#no idea if I should tag this as being doctor who related

[tartsinarat]

Ngl was thinking about this whilst drawing some toh au stuff while watching doctor who in the background but I really feel like Pip would really be into the toh version of doctor who.

no idea what it would be called tho in the owl house but Pip’s into it for obvious reasons of sci-fi but also occasionally randomly fantasy?? show, which has chaotic mess of lore that makes no sense whatsoever (I say this with extreme love tho) and has a main character who’s a mad genius and criminal who stole a time machine and ran away to explore the universe and time which I feel meshes very well into what Pip would enjoy

Like I don’t see him enjoying space frontier as it’s pretty much Star Trek and that show has an really optimistic grand view of the future, it focus mostly on the good of people as a whole and that anything can be achieved if people work together and put their minds to it, I can see why Hunter and Gus would enjoy it which I find really sweet and adorable

On the other hand Doctor who has a very complex but pessimistic view on people/the universe, it mainly focuses on the crazy situations that a lonely alien on who’s constantly running away but desperately trying their best at all times to either atone for what they did in the past or to help people across time and space which I think Pip would find more interesting and relatable.

He’d also probably think that all the historical stuff in doctor who is real and that Britain is just constantly getting invaded by aliens.

Funniest thing though about him discovering Doctor who is Pip finally learning what a British person is, and that he’s got a British accent himself as I’m pretty sure there’s literally no one on the boiling isles other than Belos and Pip have that accent so he wondered where it’s from.

Pip also enjoys this show even more because time travel is a concept in toh, soooooooo the guy is just itching to figure out how to make a real Tardis, the only thing stoping him is that he’s in the human realm and in the demon realm the titan themselves was like “nope not even risking it” and decided to never allow him to be able to find a time pool again (he was apart of the events of elsewhere and elsewhen along side Luz and Lilith… it was awkward between him and Philip to say the least but it was more on Pips part because he was like” holy shit is he an older me?? Or my great great- something?? grandad what is going on???” So he didn’t know how to react to that and neither did Luz who was like yep they’re related, and Philip was like “what a strange hooded kid, I didn’t know that demons could mimic accents and appearances so well, I should be stay wary of that abomination and slay it when I have the time”. Oh yeah Pip does almost get killed but Lilith springs into action and does the badass punch to stop Philip. Ngl I’ll have to draw this as a comic at some point because it’s interesting to imagine/draw)

As well I had some ideas of him in thanks to them dressed up in a nerdy doctor cosplay which I found fun but idk if that’ll end up being what I draw him as for his Halloween costume, all three were picked because they all had similar Pip personality wise and I feel like he would relate most to these three in particular;

Like Pip, 10 is pretty much a wild card personality wise depending on the situation he can either be a sad destructive arrogant bastard with a slight god complex who takes matters into his own hands because he believes that he’ll make the right decision without thinking about the consequences or be a lonely silly guy who rambles a lot and is always running around and just wants to have fun.

1 is a grumpy trickster that has strong opinions about right and wrong, he also appears rude or uncaring but actually cares a lot and is the guy who ran away and stole a fucking time machine. He and 14 (14 is basically a mature 10 but I was tempted to go with him instead of 10 but he doesn’t have the ego problem so 10 it was lmao) fought a god like being that’s from another dimension thats obsessed with playing games.

4 is a bit of an odd ball though, he’s the weirdest doctor out of the bunch. He’s pretty silly, but at times he’s shifts into being quite callous and broody but still has a heart of gold. As well as 4 seems to struggle a lot in acting human as he’s pretty distant, aloof and alien at points, he even emphasises a lot throughout his run how he’s not human. Which I feel Pip would find extremely relatable as well as enjoying 4’s adventurist spirit and his extreme hatred of authority.

I think 4 is Pips favourite so he’d most likely cosplay as him during thanks to them.

Omg almost completely forgot to mention but I didn’t add his scar on purpose, he’s used illusion magic to remove it to make the cosplay more accurate and because his curse at that point is showing more physically on his body at this point in season 3 (he goopy 😔) and I can imagine it’s hard to explain to people in public why you a rotting infected looking green scar across your face and an even worse looking arm that’s weirdly proportioned to your body.

#the owl house #toh #original character #toh au #art #golden heir au #the owl house au #oc #owl house au #oc stuff #i got too silly #no idea if I should tag this as being doctor who related #it’s kinda embarrassing but ig cringe is dead #sorry to my followers who aren’t into doctor who #and also aren’t insane about dw #philip wittebane

[thefiresofpompeii]

i hope ruby gets a well-that’s-alright-then-style notdeath. on the one hand it will make haters mad because oh no not another companion with an impermanent end (and i like to see haters mad) on the other it would require creativity to depict this in a new way + i love all the implications i love the dark fairytale quality of these companion exits i love my un-undead schrodinger’s women

with the way the legend of ruby sunday is titled… legends aren’t usually told about living people. legends are stories of the bygone past, of an age long since over, fictionalised and overgrown with folklore like barnacles sticking to an abandoned shell. there is such a thing as a living legend, but they’re exceedingly rare. the unmistakeable raven’s call in the 73 yards teaser, the trailer’s cut to fifteen crying alone after promising to cherry he’d protect her daughter… the foreshadowing is clear as day…

and yet. there’s one massive HOWEVER. ruby appears in s15: millie’s been spotted on set filming it. which leads me to believe — the doctor isn’t one to take the time travel route and revisit companions that in his future are genuinely dead. that would hurt too much, it would cause unnecessary trauma and could break the timeline. that must mean ruby stays alive in some way. ish. she’s alive and a legend and a mystery. girl-ballad girl-song girl-paradox

here she is, fading out.

p.s.: thesis statement on moffatgirls from the tags i left on somebody else’s post about charley pollard.. well it belongs here since it’s basically the semiotic hurricane swirling around ruby at the moment :)

#on a personal level what interests me about these characters is precisely what gets them labeled as being subject to #misogynistic writing by pop-feminist video-essayists. as an autistic girl* (*ish) however; i find female characters that #aren’t quite ‘normal people’; women who represent an idea or concept or are a puzzle to be solved or a manic pixie dream girl to be #more and in a way far more interesting than a girl-next-door-type universally relatable protagonist #they make for more nuanced stories with more symbolism and more layers of interpretation usually. why should there be realism in a #fantastical narrative? similarly i like characters that are haunting the narrative or dead before it began (big locked tomb fan if you #didn’t know) and like. not to be tvtropes but the lost lenore archetype. dead woman who spurs the hero on to recklessness or revenge. #i identify with that dead girl. the laura palmers of the world. set the story in motion without #necessarily having agency. maybe it’s something to do with my #constant background radiation of passive suicidality. in a fun whimsical way :) i would never kill myself but i don’t want to be a real #person. i want to be objectified but not necessarily in a k*nky s*xual way (that too) in a princess in a tower way #the ultimate femme fantasy innit? there’s something about it. hashtag problematic hashtag conforming to gender roles #10000 tags be upon ye #ruby sunday #millie gibson #doctor who #dw #steven moffat #clara oswald #fifteen #fifteenth doctor #twelveclara #amy pond #charley pollard #river song #donna noble #ncuti gatwa #doctor who meta #jamie.txt #haunting

[silkscream]

HEAVEN SURROUNDS US

ੈ✩ summary: gojo likes that you make him feel human. admittedly, he also likes that sometimes, you make him feel like a god. ੈ✩ warnings: smut (18+), fingering, unprotected sex, slight dacryphilia, begging, soft dom!gojo, kind of mean gojo lol, workplace relations, reader can see curses but that's it, gojo has a god complex, dirty talk, not proofread bc i do not give a fuck ੈ✩ wc: 3.1k ੈ✩ a/n: i am having intense gojo brainrot. i was thinking about 'i'm your man' by mitski the entire time i was writing this btw. ALSO I LITERALLY HAD A GRAPHIC AND DIVIDERS FOR THIS BUT EVERY TIME I INCLUDE THEM this shit doesn't show up in the tags. i've given up!

Gojo Satoru has the smell of death burned into his senses to the point of complete apathy. He’s sure that Shoko feels similarly, though as a healer and a doctor, she’s often only met with the aftermath – the quiet decaying, the dried blood.

Gojo has encountered it all. The stench, the last pleas for salvation, the battered and torn-apart limbs. Even when the dying beings are cursed spirits suffering from the carnage created beneath Gojo’s hands, sometimes he wonders if an angel is nearby that weeps for them.

He has held grief inside his core to use as a weapon ever since he lost Geto. Nothing fazes him anymore. After the tragedies of his late teens, Gojo chooses to devote himself to his students rather than ruminating in sanctimonious thought loops. Gojo Satoru knows he isn’t a god, but sometimes, when he levitates in the sky with blood on his hands, he certainly feels like one. It’s safe to say that he may be the closest thing to one in the world of Jujutsu sorcery. It’s nothing that he despises – he’s known since his powers took shape in the awkwardness of his child-body.

Gojo likes to think he isn’t as cruel and indifferent as a god should be because of how protective he is. The warmth he’s had in his heart for Megumi alone confirms this as such, and now for Yuuji. Despite toying with the idea of divinity, he likes to remember that he’s human.

You are the only thing that reminds him of this.

Ever since Gojo had laid his eyes on you, he figured you were a delicate thing. He’s not completely wrong – although you can see curses, you lack any techniques. After becoming an assistant at Jujutsu Tech, he had taken more than a liking to you, more than he would be willing to admit to anyone else. He also never thought that the girl who was so quick to sardonic banter with him would be so vulnerable. 

When you’re underneath him, maybe he does consider himself a god, just for a second. And then he feels the silky touch of your skin and he can’t help but wish for a life of mundanity with you until the earth stops spinning. 

He likes that he can feel how fast your heart is beating. He likes that you become so pliant just from having his hand on your thigh.

It’s not like he exploits the little affair you have. It’s not that he wants to exploit you either, but the power trip that surges through him when you preen to his touch feels better than winning any battle. It’s those big eyes of yours. It’s a miracle you had reciprocated your attraction to him – he doesn’t know what he’d do to any other man who happened to pursue you. The thought of that kind of violence doesn’t make him feel any guilt. He’d do it in a heartbeat if it meant that he could have you forever, unconditionally.

Within the few months you’ve been working at Jujutsu Tech, you learn a few things about Gojo Satoru. He has an incredible sweet tooth. He cares about his students. He likes the feeling of your fingers combing through his hair. Lives for it, even, but he could never tell you that.

That’s how you ended up here, you suppose. Writhing and wet and oh so obedient for him. 

You like that a man that is worshipped by all enjoys worshipping you.

“Satoru,” you whisper. The sound of your voice makes him fucking melt. 

