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contemnitefortunam · 24 minutes ago
Kinda wanting Villareal to win so it's not an all English victory this year, kinda not wanting it because I still have Villareal memories.
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aenor-llelo · 39 minutes ago
Hello! Please give us your dish on Techno character -Rainbowchaox
(crackles toe knuckles) for you the world.
C!technoblade shows signs of C-PTSD and/or military trauma that existed before he joined the server, and possibly shared trauma with C!philza- an incomplete list by a person with C-PTSD.
(i’m going off of canon info as i understand it, bear with me)
Technoblade is a very interesting, in how CC!Technoblade’s inherent game habits translate when you realize the implications of this on Technoblade the character.
we can debate about the red festival and butcher army arcs all day, and sure, i’ll have my thoughts if you ask, but i’m speaking into what he’s had from the beginning, independent of his history on the server.
I don’t think I need to explain the implied military past. he’s very well trained and prepared as a fighter in-universe, and his military involvement in the server story has largely been through logistics and supplies rather than fighting prowess- which would not make sense for someone with a generic “fights good for money” backstory, but would make a lot of sense for a former military veteran, possibly of commanding/strategic rank.
Now for the traumatic parts. 
-hoards in extreme excess, mostly in weapons/food or practical items, and he FUCKING HATES people stealing from him, especially food. he is, essentially, constantly preparing for war, constantly prepared to need to feed whatever people are in his “army”. 
-incredibly resigned to the idea of having to discard/lose his possessions. he had so many things but was mentally able to disengage from them all in a heartbeat the moment he was in danger. 
Never get attached. Always be ready to leave. You are guaranteed nothing. You are safe nowhere.
-he needs to be underground. He needs to be isolated. He needs to live in the uninhabitable, unreachable, untouchable. He needs to be hidden. He needs hiding spots in his hiding spots. He has hidden chests all over his house, even when he considered himself retired and largely safe. 
Everywhere is a battlefield waiting to happen. If supply lines can fail, they will. If your rations can run out, they will. Be prepared for when it does, not if.
And how he treats others! Very Very Interesting.
-he has difficulty gauging people's intent and nuance, and is aware of it- this is due to being an ND character played by an ND cc, let’s not forget. he has an unfixable disadvantage in perceiving others, in cataloguing danger, and this makes him very aggressive and defensive to perceived social danger.
he’s been taken advantage of in the past. he fears it will happen again. and he knows, more likely than not, he will never see it coming.
-therefore, people who have been "dishonest" to him for any reason read as threats. someone who goes back on their word is “dishonest”, one step away from “betrayal”, one step away from a threat to techno’s life.
philza’s introduction to the server, and their interactions, speak alot about their characters, and some of how techno treats philza speaks to traumatic thought patterns.
most crucially, techno treats phil as a fellow "survivor". 
when a person has gone through long lasting trauma, they tend to project their coping mechanisms, traumas, and survival tactics onto people they care about.
he treats philza’s distress as his own and acts accordingly. the reason he kills baby zombies, canonically, is out of the assumption that they are a danger or trigger to philza.
technoblade’s world is a never-ending battle. philza is his fellow soldier, his co-commander, his brother in arms. in order for them to survive the battle, of course he shares absolutely everything. his supplies, his most prized possessions, his storage and strategic locations.
None of this behavior individually points to trauma, but speaking from actual experience- all of it lumped together speaks to not only trauma, but a long familiar history with it.
(i could go off about philza’s PTSD too but you asked about techno so here you go haha)
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wickedmilo · 39 minutes ago
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PLACE: Outside White Crest University TIMING: 10:05 PM SUMMARY: Milo approaches his old professor to ask her some suspiciously specific but definitely ‘hypothetical’ questions WRITING PARTNER: @mor-beck-more-problems CONTENT WARNINGS: Drug mentions, addiction mentions, mild references to PTSD
Milo felt a little ridiculous. It was beyond stupid to assume any professor had knowledge of the supernatural beyond what was taught on the curriculum, but he had been spending a lot of time around the university building due to his newfound friendship with Orion. And so many memories were resurfacing, memories of lectures on vampires, and discussions on werewolves. Presentations on witches, and how their representation in mainstream media was problematic. It was highly unlikely this focus meant anything more than Professor Beck had a secret love of Twilight. Honestly, absolutely nothing would surprise him at this point. But he had to try, he needed to try. Every day his control was growing stronger, albeit in incredibly small increments. But the work had to count for something, and settling into his new life was leaving him with far too much time to think. He still couldn’t remember very much of his death, and certainly no incriminating details that might lead him to discover the identity of his killer. But he did know the club had been crowded, he did know the nightlife was often frequented by students.  
