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#and let me tell you. she's really gonna need that therapy soon. even moreso than usual
sporeclan · 1 month
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i mean... if Dawnpelt is going to get her ass whooped for being such dogshit mentor and then taking it out on her apprentice... then im all for it. whoop her. and make it hurt.
Girlie did really fuck it up big time ngl.......... I can't promise she's the one getting injured here though :')
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Disappearance 8: The End {Katsuki Bakugo}
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A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! Thank you to everyone who has been on this little journey with me! I hope this fic has been enjoyed even half as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Disappearance Masterlist
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As his parents they were permitted to take the boy home to the apartment with them, and the boy liked Miki right away. When she wound herself around his shins and stood on her back legs to butt her head against his hand, he was smitten. The quiet giggles as he pet her and played with her and her toys were like music to both Katsuki and Chiasa.
Miki was happy to see Chiasa, licking her hand affectionately after receiving chin scratches in greeting. Chiasa could only marvel at how much she had grown since she last saw her as a tiny kitten pouncing on every dust particle in the apartment. It was a sweet reunion and one Katsuki had always hoped he would be fortunate enough to witness.
That seemed to be a new change in his life, being able to reclaim the peace he once had before Chiasa had disappeared, and now he was fortunate enough to have that with both her and their son.
Watching the reintroduction of mother and son at the hospital was surreal. Chiasa had marveled at the small boy she had once thought to be a hallucination standing in front of her in the flesh. It was obvious when the boy recognized her and spoke with caution that she was hurt just imagining what her voice had said to him without her consent. But she spoke warmly to him and promised that she was real and not the mother he thought he knew before.
The boy would experience the same thing soon when he found out who his real father was too.
Just thinking about the paperwork with the paternity test results tucked away in his bag was enough to have his spine tingling. They hadn’t sat the boy down to tell him that Katsuki was his father quite yet, afraid that too much change and information in one day wouldn’t be good for him as he integrated into the real world. The child psychologist at the hospital had been more than supportive of the decision and offered his services going forward, something they readily accepted.
Another thing they had to deal with was setting up appointments to find out more about the skin condition causing the rashes and itchiness for him. The doctors had attempted a few preliminary tests that came back inconclusive and recommended a dermatologist for further testing and treatment. It seemed unlikely the generic skin cream they sent them home with would do much in the meantime but it was worth a shot.
He pondered all of this as he watched the pot with the beginnings of their miso soup was considering boiling. Down the short hall he could hear murmurs from the bathroom where the boy was finally able to get clean, to take what Katsuki knew was the first bath of his life with his mother. He left the kitchen knowing a watched pot never boils anyway and a glimpse of his son with his mother was much more important.
Quietly walking down the hallway, fingertips dragging against the wall lightly, the voices of his family became more clear.
“We stay here?”
Chiasa hummed an affirmative. “Yeah, this is where Katsuki lives and where I lived a long time ago.”
“Before Toga looked like you?”
A chill went up his spine.
“Yes, honey, before she would look like me,” she replied after a long pause. “I’m sad that she did that because it meant you got to meet me when it was really her and we never actually met at all. I’m sorry about that, but you can know that from now on when you see my face, it’s really me.”
“Really my mom?” he asked.
“I’m really your mom, yes. I’m going to take care of you for the rest of my life to make up for all the time we were apart okay?”
He couldn’t keep himself hidden after that, turning the corner to lean against the doorframe of the bathroom.
“I’m gonna help her too, that good with you?” he asked, both of the brunettes turning to look up at him.
The boy gave a little grin and nodded, a small murmur of, “Yes,” making sure both he and Chiasa smiled too.
“Good, ‘cause I ain’t going anywhere.”
“You should be going to the kitchen to make dinner,” Chiasa teased.
He waved a hand dismissively but started to turn back to the kitchen nonetheless. “Yeah, yeah, water’s probably boiling now anyway.”
It was easy like that, falling back into their old ways. Even with the addition of the boy they had their same rapport and he knew that as a family it could only get better.
Even though he knew it, it felt like it was cemented as soon as the quiet giggles of mother and son entered the kitchen while he plated their meal. Looking over at the two brunettes he couldn’t believe how naturally they fit into this picture of his life.
