#yes that was necessary to say

[inkskinned]

you have to go to work so you can pay for your doctor, who is not taking your insurance right now, and if you say i can't afford the doctor's you are told - get a better job. it is very sad that you are unwell, yes, but maybe you should have thought about that before not having a better job.

(where is the better job? who is giving out these better jobs? you are sick, you are hurting - how the hell are you supposed to be well enough for this better job?)

but you go to the doctor because you had the nerve to be hurt or sick or whatever else. and they tell you that it is because you have anxiety. you try your best. you are a self-advocate. you've done the reading (which sometimes pisses them off worse, honestly). you say it is actually adding to my anxiety, it is effecting my quality of life. so they say that you are fat. they say that all young people have this happen to them, isn't it a medical marvel! they say that you should eat more vegetables. they say that you probably just need to lose a little more weight, and that you are faking it for attention.

(what attention could this doctor possibly give? what validation? that's their fucking job, isn't it?)

there is always a hypochondriac, right. someone always tells you about a hypochondriac. or someone who is unnecessarily aggressive during the worst days of their life. or someone looking "for a quick fix". or some idiot who wasn't educated about how to properly care for themselves who just abandons their treatment. and again, the hypochondriac, the overly-cautious hysteric. these people don't deserve to be treated like humans (right), and since you might be one of these people, you also don't get treated like a human. because those people can really fuck with the system, you now have to pay for it. and besides. you're actually probably faking it.

(more often than not, you find a 2:1 ratio of these stories. for every "hypochondriac", there are 2 people who knew something was wrong, and yet nobody could fucking find it. the story often ends with pointless suffering. the story often ends with and now it's too late, and it's going to kill me.)

you are actually just making excuses. someone else got that procedure or that diagnosis and he's fine, you should be fine too. someone else said they watched a documentary about other inspirational people with your exact same condition, maybe you should be inspirational, too. you're just too morbid. your pain and your experience is probably just not statistically concerning. it is all self-reported anyway, and you're just being a baby.

(once, while sitting down in the middle of making coffee, you had the sudden, horrible thought - i could kill myself to make the pain stop. you had to call your best friend after that. had to pet your dog. had to cry about it in the shower. you won't, but that moment - god, fuck. the pain just goes on and on.)

you know someone who went in for routine surgery and said i still feel everything. they told her to just relax. it took her kicking and screaming before they figured out she wasn't lying - the anesthetic drip hadn't been working. you know someone who went in for severe migraines who was told drink water and lose weight. you know someone who was actively bleeding out and throwing up in the ER and was told you're just having a bad period.

in the ER there are always these little posters saying things like "don't wait! get checked today!" and you think about how often you do wait. how often the days spool out. you once waited a full week before seeing the doctor for what you thought was a sprained wrist. it had actually been broken - they had to rebreak it to set it.

but you go into the doctor. the problem you're having is immediate. the person behind the counter frowns and says we're not taking your insurance. you will be paying for this out-of-pocket.

they send you home with tylenol and a little health packet about weight loss or anxiety or attention deficit. on the front it has your birthday and diagnosis. you think about crying, and the words swim. it might as well say go fuck yourself. it might as well say you're a fucking idiot. it might as well say light your money on fire and lie down in it. and the entire fucking time - the problem persists.

it's okay. it's okay, it's just another thing, you think. it's just another thing i have to learn to live with.

[gatoburr0]

Anatomy practice goes wrong (I fell in love)

[tk-duveraun]

Modern Shen Twins AU

SJ teaches literature and reading at a 'prepare for university' level. He's evil, always gets tons of complaints, but the school can't argue with the results. (And systemic child abuse, tiger parents,etc, etc)

Well, his totally platonic 'roommate' Yue Qi gets in a bad car accident and SJ has to be a full time carer, but the school won't give him time off, so he calls in didi to cover for him at work.

(SY's main job is freelance consulting and he's gotten a lot of lucky big jobs so he's okay on money and can sub for a while)

Anyway, the school staff are fooled bc SY has listened to ge complain about them enough to aim enough spite and snark their way, but the students think they're having a stroke

Teacher Shen is suddenly treating them like his own precious puppies (though his marking standards and expectations are the same)

LBH is cooked in two days.

Day one, he thinks it's a trap.

Day two he gets a head pat and it's all over.

[cosmicdreamgrl]

𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘫𝘬 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴: (82/?)

