosie." I groaned at the noise and sudden light. "I know. Come on." He gently helped me to sit up as I wiped the sleep from my eyes. "That's my girl." He kissed my temple as he rubbed my back.

"What time is it?" I asked while yawning.

"Almost eleven." My eyes shot open, and I scrambled to get out of bed. "Hey! Hey. It's ok. It's ok."

"I'm sorry. I should've been up by now!" I whined on the verge of tears. "I'm a bad mother! How could I sleep when our baby is sick?" I scolded myself.

"Shh. You're not a bad mother. You're exhausted. Besides, staying up worrying all night would only make things worse." I nodded at his words as I started to calm down. "That's it, babe. Come on, let's have breakfast and get showered. It'll make you feel better." He continued to rub my back as we made our way to the kitchen.

Once there, he sat me down at the island and proceeded to put together a simple breakfast. I sat quietly as we ate together while he rubbed my thigh. I just couldn't bring myself to talk much. Eventually, we got showered and dressed and headed to the hospital. We waited for any news.

This was our routine for the rest of the week. Eat, sleep, cry, wait. James took off work, and together, we tried to get through it, but unfortunately, with every passing day, there was no answer.

Today was another day spent waiting for the doctor and any news.

"Unfortunately, your daughter has taken a turn for the worse." I comprehended the doctor's words, but I couldn't relay any emotion. "We still do not know what is wrong with her." I stared at my hands. Picking at the remains of my cuticles as if it would distract from the real pain. "We aren't giving up. However, I'm afraid there's not much we can do…" After offering his sympathies, he left us to cope with the news.

I hadn't realized I was crying until a tear dropped onto my hands. First one, then two, then a rainfall. It was endless. I continued to pick at the raw skin until James grabbed my hands.

"Hey. Stop that." He said gently as he grasped my fingers and brought them to his lips. I finally looked up at him and saw the tears running down his cheeks. And just like that, something inside me broke.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" I sobbed as he pulled me into his chest and stroked my hair. "I couldn't even give you a healthy baby!"

"This isn't your fault." He whispered. I knew he was right, but if it wasn't my fault, whose was it? "None of this is your fault." I could hear the quiver in his voice as he tried to keep it together.

"We need House." He pulled back to look me in the eye as confusion crossed his face. "I know you're mad at him, but we need him. He's the only chance our baby has. Please ask him, Jamie." I continued to cry as he nodded and kissed my temple.

"Of course."

Wilson's Pov

After dropping y/n off at home and helping her to calm down, I made my way back to the hospital with one thing on my mind. House. I finally reached his office to find him ddxing with his team. Normally, I wouldn't interrupt, but in dire circumstances…

"House." Everyone turned to stare at me as I was well aware of how awful I must have looked. "I need to talk to you."

"Well, we're kind of in the middle of something so…"

"Now." He shrugged before tossing the marker to Thirteen.

"She's in charge until I get back." And he hobbled out of the room to his office. "What is it that's so important?" He deadpanned. I sighed before turning to him.

"The doctors. They don't know what's wrong with Rosie. She keeps getting worse, and they've basically given up on her." My voice trembled as I spoke.

"Which doctors?"

"Dr. Miller and Dr. Oro." He scoffed.

"Well, no wonder you're getting nowhere. They're idiots. Have her case sent to me. I'll figure it out." I exhaled, not realizing that I had been holding my breath on whether he would help or not.

"Thank you House. I-I can’t thank you enough."

"I haven't saved the rugrat yet. Go home, comfort your wife." He waved dismissively as he started back to the other room.

[atticollateral]

Autism Assessment Update (bc it's been almost 3 months since I mentioned it haha oops) (it's a novel. you've been warned.)

tagging @examishbookwyrm bc they did comment on my autism assessment post I made in MARCH!! n i didn't respond...(adhd moment) get honourable mention'd.

--- SOOOO. BIG ASS PERSONAL LIFE UPDATE!!! I have... literally the worst news? Like the worst-worst news I think I will ever share. So imma start from the beginning :> [I detail everything about the assessment in this post. The process, the assessment itself, and the after.]