Now that the boy had been cleaned up his dark hair wasn’t matted and he could see the small spikey tufts sticking out every which way. It looked more like his mother’s slightly longer hair but those were without a doubt definitely from his side of the gene pool. It was overwhelming to realize but even moreso to know that he already loved it and couldn’t imagine a time where he wouldn’t.
His entire being was screaming that it was outrageous for him to feel this way so quickly when he barely knew the boy but it was his son! His son with Chiasa! It was everything he had ever wished for from the time he realized she was the one for him to the present moment.
Katsuki was content to have this first meal as a family and to watch the two of them scamper off to the couch as he cleaned up after them. He was happy to hear the boy speak about the brightly colored cat cartoon they were watching even if they were small remarks. He could absolutely get used this this dynamic.
His thoughts were racing trying to think of everything they would need for the boy as he was brought fully into the fold of their lives. Surely there would also be medical appointments other than to treat the skin condition in addition to the therapy both he and his mother would be attending.
“We’ll have to make the office his bedroom,” he mused aloud as Chiasa laid against him on the couch. The boy sat cross-legged at their feet, entranced with an older cartoon he vaguely recognized.
She hummed. “Should we let him have the bed until then? Assuming you still have the old futon.”
“Yeah, I have it. Kid deserves a good night’s sleep on a nice mattress. You do too, so I’ll take the futon and you two get the bed.”
“No, I wanna stay with you,” she said. “We’ll sleep on the futon in there with him though, just in case.”
“Look at you going into Mom Mode already.”
She playfully elbowed him in the side. “As if you haven’t won Dad of the Year in a day.”
He scoffed but pulled her closer to him. The natural protectiveness over his family blanketed over his paranoia to keep them in his sights as often as he could, even in the apartment.
Even with the League members behind bars, Dabi and Compress for years and now Spinner, Toga, and Shigaraki following, he did feel the fear of losing them again. Deku’s refusal to end Shigaraki irked him knowing what he was capable of but he had said he would leave him to Deku and he had. He couldn’t burn that bridge, flammable as it surely would be.
He shook his head slightly to clear the thoughts from his mind. He had his family here with him now and he would do anything to keep them safe.
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Chiasa could remember the victory it was for Dabi to be taken into custody and locked away in Tartarus. Almost the entirety of Class A reunited in celebration of his capture and many a toast was raised that night. But several days later the celebratory mood was dashed as a consultant was brought in to assist in the identification of the uncooperative villain.
The man was called the Biographer, his quirk the same as the moniker. If he made to skin to skin contact with another person he could recite factual information about them such as name, birthdate, parents’ names, quirk, and so much more. It was chilling when he pressed a hand to the unmarred skin of Dabi’s hand and began to speak.
“Touya Todoroki, born January 18th at 9:55pm in the Chūbu region of Honshu, Japan, currently 33 years, 330 days old. Firstborn son of Enji and Rei Todoroki, elder sibling of Fuyumi, Natsu, and Shoto Todoroki. Quirk: Cremation.”
Of course it hit Shoto the hardest as expected but the class was close, a bond having been formed from the horrors of heroics at such a young age that they shared his pain. Even Katsuki had been sympathetic despite the hell that the villain had personally put him through.
The fear of learning something devastating was why when the Biographer stepped into his spacious office he tensed. Paternity tests could be wrong, couldn’t they? What if Chiasa just didn’t remember Shigaraki entering the room and the memories were locked away as a coping mechanism for the trauma? He was terrified that this meeting would create more obstacles for her, potentially even for the little boy—Todoroki himself had been an example of a mother gone mad from the sins of the father.
Kirishima elbowed him in the side, breaking up his thoughts and directing his attention to their guest. He was grateful that he and Kaminari had agreed to come, hoping it put Chiasa at ease just as much as him. She stood by his side, the little boy standing close behind her leg and gripping her hand tightly.
“Hello,” the Biographer greeted kindly. “I understand that there are a few questions about a child that need to be answered?”