It had been burning at the back of his mind, leaving him restless, and uncomfortable. With no culprit, with no sire to name, he couldn’t blame anybody but himself for his situation. Maybe if he could look into the eyes of the person who had taken his life, if he could ask them why they had decided to turn him, he could lift the weight from his shoulders, he could finally stop feeling responsible in some twisted, and soul destroying way. Sure, he had made a dumb, and reckless decision. His entire life had been composed of them for years. But that didn’t mean he deserved to die. That didn’t mean he deserved to be broken, and abandoned. Left to figure things out on his own. Night had only just fallen, and he didn’t trust himself to slip into the school building unnoticed when there were still so many people around. So he waited outside like some crazy stalker. He probably counted as one, who was he kidding? He had looked up the schedule for Beck’s classes online in the hope of catching her on her way to the parking lot. She had technically finished her final lecture but part of him was worried she might end up working overtime. Wasn’t that something professors liked to do? The last thing he wanted was to stand for hours, staring at the patch of grass where Dani had last attacked him.  
But for the first time in a long time, something seemed to go right. Dropping his cigarette to the floor, he recognised Beck as she hurried down the stone steps, and immediately began to make his way towards her. He wasn’t sure whether she would recognise him from her classes. He had graduated a year ago, and even then his attendance had been unreliable. When he did decide to make an appearance it was always smelling of pot, or coming down from the previous night’s substance of choice. “Professor Beck!” He called. “Uh, Morgan Beck?” Could he call her that? It felt weird, even though he was no longer one of her students. “Hey- I’m sorry, it’s- it’s Milo… Summers. You probably don’t remember me, but I was in your class a while back and I was wondering if I could maybe ask you some questions?”  
Morgan didn’t like to stay late on campus anymore. She thanked the mother of earth for longer days, but time still got away from her now and then. When Morgan noticed the darkening sky this time, she thought she heard the hunter child stepping out of a room, knife raised. Quickly, she threw her things into her bag and started hurrying out the building. She couldn’t figure out if she would be safer going down the service stairs or trying to chase some straggler students to walk with for safety and so zig zagged through each. As she came out on the main floor, she saw a group of boys outside the big lecture hall. They looked like they were about to leave, and maybe she could walk close enough behind them but it would only be safe if they really were just students. Hunters didn’t go in packs on campus, did they? If she found any like that, would she even stand a chance? How far would she get before they pinned her down? How loud would she have to scream for anyone to come running? Morgan tripped on the stone steps out the building as she rushed past them.  
She was moving so fast she didn’t see the other boy loitering nearby and when he called her name she screamed, backing away. But she knew this face. “M-milo,” she wheezed, trying to force air back into her lungs. “You startled me. I’m sorry.” She winced. “It’s good to see you again. I thought you graduated, though?” That wasn’t relevant. Morgan waved away the rest with her hand. “What is it that I can help you with, exactly? I’m heading home right now, to my family. They’re already expecting me. So, we can walk and talk, huh?” She looked briefly at the walkways that cut through the arts quad and set her sights on the one crowded with the most people. Not closest to the parking lot, but she could worry about that part later. “Scenic route sound good?” 
Milo flinched, almost stumbling backwards at the sheer force of the sound. Morgan’s scream seemed to echo in his ears and for a moment he took the time to curse his new heightened senses. “Fuck-” He breathed, staring at his old professor with a look of shock of his face. If he still needed oxygen he knew he would be catching his breath right about now. He shouldn’t judge really, there could be any number of reasons she was so easily scared. But it was the last reaction he had been expecting from her, and therefore the last reaction he had been prepared for. “No shit, I startled you.” He laughed, calming down after such a jarring response to his presence. In a way, it almost worked out. The distraction was making it far too easy not to dwell on why he was here, on what he was about to ask. “Yeah, last year.” He agreed, weirdly flattered that she remembered him although he doubted she didn’t have fond memories.  
At the mention of her family, he felt an unexpected pang of guilt. Maybe it wasn’t fair to approach her after work. If there had been any other way to do this, he liked to think he would have made the effort to find it. “I’m sorry,” he insisted. “We can walk and talk, it won’t take long.” He wasn’t sure why he was promising that when he couldn’t possibly know, but it felt like the right thing to say. “Uh…” A frown creased his brow as he eyed the route she was choosing to the parking lot. Something was definitely bothering her, but it wasn’t exactly his place to try and figure out what. “Sure?” He said, unable to hide the fact that he was a little confused by her behaviour. Brushing off any concern, he pushed down every part of himself not entirely convinced this was a good idea. He needed to find who had done this to him. Letting it go simply wasn’t an option, and Morgan Beck was his first lead. “I have some questions about- well, about the supernatural.”  