So. This is part of the NS Pilot Program for assessing people who were going to age out of the early-childhood-assessment waitlist (because hey! it is a 5 year long wait! haha!) which was led by NS Health and the Gov. of Canada (who paid for all the assessments.) It's safe to say that NOBODY is happy! (if you look it up you will find articles on how... awful it's been. Also if you look up articles I might have left out details bc my brain is VERY SPOTTY bc i am enraged) but anyway,

The first part of this is they had been calling my mom during the day; my mother had been working days. So she wasn't picking up. And they weren't answering her calls back or her messages! Already a big red flag. Because they can't get ahold of her they call me. Me! The person they're going to assess, who, at the time, was 18, and perfectly capable of consenting, as an adult, and taking care of their own medical records and appointments and such. They go "Hello, is this (deadname's) mom?" And I go "This is (deadname); and my name is [Chosen]" and they go "Oh, Well. Can you get your mother to call us?" And I said in a tone I believe was very clearly annoyed bc wtf? "Oh, no, you can tell me whatever you're going to tell her!" They tell me "Well we're looking to get you into the NS pilot program for autism assessments" yada yada "is that something you'd be interested in?" And me being me (poor and reasons to think I'm autistic and being on the waitlist) go "yeah!" AND THIS FUCKING WOMAN GOES "ok then get your mom to call us. this is the date. we need her to confirm." and I go "...why?" and they go "we just need to talk to her." and I go "...why can't you just talk to me?" and she just repeats herself so I go "um. ok. well. you have a good day? bye?" and hang up. So i'm simmering; bc I am literally an adult. I don't need my mom. I should be treated like an adult and I'm getting infantilized. I got the woman's name and # so I give it to my mom. It takes another month to get a date for the assessment approved bc they STILL WONT ANSWER HER CALLS OR MESSAGES.

My mother was required to do two prerequisite assessments a week or two before my in-person one. One over the phone and one over zoom. I am above the age of 16 (as stated) and perfectly capable of consent and being an informant. (you are legally allowed to consent to a majority of medical assessments in NS when you turn 16 w/o alerting ur parents, and clearly allowed to do that over the age of 18 as that is age of majority.) So i'm just miffed. They tell her not to tell me anything. She says fuck that (thank the gods) and so she tells me things they tell her. So the night before the assessment I help her with the form they MAKE HER FILL OUT before the assessment like "when did your child start walking/running" "when did they learn to ride a bike" "when did they start talking/writing" stuff like that. and I go ok. sure. autism can show in early childhood, it's a neurological developmental disorder. I get it. Even though autistic individuals can have average, slowed, or accelerated development (IT'S ALMOST LIKE ITS LITERALLY CALLED AUTISM SPECTRUM DISORDER) There's a question that catches me off guard. "what is your child's dominant hand" ...i'm sorry. back it up. *Yes.* There are studies that say many people who have ASD are left handed or ambidextrous. But oh. My. Gods. Above. THAT IS NOT GROUNDS FOR DIAGNOSIS; and you can also ASK THE KID during the assessment! What kind of question?! [I am right-hand predominant but I am ambidextrous.]

I move on.