+ 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘶𝘴:

[evermoredeluxe]

taylor as platypi <3

[dailyloopdeloop]

DAY 75: onehat

[threepandas]

Bad End, Chosen: Part 4

Back <- | -> Next

The Cycles never "loaded" back in at quite the same point. It was something I had noticed, though I had only suffered a few of them so far. It was like the God's were hoping "Chapter" to "Chapter", fickle and easily bored, trying desperately to find something NEW.

It made planning all but impossible.

Where... where was I?

A simple room. A suitcase before me. Loading or unloading? I held a robe in my hands. Painfully familiar. I had worn them for years. The highly protective robes of Mage initiates, at the Magic Tower. Meant to work as armor, life support, even... God's forbid, an emergency beacon. They were hideous. Function over form.

I could cry, for how deeply I loved these ugly robes.

No one had EVER been able to figure out how to style them properly. God's know, we had TRIED. But when The Dark came? This ugly, ugly things? These long complained about hand-me-downs? Oh... oh they had saved so, SO many student's lives.

Such tiny little things. Pulled from the rubble, still breathing. All because of these chaotic, gaudy, terribly comfortable and so deeply loved, old robes. T...They truely were as hideous as I remembered, weren't they? Blocks upon blocks of overlapping stitches and patches, too many colors, as though the tower was too stubborn to throw as single thing away.

We were.

We... we NEVER leave anything or anyONE behind.

Packrats, all of us. Such terrible hoarders. But... I looked around. It did not tell me the date. Was I leaving? Joining the tower? How old was I supposed to be? I pulled on my robes.

It felt like coming home. Like balm against the raw nerves of my still fragile mind. I felt old. Brittle. At... at terrible odds, with my young skin. I wondered if this was how she felt. The woman, the poor girl, that came before me. Before she broke so badly even the God's could not force her to perform. I did not want to admit I understood the impulse.

Ah, there.

I had once, what felt like lifetimes ago. What WAS lifetimes ago. Bought this very calander. It was cute. Little fairy dragons danced upon the edges, delicate and joyous. They were, of course, incorrectly drawn. The artist had never seen a real fairy dragon, only heard of them. I had seen some during the war.

People forget that neither the Fae nor Dragons are sweet or gentle things.

They were... Awe inspiring. In the oldest sense of the world. "An overwhelming feeling of reverence, admiration, and fear." I believe the text defined it. Like living starlight and glass, sung poetry and water. They were the fury of long dead gods and the vengeance of beings who were divine unto themselves.

They removed an entire MOUNTAIN RANGE before they fell. Burned and reduced to molten earth, an entire inland sea. They died like STARS. Violently and with a force that destroyed the void itself. Consuming all that dared stand in their shadow.

Ha. And people think they're CUTE.

Ah...my mind is wandering again. I try to concentrate on the calendar. My... my mind doesn't want too. Oh dear. That's... that's probably a rather bad sign, isn't it?

Opening my eyes at the beginning of the cycle had brough such... CLARITY. As though my head had been held under murky water and finally, FINALLY, I was able to scramble free. But... much like the drowned... I felt something like a high. Adrift. Without my anchor. I wanted my Gran-...

NO.

I grab the dresser before me. Hard enough my knuckles go white. My wide eyes focus far away. Seeing without seeing. Hyperfocused on the woodgrain before me. I am my OWN anchor. Feel the magic in your veins. The push and pull of the world. We are not his slave! Not his PET, to keep and cherish. A toy on a shelf.

I am a PERSON.

I DEFY MY FATE.

A cheerful knock at the door to my room. My eyes finally focusing on the date. Fuck. Moving IN, then. I do not know if I can act "normal". I... I will have to try. I can not unclench my jaw, but with great force of will, finger by finger, I release my grip on the dresser. Stand up. Glance up into the mirror.

I look like I am some hateful little thing, vowing some ugly little vengeance. Perhaps it is just my face. The way anger and spite only barely holds my bleeding edges together. My fear. I...I look like I am about to cry.

What a wretched child.

I try to force a smile.

It looks hideous. More ugly grimace and deep disgust then "oh, Master, how pleased I am to see you!". Fuck. When did I become so broken? A knock again. More hesitant. I breathe deep. I can not do cheerful, then. But...I... I can do nothing.

My face slides into an emotionless mask. Blank. Like a doll. Vaguely pleasant but meaningless. How damningly familiar. Gran-... HE reduced me to this in the end. A few steps. Almost distant, robotic, movement. And I open the door to a once familiar face.

"Learner." My Master smiles, awkward and uncertain. He had not wanted a student. I forced his hand. I know now I never should have done so. He was not ready. "Are you, um, settling? In? I know it is quite different from the life you once lived, but I promise. I will tale care of you. Well figure this out together."