God, it’s so much worse when you beg. Satoru wants to be gentle with you, careful, because he knows that if all of his morals were thrown out the window, he would devour you completely, leaving bruises in your wake. But he waits, titillatingly, smirking as his long fingers grasp the flesh above your hips.

“Please,” you whine. Your lower half bucks up into him, squirming just a little, but he grounds you with his large hands once again. 

Satoru knows better than to toy with his prey, but the flush on your cheeks is so fucking cute that he wonders what you would look like with tears rolling down the soft blush of your skin.

“Be patient, baby,” he rasps. “Just like lookin’ at you.”

“You look at me all day.”

“Someone’s got quite the attitude.”

You’re about to protest until you feel his knuckle brush against the peak of your clit, teasingly. A nasty grin spreads across his face as he grazes his fingertips along your slit, marveling at how wet you are when he’d barely touched you.

“So pretty for me,” he muses, mostly to himself. 

“Should see how pretty I am when you’re inside me.”

Satoru scoffs. Despite being so human, you have quite the mouth, so much confidence in the way you move and speak that he often forgets how easy it would be to lose you. To break you. Though, of course, that privilege is for him and him only. 

He kisses you to shut you up, but not nearly for long enough. You can’t even get your tongue inside his mouth. You whine pitifully as he pulls back. 

“Poor baby,” he coos. “So on edge today. What’s got you so desperate like this, huh?”

“Just want you,” your voice is meek, which is an anomaly. The honey-sweet cadence of your words is barely above a whisper.

“You have me.” Unbeknownst to you, you always will, whether you tire of him or not.

He makes his point by circling the pad of his thumb to your clit while his other hand claws at your chest underneath your dress shirt. The sound of your gasp has him reeling already, has his cock rock-hard in his slacks. 

“More,”  you whimper. “S-Satoru, please.”

You’re surprised when you feel the palm of his hand over your mouth. You whine against his hand, soft gasps dissipating underneath his touch as your eyes roll back. You feel two fingers enter your sopping cunt and it renders you brainless, docile just how he likes you. 

The rhythmic ministrations of his fingers touch upon the spot inside your core that makes your legs shake. You like being smothered by him despite your personality. You don’t even have to tell him – he knows already, he’s known ever since he noticed your reactions to him touching you casually during the working day.

The more you crave his touch, the more you become dependent on him, even when you don’t realize it. You always pride yourself on being an independent soul, refusing his insistence to pay for your meals, the way you express to him quietly that you want to be able to fight back one day. You could perfect a certain violence in between your fingers just like he can if you put your mind to it. But you have too much dignity to request his guidance as a mentor or teacher. 

He thinks about it now as he touches you. The idea of him training you to use cursed techniques. The idea of him making you in his image, shaping you like he had created you himself.

If anyone truly knew the extent of how you are the object of Satoru’s affection, of his obsession, one would render him pathetic. But he knows he’s too powerful. He knows it’s easy to make you seem like the pathetic one. You’re already begging for his cock, after all. 

“I‘m gonna… I’m–”

There’s a squelching sound when he retracts. His fingers are wet with your slick and you’re on the verge of tears when you feel the loss. You’re already falling apart without his touch. It doesn’t help when you watch him lick your wetness off of his own fingers.

“Why are you being so mean to me today?”

“‘m not,” Satoru purrs, licking a stripe from your collarbone to your earlobe. You try to kiss him since his face is so close to yours, but again, he restricts you. His long, slender fingers squeeze the base of your neck. “I could be a lot meaner to you, y’know. You’re lucky. This is mild compared to what I’ve thought about doing to you.”

“Wanna cum,” you whisper. You don’t even realize that there are tears falling because you’re too focused on Satoru. It isn’t fair, the way he’s toying with you. The moment he relinquishes his grip, just barely, you reach over to palm his cheek. He lets you pull the blindfold from his eyes.

“Dunno if I can let you. You’re being so greedy. Such a selfish fucking girl.” He pinches your nipple as he says it. His voice is smooth, dripping like honey, dulcet in the way his words manage to make your eyelashes flutter despite how filthy the subject matter is. He’d ruin you if he could. Perhaps, he’d ruined you the moment he touched you.

He’s touching your clit again, but not rhythmically. You feel a sense of loss every few seconds. He’s fucking teasing you now, but you’re smart enough to not snap at him despite how much you want to. 

So you say his name instead. Like a hymn or a prayer. Like it’s the sweetest thing to come from your tongue. From the way your voice sounds, Satoru is convinced that his own name is a blessing just because it comes from your lips. He can’t get enough of it.

You make Satoru feel human, but the way you react to him at the moment makes him want to pretend he’s a god.

“S-Sat–Satoru. Oh.”

“You cryin’ already, baby? Thought you liked it when I played with you.”

His voice is low, raspy. Almost cruel. 

Your brain is so foggy that it feels like he’s been doing this to you for hours. You can’t even form words, can’t bitch to him or dominate him the way you often attempt to. There’s a secret part of you, deep inside, that is unlocked by the way Satoru handles you. As much as he loves control, he still doesn’t know the extent of what you would let him do to you. How you wished he’d wrap a silk ribbon around your neck and collar you like a puppy. How you think you would do anything for him if he asked.

You don’t even know that he would do the exact same for you.

Now, you’re at your peak again. Your legs are wobbly, senses so heightened by the way he plays with your pussy that it takes you a few moments to notice that his cock is prodding against you, bare and pink and fucking leaking. 

Maybe if you tell him you’re close, he’ll stop. You can’t stand the thought of it. So, naturally, you cry instead, and the sight makes him want to keep you for as long as he’s alive. Satoru would make sure nothing slights you, and that nothing out of his control could possibly vex you. This desire usually scares him. At the moment, it doesn’t. At the moment, he feels drunk with it. 

He knows when you cum because he has you memorized. It’s a little death, truly, because when your legs tremble and your moans fade into a sharp gasp, Satoru knows for sure that your brain has turned to mush. Your body melts against his. Maybe you’d melt right into his mattress if he didn’t have more energy to play with you. 

Gojo Satoru does not believe in a higher power, but he thinks that if one existed, one that was more powerful than him, he would thank them. He would thank them for you, the creation of you, the very essence of you living and breathing in the same wretched world as him. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, you were made just for him. 

You recover in a succession of exhales. Blinking rapidly through blurry vision as you feel Satoru’s face nuzzling your neck, almost too domestic and sweet to bear. You had never thought of anything serious with him because of his reputation, but every time he has you like this, underneath him, you often wish that he would reassure you that he wants to keep you.

And he does. He is devoted to you in a way that feels holy. He just doesn’t know how to tell you that. Satoru hopes you can figure it out just from the way he touches you. 

And maybe, like him, you’re just above human. An angel, he thinks. A set of wings would suit you. 

“I– I– please–” you strain. You feel embarrassed from the tears, but Satoru cherishes you. He kisses and licks them right off your face.

“I know, baby. I won’t make you beg any more than you have,” he sneers. 

You’re fucking doe-eyed, angelic when he enters you. Just the tip, for now, just so he can see how you react. It isn’t the first time but you are certainly acting the part from the way your whole face screws up. Your perfect mouth parts and he touches your bottom lip with his thumb.

You whimper like a wounded thing. Like you should be begging for mercy. He hasn’t dipped too far into his God-complex yet to coax that reaction for you.

And without a warning, he pushes himself into you completely, bottoming out. He groans at the feeling of your walls tightening around him. So warm. So fucking wet.

“Fucked you enough to mold the shape of your pussy to my cock, huh? Feels so fucking– fuck,” he exhales, rutting into you with eyes shut. 

You whine his name, clutching at him, scraping your nails across his pale back. He loves the way you need him. He wouldn’t trade the feeling for anything else in the world.

Made for me. God made you for me.

You slur your words against his neck and his chest as he thrusts into you – cries of his name, of begging for more, of your usual expletives. He grins like a predator. He bends you in half and thinks briefly about breaking your limbs for the sake of his pleasure. (He doesn’t. You’re too delicate, too human.)

In reality, you’re sarcastic and sometimes brash. When Satoru has you writhing underneath him, you’re a little more shy. He wants to tease the desire from you, whatever filth that permeates in your brain. 

“Tell me what you want.”

“Want– I want– aah!”

“Feels so good for you, I know. Use your words for me. I know you can,” Satoru taunts.

“Want you to make me cum on your cock. Please,” you beg. “Need it deeper, ‘Toru. Need you.”

“Need me, don’t you? Say it again so I can hear it.”

“Nngh– Need– Fuck, I can’t–”

He slows the speed of his thrusts and rubs the length of your jaw softly with his palm. His other hand rubs your clit gently, making your body spasm. He tucks the hair sticking to your forehead behind your ear so he can see all of you. You and your swollen mouth and glassy eyes.

“Don’t do that,” you whine.

“Do what, baby?”

“Teasing me like this. Wan’ it rough.”

“What else?” he breathes into your neck, palming your breast as he thrusts into you deeper.

“Want everything. Want it to hurt.”

And with that, he gives it to you. He gives you all of it. 

You drape your arms around his body so that you’re closer than ever, both of your bodies ready to mesh into one if they could. Satoru pushes your legs up, knees bent and ankles near your ears, and he basks in the sound of your pathetic mewls. 

“Such a good… fucking girl,” he groans. “‘m so close.”

“Me too,” you reply in a hushed tone. “Right– right there.”

Satoru has fucked you plenty of times. He’s called you a slut, a greedy whore – but he can’t bring himself to degrade you like that even though he knows you like it. You’re splayed out for him, limbs limp and grateful for his embrace. You’re too fucking precious for him.

You’re too dazed to think about the moral implications of your affair. It's a miracle you can't enter his mind so deeply when you're fucked out like this. Where his thoughts flash from lecherous to monstrous, yours are rendered sluggish. There’s almost nothing in your brain, save for him and his blue eyes and the feeling of his cock. It consumes the best of you. You welcome it with open arms.

Another kiss. It’s mostly Satoru working his tongue into your mouth and you dissolving under his tongue. He tastes so sweet, so fresh all the time. His lips are so fucking soft it drives you insane.

“Pleasemakemecum,” you cry out in a jagged mumble. “Please. Need it so bad. Please!”

He groans in response. You’re begging more than usual. You are frantic and desperate and welcoming his hand to shape you in his image. 

The way he grinds into your cunt becomes more aggressive, which is easy for him. There’s no resistance – your pussy is so fucking wet for him in that way. The cloying heat in his pelvis spreads to the rest of his body, warmth enveloping him like hot water in a bath.

You whine his name again and it dissipates into his mouth.

“Cum with me, fuck, I can feel you–” he moans. Both of you reach your peak in the way he grasps your body, calloused hands worshipping the length of your waist until his fingertips bruise your thighs. 