I go into the assessment. On the table; the dr's introductory sheet in a photo frame. His title sits atop the document with a head, MADE OF BLUE PUZZLE PIECES alarm bells alarm bells alarm bells oh my fucking god help me jesus christ please help me i promise i'll believe in you if you help me right now please please plea "Hi!" A woman greets us, sitting in an office with the door open. I don't know her name. She doesn't stand from her desk. "I'll be with you in a moment." I laugh awkwardly. My mom says ok as the woman shuts her door. I tell my mom "I hate it here; can we go home?" Because I genuinely feel unsafe; I'm shaking. She laughs softly and goes "It'll be okay." So I put a brave face on bc I love my mom and she's nice and wait for the lady. She calls us in a few minutes later. I don't remember her introducing herself. I don't remember her offering a handshake or any other "polite" gesture. That would be something important to do, and I would have remembered it. She tells us how long it will be and a lay down of what's gonna happen and asks MY MOTHER FOR CONSENT TO FILM ME. Not ME for consent to film ME, an 18 year old. My mom turns to me confused and asks me if I'm okay with it instead. I go "yeah." (I was not okay with it); the woman told us the assessment would not happen if they could not film it. So I agreed; giving *assent* rather than *consent* was something I was pissed off about then and there. The woman asks HER if she'd like to stay so my mom asks ME if she wants me to stay, I hug my mom after I ask her to leave because I'm an adult and can handle myself. I don't need my mom to be there. I sit down. I have my pompompurin stuffed animal with me and a messenger bag with pens and stuff in it because I know there are things to write and don't like using other people's things. She doesn't ask about the bag. She sets up the camera and such, explaining that she'll have to occasionally turn to her laptop to make sure the recording is still going. I have pompom in my lap along with a fidget while she talks. She says something along the lines of "um, you'll want to put that away, you'll need your hands." And I go, rather firmly, something along the lines of; "I'll put it away when I need to use my hands. I am focusing on you right now." To which she seems surprised and goes "um... okay, that's fine." And continues on. (Was she not expecting an adult to have clear boundaries and be able to state their needs?) She offhandedly mentions something about [Dr] perhaps coming in to see me at some point during the assessment. My heart drops. She's not the doctor? She isn't the psychiatrist? What the hell?

The assessment begins. They're giving me tests for children, she said she made it harder. I disagree. I find the tasks easy. Simple games/puzzles. I tell her I like puzzles. She keeps throwing positive affirmation at me; I become annoyed with it after awhile because I know she's only doing it to make me continue doing the activity. It's common for people who work with children. She is infantilizing me. I know I was thinking it subconsciously.

The tests are not geared towards my age range, I notice immediately. I become miffed, going "these are too easy for me so far" or something to that effect. She laughs at me. I become upset. We start the reading part of the test. I read to show reading speed and comprehension. I read out loud to show my pronunciation. I read words that don't exist to show my reasoning skills when it comes to language. I am in my 5th year of high school (I struggle with school). This task is mundane and annoying. I feel like I am in third grade. I feel infantilized. I feel like the tests aren't going to be accurate. I am annoyed. I do it fast as I can to get it over with. Some of the reading pieces she makes me do multiple times.

We begin the mathematics part. I am not good at mathematics. She has upped the difficulty for the mathematics, she tells me. I begin; The first test is a Working Memory test; listing numbers she reads to me in a specific order. I am bad at it after the more convoluted ones. Some of the work is recognizing shapes and patterns. There is addition, fractions, multiplication and division questions. She points out I'm 'doing the test wrong' multiple times. I tell her that this test is stupid (or something to that effect) due to the structure. She laughs at me. There are a few tests I can't do or become quickly annoyed with (naming mean, median, and mode, prime numbers, fractions.) As I haven't done them since 11th grade level (I took a different math course and haven't done math since I finished my credits 2 school years ago.) We break for lunch after doing half of the mathematics.

I return to continue with the mathematics. I am still annoyed even after eating lunch. I had complained to my mother how it felt like torture: No eraser, No Calculator, no Tools, and no asking for help (She is not allowed to give me help, even if I don't know something.) I am on the brink of actual tears in frustration because I cannot receive help. I understand the potential why, but I think it's idiotic.

We begin the writing and listening comprehension. I am made to write an essay on a game I like and why I like it, I am given 10 minutes. I write it about Minecraft and it's offshoots. For listening comprehension, there are a few tests. I tell her about certain parts of what i've heard. Most of them are ads, so telling her what they say is easy for me, because it feels like slush and I have trained my ears to pick up more important information because of APD (Auditory Processing Disorder). She repeats them a few times to get me to tell her more. There are more working memory tests. Something with shapes, form, and colours. One about things she's listed. There's a test where I tell her a story in a picture book based on photos only. I am becoming tired. There's a test where I need to copy a picture. I am not allowed to trace the picture. I am not allowed to hold the picture. I am not allowed to use a tool. She says something about how I should like it because I told her I am an artist. I start going on while begrudgingly doing the test that this is horrible, this isn't what art is, and i'd like to not be doing it this way because it is impractical. She laughs at me again. I am annoyed. I get to take another short break after that.