Morgan tried to cover her fright with a knowing laugh. This is fine! I’m definitely not freshly traumatized! The important thing was that Milo had agreed to walk with her along a nice, busy, public route with lots of witnesses. She made a point of waving to a faculty member as they walked. She didn’t know the woman, but she waved back awkwardly, trying to place Morgan in her head, and would therefore maybe remember her and who she was last seen with. She was so busy looking for someone else to spot her, someone she actually knew who might care a little bit, she almost missed Milo’s question. “The--supernatural? Like, um, one of the texts we studied? Or a project you’re doing on your own? Or--” Or the real thing. Including who and what she was. “Maybe if you could, uh, be more specific, I’ll know if I can help.” 
Unable to tear his gaze away from Morgan, her odd behaviour was becoming increasingly obvious to Milo. But he wasn’t sure pushing her to explain what was wrong would help either of them. If anything, it would probably result in her running from him, and he was so desperate for answers to his questions he couldn’t bring himself to risk it. If she continued to look so genuinely frightened, he would ask her before he left. Until then, he decided he would do his best to ignore the waves, the long routes, and the stumbling over her words. “Uh, no… not really.” He admitted, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “More like… whether you believe in it?” He mentally prepared himself for any number of reactions, namely laughter, or claims of his insanity. If there was a more subtle way of asking, one that didn’t make him sound like a conspiracy theorist, he would jump on it. But as far as he could tell, this was the only real way of being direct. “Look, I know it sounds…” Crazy, ridiculous, insane, like a terrible fucking joke. “I know it does- I’m only curious. You focused on it a lot in your lectures, you know?” 
He didn’t sound like he was goading her, Morgan had to admit. If he was a hunter, he sounded a lot more nervous than he had any reason to be. At last she slowed and turned to look at him beside her. She had killed too many people to believe she could tell what a murderer looked like. But he didn’t look like he was cutting her open in his mind. He looked sad, maybe even desperate. 
“I did, yeah,” she admitted quietly. “I believe in a lot of things most people don’t. Including a lot of the things I talked about in class. Not in the way, exactly, they’re portrayed in books. But those...ideas, those figures, those people…” She looked sidelong at Milo again. “I know of a lot more resources than novels written by humans. What is it that you’re afraid of telling me, Milo?”
Slowing to Morgan’s pace, Milo continued to watch her, almost analysing her to determine what was causing her so much stress. It was impossible to know, not without her telling him, but this town had thrown an impossible amount of shit his way, and he was beginning to realise he wasn’t the only person to fall victim to the Weird of White Crest. Was Morgan Beck stressed? Or had she seen something? Maybe something she wasn’t supposed to see? Surprised by her sudden shift in demeanour, her voice was quiet when she spoke again, and it forced him to focus. The panic of before seemed to fade away, replaced by a genuine softness that he remembered from her lectures. He hadn’t been expecting an immediate yes, and he couldn’t hide the fact that it had taken him by surprise, but he was immensely relieved to realise they might be on the same page... sort of. “Wait- you do?” He echoed, as though he needed confirmation before being able to accept what he was hearing. “You believe in the supernatural? You’re not fucking with me?” If he had been unsure of this meeting before, he was finally convinced he had approached the right person. She clearly wasn’t going to judge him, and she was willing to answer him honestly. That was good.
People. The word was emphasised in a way that only furthered his suspicion. It almost sounded as though she had argued with others in the past, debated whether supernatural creatures counted as people, or whether they should be written off as monsters. Nearly getting lost in thought, it took him a few seconds to register Morgan’s own question, and he came to a sudden halt, eyes wide as he was hit by the implications of what she was asking him. How did she know there was more to this conversation? How did she know there was more to who he was now? Reaching absentmindedly to rub at the base of his neck, the scars there were incredibly faint, barely noticeable to anybody who wouldn’t be able to recognise them for what they were. They were evidence of his struggle, of his change, a reminder of everything he had lost. Feeling them beneath his fingertips encouraged him to stay. If he left then he wasn’t going to learn anything, and he would be no closer to finding the person responsible for taking his life. “Nothing.” He insisted, a breathless laugh escaping him as he did everything he could to sound casual. “I mean- I just wanted to ask, you know? It doesn’t- it doesn’t mean anything. I don’t have anything to hide- I mean, I’m not hiding anything. This is all… strictly hypothetical.” 
Morgan didn’t miss the way Milo changed as soon as he heard her answer. She winced with guilt, remembering how upset Bex had been when she’d tried to deny the whole zombie regeneration thing. “ Yes. I’m not fucking with you.” In a fairer world, this wouldn’t have to be such a fraught conversation, or a secret one. She wouldn’t have to wonder if one of her students was about to hurt her, or if she was walking into some sort of normie joke, or something else equally dangerous and stupid. 