His hips stutter as he indulges in his pleasure. In the sound of your hushed whimpers. In the way your nails claw across his back. 

Both of your labored breaths fill the silence. Even in the dark, you admire the brightness of his blue eyes. They could replace the divinity of the stars themselves, you muse. 

Both of you are hazy, intoxicated on the touch of each others’ skin. You shiver in your skin. You’re only soothed when he buries his face into your neck, long limbs splayed over your smaller frame.

“I should fuckin’ marry you,” he breathes into your skin.

“What was that?” you raise a brow.

He clears his throat. Despite the daze, he’s able to give you one of his signature cocky grins. Something flashes in his blue eyes, you think.

“I think I wanna keep you.”

If he was god, you were his seraphim, he’s decided. He almost tells this to you, out loud, because your big eyes drink him in. He knows better.

“You have me,” you reply softly, echoing him from earlier in the night. The way he smiles reminds you of the sun. 

Gojo Satoru knows it’s an affirmation from you, maybe even pillow talk. But he knows that sentiment to be truer than anything he’s ever known. He is yours and you are his.

For now, you don’t know the half of it. Maybe someday you will.

#gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk

[remember-digimon]

Good ol' reliable Joe!

When I first watched Digimon back in the 2000s, Joe was the character I related to the least. Now, as a big grown up in my late 30s, I finally understand what Joe is all about.

At first glance, Joe is anxiety incarnate. In the dub, he gets the 'nerd' trope that Izzy avoided for the most part. Joe is always allergic to things, worried about the slightest danger, and constantly trying to be the voice of reason. His 'voice of reason' however is more 'voice of general complaints and worry.'

If I recall correctly, in the original Japanese, Joe is like this because he's the oldest, at 12 years old. He feels it's his responsibility to make sure everyone is safe since he's the upperclassmen in this situation. In the dub, he's just a worrywort.

Joe takes on responsibility that he could easily delegate to other kids. In the episode where Gomamon evolves into Ikkakumon, Joe tries to break up an argument between Tai and Matt about climbing a mountain, only managing to get drawn into the argument himself. Later, he decides that he should climb up the mountain on his own as a compromise. He doesn't even bring Gomamon with him; Gomamon tags along anyway, of course, but initially Joe intended to go by himself.

He shows initiative, that's for sure. At least when the pressure is on. Others have noted that Tai, Sora, and Joe are the action-takers while Matt and Izzy act more defensively with Mimi, Tk, and later, Kari in mind. I like this thought, especially for Joe. He is often stumbling into danger out of his need to be the 'adult' of the group, feeling responsible for everyone's safety.

One thing we should discuss is his crest. I want to go more in depth on the crests on a different post, but here I think we need to talk about Joe's crest being changed for the dub. Originally it was the crest of faith.

Honestly, I do think reliability fits Joe a lot better. It is awkward for that to be a trait of a child (Remember, their crests were developed back during the original Digimon Adventure OVA, when Greymon fights Parrotmon). But I do think he exemplifies being reliable, because it's the right thing to do.

Conversely, Joe doesn't really expect others to help him. He wants to be relied on, but doesn't want to rely on others. He saves TK from drowning in the bay without thinking of his own safety.

Joe is also the studious member of the group. At one point, while they're temporarily back in Odaiba, Joe takes a practice test and fails it. This causes him a lot of anxiety. It feeds into the situation at home, which is another point I'll get into shortly.

In Our War Game, Joe is unreachable because he's taking an entrance exam. He's in a panic the whole time, showing how important it is that he does well. No doubt he's one of those cram school kids.

As for his family, we do meet his older brother Jim, but not his parents. In fact, Joe's parents are the only ones we don't meet out of the original 8. We do hear a lot about his dad, though, who has high expectations of his sons. Mr Kido wants both of his sons to be doctors like him, and on his terms, too. Jim says he wants to go to less developed countries to practice medicine, and that their father doesn't approve.

Jim also doesn't seem to have much faith in Joe becoming a doctor due to his high anxiety, and the fact that he faints at the sight of blood. Joe seems apprehensive about it himself, even though he does eventually go into med school and become a doctor.

To me, Joe's story is one of perseverance. When he's working off his debt in the diner, he fully expects to work there until it's paid off and is genuinely surprised that Matt would offer to help. When his test scores fall, he resolves to work harder. Even though he doesn't like the idea much at first he does eventually become a doctor. I can see how the original script would give him the crest of faith with all that in mind, but I still think reliability fits him better. He doesn't just have faith that things will work out, he's proactive in making sure they work out. Even if he's a little clumsy about it.

#joe kido #jyou kido #digimon #digimon adventure #character analysis

[latenightsimping]

THE EDGE

“...There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who’ve gone over.” - Hunter S. Thompson, Hell’s Angels

Summary: A part of the deal to freedom included a stay at Pennhurst. It’ll take everything to keep the hope that one day the locked doors will open, the windows will no longer have bars that block the view, and that one day, the name Eddie Munson will be synonymous with the word ‘innocent’. The hope, he never realised, would also come to be synonymous with your name.

Chapter: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: angst, heavy themes of inpatient treatment/hospitalisation, heavy themes of mental health, institutional deprivation of liberties, body injuries, mentions of suicidal ideation, themes of institutional abuse, can be a dark read (continue with that in mind, look after yourselves), canon divergence, Eddie survives the demobat attack, post-S4 timeline, slow burn romance, eventual smut, 18+, eventual fluff

AN: This was an idea that I’ve had for a little while, and finally getting around to writing it. There will be multiple chapters, and we’ll get to meet the reader in chapter 2. I’m pulling on many references, some of it being my own experiences of being in an inpatient facility a couple of times in my teenage years. Write what you know, and get some catharsis through angst relating to it, innit. I will say though, look after yourselves, and seek help if you need it. Inpatient sucked, but it’s what I needed to keep myself healthy and alive. There’s light at the end of the tunnel, I promise. And if you think it needs extra tags, please lemme know. I can see replies but cannot answer due to this being a sideblog, so keep that in mind. Anyway. Hope you enjoy.

Taglist: (lemme know if you wanna be added): @edsforehead​

Eleven vertical steel bars, five horizontal. eighty-seven bricks on the wall just past them. Sixty-four pinstripes on the pillowcase. One hundred and twenty one days since the last breath of fresh air. 

There’s only so much counting to be done, before you go as insane as they report you to be. 

Eddie had prided himself in independence, before everything went to shit. He could get up when he wanted, go to bed at a time of his choosing. Choose what clothes to wear, when he wanted to shower, what food he ate. But that had all been stripped away. A uniform of white was given to him on arrival. White undershirt, white button down and pants, white vans, white socks. A colour that he typically hated, now forced upon him with no room for argument. The food was shit, the attitude of the staff even worse. Bed so uncomfortable that what little sleep he could manage with the screams and yelps of the damned ringing in his ears, he would always wake up with a soreness that could never be taken away. 

He thought he’d witnessed hell. Skies of red and thunder, twisted vines and flapping of wings and razor sharp teeth. But this? 

This was worse.

He had woken up bathed in bright light, and for a second he wondered if this was Heaven. Only took a couple of seconds to realise that it was likely that the promised paradise wouldn’t smell of disinfectant and have incessant beepings of heart monitors. A couple of times in his life, he had been in handcuffs. Drug related charges that Hopper had conveniently lost the paperwork for, letting him go with a stern talking to and a slap on the wrist. But this time? This time, the steel that connected him to the bedframe of the hospital bed felt permanent. He was lucky to be alive, according to the doctors, who told him with disgust evident in their features. It should have been you who died, was clear to translate from furrowed brows and the thin press of their lips. Eddie couldn’t help but agree with them sometimes. Nurses would often ‘forget’ to give him the pain medication prescribed, leaving him in a near constant state of agony. 

The demobats had really done a number on him; lacerations and chunks of flesh torn from the left hand side of his body, trailing up his neck and ending on his jawline and cheek. More on the right pectoral muscles, the backs of his hands, forearms and upper bicep. If he wasn’t facing the barrel of the death penalty, he would have cracked a joke about losing his nipple. Each and every wound was a constant ache, his jaw near permanently set to grinding his teeth to bear with it. Only when Wayne was finally allowed to visit, hollering his lungs out about how much pain his boy was in, was he finally given those syringes of relief that he so desperately craved for. Not for long, only until they decided to neglect him again. But those moments were the reprieve that were sorely needed.

It had been Hopper’s idea to turn himself in and feign insanity, when he had visited his bedside. Something about a plan, and that he would just need to hang tight for someone high in the food chain to be contacted to fix the mess. He was promised that the chief of police would make sure he wouldn’t go to jail. Just to have trust, have faith, and repeat the words told to him to plead insanity. He couldn’t remember anything past the point of letting Chrissy into the trailer. He couldn’t remember killing Fred Benson or Patrick McKinney. Couldn’t remember attacking Max Mayfield, putting her in the hospital. Couldn’t remember how he got hurt. Deny, deny, deny. It had been easy to convince the cops that he’d lost his mind; easy enough that it was borderline insulting. The last of Vecna’s victims had wounded him to find out about, and had nearly caused him to lose face. He didn’t know Red well, but he’d seen her around the trailer park, looking as lost and broken as he did at that age. Got to know her better over the time they spent together, and had admired the strength and tenacity that was in her, too much of those qualities for a fifteen year-old to carry. He just prayed to a God that he didn’t believe in that she’d pull through. 

Many years ago, he had made a promise to himself not to ever turn out like his father. That waste of space that chose drugs over his own flesh and blood. But getting processed in what remained of Hawkins police station, ink still damp on his fingertips as he clutched the name board while his picture was taken, that’s exactly how it felt. The hospital booted him as soon as he was medically stable, no doubt not wanting to harbour a serial killer in the halls that were meant for healing. At least he could be thankful that the station was only a detour, a short stop to what would be his home for God knows how long. 

Pennhurst Mental Hospital. 

In four months, life had blurred into a monotony that was barely endurable, with no end in sight. He was afforded no luxuries; the cell he was kept in made up of nothing more than necessities. Bed, sink and toilet, desk and a chair. No windows, and the only view past his bars being a dirty grey brick wall.He’d counted the cracks in it the first week in. Counted the ones on the ceilings in the second week. The rest of the time had been spent packing back and forth, like that tiger he’d once seen at some shit zoo. The lack of fresh air had suffocated him long ago. He could swear that he hadn’t taken a deep breath since Chrissy’s body flung itself to the ceiling.