There is another test when I come back with shapes. I see there are 8 pieces and a grid I must put them in; observing the grid, I go "I need all 8 pieces." She gives me 4 pieces. I frown. I say "I need all 8 of them, can I have them please?" as I put the 4 she gave me into the grid. She hands me 2. I put them in. I repeat myself. "I know I need all 8 of them. Can you give them to me please?" She gives me 1. I become insanely frustrated at that point. "What is this?" I go, "Can I have the last piece?" I ask her annoyedly, and she gives it to me. She's smiling. She thinks this is funny? I put it in the place. I rearrange the pieces into a nicer pattern in the grid because she annoyingly gave me the pieces while she takes her notes.

There is an activity where I have to tell her a story using 5 random pieces of garbage. She shows me how to do it first when I already understand the premise and was going to do it after the verbal instruction and presentation of the items. I know it is to assess my imaginative play. I am an 18 year old artist. This is easier than breathing to me. I do it begrudgingly because I am embarrassed to do it. She laughs at me again. I am so annoyed at this point I am thinking the most angry thoughts. What is her issue??? I don't say anything while I wait for the other tests.

I am presented with a test with over 100 questions. I say out loud multiple times "I don't have OCD" to multiple questions I've been asked before to assess me for OCD. She says something about 'Don't think about it. just answer.' and I say something along the lines of "I've been to therapy since I was about 12. I do therapy speak. I know what the questions are asking me. I can't not think about it." She scoffs at me. I am so irritated. Many of the questions ask me if I am suicidal. Many of the questions ask me if I am paranoid. There are questions about ego, and questions about self-worth, questions about poverty, questions about things that don't pertain (to see if I'm paying attention.) I finish the test. She asks if I answered honestly. I say "I think so." But I my answers will be different tomorrow. They're always different later. That's how surveys work.

One of the last tests is asking me questions and having me answer. Things like "do you have friends?" "how do you feel about relationships?"; I ask her "Well, how do you define relationships? Are you in any? Are you asking me about friendship or dating?" She tells me she has a partner; a husband if I recall. I say something about marriage and romance. She asks me more questions about feelings, boundaries, relationships, and experiences in my life. It is the last test.

We leave the room to talk to my mother in the waiting room. I have not seen [Dr] once. Girl asks me what my pronouns are. I tell her it/its. She complains. I tell her too bad flat out. We leave.

I only learn upon getting home that her name is Alison.

I wait a month for my draft results. I had to get my teacher to fill out a form. I had to sign a consent form for them to do that which they made me do digitally after the assessment and CLEARLY wanted my mother to sign. She gets me to sign it because I'm an adult. She understands.

My mom sits me down. She goes "You aren't going to like this." I frown. "I'm not autistic?" She nods. "You aren't. But they said you have 3 or 4 other things."

Alarm bells again. I get her to bring up my draft assessment on the computer for me to read. I am enraged. They refer to me as "transgendered". They misgendered me. There were numerous, insane typos that would be easy to catch on the first pass.

I begin work on an Essay/Paper telling them why their assessment is bullshit and how I meet the criteria for autism spectrum disorder. (I READ THE DSM-5 AND DSM-5-TR FOR THIS CRAP.) I also berate them the whole time for their behaviour, the nature of the assessment, and lack of care. A week or so later I get the final draft. They still misgendered me; and there are still typos. I get my mom to email it to me and I send it to multiple of my friends, my Therapist, and give her my consent to share it with my Psychiatrist and anyone else she sees fit with her discretion with the password for the protected document, along with a screenshot pointing out the most glaring typo (being misgendered.) My therapist and psychiatrist show it to the Autism Lead in their district with my consent.

I receive an overwhelmingly positive onslaught of "this assessment is bullshit! You SHOULD be angry." The autism lead tells my therapist I do likely have autism based on what was shown and told to her, and to get a second opinion (as she can't diagnose me without assessing me herself). I tell my therapist more about the assessment. She does some research.

The Psychometrist (someone who administers psychological tests/assessments) is underqualified during time of assessment.

Medical Negligence.