Milo must have been making the same calculations in his head, because no sooner did she do that than did he backpedal away from her follow up questions. 
“I appreciate the whole ‘hypothetical’ thing, Milo, I do. But if you know something or saw something, if something happened to you…” She let out a long, stiff breath. “I’m not going to give you any shit if it happens to be something I’ve never heard of before. But I’ve had a year into the weird side of this town, so I’m pretty hard to surprise. Actually, you know what, I dare you to surprise me, hypothetically or not.”
Milo fell silent, too curious to know what his old professor wanted to say, but also too anxious to trust himself to speak without taking any time to filter his thoughts. It was uncomfortable, navigating such a strange conversation. He felt a little like he was walking on a tightrope. If he fell too far one way, he might never get the answer he was looking for. If he fell too far the other way, he might out himself as a vampire and potentially put himself in danger. A smile tugging at his lips, despite everything, he couldn’t help feeling amused by hearing a member of staff swear so openly. The humour very rapidly faded though, when he was reminded of why they were talking. If something happened to you… He wanted to ask whether something had happened to her, but he couldn’t seem to form the words. That wasn’t why he was here. He didn’t want to talk about what he was, he didn’t want to be asked about what he was. “Nothing happened to me.” He insisted, sounding more confident in the statement than he previously had, but answering too quickly to be convincing. “I told you, it’s hypothetical.” 
He wasn’t sure his company was going to believe him, but so long as he didn’t prove anything, so long as he didn’t outright admit anything to Morgan, then he was safe, right? She would write him off as weird, or overly curious, and nothing more. At least, that’s what he told himself in order to force out what he really wanted to discuss. “Okay… hypothetically,” he started, his voice slow as he attempted to gauge her reaction to his words. “Do you think there might be vampires at this college, and hypothetically, do you think these vampires maybe sometimes go to the bars and clubs downtown?”
Whatever lingering fears Morgan had about Milo being a hunter or hunter-adjacent fell away as he stumbled through his question. When he finally came out with it, she had to stop herself from smirking with how banal it turned out to be. “Hypothetically, yes,” she said. “Easily. I would be more surprised if there weren’t any, with how reckless and vulnerable undergrads are. And, hypothetically, vampires would just be people with an unfortunately limited appetite and sunlight aversion, so of course they’d do all the normal things people do. Maybe even be a part of night life even more. I mean, unless, you know, they hypothetically popped out of the grave as grr-argh spawn-y times. Because that’s, you know...possibly a thing.” Stars above, she hated this. 
At last Morgan stopped and turned to face Milo head on. “Milo, are you trying to say you maybe met a vampire at a club? Because if you met a vampire at a club and you like them and want to keep talking to them, there’s nothing wrong with that, you just need to have really clear communication and honesty to make you’re being careful with each other.”
The sense of satisfaction Milo felt when Morgan said yes was short lived. He had somebody who was telling him it was very possible the vampire who attacked him was attending the uni, or otherwise, might be an alumni. But he had been so focused on this step, he wasn’t sure how to move forward. What did he do with this now? Where did he go from here? Spawn-y. Huh. It wasn’t a term he had stumbled across and he was itching to ask what she meant, but sounding too eager would be counterproductive. He made a mental note to ask Harsh instead, adding it to the list already forming in his head. He really should start writing down his questions. No doubt the older vampire wouldn’t mind taking the time to answer them. Glancing up at the stars too, he frowned, unable to help himself. ‘Normal people’ because he was no longer normal. Because being supernatural wasn’t normal. 
It was only when she spoke again that he was pulled back out of his thoughts, and he turned to look at Morgan with outright disbelief. She was being so casual, she didn’t seem worried about sounding insane, or obsessed like some desperate Twilight fangirl. She was talking about vampires like she knew they existed, like they were unquestionably real, a part of every day life, and it was just that simple. She seemed to be relaxing somewhat, which was why he allowed a laugh to escape him. Jeez, how much easier would his life be right now if she was right? If his biggest problem was knowing a vampire... “Why do you talk like that?” He asked finally, unable to help himself. “Like you’re so sure it all exists? I haven’t met a vampire, because they aren’t real… right? Like, nobody has met a vampire.” She wasn’t going to agree with him after so readily admitting she believed in their existence, but he was trying to avoid any further suspicion. “I’m just… I just wanted to know what you thought. So, hypothetically… and not for- not for like, malicious reasons, if somebody wanted to find a vampire, do you know how would they go about doing that?” 