It was the boredom that was the thing that was slowly poisoning him the fastest. The unending, unyielding, mind numbing boredom. Where all he had was his thoughts, and no possible escape from them. Thoughts of the past and the future threatening to pull him under, to drown him in regrets and missed opportunities. He was going to finally graduate from high school. Corroded coffin could have gone somewhere. He was going to start a new campaign for Hellfire. He was planning to finally move out of the trailer, and into a place of his own. Back and forth, the rumination so intense it made his head spin. Made him pace even harder, until he was near the point of over exertion. The only outlet for a man that barely ever stood still in his life.

 A nurse that must have had a shred of humanity left passed a book through his bars the first couple of weeks in, evidently having enough sense to realise there was no possible way for him to do damage to himself or others with it, and most likely sick of the sound of rubber soles against cement. The Count of Monte Christo was a book that he vaguely remembered from school, no doubt an essay that he didn’t hand in considering he’d never read it in his life. But by this point? He could have recited it in his fucking sleep. 

It was during another countless repeat of reading it that his attention was caught by the calling of his last name, a loud bang of a fist hitting metal that snapped him out of whatever dissociation he found himself lost in. Snapping his head towards the sound, he was met with the unkind face of one of the orderlies, one that seemed to have it in for him since getting here. Eddie had heard him be called Bradford before. He must have caught the confusion on Eddie’s face, considering he followed it up with an eye roll. 

“Get your ass over here,” was the gruff response he got, the jingling of keys audible as the one to his cell drove home into the cylinder. “Must be your lucky day.” 

Though there were multiple questions ruminating in Eddie’s mind, he knew better to push his luck. Gift horse in the mouth, and all that. The steps he took towards the door were methodical; slow and steady, as if it was all one sick prank, getting him into trouble and thrown into the solitary confinement cells that he’d been borderline threatened with multiple times. 

A firm hand planted to his chest stopped him in his tracks, the contact to the still healing scars making him wince and take a sharp breath. It was instinct to lower his eye contact upward, though it quickly dropped to the floor as the man loomed over him. “Any trouble, so much as one foot out of step, and I’ll make it my fucking mission to put you back in here. Do I make myself clear?” the man warned under his breath. The smell of stale coffee and cigarettes hitting him square in the face, making his stomach churn. 

Swallow down the disgust and agony, as much as it hurts, the reasonable voice inside him whispered. Don’t do anything stupid. In another life, he would have given this figure of authority hell. A sarcastic quip heavy on his tongue, a middle finger to those who wanted him under their boot. 

But this wasn’t that life. And he needed to play it smart. 

“Crystal, sir,” he mumbled, fight well and truly snuffed out from the system that wanted him locked up and the key thrown away. 

It seemed to have appeased the orderly, for now. The man took sure steps towards the exit, Eddie following his heels at a close yet respectable distance. Head lowered, frizzy curls now wild and unruly falling like a curtain in front of his face. It was near laughable to him that the ability to walk in a straight line further than ten feet was now a luxury. Could finally properly stretch his legs, though the destination was still a mystery. 

The shift from dim lighting to sunshine with the ascension of a set of stairs that he’d only travelled down once made his eyes screw near closed on instinct, turning his head away from the windows that let it in. Once upon a time, he enjoyed sunny days. Like the feeling of sun on his skin, and the wind in his hair. Nowadays he didn’t even know what season it was. 

Being led through winding corridors, for the first time he saw other patients, all eyeing him with paranoid looks. He couldn’t blame them. But he could feel the tendrils of fear beginning to grip at his gut. Would he end up like these people eventually? How long would it take? A couple of months? Years? A subtle shake of his head as he tried to dislodge the thoughts. He couldn’t think like that. Hopper promised he’d be out of here soon. He just had to have hope. 

The orderly came to a stop in front of a door, deep green and paint chipping off with age. The nameplate on the front gave him pause, when he finally spared a glance at it. DR. EDITH MILLER, etched onto the brass. He’d had meetings with Dr. Miller since he got here. Once a week, the nosey bitch would try and get information that didn’t even seem relevant. He’d managed to evade some of the questions, embellished the truth on others. But if he was being summoned to her office? This couldn’t be good. 

The orderly’s knuckles rapped on the door three times, a call of “enter,” being audible seconds later. Eddie was ushered inside, the homely looking woman with already greying hair barely looking up at him from her paperwork as she motioned with the pen in her hand towards the chair nearest to them. At least in his cell, he was somewhere that he knew back to front. This was completely different, completely new, and his nerves were already on edge as he shuffled inside. 

“Need me to stay?” Bradford asked, hand still grasping the door handle as his eyes flickered around the room. No doubt his mind was already thinking of possibilities of what could happen with a suspected murderer left alone in a room with a defenceless woman. The thought of people thinking that he was capable of atrocities weren’t new, but it still made Eddie sick to the core. 

“That won’t be necessary,” she replied, hazel eyes finally shifting upwards to look at the two men. Her monotone voice gave nothing away, face devoid of any emotion either. Bradford faltered for only a second, before Eddie finally heard the door close behind him. Only then was he given the barest hint of a polite smile as she motioned her hand towards the chair again, to which he obliged out of the need to be polite. “How are you feeling this week, Eddie?” she asked, head slightly tilted. 

She was the only one to call him the name he preferred. Everyone else just called him Munson. He wasn’t stupid; he knew it was a ploy to get him to trust her. Make him comfortable with small signs of respect, though it was likely she didn’t in the slightest. His hands settled on his lap as he fidgeted with his fingers, eyes glued to the worn tiles of the linoleum and absentmindedly counting the cracks. “Fine,” he replied, the word devoid of any emotion or energy. 

The truth would be sharing too much; the fear of being honest bringing the risk of even more restrictions under the guise of safety. There wasn’t a delicate way of saying “I want to close my eyes and never wake up some days.” 

He heard scrawls of the pen, no doubt more notes that would dig him a grave of pills and cell bars. A pregnant pause before she spoke again, and an intake of breath. “And how are you feeling with the medication changes? Is your mood still low?”

He had to bite his tongue, to stop his lips turning up into an incredulous smile. The truth again being evaded in the answer. “Fine,” he repeated, this time with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “The pills make me feel sick every hour of the day, make me into more of a ghost than I already am.” 

Another scratch of ink on paper. “Your case was brought forward to the panel this morning. We’ve decided that we should ease your restrictions, given that there’s been no record of violent tendencies to yourself or others since the time you’ve been with us.” 

That made his ears perk up, the sparks of hope threatening to ignite in his chest. Head snapping up to finally make eye contact with the good doctor, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What does that mean?” 

Her eyes studied his face for a few heartbeats, a small smile gracing her features, one that seemed to be an attempt at easing anxieties. “It means we’ve decided to move you to a medium security wing. It comes with certain privileges, but also with expectations, Eddie.” 

The words coming out of her mouth seemed to blur together, becoming a background noise to his rapidly beating heart. He was finally getting out of the damnation he had been trapped in, perhaps finally allowed into the light. To be able to breathe lungfuls of outside air from a crack in a window, to not have to sleep just to evade the hollow boredom. It was relief; as if the hand of an angel had reached into the pits of hell, to bring him to salvation. And if that hand was one of the likes of Miller, he’d clasp it with both hands and not let go until the end was in sight.

“-we’ll still need to see improvement to give you certain privileges, but we can play it by ear. How does that sound?” Her voice finally tuned back in, a little hazy at the edges, tears of joy and relief threatening to fall from his eyes. 

“When can I go? When do I move?” he blurted, the only question that mattered. Fuck, if she’d asked him to crawl through broken glass right now, he’d do it with a fucking smile on his face. 

Her eyes flickered downwards as her wrist came up, a brief glance to her wristwatch as she pulled herself to a stand. “You’re just in time for recreation, and there’s no time like the present.” She rounded the desk, taking sure steps to the door and looking back. “Shall we?”

It was instinct to move as fast as his legs could take him, quickly snuffed out with the realisation of where he was. Slow, sure movements, make yourself as least threatening as possible. Keep hands visible at all times, open and by his sides. Three steps away from the doctor, passing many twists and turns of the corridor and being led through multiple sets of steel doors, until one was finally opened for him that he was expected to step through alone. 

It wasn’t until the door slammed behind him that he finally looked up to take in his surroundings. Chipped and scuffed beige linoleum tiles, walls in just as sorry a state. Large windows that bathed the room in natural sunlight, though the bars on the windows were a reminder of where he truly was. A couple of tables and chairs dotted around the room, most occupied with other patients. Who seemed to be in various stages of lucidity. A couple of benches, some more chairs crowded around an ancient TV. 

In any other situation, he would call this place what it was; an abject shithole. Somewhere he wouldn’t be if you paid him. But recent events had changed his mindset, had lowered his expectations until the bar was practically on the floor. This was a damn palace, compared to his last recent address. It had the lack of staleness in the air, albeit now replaced with bleach and something he couldn’t place. It had space, and light. 

It had hope. 

But with the luxury of choice, came the immobilising aspect to it. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Where was he going to sit, or do? Strike up conversation and hope that the person didn’t know about what had put him here in the first place? 

He was still making his choice when he heard a voice. A woman, tone bored yet slight amusement playing on the words. 

“Are you just going to stand there? You’re making the place look untidy.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #cw: angst

[plushietoon]

How about 4?

(Because of the reblog)

Hope everything's fine! ✌️

WarioWare Fan Ask Game!

4. Do you have any personal headcanons or interpretations of the characters? (In relation to design, hobbies, connections to other characters, etc)

Tagging @freakattack since they asked about this too. But I will squeeze in more headcanons in that post >:3 (please do not worry I will indulge in stuff here too)

I've been obsessed with this series since 2018, so I have like, about 6 years of headcanons. This does not include me goofing off with the Thangs in my youth, though I love them dearly. ...it's just that this love is overshadowed by ninjas.

Here's a chunk of headcanons:

Orbulon is squishy and very capable of transformation. I'm stealing the idea from @the-ren-amamiya that he cannot change his eyes when transforming into other beings so he still just wears his shades. He fluctuates between both lanky and chubby depending on his mood, but I like thinking of a middle ground between the two...like give him his boots back, please...

Him, Red, and Ana have gotten into transformation antics because we cannot forget that Red is both Ashley's wand and broom. It is very hard to beat those three when they are hiders in hide and seek. I like @scarlett-v-the-fox's idea that Red's transformations must contain the color red somewhere on him. So between that and Orbulon's eyes, only Ana can do a perfect 1 to 1 transformation when she feels like it.

In speaking of Ana, she's a bit like Ash's Pikachu because she likes contorting herself to partially resemble others to emphasize who's she's (or Kat are) talking about. That or she has a non verbal episode...she has quite a few moments where she doesn't want to talk, or simply can't. Yes I am a bit of a believer she has some neurodivergence, because I am in that boat of being neurodivergent and she has the vibes™.