[Dr.] Is clearly on grounds to be tried for Medical Malpractice.

I am now working on submitting a complaint and finishing my paper.

I may potentially be involved in legal trouble against the psychologist I never even got to see or speak to.

Fuck that guy.

[acknowledge-reigns]

Somebody truly had the nerve to say Roman has never had to deal with or wrestle with injuries/set backs in his career and that he "could never power through like C*dy did with his torn pec". First of all, comparing how these two athletes deal with injuries is big fucking weird but since we're going there and I take my role of #1 Joe Anoa'i defender to heart what I'm not about to do is let y'all set up here on this internet and make it seem as if my Tribal Chief ain't ever fought through shit because this man is a WARRIOR, do you hear me???

(HE'S A TWO TIME LEUKEMIA SURVIVOR SINCE Y'ALL MOTHERFUCKERS LIKE TO FORGET HE KICKED CANCER'S ASS TOO.) Generally speaking, not just that situation but in many others in Joe's life, some of your faves would have folded. (especially those two yt men that run from company to company when they don't get their way) . Really this ain't shade to C*dy, I give him his props for powering through injuries and shit too. Most of these superstars have. And saying some of them would probably fold (hell, I would. Most of us would.) Isn't saying they're weak. I'm saying Roman is a badass on a different level and you can argue with your momma or with the wall on that one, not me.

List of injuries/illnesses known to us throughout Roman's career -

Back + Hip injury 2023 (Sumerslam, v Jey Uso.)

Ruptured Ear Drum 2022 (Survivor Series, v Kevin Owens who surprised him with a spot that was not planned and resulted in the injury. There however is no bad blood between the two.)

Had COVID 2022 (https://www.espn.com/wwe/story/_/id/32974962/roman-reigns-wwe-biggest-star-tests-positive-covid-19-scratched-atlanta-event)

Lingering affects from COVID 2022 (due to being immunocompromised https://www.fightful.com/wrestling/roman-reigns-discusses-his-covid-experience-says-he-still-feels-chest-tightness)

Shoulder/Arm injury 2022 (Wrestlemania 38, v Brock Lesnar)

Reveals Leukemia treatment side effects (including Nausea and arthritis in arms and legs, mentioned in 2019 and 2020 interviews. Ex. https://www.leukaemiacare.org.uk/support-and-information/latest-from-leukaemia-care/inspirational-stories/roman-reigns-wwe-cml-and-me/#:~:text=Previously%2C%20Reigns%20revealed%20to%20the,in%20terms%20of%20being%20sick.)

Knee Injury 2019 (Hell in a cell tornado tag with Daniel Bryan, v Erick Rowan and Luke Harper.)

Second battle with Leukemia 2018

Eye injury, required stitches 2018 (after 6 man tag match on RAW https://www.wrestlingnewsworld.com/wwe/roman-reigns-gets-stitches-raw)

Shoulder injury + Cracked ribs 2017 ( RAW, v Braun Strowman)

Shattered nose + Surgery 2016 ( v Triple H. See attached article https://www.wwe.com/shows/raw/2016-02-22/article/reigns-surgery)

Needed stitches May 2016 (live show, see photos https://www.wwe.com/worldwide/gallery/roman-reigns-receives-stitches-in-melbourne-australia-photos#fid-40042095)

Head Injury that required staples 2014 (https://youtu.be/OYMce1GDiDc?si=KtbVybtoQVr7FKDL)

Emergency surgery for Hernia 2014 (which he wrestled for some time while dealing with, see WWE.com article herehttps://www.wwe.com/shows/nightofchampions/2014/roman-reigns-breaking-news)

This list does not include FCW injuries, football injuries or his 2007 leukemia diagnosis durring which he was unhoused with a child on the way. And these are just the instances we know of!

Say what you will about Roman in kayfabe but do not minimize the struggles Joe has been through or his resilience. And if you're a Roman "fan" buying into the the rhetoric that he hasn't faced any adversity then as my dear friend @love-islike-abomb says, Please "Go whistle in the woods". IYKYK.

Oh and while we all here...

Acknowledge him, Bitches ☝🏾☝🏾☝🏾☝🏾.