Morgan looked at Milo, unimpressed with his two steps forward, one step back pace. “You asked me what I thought and I told you I believe in a lot of weird shit. Why are you so surprised when I follow up with the truth? And I know it’s a struggle, working through your pride and your fear on one side and how much you want this information on the other side. Because people are rude and awful and having what you know about the world turned upside down is one heck of a process. But I don’t like talking about this stuff in detail until I know what it’s for. Or if, you know, hypothetically, it’s someone’s elaborate attempt to get something for their Tiktok feed. But, hypothetically, continuing from the premise that vampires are like people but dead and with blood and sun problems, finding one would probably depend on the vampire, wouldn’t it?” She looked at him archly, daring him to come clean.
Milo frowned, realising his bullshit was apparently transparent. He had never been a terrible liar, usually his lack of sobriety depended on being able to lie. But maybe things were different now, maybe too much was riding on this particular conversation. “I don’t have any pride.” He countered. “Or fear.” He added hurriedly, not wanting Morgan to assume he might be afraid. He wasn’t afraid, he refused to be afraid. As far as he was concerned, the person he was trying to find had already done their worst. Setting his jaw, he listened to her assurances, too frustrated by the fact that she was onto him to really appreciate her words. 
“Why would you care what it’s for?” He asked, wondering whether she knew more than he had first assumed. For a while, he had been under the impression she had seen something. Something to make her suspect, something to make her believe. Nothing more than that. But what if it was more than that? What if she knew someone? Or what if she wasn’t human herself? He had so many burning questions, but he knew it would be stupid to ask them. “Can we hypothetically say it’s for a book I’m writing?”
Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “Because the right information in the wrong hands can get people killed,” she replied evenly. “And no, a book isn’t good enough. I’m sorry. I get that you’re not ready to trust me. You weren’t exactly up in my office hours all the time. But I can’t talk about something like this in detail on a hypothetical that vague and tired. I’ve even used that one before.” She came close and squeezed his shoulder gently, softening again. “When you’re ready to talk, know I’m going to probably believe you, or at least listen attentively in good faith to what you have to say.” She winced, another obvious idea coming to her. “Unless you really are writing a book. In which case I fully support your writing endeavours, but I can’t ethically disclose certain information for your research. But I’ll read your drafts or whatever else you might want my help with!” She looked into his eyes, searching. She had no idea what was wrong with this kid, why he was so worked up about this that he’d come back to campus to find her, but she had a feeling it wasn’t anything nice or happy. “Are you taking good care of yourself, this stuff aside?”
Realistically, Milo knew he should appreciate Morgan’s discretion. In withholding the information, she was stopping people from getting to it who might genuinely be trying to harm vampires, to seek them out and hurt them. She was essentially protecting him, although hopefully she didn’t know that. Still, all he could feel was annoyance, and anger. He was so close to somebody who might be able to help him, who probably could help him, but he couldn’t tell her what he was. It didn’t feel right to be so outwardly open. The few people who knew had found out through means of their own. They were supernatural themselves, or they were Hunters, and Slayers. He had yet to volunteer the information, and doing so with somebody he barely knew felt like a ridiculous risk to take. It went against everything Harsh had told him about how to stay out of trouble. Glaring at her when she rested a hand on his shoulder, he begrudgingly took a breath so that she wouldn’t be able to feel the unnatural stillness of his chest. 
“I know you’re going to believe me, that’s the fucking problem.” He muttered, shrugging off her contact. “Fuck the ethics.” He continued, growing more frustrated with each passing second. “I already told you this isn’t malicious, what more do you want from me? It isn’t like I’m asking for a step by step guide on how to kill vampires, that isn’t why I’m here.” A bitter laugh escaping him when she asked him if he was taking care of himself, he wasn’t sure why it mattered. She wasn’t willing to help him, why should she give a shit about his wellbeing? “No.” He admitted, a petulant edge to his voice. “Self care isn’t really my thing.” 
“The fucking ethics are how we survive!” Morgan hissed. Then, realizing what she’d done, she added quickly, “All of us. Normie, not-normie, living, undead, everyone. And other people’s lives aren’t fodder for morbid fascination, just because they’re undead. There’s lots of ways to hurt people, Milo. I’d rather have the truth. I’ll take some proof that you aren’t being reckless, with yourself or this vampire person you’re looking for.” And Milo’s admission of not doing self care wasn’t helping her worry. Stars above, was this kid looking to get turned? On purpose?
“That’s not really encouraging, Milo,” she said softly. “This world you’re asking about isn’t Teen Wolf and Vampire Diaries bullshit. It’s not a game. Where are you staying right now, do you need a ride home?” 