Shadow was specifically bred to be a dog that's an expert in ninjutsu. Most doggos can't quite just turn into a sword. So in a sense, he's an inheritance from the ninja parents...or clan. Honestly I should pull up my notes on how...distant the parents are...if I can find them.

If you know me, you know I am very fixated on the idea that Ana and Lulu end up as besties. Ana still loves Kat. It's just that on the few occasions where Kat isn't around, there was a time Ana latched onto Lulu 'cause next best thing...that and they both love wearing dresses and eating. Ana cannot talk Kat into the whole frilly dress up time. It may not make full sense in most's lores and maybe even canon, but the one I developed with a close friend has those two also be supportive of one another in developing a sense of self. ...I really need to finish that fic where as (pre?) teens where pageant violence happens. ...It's not exactly as exciting as it sounds, but let's just say Ana defended Lulu who was being harassed by others for not being conventionally pretty.

I used to believe that the Thangs literally lived in Club Sugar. It's a tall building, and I tried to recreate that in the Sims 4. That isn't true anymore but Mr. Sugar still has to deal with the Thangs on a 20/7 basis. Also Mr. Sugar has a instagram for his kitty Bochi.

Miyakiyo has a YouTube Channel featuring her dog Jack, the doggo in the "Shake!" microgame from the first game. It's very much like like Maya the Polar Bear, and it's quite popular. She took advantage of the fact that WarioWare featured Jack in a microgame, especially because Wario ain't paying the royalties to feature that doggo. Of course, the twins are still good friends with Miyakiyo and Jack. I just haven't quite decided Miyakiyo's age.

Bridget and Sal Out are rivals...but are much friendlier to each other compared to how Vanessa treats them and Mona.

The doctor from "Listen to the Doctor" has 2 offices, with the one at Caresaway Isle as his vacation workplace. The nurse he works with tends to the one in Diamond City when he's away to that island. Yes he is absolutely the primary care doctor to all of the WarioWare cast.

I have a lot but I'll share more in other posts. Again, got 6 years of being fixated on this series. Feel free to ask for any specifics and what not!

#warioware #plush blabs #headcanon #as for me i'm struggling but i'm here

[1moremilgram-enjoyer]

Hey, this is a post that got buried in our account at some point, but I'm very curious about what you think about the German aspects of Shidou's medical history!

(Sorry for being the third Shidou person lol)

-Venus

Wow you're all gonna drag me kicking and screaming into liking Shidou huh? He's already going up in the rankings lol.

Anyways, I'm gonna be honest, as cool a find as it is, I have zero idea what the deal with the German is. Shidou very clearly worked in a Japanese hospital, as seen in Throw Down.

Notice the green signs in the background are written in... well I assume it's Japanese it's gonna be real awkward if that's some other language lol. They’re not the only ones btw, they’re just the clearest.

So it's unlikely he was doing his work in Germany unless he moved his wife's body there after her accident or something, but as much as Shidou's sotryline plays fast and loose with the science of it all, I highly doubt that would work in the slightest.

Now, after some research, turns out Japanese medicine does take some words from German, though it’s most commonly used by older generations and for obstetric (related to pregnancy I think) and gynecologic practice, which isn’t quite what we’re dealing with here. We’re listing completely unrelated organs.

German used to be frequently employed in Japanese obstetric and gynecologic (OBGYN) practice; however, it is now less frequently used. Source.

There are a few other words of German origin, which you can find listed here (CW for a few potentially uncomfortable words, especially related to WWII and medicine). You’ll see there’s quite a few medical terms there, but none of them match what’s on the tag. At least it explains why Shidou knows German in the first place, which is honestly a really cool detail!

I also thought about maybe his wife being German, but I don't think that works either. As stated in an interrogation question (T2 Q17), Shidou and his wife began dating in middle school, and they were family friends (T2 Q16) so it's likely their parents knew each other before they were born, and thus were likely in the same country. The only option I see is both of them being born in Germany, then moving to Japan, but they can't have spent much time there otherwise Shidou should have a higher level than "conversation level" German (T2 Q4). Are their parents German then? What- Why would we need to know this?

Other than that, yeah I’m struggling a bit on this one. Was he writing in German to hide what he was doing from the doctors who didn’t speak German? That’s too silly though. I think the best answer is what was brought up in the rb you linked, that it’s just meant to lead us into thinking of that scandal in Germany so as to get a better idea of what Shidou was doing. That or just Shidou flexing that Japanese-German medicine connection.

Apart from that, regarding some of the other things from the thread you linked. I think the tags being triage tags could certainly work! Especially the things from, well, Triage, since they seem to have a slightly different design, though that could be me going insane. It certainly makes more sense with the “cards of promise” thing, since triage tags carry a more concrete promise than… morgue tags? (don’t know what they’re called).

And the 007 in the back of the tags, I’m not sure if it actually has any medical meaning, but it could have a symbolic meaning.

The number seven has also ingrained itself into both the celebration of life and the mourning of death in Japan. After a baby is born its birth is celebrated on its seventh day of life, conversely after someone's death there is seven days of mourning, then they are mourned once again seven weeks after the death. Source.

So it could represent mourning for the people Shidou has killed, while also representing the hope for his wife’s rebirth. Something like that, maybe.

Or maybe prisoner 007 Kazui was the one who caused the accident /j

Anyways, hope that was good enough! Thanks for the ask, take care!

#milgram #milgram project #milgram theory #shidou kirisaki

[zukkaart]

10 characters | 10 fandoms | 10 tags

Thank you @fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma for the tag ily 😭 and I love talking about my faves so here we go 🤸 *long-ish post*

——-

1. Sokka: A:tLA: Okayyyy so as someone who is Inuk she whole S/NWT meant so much to me as a kid and still means so much to me now but Sokka just hits on a different level because he’s the oldest sibling (as am I) and therefore charged with everyone else’s safety in one way or another. He also is the one who deals the killing blows bc the others can’t or won’t stomach it which I relate to hevily

2. Bolin: LoK: He reminds me of my husband what else can I say? They think he’s a pretty, strong, stupid, earthbender/ which to an extent- he is. But he’s just smart in different ways than others and genuinely has a heart of gold and just wants to give everyone endless love

3. River Song: Doctor who: we have the same hair so immediately yes. She also has one of the best and most heartbreaking arcs in cinema history and I will fight about it. She destroyed the universe to save her husband then said “I don’t do weddings” and honestly…I get it bc same

4. Castiel: Supernatural: MY SON DESERVED BETTER. He lost his home, his family, his faith, everything he had known for THOUSANDS of years because he fell in love with humanity Dean. He constantly tried his best and yes messed up but was always treated so harshly as if he didn’t have to LEARN how to have human morals and the only people he had to base off of was the boys who are in no way a good bar to measure that by

5. Amber: House of Anubis: oooh pretty ditzy blonde girl comic relief character- but she becomes one of the most fully fleshed out deep characters and ends up being the reason they solve most of the riddles and find the artifacts. She loves her shopping and texting but when the heat is up she always rises to the challenge and shows out. Queen of my heart

6. Flame Princess: Adventure Time: raised to be evil but falls in love and has to learn how not to harm people even though it 100% goes against her nature. And even after all that she is still treated like a villain by everyone but Finn basically. I have ASPD and I constantly feel like I also have to be something I’m not in order to not harm the people around me and the ones who let me be me are few and far between. She is me I am her

7. Sherlock: See above lol, he has ASPD (sociopathy) and so do I. Plus I’m studying to be a CSI. Seeing a character with my same illness shown in the real raw form and not like the “yeah they’re a sociopath but their character arc is learning how to be a good person!” Ew. They let him be cruel and clever and just authentically HIM. Of course he’s checked when necessary but ultimately no one ever tells him he needs to be fixed because of it bc they understand that part of him can’t be changed

8. House: kind if similar as above. I don’t super love the drugs but he takes no shit and dicks around because he knows he’s the best there is. Endless pranks, self destructive tendencies, smartest person you’ll ever meet, what more could you ask for? It’s also super awesome to watch a character/show that isn’t so focused on being “politically correct” that it forgets how to make good jokes.

9. Sejanus: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (book): People say Katniss is Lucy’s revenge but NO she’s Sejanus’ revenge, and so is Peeta. Sejanus was the one who hated the games, tried to actually help the tributes and districts and stop the games. He wanted revolution way back when Snow was a teenager and didn’t even live to see it. The only difference between him and Everlark is the fact that they had a whole rebellion ready to back them. He should have been alive to take the place of Coin/Snow and I stand by that.