Katsuki found his voice as Chiasa’s hand laced with his between them. “The only certainty we have are his parents,”—he hoped he wasn’t wrong in saying so—"everything else we need to know. We want the same basic information as we did with the villain Dabi, like we discussed.”
The Biographer nodded, turning to Chiasa. “And you’re his mother, ma’am?”
“Yes,” she replied, dropping his hand and crouching down to the boy’s level when he shrank under the unknown man’s gaze.
“Can he place his palm in mine for just a few moments?” he asked politely with a small smile. “It’s absolutely painless and he’s free to move his hand at any time.”
“Is that okay, honey?” she asked the wide-eyed child. “You just set your hand in his and we can learn more about you?” When he still looked unsure she added, “I’ll hold your other hand, and we have three strong heroes here to keep us safe.”
The boy nodded, eyes flicking up over her shoulder to meet Katsuki’s. “You stay close?”
“Don’t worry,” he said, walking around her to kneel on his other side. He placed a hand on his back. “I’m right here.”
That seemed to satisfy him enough to look at the Biographer who also crouched down. He extended his upturned palm out to him, patiently waiting until the boy placed his trembling hand atop it.
The Biographer smiled at him reassuringly, glancing at the adults on either side of him and hoping to provide the same comfort. Then he began to speak.
"Born on February 11th at 7:19pm in Nagoya, Japan, currently 3 years, 237 days old. Firstborn child of Katsuki Bakugo and Chiasa Minamino. Quirk currently unknown."
A sob broke past Chiasa’s lips, her free hand coming up to cover her mouth. Startled by the outburst the little boy took his hand away to turn to his mother only to be swept up in a tight hug. He wrapped his small arms around her neck as his bottom lip started to wobble.
Katsuki felt like he could cry too as the weight and fear of uncertainty lifted from his shoulders, and even as he smiled up at his friends he felt the telltale sting in his eyes.
“Come here,” Chiasa said, reaching out to bring him into the embrace. He went willingly and wrapped his arms around them both, his eyes falling closed in happiness as he held his family.
He pressed a kiss to Chiasa’s temple and then to the top of his son’s head, the soft brown tufts tickling his cheek.
Distantly he heard the Biographer excuse himself and Kaminari offer to walk him out. Kirishima followed and glanced back at the little family with a smile. They deserved this. All three of them.
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Still sitting on his office floor Chiasa had pulled their son—their son!—into her lap and held him close, the little boy still confused from her crying but happy to be with his mother nonetheless. Katsuki sat close to them, one arm wrapped around her shoulders and a grin still on his face. There were still a lot of things to work out, but this moment deserved to linger.
After a few silent minutes, Chiasa glanced up at Katsuki and smiled softly. She’d known since he told her about the small child while she was in the hospital but to hear it confirmed again was a melody she hoped would stay in her mind forever. But even though she knew he was the little boy’s father the child himself didn’t, and that needed to change.
It felt like there was so much she could say but no words that seemed right. She supposed that didn’t matter though, as long as this little boy knew his parents and knew they loved him.
“Honey,” she murmured, pulling back slightly to look in the boy’s eyes, “did you hear what that man said? Do you know what it means?”
That little pout returned to his face as he considered what she meant. “It was sad. It made you cry.”
“Those were happy tears,” she chuckled. “It wasn’t sad at all. It was really, really good. You know how Katsuki saved us?”
Matching eyes met his as he looked up at him, nodding. “Saved me. Saved you.”
“That’s right, he did. He saved us from Shigaraki and brought us home.”
“Saved us… from dad?”
She bit her lip, glancing at Katsuki briefly to see his jaw set at the false title. “Shigaraki isn’t your dad, honey.”
“No dad?” he asked.
Chiasa shook her head. “You have a dad. You’re the luckiest little boy because your dad is a hero who saves people.”
The boy turned to Katsuki. “Like you?”
“Sort of,” he said with a laugh. “What if I told you it was me? That I’m your dad?”
His eyes widened with what Katsuki hoped was excitement, and he leaned over to place his hand on his knee. He looked back and forth between both him and Chiasa several times, gaze on their eyes and hair respectively, before looking down at his hands where his right was on Katsuki and his left on his mother.