Oh, Master.

I...I wish I could weep. I had forgotten this lie. How deeply I had once believed it. It was a child's promise, from a man who grew old but never, truely, grew up. I was to be failed again and again. Had once given him chance after chance. Because I had believed his words. My eyes feel hot. He looks panicked.

"Ah! W-what did I do? Was that wrong? Please don't cry?! Oh no! Uuuuh-!"

"Well THIS is a record. Not even a day and you've made the child weep." Comes a terrible voice. No. Please, Gods. Not so soon. "Here I am, come to greet my precious Grandlearner. And what do I find? My student, tormenting a child."

My Master sputters defenses of himself. Not even noticing that his own Master did not call him Learner. All but disowned him before me. My fear howls like a deafening beast in my ears. But... cowering? Will not... can not save me. Turning my head is almost painful, with how tightly my muscles have tensed.

That is not the look of a man who does not recognize me.

He remembers.

Alaric Blight stands in truely magnificent Tower Master's robes, as though he has every right to be there. Respected. Beloved. A legendary talent, the likes of which have not been seen for lifetimes. ANYONE would be HONORED to be in his presence. After all... he is a man who holds the world at his feet.

He is a monster.

"Hello Grandlearner," he all but purrs. Stalking forward to loom, as only an adult CAN loom over a child. The power difference between is even greater now. I can not even count myself an ant before him. I... I can not breathe. "What a delicate little thing you are. Utterly precious. And so SMALL! You certainly have a lot of training to do, don't you?"

His hand reaches forward to cup my cheek, sparks of deadly magic dancing lazily across my skin too finely for Master to notice, but not so fine I can not FEEL. It is a subtle threat. A little reminder. Not a single soul in this tower is safe, so long as he is here. All it would take? Is.. Just. One. Touch~

"I'm sure you'll BEHAVE for your Master, WONT you, Dear? After all, he only wants what's best for you. And a darling child like you, Grandlearner? Should be cherished."

"He's right." My Master said, clueless to the monster he let so close. Who so very dispised him. "But... but Master, I'm not sure, well, HOW exactly..."

"Oh don't worry, student of mine." Alaric Blight, monster of my nightmares, hummed in a laughable mimicry of pleasantries. "I'll be with you EVERY step of the way. How could do anything less? We'll train my darling Grandlearner together."

A terrible grin.

"Leave everything to me."

[pinacoladamatata]

"The gods gave me ten fingers but I never seem to need more than one"

[lazylittledragon]

my posts asking about potential dadstarion have received literally every possible response which is both unhelpful and also reassuring that i can do whatever i like

[immortalsins]

HANNIBAL (2013-2015) — SEASON ONE

Killing must feel good to God, too. He does it all the time, and are we not created in God's image? Depends on who you ask. God's terrific. He dropped a church roof on thirty-four of his worshipers last Wednesday night in Texas, while they sang a hymn. Did God feel good about that? He felt powerful.

{inspiration}

[mwagneto]

a thing about rtd's era that i really really love seeing again is how he will usually wrap up the plot 10 or even 20 minutes before the episode ends and then the rest of that time is just dedicated to the characters talking to each other and dealing with their emotions and situations. like instead of a last minute win and a two minute goodbye they always get these massive spans of time to really get into everything emotionally and it always makes the episodes hit even harder

[xenomorphicdna]

On the string propaganda

Heeellll yeah

Bestie is an entire PLACE

I look at those guys and let me tell you the soul of that thing ain't just in the puppet, it's in all the neurons carrying the thoughts and emotions, it's in the power rails that serve as the heart. All the memories in the memory conflux and all the numbers we see flicker across displays, the flux condensers, the puppet; a little avatar.

No way these massive machines see life the same way we do. They have their own experiences and senses and things they hold dear. A world we can't imagine, a way of living we couldn't even comprehend.

I could never tear an iterator apart to be just a puppet. Who am I to decide how's life supposed to be enjoyed or perceived?

You treat your creechurs however you want- I ain't gonna dictate that. But damn, hearing the thrums and buzzes of the linear systems rail? They are alive with so much power, these mechanical beasts are exactly what they should be.

[lancingmangos]

Words cannot express just how funny this comment is to me. @honeii-puff

[ind1c0lite]

working late at night (at least that's what they're telling themselves)

[transmechanicus]

Really fucked up that two ppl can care about each other and make their best efforts to communicate and still end up hurting each other so badly they cannot stand to be in the same room.

[qprpbj]

modern both selectively mute qprpbj where they know sign together. if you even care