10. J.B. Merlin: Bundle of Joy: this is so crazy niche if anyone knows it DM me immediately I’m begging you. An absolute icon this entire movie. The center of a comedy miscommunication trope. Has no idea what’s going on but refuses to let his son walk out on his baby (that’s not actually his but he thinks it is), immediately assumes the baby was named after him, then delivers the iconic line “I don’t care who the father is! I’M the grandfather” homie wanted a grandkid and didn’t care what he had to do to get one 😂 10/10 wholesome character

~~~~~~

Now for tags. Sorry if you’ve been tagged already! And if you haven’t please participate if you so wish

@avatar-lorra @judebellinghamswifereal @momos-servants @chitsangenthusiast @dancergirl131 @zukosasukelovebot (I think you’ve been tagged already but ily 🤟) @picnicbitchsokka @your-royal-momoness @oldpotatoe @bisexuallsokka

#avatar the last airbender #atla #sokka #sokka avatar the last airbender #lok #legend of korra #Bolin #bolin lok #castiel #supernatural #10 characters #blorbo thoughts #tbosbas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #sejanus plinth #Sejanus #Peeta #Katniss #lucy gray baird #Sherlock #River song #doctor who #house of anubis #flame princess #adventure time #house #house md #bundle of joy #jb Merlin

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Sunday, March 17

GILES: Uh, uh, we just need to light the candles. Also, we should continue to pretend we heard none of the disturbing sex talk. WILLOW: Check. Candles and pretense. ANYA: It's not like it'd be cheating. They're both Xander.

~~The Replacement~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Scorched by veronyxk84 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

On Purpose (And By Accident) by silvain (Giles/Ethan, T)

Bite Me by zombiesam (past Giles/Ethan, Giles/Spike if you squint, Explicit)

loving things by The_Eclectic_Bookworm (Giles/Jenny, T)

Scorched by VeroNyxK84 (Buffy/Spike, anthology rated R)

To Great Lengths by simmony (Buffy/Spike, collection rated R)

Tunnel Vision by simmony (Buffy/Spike, collection rated R)

Crossing Over, part 15 by Julikobold (My So-Called Life crossover, Spike, collection rated G)

0 am by Harlow Turner (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

[Chaptered Fiction]

Waitress - Chapter 1 by BeatriceEveryTuesday (Jenny, T)

Blood - Chapter 1 by Babblefest, ConstantCommentTea (Doctor Who crossover, Angelus, M)

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[dissociativediscourse]

Hello! I made a post reaching out to the plural community for help, and somebody recommended me your blog so, here I am!

Lately I've been considering the possibility that I might be an OSDD system, but I'm not really sure given the fact that I have convinced myself in the past that I had some sort of disorder, when in reality I didn't.

I guess my question is... How can you tell? How do you come to the conclusion that you might be part of a system? How can I tell if I'm sabotaging myself? I'm so confused.

I'll link the post down bellow, you don't have to read it if you don't want to, that's completely okay! I just thought it might help given the fact that I list most of my symptoms in there.

Thank you, have a nice day!

https://www.tumblr.com/just-an-anxious-little-mess/714800517560385536/plural-community-i-need-your-help?source=share

Hey, there! I’m more than honored that I’m being recommended for advice, and I’m happy to help!

So, first and foremost: I can’t diagnose you. And neither can anyone else on Tumblr— or anyone that isn’t a licensed professional who specializes in complex dissociative disorders. That doesn’t mean that we can’t help! It just means that you should really take anything you read (anything that’s not professional advice from a specialist, I mean) with a grain or two of salt.

Also, even with a list of symptoms, there’s still so much more that goes into it. Presentation, when and why these things happen, little details that you may not even notice yourself. Things that you’d have to know someone in real life to truly see and know for sure.

Finally, my case is a little difficult to use as a comparison for situations like these; I was diagnosed when I was a mid-teenager, and had no idea what DID even was. It was a bomb dropped on me. I’ve told the story here a million times, but… It wasn’t a case of self-diagnosis. So… Be warned that my experience with self diagnosis of DID is very limited and mostly in relation to those around me.

With all of that out of the way, let’s get started. I can’t tell you whether or not you have DID/OSDD, but I can give you some helpful pointers that may help.

If you’re questioning these things, one of the best things that you can do is look for a therapist. I have a tag (#therapy advice tag) that is featured on my blog that may help you— if it’s not enough, feel free to message me, because I’m more than happy to offer some pointers depending on your situation. It is imperative that you find someone that actually knows how to treat DID and isn’t just a cocky EMDR therapist or a newbie trauma specialist that’s fresh out of their residency and thinks they know everything. This sounds daunting, and it is an involved process. But it is very possible in many cases!

A good thing to keep in mind is that whether or not you have OSDD/DID, you want help/treatment that works for *you*. Many people think that they just need to self diagnose or get a diagnosis and then… It’s healing time!! Well… That’s not really how it works. Diagnosis is a tool that will probably only matter to your insurance— and the great news is that if someone is qualified to treat you for your dissociative disorder, they’ll put that f44.81 right on your bill! Mental health diagnosis isn’t like it is with medical doctors. It… Honestly doesn’t matter that much as long as your treatment is working.

This isn’t to say that you shouldn’t care whether or not you have this disorder. It’s just that the more energy you spend worrying about it, the less energy you’ll have to actually cope with it and get help. And that’s not good!

All this to say that a good goal to set for yourself isn’t “figure out if I have DID/OSDD ASAP and get that hashtag systemlife going!” (Which, I know that isn’t your goal. But that was a fun little sentence, wasn’t it?) — A great goal, though, would be to listen to your mind and your body and begin to work on stabilizing yourself and finding your ability to ground. To extend some feelers and figure out what you need to heal from your traumas. Because while right now it may be scary and confusing, you’re never going to do yourself any harm by grounding and finding your center and learning how to stabilize. You could be experiencing a complex dissociative disorder, and this could be that hard and heavy denial spiral. We’ve all been there. It sucks. You could also be confused… But that’s not bad.

Please remember that whether you have DID/OSDD or not is really and truly of very little importance compared to figuring out how to heal and be present and navigate your life in a way that allows you to live and enjoy living in the present. One mistake that I see very frequently is people ascribing far too much value and importance to whether or not they’re systems rather than whether or not they’re okay.

I know that I’ve gone on tangent after tangent and you’ll have to forgive me— It has been a little bit of a long day. I guess that all of this is to say that worrying about whether you’re correct about your diagnosis isn’t ever going to be helpful for you. Getting help for it is, though. Reach out. Find resources, find a professional, read books on trauma and dissociation. If the help you find doesn’t work for you, it doesn’t. Then it’s time to move on and try a different method! Don’t be discouraged if this happens, as it likely will at some point. It happens to most of us! And it will be okay.

Let me know/know that my DMs/Askbox are always open if you need more specifics or help with the therapy search. ❤️ Please be safe, and have a wonderful night.

#dissociative identity disorder #asks #osddid #did advice #osdd #advice asks #dissociative identity disorder advice #did osdd

[melancholic-entrails]

a lengthier intro that explains things in simpler terms :) heyo! you can call me star or sil!

i use any pronouns including neopronouns, i especially like it/it's and they/them. just make sure to add some variety sometimes if you're going for less neutral ones :)

i am a minor- i occasionally horny post/ etc however. reminder, this does not equal consent. but i normally tag them #suggestive cw or #cw suggestive if i remember.

i don't always remember to tag possible triggering things, so please proceed with caution!

a little bit about me:

i am a self shipper ( with fictional characters ) . i'm always okay with "sharing" fictional characters, because i believe in the multiverse theory when it comes to both selfship and otherkinity. the multiverse theory basically explores the idea of the multiverse with fiction- different versions of the same fictional character. meaning that in my eyes, "sharing" fictional characters does not exist because we all see them in different ways. of course, it is perfectly alright for you to be uncomfortable with sharing, but that is what i personally believe.

i believe in ship and let ship. nobody should be harassed for their taste in fiction. people can be groomed with fiction, but people can be groomed with anything. yes, this includes whatever "disgusting" things you are thinking of. it is okay if you despise them, just block and move on. don't send hate.

we are all living breathing human beings with thoughts and feelings and wants and dreams. don't send hate.

i do not believe in thought crimes. yes, this includes whatever you're thinking of. thought crimes are not real.

there is nothing wrong with having paraphilias, because oftentimes this is a result of trauma or you simply cannot control it.

however, i only stand for consensual contact in real life. meaning that i am anticontact on sexual zoophilia, pedophilia, etc.

if you find my stances personally disgusting, block and move on, please.

for trans-identifiers: most common being transgender, less common being trans-species, trans-race, etc:

bottom line, as long as you are not using these labels to mock fun of the community you are taking on the labels of, it does not matter.

people may take on these labels as forms of empowerment, simply relating to them, or any other reason.

and for the topic of system origins, such as the origins of a dissociative identity disorder, i will only say this:

i am not a doctor. i don't know the inside of your brain. so i cannot know if you are faking or not. the same goes for any mental illness. this means that i am not someone who knows enough about dissociative identity disorders and the like to properly say that endogenic systems- systems not formed by trauma- are real or not.

what i will say, though? exclusionism isn't fun. it's not nice. if the endogenic person(s) are simply existing, it is simply mean spirited to mock them.

something else i have noticed is: there are endogenic systems or plural people or etc that label as nondisordered, but i personally think many are disordered rather than they claim, simply because dissociative disorders are not researched enough.

bottom line, i don't care what you call yourself- i care how you conduct. and that includes for all sorts of discourse, including the proship vs antiship discourse, the traumagenic vs endogenic discourse, and everything else.

internet safety things: please, please, don't share a list of your triggers or diagnoses online. it is simply dangerous.

post-script:

no matter how vile you believe someone is, because you disagree with them, find them annoying, or anything else?

it is never a kind thing to doxx someone or send death threats because of their opinions on the internet.

especially for proship discourse on tumblr dot com.

just think twice, kay?

#updated longform intro #stances

[vibingouthere]

it's been a long time coming since I've seen your face

Just a lil something I felt like writing because I needed a break from my long fic and Kai wasn't in 19x01. Fluff. Rated G.

It came to my attention yesterday that October 7th was the anniversary of Kai's first episode, so. ENJOY! (cross-posted on AO3, link at bottom)

“What’s she doing?”

They were leaning on the doorframe of OR 3’s gallery, conveniently out of her line of sight. They could see her hands holding instruments on the monitor, pushing and pulling and cutting and sewing brain tissue, but Kai couldn’t tell what she was actually trying to accomplish. Occasionally, her voice would filter through the speakers in the room, but it was usually skill-related advice—ultimately unhelpful for their purposes… 

They hadn’t seen her in person in a month and a half. She was supposed to fly out next week but earlier that morning Kai found themself unable to wait anymore. With the loss of the residency program, the trips out to Minnesota had become far more sporadic and spaced out; they’d visit Seattle when they could but, much like her responsibility to the neuro department, they had a lab to run. 

Truthfully, it was eating them up inside, how unexpectedly difficult it was to manage in her absence (both in the lab and otherwise), but they were being brave about it: after all, the residency program had officially restarted a handful of days ago. It could only head up from there.  

The intern they’d whispered to was sitting near the door; he was tall and skinny looking, a hard-set frown on his face, with a tiny notebook laying in his lap. There were a few others in the room—five, they counted—all quietly observing Amelia work through the windows and monitors. 

“Are you even supposed to be here?” he quietly quipped, his eyes giving them a once over. It was a fair question—they weren’t wearing their white coat and didn’t have so much as a name tag identifying who they might be. 

“Technically, no,” they chuckled. “But, I don’t think she’ll mind.”

He grunted, flipping through the pages in his notes. A peek at the badge on his shirt told them his name was Dr. Benson Kwan. He seemed a bit high-strung if they were being honest—perhaps not the best person to disturb, but they were in it now.

Hindsight was always 20/20.

“You should probably leave,” he suddenly remarked, briefly glancing up at them. “Dr. Shepherd is a really strict teacher. I don’t think she’d appreciate a random person just popping into the OR gallery.”

They snorted, both at the idea that Amelia could ever be strict and at the insinuation that they were “random”. 

“It’s a teaching hospital, no?” they countered.

“For residents,” he insisted.

“I’m a doctor,” they playfully shrugged. 

“A doctor who can’t tell what surgery she’s doing?” he loudly scoffed. The other interns turned their heads at the sound of his raised voice, now watching the interaction from their seats. 

Their eyebrows shot up, dumbfounded yet entertained by his gall. “Did you just call me dumb?” they tittered.

“Well, if the shoe fits,” he muttered angrily, again fiddling with his notes. Another one of the interns, a woman with reddish-brown hair, twisted around in her seat.

“Blue, don’t be mean,” she chastised him. “They were just asking you a question. There’s no need to get snooty.” 

Kai gave her a small, appreciative smile and she nodded at them. 

“If they want to ask a question so bad, they can ask her,” he grumbled, gesturing to the OR. “I’m here to learn, not teach.” 

Abruptly, he stood and moved to the other side of the room, half-glaring at them once he sat down. The other interns looked between them, clearly confused, while the one girl gave them an apologetic frown. 

Kai glanced at their wristwatch. More than anything they needed to know how long she was going to be… The OR clock told them she’d already been down there for three hours—surely, whatever she was doing wouldn’t take too much longer? Or it could take the rest of the day… It’s not a terrible idea…

With a sigh, they pushed off the doorframe and headed over to the intercom. From their peripheral, they could see the interns’ baffled faces watching their every move; even Dr. Kwan had paused his hurried notetaking to witness the spectacle unfold. 

They clicked on the intercom, its warm static filling the room. 

“Shepherd, where’d you get these new interns? They’re so moody.”

They saw her hands stall on the monitor, her head snapping up to look at them through the windows. 

“Kai?” she called, clearly bewildered. She was squinting behind the magnifying glasses on her head. They smiled at the sight. 

“Hello,” they greeted with a wave. 

“What-what’re you doing here?” she sputtered, carefully handing her instruments off to a scrub nurse. 

“Time-sensitive, top-secret mission,” they replied with a grin. 

“Is that so?” she asked, an amused lilt to her voice. “So time-sensitive that it couldn’t wait until next week?”

“Exactly,” they affirmed with a nod. 

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. “I’ve got at least another hour here. Does that work for you?”

They gazed at their watch again: 10:36 p.m., October 7th, 2022. 

“It’ll be cutting it close… but I think that’ll work,” they answered. 

“Great,” she chirped, motioning to the scrub nurse to hand her another scalpel. “You’re welcome to hang out up there if you want.”

They barked out a laugh, sparing a glance at the interns over their shoulder: not a closed jaw in sight. “Yeah, I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself,” she smirked, resuming the surgery. 

They clicked off the intercom and headed for the door. As their foot passed the threshold, they could hear scuffling behind them, followed by what sounded like a dull smack. They overheard the other male intern say, “Dude. You just called Kai Bartley dumb.”

There were a few gasps. 

“Who?” Dr. Kwan asked. 

Another smack. “Dude!”

Kai snickered as they walked away.