“You’re dad,” he finally said, patting his knee. Then he turned to Chiasa, tapping his fingers on her arm. “You’re mom.”
“That’s right, honey,” Chiasa whispered, one hand combing through his fluffy hair. “And mom and dad aren’t going anywhere, we all get to go home and be a family.”
“Family,” he repeated. “My family.”
He hugged her tightly and she pressed a kiss to his forehead, then he crawled over into Katsuki’s lap, throwing his arms around his neck and hiding his face in his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around him too, every nerve in his body alight knowing that this was his son. He was hugging his son.
“You’re dad,” he heard whispered against him. “My dad.”
“Yeah, your dad,” he said softly. “’M your dad and even… even though we just met, I love you. Me and your mom both do.”
He sighed happily into his shoulder and pressed himself closer. They stayed like that for a long moment, Chiasa’s lashes lined with tears beside them.
Katsuki wanted to stay in that moment forever, but he knew there were still a lot of things to discuss with her. So he pulled back slightly and asked, “Hey little man, you know what you should do?”
Owlish eyes blinked up at him from where his chin rested on his chest.
“You should tell Red Riot and Chargebolt about your family. I don’t think they know yet, and they’ll be real excited,” he said with a nod to the door. It was still open and they could clearly see the two heroes a few meters down the hall.
The boy looked back over his shoulder, considering, before turning back to look between his parents.
“We’ll be right here,” Chiasa promised. “They’re friends, honey.”
With a little smile, the child climbed out of Katsuki’s lap and trotted up to where they stood, greeted excitedly by both of them.
Chiasa took his hand in hers and laid her head on his shoulder. “This is amazing.”
He squeezed her hand. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
“It feels like the sun is finally rising after a long night. Like daybreak is chasing away the darkness.”
Katsuki kissed her cheek, then tilted her chin up towards him with his free hand to kiss her properly. She was right—this was dawn rising after four years and four months of night. Dawn was finding her and their son and being a family after the darkness of the League had shrouded them for so long. It was fresh and new, filled with endless possibility.
“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “You and our son.”
“I love you too. And so does he.”
He smiled, looking out to where the small boy was speaking to Kirishima and Kaminari who were crouched down to his level and smiling.
“He needs a proper name,” she murmured, her head resting on his shoulder once again.
He hummed. “I think you’re right about the sunrise, so what about Asahi?”
“Daybreak rising,” she said with a smile. “Yeah, that’s our boy, Katsuki. Asahi Bakugo.”
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A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated!
Disappearance Masterlist
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aquarianlights · 6 years
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I’m So Sorry And I Really Hope No One Leaves Me After This But I Need To Tell SOMEONE
For those of you that know me on FB, please don’t spread this on FB. This is a tumblr-only post. I’m usually pretty open about everything with people that know me irl, but. . .this in particular is not something I can let people who know me irl know. . . coz they’d leave me. And I’d be alone. In fact, I expect to lose a ton of followers after posting this. . .I’m gonna put it under a read more cut coz it’s so fucking horrible and you’re all going to be terrified of me now. . . I haven’t even told Chelle or Janita. . .or any of my roommates. . .whom I all trust 100%. . .because I know everyone is gonna leave me after this. And I just hope to fucking GOD that Chelle, Tajh, and Jeff (my roommates) are out of the house when these people come to evaluate me. . .because I haven’t told them about it yet.
Anyways. . .if you want to hate me and be scared of me for the rest of your existence, read below the cut. . .
So. . .I got a call the other day. And it’s been weighing on me since then. I told Tiffy almost immediately after it happened but she’s the only one I told coz I knew she wouldn’t abandon me over this.
Since I’ve either been in wards or in therapy ever since I turned 18, I haven’t needed an annual “evaluation” by a professional who takes his/her assessment back to a board of professionals to evaluate. . .something. I’m not sure what. They didn’t clarify over the phone. I’m THINKING it may be on whether I am fit to live in society or not? But I do have catastrophic thinking, so I may be thinking worst case scenario here and it could be something totally trivial and I’m just panicking.