Milo stared at Morgan, stunned into silence by her words before she hurriedly corrected herself, adding to her statement in an attempt to alter the meaning. Surely, he was being paranoid. Surely, he was imagining things. It didn’t make any sense. “Uh huh…” He said, his voice slow, and deliberate. Making it clear he didn’t believe she was saying what she really meant. She had done the very same thing to him. If they were going to incessantly dance around the subject, he was going to make her work equally as hard. “Sure.” He continued to glare, his annoyance incredibly evident in his expression. I’d rather have the truth. He wanted to bite back, to tell her she hadn’t earned it, he wasn’t going to give it away quite so easily. But he forced himself to hold his tongue. “Reckless how?” He demanded. “Honestly, look at me.” He gestured to his slim frame, knowing his body appeared far weaker than it actually was. “What do you think I’m going to do? Go on some mad vampire killing spree? I don’t get it, I’m not exactly asking for sensitive information.” He didn’t care about how to kill, or how to trap. He only wanted to find someone. That felt innocent enough. 
He let a bitter laugh escape him, feigning derision at the mention of the two CW shows. “I don’t know whether to be more offended by the fact that you think I watch those shows, or the fact that you think I take them as fucking truth.” He snapped. Half being serious as he realised she clearly did think he believed those shows were accurate representations of supernatural life. Jeez, he must have given a really bad impression during the time he spent in her classes. “Don’t pretend you care.” He let out a huff of breath, pushing his hair back away from his face. He was already desperate for another cigarette, for a way to dispel the anger settling in his chest. “If you gave a shit you’d help me, I don’t need a ride home.” 
“There are lots of ways to be reckless, Milo!” Morgan said. “If you really think vampire-murder is the only stupid thing you could try to do, you are way too human for what you are looking into. The fact that you think there’s some generic catch-all method for finding one, that you don’t see how telling you how to stalk them without any context--” She shook her head, baffled, then took a breath. Milo was in over his head. He didn’t know what he was doing, and he had to be horribly, painfully desperate to be going after something like this so hard.
After a slow exhale, she said more softly, “I do give a shit. Many, actually. But I am not going to help you destroy yourself. Whatever is really making you this miserable and desperate, yes, I will help you with, however I can. But there is nothing good down this road. I can promise you that much. I know this isn’t what you were hoping for, and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry it hurts. I know it has to hurt so badly right now, but going after this isn’t the way.” She reached into her bag and wrote her number and social media info on a post-it. “Will you take this, please? I really do want to help, Milo. Just not in a way that will make things worse for you later.”
Milo allowed a bitter laugh to escape him, unable to believe he was being called too human. He played off his amusement, directing it towards the former half of Morgan’s statement. “I’ve been plenty stupid in the past, and I’m still here.” He countered. “And I don’t think there’s some generic method, that’s literally why I’m asking you for help. But whatever- it’s pretty clear I’m not about to get any.” Continuing to glare at his old professor, raising his eyebrows to show her he didn’t believe a word she was telling him, he crossed his arms over his chest. It felt good to put a barrier between them both, as though he could protect himself from the hurt and frustration of getting absolutely nowhere. But it also allowed him to hide his clenched fists, hide just how angry he actually was. “Why does everybody think I’m out to destroy myself?” He demanded, although he already knew the answer. It was painfully obvious, after all. He had given people so many reasons to be concerned for his well being, obviously they were going to take notice. 
Setting his jaw as Morgan attempted to assure him, the speech was dangerously close to the one his mom used to give him when she found him curled up on the bathroom floor, or shivering in his bed after a difficult comedown. The sentiment hadn’t worked back then, and it wasn’t about to work now. “You don’t know shit.” He snapped, annoyed she was presuming to understand what he was going through. “But thanks,” he snatched the number, resisting the urge to tear it to shreds. It might be useful in the future, he had no way of knowing, and he didn’t want to take that kind of risk. “I guess I’ll call you if I ever need someone to make me feel like an idiot.” He muttered, crumpling the paper, forcing it into the pocket of his hoodie. “Have a good night- or don’t. I’m not going to pretend to care.” Turning on his heel before Morgan could comment, he found a spiteful sense of satisfaction in leaving her alone when she was so obviously feeling nervous. Maybe later that satisfaction would turn to guilt, but for now he allowed himself to revel in it. He was going to find this vampire, with or without her help. And if he got himself into trouble doing so, well, she would just have to deal with being partially responsible.
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thefriedbird · 50 minutes ago
TW: Ableism and cussing.
Okay... I just want to say this because it has literally been pissing me off for literal MONTHS.
There is such a thing called AMBULATORY WHEELCHAIR USERS I should know because I’m disabled and am one of them.
I have POTS, Fibromyalgia, and potentially undiagnosed Hypermobile Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. I also have PTSD amongst other things. I know it’s odd to bring up but I’ll explain.