~~~~~

They’d made it back in the knick of time: they found Amelia in the scrub room, washing her hands. Another successful surgery in the books. They beamed as they spotted her through the door, quickly pushing it open. 

“Hey!” she greeted happily. “I was wondering where you’d gone off t—”

They rushed forward and pulled her into a kiss, their hands cradling her jaw. She gasped into their mouth, steadying herself by grabbing the front of their shirt: they felt a slight chill run across their skin, the water from her hands seeping through the fabric. 

“Time-sensitive, huh?” she panted against their lips.

“Very,” they said, diving back in for more. Their right hand moved down from her face to her waist, pressing her against their body, while one of hers curled around the back of their neck, toying with the ends of their hair. Her tongue swiped across their bottom lip and they groaned. She hummed in response and Kai’s knees went weak, the vibrations traveling through them; they had to pull away before they toppled over. 

“You taste like potato chips.” 

“I got hungry,” they breathed, their forehead slumped against hers.

She giggled and pressed another short peck to the corner of their mouth. 

“Not that I’m not loving this, but why are you actually here? What couldn’t wait a few more days?” she asked, absentmindedly fiddling with the button laying across their sternum.

“Do I need a reason?” they questioned.

“No,” she asserted. “But, knowing you, I know you have one.”

They sighed and then kissed her again. It was less hurried than the first one, calming in a way. The butterflies that’d gathered in their chest slowly stilled the longer it went on.

When they finally broke apart, Kai quietly mumbled, “I love you,” their lips skimming over hers as the words fell out.

“I love you, too,” she effortlessly replied. It made them smile. Letting their hand drop from her face, they took a step back, standing at their full height. They cleared their throat. 

“Today’s October 7th,” they stated. 

“So?” she chuckled, confused. That made them smile, too.

“So… I was looking back through my calendar from last year… and this was the day I first met you.”

The emotion that bloomed across her face was hard for them to define: a mix of shock, happiness, and… fear? Or was that relief? 

“Wow,” she eventually exhaled.

“I know, right?” they agreed. “And once I realized it, I mean, I couldn’t just let the occasion go uncelebrated… So, I hopped on a plane, and here I am.” 

They flashed a cheesy grin and it was her turn to rush them into a kiss, bouncing up to the tips of her toes to meet them. It was short and mostly smiles, both of them starting to giggle a few seconds in.

“God,” she wheezed, “for a second there I thought I missed our anniversary or your birthday or something.” 

“No, no,” they shook their head. “Both of those things are months away.”

“But still,” she playfully pushed her palms against their chest. “You show up here all cute and charming and talking about the date and—”

“Cute and charming?” they teased.

“Shut up!” she cried, a wide smile still plastered on her face. 

“Make me,” they cooly replied, a small smirk on their face. 

At first, she seemed almost affronted at the suggestion… but then she did. Very, very well… 

.

.

.

Until a few minutes later when an unsuspecting Dr. Webber walked through the door. Kai could still hear his ranting and raving as they dashed down the hall, Amelia’s hand in theirs, both of them laughing like mad. It should’ve been embarrassing, their hair mussed and the top two buttons of their shirt undone, but they didn’t care: she was worth it. 

October 7th they thought as she unsubtly pushed them into an on-call room. What a day to remember.

it's been a long time coming since I've seen your face - vibingouthere - Grey's Anatomy [Archive of Our Own]

#kaimelia #amelia shepherd #kai bartley #caterina scorsone #er fightmaster #grey's anatomy #greys anatomy

[leejihoonownsmyheart]

DO YOU THINK WOOZI WOULD LISTEN TO AYESHA EROTICA. THIS IS SO RANDOM BUT LIKE WOULD HE???

YOU LIKE EDGING PEOPLE?? man how do you even do it...like i can never tell when someone is close it's kinda frustrating

so if peer pressure is real...could we all collectively peer pressure you into marrying all of us?? i mean you did say you could do the craziest shit... (ok but thank you to peer pressure because we got an amazing dom!yn fic so huzzah)

I THINK HUZZAH SHOULD BE BROUGHT BACK TOO!! yipee, booyah, all white american venacular...

GALLAGHER GIRLS, DOCTOR WHO, AND SUPERNATURAL??? that's actually really..diverse? thats so cool wtf pls tell me more about those shows

I WILL GIVE YOU IDEAS!! as soon as i can think of them..what do you like to write? i'll kinda base off my asks/ideas off of those so you'll have a better writing experience </3

YOUR BRAIN IS NOT MID??? do you think a mid person would bias woozi?? didn't think so 😒😒

IKR??? HOW COULD HE DO THAT 😭😭😭 istg he literally messaged me first and asked to do everything with me and then out of nowhere he just invites someone else to tag along when we hungout??

im sorry that you're feeling stressed rn 😕😕why is everyone mad at you wtf?? i promise you don't sound narcisstic when you talk about it because if it's bothering you, you gotta let people know how you feel!! im glad the blog and a couple friends can help you feel better; ily and hope you feel better!!

-MISSED YOU TOO (🫨 anon)

I literally have never heard of her before (ASIDE FROM THAT ONE VIRAL TIKTOK AUDIO) but listening to one of her songs... I MEAN HE DOES LIKE SEX SONGS.. listening to some song by arianna one time that had me screaming into a pillow... AND HE WRITES GREAT LIKE SELF-CONFIDENT (?) BOPS (Hit... Super...) ITS VERY POSSIBLE I WOULD NOT BE SURPRISED

OKAY IVE ACTUALLY NEVER EDGED ANYONE BEFORE I TALK TO HEAR MYSELF TALK PRETTY OFTEN... I HAVE ALMOST NO ACTUAL SEXUAL EXPERIENCE I JUST ACTIVELY PARTICIPATE IN IN THAT TYPE OF INTERNET CULTURE... I AM A FAKE.. A FRAUD...

i feel like it would be really hard to tell when someone is close...

I would marry all of you??? I am literally ready to get married right now??? Let's go???

there's something to be said about white venicular like... It can be so good and funny to say, I used to love 20s slang. Like Hoover was president... people were drinking giggle juice... that shit was the bee's knees !

GALLAGHER GIRLS IS ACTUALLY A BOOK. A TEEN BOOK ABOUT THIS GIRL CAMMIE WHO GOES TO A SCHOOL gallagher academy! that is a private all-girl's school for spies. The first book is pretty good but in the SECOND book you find out that there is also a all-boy's school called Blackthorne Academy AND YOU MEET MR. ZACHARY GOODE HIMSELF.... bro... the books kinda evolve past silly little teenage drama among spy kids who don't know how to be normal and get more serious but my favorite part about my time in that fandom... is that... in the books there are four main girls: Cammie, Macey, Liz, and Bex and all of them have blackthorne boys that we all shipped them with EXCEPT Macey. She had a different love interest cause she is like the daughter of a politician or... something and so her love interest in the books was kinda a lamo nerd and NO ONE LIKED HIM SO ONE PERSON CREATED ONE OC WHO LITERALLY DOES NOT EXIST IN THE BOOKS AND WE ALL ADOPTED HIM. I think his name was maybe Nick? But completely made up. And we all wrote him the same and everything I miss the good old days....

BUT anyways I won't be crazy about doctor who and supernatural but just know I AM crazy about them... my beautiful amazing hyper-fixations.

Doctor Who, a man who stole a time and space travel machine and ran away to save people across the universe just being eccentric and getting up to all kind's of hijinks? Yes. IMMEDIATE YES. The doctor is so funny and relateable and his character is so heavy it just gets me going

AND SUPERNATURAL I am a dean apologist and destiel shipper till DEATH Destiel was the first gay couple in a show I shipped, but like those first few seasons the horror anthology-esque feel of the show is just so fun

WHEN IT COMES TO FANFICS I LIKE WRITING UHM.... uh wow I don't know actually. Anything that will get two characters into a long-relationship kinda fast. Like fwb to lovers kinda? I am kinda good at writing fwb these days LIKE that's like all I write BUT I CAN WRITE ANYTHING I LOVE REQUESTS THAT ARE A BIT DIFFERENT THAN WHAT I USUALLY DO

BRO WHAT THE FUCK. He's playing you... HES A PLAYER. FORGET HIM. BLOCK HIM (i'm just kidding) but also booo him. Get you someone who will treat you right....

I will not go much into it because my stress is making me a little crazy and I'm being a bit crazy these days but in defense of my friends who are all mad at me it's fair. They're mostly mad because I'm hanging out with three different groups of friends and Groups A and B I've been close to the longest and really judge me for hanging out with Group C but I work with Group C the most now and... idk it's a lot. I'm sick thinking about it...