But they called me. . .and told me that since I’m not in therapy and haven’t been and have not been in a ward for over x amount of time, I need to have annual visits by professionals to be evaluated for mental stability. If I were to get into therapy, get in with a psychiatrist for med management, and/or end up in a ward again. . .I wouldn’t need the evaluations. In fact, I did not even KNOW about the evaluations until this phone call because I HAVE always been in a ward or in therapy since the 18-19 age when this was initiated.
Apparently. . .in either my first or second adult institutionalization. . .I was diagnosed as sociopathic. Like. . .a straight up sociopath. No one told me this. No one even bothered to fucking MENTION this to me. And so. . .that went in my record when I was 18 or 19 and some sort of organization decided to keep tabs on me because of that diagnosis and the things I had done/said to earn that diagnosis. Apparently there’s not that many boxes that were left unchecked when checking when trying to diagnose me.
This went on my record. . .and was passed on to every therapist I’ve had and every ward I’ve been in. When I saw psychiatrists and psychologists, they knew and apparently thought I knew, so they never brought it up because I never brought it up. Which...is really fucked up. And the psychs in the wards always had me as a high risk patient with the bright red, yellow, or orange bracelet (depending on what they use) indicating I was high risk. I always thought it was coz I am schizo. But, no, apparently being schizo does not necessarily make you automatically high risk. . .but being a sociopath does. Why? I’m not sure. It’s not inherently bad to be a sociopath. . .is it? And I’ve been trying very hard to change the things about myself that make me qualify as sociopathic without even realizing they were attributed to that issue. . .disorder? Is it even called a disorder? Fuck, I don’t know the first thing about sociopaths/sociopathy.
But anyways. . .Apparently they kept putting me on two strong af antipsychotics at a time in wards because they were scared I’d do something or snap or whatever the fuck. Apparently they tried to talk to me about it and drill me on things I’ve done relating to stereotypical sociopathic behaviour but I’ve always put on a different personality for wards, so I had no idea they were talking about THAT. They never actually said the word “sociopath” so HOW WOULD I FUCKING KNOW??? HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW? HOW? HOW HOW HOW??? AND I’M BEING BLAMED FOR NOT KNOWING!!!!!
ANYWAYS. . .I got this phone call from the organization that has been keeping track on my mental health record since I was 18-19 (Idr which). It was basically a guy informing me that I needed my annual evaluation soon after introducing himself and telling me who he was and the organization he was associated with (which, I am familiar with coz I have worked with them before in crisis situations). And I was like “The fuck??? WHAT evaluation?” And he was like “Mental health evaluation. You know, for your issue?” Him trying to be discreet just made me mad and offended, tbh. But I didn’t show it. I was basically just like “What, you mean my schizo disorder? You can say it. You can say I’m schizo.” Like, it pissed me off that he was avoiding the word. Because I was like ‘it’s not a big deal that I’m schizo. why the fuck is an apparent professional avoiding the fucking word?’ I had no idea that he didn’t mean that at all. He hesitated on the phone and said “No, I’m talking about your sociopath diagnosis.” Which is when I almost dropped the phone. I took it seriously for a second and then burst out laughing and was like “WOW okay, thanks for the laugh, but no seriously, what evaluation are you talking about??” I legit thought this guy was joking to lighten the mood.
He was not. He repeated himself. And when I hesitated and made a confused, shocked noise. . .he then said “No one told you about this? You’ve been diagnosed when you were 18 when you were at MHRC for the first time and psychs that have seen you outside and inside wards have kept current with that diagnosis as they must report it to us that you are stable and medicated.” And I swear to god, if my life were a cartoon, my jaw would’ve been through the fucking floor. . .I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t think. Luckily, no one was home when this phone call happened or I would’ve been fucked. Because only my speaker phone works so I literally HAVE to have all my conversations on speaker phone. So. . .if anyone was home, even with the doors closed, they would have heard things. And I would’ve been fucked. There’s no way anyone would let a diagnosed sociopath stay in their home. . .even medicated. Even my absolute best friends. . .they’d probably be scared for their lives, EVEN WITH KNOWING ME AND KNOWING I AM OKAY AND SANE AND FINE AND MEDICATED AND A GOOD ASSET TO THE HOUSEHOLD. Still. . .just that diagnosis alone is going to fuck my ENTIRE LIFE over. . .