Ambulatory Wheelchair users are disabled people who can walk normally (almost. It depends because I use a cane also) but on their flare up days they are almost so immobile that they need their Wheelchair.
For me and many others, There isn’t a single day where I’m not in pain. It’s just that sometimes the scale fluctuates. This pain usually effects my legs since my knees hurt me so bad and sometimes I find that my SI joint and hip fucking hates my ass. With my PTSD, I have such horrific flashbacks that I am a fall risk. This goes the same with my POTS because walking, running, and excercise in general exacerbates it so where I am lightheaded, dizzy, and general pre-syncope conditions.
But I can walk as well. There are days where I appear normal that I can walk.
I shouldn’t feel scared that a potential uneducated Karen will come up and scream at me.
I shouldn’t feel scared for OTHER wheelchair owners.
I shouldn’t have to feel ashamed around my family because they think I shouldn’t need it.
I also shouldn’t feel the need to educate my rheumatologist that ambulatory wheelchair owners exist.
I shouldn’t have been denied a prescribed wheelchair DUE to this.
I shouldn’t have to pay out of pocket and then suffer when my wheelchair breaks.
When I look around certain places it PISSES me off that many ambulatory wheelchair owners are DENIED this due to insurance or get fucked when they have a shitty specialist. I shouldn’t also see when places REQUIRE proof of disability simply to use a wheelchair.
WHY do abled people believe that other Abled people want to use a wheelchair (which does happen because they are foolish but it is a SMALL PERCENTAGE) When using them in first places makes our lives harder?
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lorenmolloy · an hour ago
Happy 420 from a mmj patient living in a legal and recreationally legal state now about to come out with her own indie feature horror film called #thedevilslettucemovie Click the hashtag, like & follow the movie’s page, and show support for a #femalefilmmaker who uses #medicalmarijuana for #fibromyalgia #ptsd #epilepsy #diverticulitis #chronicfatigue and #anxiety & isn’t letting any of that stop her from creating an original #indie horror movie during #covid times! #TheDevilsLettuce comes out #fridaythe13th #2021 on #dvd and #streaming through Vimeo @thedevilslettucemovie is about a group of friends who party in a graveyard on Friday the 13th. One of them gets too drunk and breaks the only bowl they brought. Trying to keep the party going Bud finds a human skull and shows it can be smoked out of. After the guys smoke out of the skull something happens. Their eyes change. They start getting animalistic and aggressive, scaring the ladies. The women are forced to run for their lives from their own friends. Are the men possessed or are they sick? Find out on Friday the 13th 2021. Thanks for supporting this #director #producer #actor & #cannabis #advocate #HappyHorrors 💋 #LorenMolloy
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So Who’s Willing To Cashapp Or Paypal Me Money Rn? I’m Sick & Want Cold Medicine lol
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crowleytheservicedobie · an hour ago
Minor rant: I had a really rough morning.
I went to the local mental health clinic (long story, not related) and was really happy to get the standard two questions by the office staff. I told her he was med and psych alert, as well as some psychiatric tasks. Then, I was asked for “my papers” for my service dog. I asked if she meant my doctor’s note, said all of that should be transferred over but I don’t carry it on me; she says “Okay, well, you said he was medical so that’s fine but you can’t have a service dog for things like anxiety, depression, or ptsd.”
I’m ready to go off at this point but I leave it at, “I have a psychiatric disability; I need him there for that alone, much less my medical condition.”
“Well, I’ve never heard of that.”
“Heard of what?”
“A psychiatric service dog.”
“You work at a mental health clinic... and you’re sure you’ve never heard of that?”
Long story short, I had to give out an ADA law card to someone in a mental health office - wearing a damn mental health awareness button.
And I’m still kinda blown away.
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looneylikelunalovegood · an hour ago
I do not grieve a life
So do not judge my sorrow
I long for a loss of time
And a memory once borrowed
But that prize he took with hate
Now I'm left with hollow gaps
That are filled to the brim with hate
A past I cannot get back
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thewitchwench · 2 hours ago
A Rant on Triggers
'triggers' and 'triggered' are words we here more and more. Sadly this has lead to it losing its meaning somewhat. So, here's a little rant on what is like to live with irrational triggers, how to manage them and how not to be a dick about it.
I’ve not had a good rant in a while. This one is very close to my heart so buckle in bitches. There has been an increase of using the word ‘triggered’ often in a derogatory way to imply someone’s emotional reaction is irrational. I don’t like it. It is belittling and dismissive. As a person with trauma I have to be more aware of my triggers because many of them are irrational. That being said, if…
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depressivestuff88 · 2 hours ago
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“I’m far too nice to everyone. I always end up getting walked all over.” - Unknown
God Damn! I hate being so nice to people. As is says I get walked over all of the time. I don’t like it at all. I get taken advantage of all of the time.