#BRIE IS NOSY SO IF YOU WANNA KEEP ME UPDATED ON HOW THINGS GOOOO.... #FEEL FREE TO :) #IM EXCITED FOR YOUR REQ/IDEA FOR THE HALLOWEEN FIC #AND DONT FORGET... treat you better... shawn mendes... #ALSO SORRY ABOUT GOING OFF ABOUT GG I HAVE BEEN WANTING TO TALK ABOUT IT FOR A MONTH NOW I MISS THAT SERIES #b: 🫨 anon

[sophieinwonderland]

Okay, let's debunk some syscourse...

Oh, well I guess we're starting with one about me then!

I'll start off by saying that this is the internet and posts are public. Most of the posts I respond to are from people posting on public tags, such as the syscourse tag. If people don't like me responding to their public posts, they can always block me.

Providing sources to debunk lies and misinformation in public posts is not harassment.

Anyways, onto this little saga:

No correlation to systems? So, I'll admit I haven't seen a formal poll conducted yet... But the vast majority of systems I know (endogenic and traumagenic alike) are somewhere on the transgender spectrum. Like, you won't find many systems without at least one headmate that doesn't identify as a different gender from that which the body was assigned with at birth.

I'm certain that if a poll was conducted, it would show a very strong correlation between transgender identities and plural systems.

Also, as a result of the above, the idea of this term being "taken" from the trans community is silly. Most of the systems who refer to anti-endos as sysmeds are transgender themselves, often ones harmed by transmeds, and they have a right to use the term.

This isn't simply "queer experiences that effect you differently." It's that many plural systems are queer because of their plurality, because the members of the system that don't identify with the body's assigned gender would literally not exist if they were a singlet.

No, I'm actually pretty certain a system, according to psychiatrists, is a personality. Hence why the full name for the theory of Structural Dissociation is "Structural Dissociation of the Personality." Because the theory is that the system (the collection of the alters) make up a personality that has been dissociated.

One may object to labeling structurally dissociated mental systems as "personalities." In fact, for this reason, the DSM-IV (APA, 1994) converted the label "multiple personality disorder" into "dissociative identity disorder." Nevertheless, it is important to appreciate that both ANP and EP display "enduring patterns of perceiving, relating to, and thinking about the environment and [them]selves." In the case of ANPs these patterns "are exhibited in a wide range of social and personal contexts" and that in the case of EPs -- which do not tend to appear in a wide range of contexts -- are exhibited consistently upon their reactivation. The quotes concern the DSM-IV description of personality traits (APA, 1994, p.630). Myersi terms can be adopted with the understanding that the term personality in ANP and EP denotes dissociative part of the patientis personality at large.

Additionally, both the ICD-11 and the DSM-5 refer to alters as "personality states".

So clearly, these psychiatrists still believe the disorder is related to the personality.

But what do the authors of these diagnostic handbooks and the theory of structural dissociation of the personality know about DID anyway? /s

(I truthfully don't agree with many parts of this theory, but I feel people who are advocating for this heavily medicalized model should at least be aware of basic things like this theory's full name.)

In any case, this argument comes back to the same reasoning, where you have to assume that you're right first in order to make it transphobic.

The only difference they can point to between claiming that being transgender is a disorder and claiming that being a system is a disorder is "being a system really is a disorder." And a claim such as that requires you to have some solid evidence to back it up.

If we're talking about the semantics of the word "system," you won't find that in the DSM or the ICD in this context. So being a system isn't a disorder in the way that you can go to a doctor and get diagnosed with "being a system." It's also been used in the IFS model to refer to the parts of any personality, whether alters or just a singlet's various states and facets. And in the plural community, it's referred to non-disordered plurals since the 90s.

This semantic argument doesn't hold up at any level.

If this is taken to mean that the concept of plurality is inherently a disorder, the ICD-11 specifically mentions that "personality states" (which it uses synonymously with alters) may not be indicative of a mental disorder. And countless forms of non-disordered plurality have been the subject of research.

Much like the claim that being transgender is inherently a disorder isn't supported by science, neither is the claim that being a system is a disorder.

No-Caps-Anon said it's a social label to describe "something that happens in the brain" that's "related to personality." Not that it's a social label "for personality." Those are very different things, No-Punctuation-Anon, and it's pretty easy to use a copy/paste function to avoid misquoting and strawmanning someone.

Also, just because your experience comes from trauma doesn't mean everyone with a remotely similar experience had theirs come from trauma. The world doesn't revolve around you.

I didn't choose to come into existence. And I certainly didn't choose to do so in order to devalue anyone else's experiences. If anyone's plurality is tied to their trauma and PTSD, that's completely valid for them. But it's not for everyone who has experienced plurality.

If you take the existence of systems whose plurality isn't related to PTSD or trauma as a personal affront, that's on you.

I will not apologize for my existence. I will not hide my existence to make other people feel better. If you are upset by my existence, the most I can tell you is that I sincerely hope you can adopt a less toxic mentality that won't cause as much harm to yourself.

#syscourse #system #systems

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

Hello! How are you? I hope that things are going okay for you. I recently had a mental health assessment to see whether this specific service would work for me or not, and they stated that I had ‘symptoms that aligned with OCD’. What does that mean? Sorry to ask you this, I’m still quite uncertain on a lot of the terminology used in mental health. 😅

hello, dear! i think that this could mean a couple different things.

when you say mental health assessment, does that mean you saw an actual psychiatrist/therapist/etc, or was it just someone who like, gave you a form to fill out? it could be that the person/people you saw don't have the qualifications to actually diagnose you with OCD, so all they can tell you is "you probably have this according to our test, so you should go see a professional who CAN give you an official diagnosis and proper treatment."

which is a good thing! getting pointed in the right direction and having an idea what you're dealing with is great. but it does mean that you need to keep working to get that diagnosis and find a professional who can help you.

on the other hand, if who you saw WAS a legit doctor who can hand out official diagnoses, it's possible that you have some but not all of the symptoms of OCD, such that they can't give you the official diagnosis.

mental illness tends to be different than physical illness, in the sense that there aren't solid blood or urine tests that can show you have OCD or bipolar disorder or depression, etc, you can only talk to a mental health professional about what symptoms you're struggling with, to what severity and they match it up against the criteria for different disorders. and that's often not easy, because a LOT of mental illnesses have a LOT in common, and you might have 5 out of 10 major symptoms, but an official diagnosis requires 6 out of 10 major symptoms.

i saw a doctor for a tourette's diagnosis years ago, and since he had a theory about tourette's and OCD being related, he asked me some questions about OCD and concluded that i had "some obsessive-compulsive tendencies" but not full-fledged, diagnosable OCD. after being told that, i can definitely see how i'm occasionally compelled to do something for no good reason, just because i feel like it "has" to be that way, but it's never risen to a degree that it's significantly interfered with my life or caused me distress.

so i think that either you were assessed as probably having OCD and needing to see a professional to get a diagnosis and treatment, or you don't quite fit all the criteria and you only have "tendencies".

regardless, i think it'd be a good idea for you to keep pursuing some help from someone who knows how to deal with OCD so that you can get a better handle on your symptoms and hopefully lessen their impact on your life. my going to therapy tag and ocd tag might help.

take care, dear. <3

#ocd #mental illness #therapy #anonymous #ask

[theuncannymary]

Hi, I'm Élie (they/them) and this is my Pinned Post for my favourite tags (feel free to message me if I missed any !)

Tags under the Read More !

Pokémon :

- #pokémon : general Pokémon tag ;

- #pokémon art : general Pokémon (fan-)art tag ;

- #shiny pokémon : posts where shiny Pokémon appear ;

- #legendary pokémon : posts where legendary Pokémon appear ;

- #starter pokémon / #pokémon starters : posts where starter Pokémon appear ;

- #pokémon pins : posts with cute Pokémon pins ;

- #fakemon : posts with fan-made Pokémon / game concepts, which I love ;

- #eevee : posts with my absolute favourite Pokémon of all time, Eevee ;

- #eeveelutions : posts with Eevee's evolutions, which are also my faves ;

I try to tag other Pokémon in a similar fashion unless there are too many or I just forget.

You can also find posts with shiny Pokémon in the tags #shiny [insert Pokémon here]. For example, #shiny eevee for all posts with shiny Eevee(s) !

Other video-games and media :

- #animal crossing : my other favourite game series of all time, Animal Crossing ;

- #professor layton : posts with yet another video-game masterpiece, Professor Layton ;

- #doctor who : my favourite tv show, Doctor Who ;

- #dnd / #dungeons and dragons : another special interest of mine, Dungeons And Dragons ;

- #fandom stuff : general fandom stuff ;

I try to tag other games and media as well !

Creativity inspiration :

- #writing reference : posts related to writing ;

- #art reference : posts related to art, mainly full of pictures now sorry XD ;

- #landscapes : pictures of landscapes that I find pretty ;

- #flowers : pictures of flowers that I find pretty ;

- #clothes / #fashion : pictures of pretty clothes and accessories ;

- #embroidery : pretty pictures of embroidery ;

(seriously I should start making my own art instead of "collecting" other people's art "for reference / concept ideas"...)

LGBTQ+ :

- #lgbtq+ : general LGBTQ+ tag ;

- #transgender / #non-binary : posts about transidentity / genderqueerness ;

- #lesbian / #lesbianism : posts about me being gay for women (includes hot women) ;

Politics :

- #capitalism : the root of all my suffering in this world, please let's end this soon ;

- #ai : all in all, fuck AI and its users / supporters ;

- #jobs : I also hate working (because of capitalism) ;

Basically I am a leftist !

Disabilities :

- #disabilities : general disabilities tag ;

- #chronic illnesses / #chronic pain / #chronic fatigue : because my body fucking hates me, posts on the topics above ;

- #mental illnesses : general mental illnesses tag ;

- #trauma / #ptsd / #c-ptsd / #complex ptsd : because trauma's a bitch and I hate it so much ;

- #autism / #actually autistic : general posts on autism and me being autistic ;

- #adhd : posts on adhd ;

- #executive dysfunction : because my executives aren't functioning right now (or ever) ;

- #memory issues : because all of the above caused me memory issues ;

- #ableism : posts on ableism ;

Other general tags :

- #cute !!!!! : cute pictures and videos of animals ;

- #shitposting : funny posts for when you need a laugh ;

- #lifehacks : posts about, well, lifehacks ;

- #music : posts about music ;

- #tumblr : tumblr general tag ;

- #me me me tbh : posts that I relate to a lot ;

- #for myself : reminders for myself (and maybe for you too) ;

- #personality tests : little uquizes and other tests that are silly and yet calling me out every damn time ;

etc...

Voilà ! Hope this helps you in navigating my blog ! ^-^