But apparently I have to have a yearly visit to evaluate my mental status with this organization or one of its affiliates. Because they’re cracking down hard on a) the war on drugs, b) school shootings, c) murders/serial murders/bodily harm/etc. . .all of which are highly associated with sociopathy. APPARENTLY. I’m not even sure if that’s true. That’s just what they told me. How credible are they? WHO THE FUCK KNOWS. THEY FUCKING LOCKED ME UP WHEN I WAS JUST TRYING TO FUCKING GET HELP ABOUT 2 YEARS AGO IN A CRISIS SITUATION SO I MEAN FUCK THEM.
And NOW they’re fucking getting an affiliate association here in LA to come fucking do my evaluation and report back to them??? Is this even a legal thing they can do? Is this a state-regulated thing? Coz, I mean, I know NC has these laws. . .but, I’M NOT IN NC. I mean, my residency is either in NC or FL. I’m not sure which. But. . .I’M IN NEW ORLEANS RIGHT NOW AND HAVE BEEN FOR OVER A MONTH. I know that doesn’t make me a resident, but. . .since they do have affiliate associations in the area. . .does that mean it’s a government regulated thing??? Coz they can’t just. . .if it’s state regulated, they can’t just. . .
How is this even fucking legal? To come literally to wherever I’m living, come in my home, and count my fucking psych meds and go through the paper trails of my psych history and medications. . .and to “make sure” I’m still medicated and make sure I’m not on drugs and make sure this and that and do an evaluation on whether I am mentally stable enough FOR THEIR STANDARDS or not.
FUCK THIS. Absolutely FUCK THIS.
Okay. . .I have to literally accept that I have been diagnosed as a sociopath by every professional I have ever come into contact with and all of them kept it from me. I have to come to terms with the fact I am legally obligated to stay on medication and can be penalized if I do not. I have to accept that I have an annual evaluation with fucking whoever the hell who basically just shoves their fucking opinions onto a legal document saying whether THEY PERSONALLY THINK I’m stable or not.
I don’t FEEL like I’m a sociopath or even have any sort of sociopathic symptoms. I don’t THINK I am a sociopath. I feel like that is a SERIOOOOOUS misdiagnosis and they should fucking reevaluate that. In fact, I KNOW I’m not a sociopath.
So this is absolute bullshit that they’re putting me through this. And since I have a legal diagnosis, if someone (like an employer or something) were to ask. . .wouldn’t I be legally obligated to tell them? This is going to fuck so many things up in my life. . .and if my roommates happen to be home when these people come to fucking evaluate me. . .they’re going to find out. They’re going to fucking find out. And I’m going to get kicked out. And no one is ever going to let me live with them or let me near them or ever let me fucking be friends with them AGAIN. I am going to be alone and abandoned by everyone I know and love because of this. Because of a fucking misdiagnosis.
And it kills me. . .because I can’t do anything to avoid this happening. Even though it IS a misdiagnosis and they’re 200% wrong, I can’t stop them because they THINK they are in the right. And they have the power, not me.
The one fucking phone call just shattered my life into fucking pieces. And could possibly leave me homeless or permanently institutionalized.
I’m scared. . .but I’m moreso angry. Angry at their fucking incompetence. I know me better than any of them know me. So don’t you think I would, personally, know if I were a goddamn sociopath? Yeah, I absolutely would. So fuck them and their dumbass OPINIONS. Coz that’s all they are. . .opinions.
Who the hell is that stupid to think I, ME, KILLIAN, AM A FUCKING SOCIOPATH? Who the hell is that goddamn stupid? Not saying ignorant; ACTUALLY STUPID.
Fuck, I’m mad. Scared and upset. . .but mostly just fucking mad. . .
Listen to me, not them. I’m right, they’re wrong. I may have a legal diagnosis, but they’re still wrong. They’re fucking wrong so please just trust me when I say this isn’t true and a legal diagnosis like this means NOTHING.
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