Yes, sometimes I am nice because people deserve someone being nice to them. But sometimes I am too, nice. I just wish people wouldn’t be so mean to nice people.
Rant for today. That is all!
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brain-ssoup · 2 hours ago
so.. here’s the tik tok for reference;
but i posted this tik tok and got this as a response and i just don’t think that’s how service dogs work? i know the difference between an emotional support animal and a service dog but i’m fairly certain you can’t just adopt a dog and train it willy nilly like that.
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the-confused-performer · 2 hours ago
i take everything as a sign of rejection. you tell me you love me and i flinch
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txdeswach · 2 hours ago
I had a dentist appointment today and they removed my right wisdom teeth. I met with D. and he said that he wants me to watch how he cuts his wrists open. He burned his wrist with a cigarette and I wanted to stop him but he was stronger than me. He cried and I was there for him but he was freaking suicidal and I wanted to go away. It triggered me so much and I wanted to run away. I called my boyfriend but he couldn't leave work. I asked my boss but he couldn't pick me up from there. But J., a supervisor from the dorm was able to pick me up, and I was so relieved that she is able to pick me up. I brought D.'s backpack to his station from the mental health hospital and said them what happened. But they didn't do anything. D. called me 22+ times.
I bit my lip open because I was so triggered and I didn't feel much because it was still everything numb from the dentist. I woke up with a swollen lip and it freaking hurt so much. I feel so weak. So much pain. Can't breathe properly. My throat hurts. V. doesn’t have much time for me today but it's okay because I'm so done with today. He said I shouldn't smoke weed today and I agreed because I'm still freezing when I go out for just 30 minutes and laying under two blankets since 4pm.
I don't think I can work tomorrow.
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jkrispi-with-an-i · 3 hours ago
Yooooo I went to the doctor today and she asked me to talk about The Traumatic Thing and normally I have panic attacks when I talk about it but I didn’t today. I had my obsidian butterfly, but all the same, I think I’m healing, guys.
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prayersofadryad · 3 hours ago
Mother Wound
Dearest Hecate,
As the mother, maiden, and crone… you have experienced the life of all three. You’d know of the mother wound. Before having my children, there was always a hole inside me that I desperately tried to fill. I just wanted someone to try and understand me before causing me pain. Believe me. Listen to me. Try to see what it was I was trying to learn. Love was an option, but I just craved dignity. A child doesn’t have any experience that the adult has, but the child does have a better way of listening and understanding that many adults lack, or were themselves never taught.
I was scared to become a mother, afraid that whenever I’d get mad, I’d turn into a giant squid with wide, crazed blue eyes and the scariest roar of a voice you’d ever heard. She squeezed the life out of others to live, my mother. So many things were sacrificed to her delusions. Those crazed blue eyes… I’ve always been afraid to look in the mirror when I’m upset, afraid my own would shine with such hatred and violence. Sometimes when someone remarks on my eyes, I remember that my mother and I share them, and I get a fleeting, similar feeling to the one Oedipus must have had had before he cut into his face. 
I’m not as dedicated to the idea.
Hecate, I got word from my Grandmother. She has been dying for the better of twenty years, and I’m afraid I have no more favors to give “before she dies”. Is it cold? Maybe, but I know you believe that I’ve done the best I could.
Tonight I ache in the blood that is still shared with a family that never gave me the gift of dignity. I’ll prune the tree of my soul, and cut off those branches that question if I am deserving, or enough for the beauty and love in the world. We all are. I may not have been shown kindness to the self as a child, but I’m learning as an adult… and I have way more opportunities now.
Hecate, I know you’ll reward and punish as you see fit. I concede all my emotions save those of forgiveness… to myself. I did everything I could. I offered peace, I offered love, and I offered my boundaries. Now I will inhale the chaos, hold for you to take, then release my breath full of grace and love to the world.
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lokislittlesigyn · 4 hours ago
tw // mental health, therapy stuff, ptsd, nausea
well the first session of intense emdr stages was today and. wow it absolutely kicked me in the rear end. i am supremely exhausted and have struggled to make sure breakfast (i ate before) Stays Down but. i did it. we did the first session. i just.. didn’t think the “low” target i set would be that intense, idk. i’m more than a little apprehensive about how the things i think are Bad will be (i can barely handle them normally, approaching them.. is going to be interesting.)
homework for today is “take it easy,” therapist mentioned it about half a dozen times and stressed its importance. supposed to make myself a priority too. imagine that.
i hope giving these little updates is okay, im trying to tag them appropriately and such. it’s just nice to be a bit more open with what’s going on, hah.
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