#yeah she’s got mental health problems but she’s functional enough to know right from wrong.

[arinharin-appreciation]

@hmmmidisagree a very close friend of Heidi’s confirmed this on her twitter. She was with Heidi when Heidi found out about the entire situation, and it had been going on for over a year, which means she was still with Ross when it started.

@frozenflame919 sorry but no. The fact is that Holly made a conscious decision to have sex with a married man while she was still married and then CONTINUED to have sex with a married man after she got divorced. She is an adult, I’m holding her accountable in the same way I’m holding Jared accountable. As I said, No Excuses.

#zooz.txt #discourse? discourse. #no favoritism or anything #im holding her accountable for this shit #yeah she’s got mental health problems but she’s functional enough to know right from wrong.

[male-reader-requests]

Dog Days Pt. 2

Pairings: Mirio Togata x Male!Reader

Word Count: 1,893

Warnings: Second installment! Slightly angsty I guess, I could not remember for the life of me where I was going with this considering it's been 2 months but you know, is what it is. It does have a very small bit of potential sexual harassment, so that's a warning there, but nothing actually happens!

-

Midoriya felt horrible. 

Mirio was still in the middle of his fight, fighting pretty playfully to tire out Tenya, but the green-haired male was hoping for him to finish faster. 

He'd been talking to himself, normal, and it had been about (M/N). Said male had gotten curious and came over to question him and Midoriya had freaked out. 

Really he hadn't meant to! He'd been so absorbed into his own world that he hadn't noticed that (M/N) had gotten so close until he'd tugged at his uniform!

Midoriya was still on the floor, laying down this time as he looked at the ceiling as if it was the thing causing all his problems. He had wanted to talk to (M/N), to understand his quirk a bit better, and get to know the tall male. (M/N) was dating Mirio, and Midoriya loved Mirio like a brother so he wanted to know his significant other. Then he'd gone and fucked up. 

Tilting his head a bit Midoriya could see that (M/N) was sitting in the corner of the room, relaxed against the wall with one knee propped up. He looked quite calm actually, but he was glaring harshly at the floor.

Midoriya had struggled with himself enough to recognize that (M/N) was beating himself up mentally, that he was replaying the encounter over and over again to see what he'd done wrong and could have done better, but there was nothing.

(M/N) had done nothing wrong, Midoriya was just jumpy and had reacted badly. 

Midoriya felt horrible and knew he should approach the other male and apologize, but he couldn't find the strength to drag himself up. What if (M/N) reacted badly to Midoriya approaching him? What if he didn't accept the apology and was pissed? Was he pissed?

Midoriya was working himself up, mumbling again. But before his own mumbling could get too loud he noticed someone else was mumbling. Not very many people had a habit like that in the class. Confused he looked over (M/N) to see if it was him, but he was just sitting against the wall with his chin against his chest, mouth and nose buried in his jacket collar.

Midoriya looked around a bit more, going from person to person only to find nothing. Confused he sat up, trying to get a better angle of everything, and this time he found purple in the form of Mineta. He was partially in the shadows, this stupid grin resting on his face, a stupid grin that Midoriya, unfortunately, knew very well.

The girls could all take care of themselves, Mineta was more or less just annoying, and the guys had all given up trying to reprimand him. Well, Tenya still tried but that was just part of his personality.

Mineta was currently eyeing up Jirou, who was still quite out of it due to (M/N)'s venom. It was of no surprise really that Mineta would go after her. (M/N) had explained to all of them beforehand that his venom in the small dose he used would make them sleepy and pliant, having a fuzzy memory of everything after it had worn off. So it was no surprise that Mineta was going after the one girl that wouldn't remember it very well. 

Midoriya moved to stand up, but out of the corner of his eyes he saw that (M/N) was slowly getting up. The tall male was leaning against the wall still, but he had his feet under him so he was crouched down, his eyes still closed. As Midoriya looked at him in curiosity he watched as those red eyes moved about, tracking something.

Belatedly he realized the taller male was tracking Mineta who had his back turned to (M/N). His face was against the wall, he looked relaxed, but Midoriya knew the signs of tensing muscles. 

He was moving slowly to stand up, close to the wall in a way you could only ever expect of a spider. 

Once he stood up completely (M/N) was terrifying. He was taller than everyone else in the class, and while only being dressed in jeans and a hoodie he looked almost like a villain. Is that why he'd freaked out earlier?

(M/N)'s hands were trailing on the wall as he walked forward, silent as a free hand stuffed into his hoodie pocket pulled out the gun he used for his venom. 

(M/M) was an all-over fighter, he could do short-range or long-range, but with long-range he couldn't use his venom which could incapacitate someone with one hit. With that in mind, the support class had made him a little gun he could load with his venom to use so he could inject it in a better way.

Midoriya looked around, looking to see if anyone else had noticed but everyone was watching Mirio and Tenya fight. He watched as (M/N) pulled the little vile that held the venom out, holding it against elongated canine teeth the collect the venom much like people do with snakes. 

It only took a second or two for the vile to fill up, for (M/N) to be standing right behind Mineta.

He crouched down, still towering over the purple male, but Mineta finally seemed to realize something was wrong. Midoriya watched as he shakily looked up, meeting a mass of red and (E/C) eyes looking down at him.

Mineta tried to scream, (M/N) clamping a hand over his mouth with a light shushing sound.

Midoriya looked around again, but everyone was ignoring what was happening. He seemed to be the only one who had noticed, the only one close enough to hear the two of them.

Two of (M/N)'s hands come out into Mineta's sight, one holding the gun, the other holding the vile. 

"You know what's in this?" he whispered, shaking the little vile of (F/C) venom. Mineta nodded erratically, trying to squirm out of (M/N)'s grip but was unable to move. 

"Then you know what would happen if I injected more than I should, right?" Mineta nodded again, tears almost coming to his eyes.

Midoriya went back to earlier this afternoon again, to when (M/N) had been explaining his abilities. His venom was always a set amount, half an ML mixed with some solution to be injected via needle darts from his gun. It caused exhaustion basically, zapping anyone hit of their energy.

He'd told them that he would only use more if absolutely necessary, mostly due to Bakugo saying he was more resilient than the rest of them, but had proceeded to tell them what would happen if he used more.

It was still safe between 1 and 3 ML, depending on the persons size and their health records, but once you got past that it got dangerous. He had a Neurotoxic Venom, the kind that was used to paralyze prey in actual spiders. 

He had explained that the general dose, besides the memory haze, would cause muscle spasms, cramps, twitching, sweating, drooling, and gooseflesh. As the dose got larger it would start to cause painful abdominal cramps, strange sensations, unstable blood pressure, and severe pain in the limbs.

Then, with a blush that rivaled Mina's hair, he had said in rare cases it could cause damage to Autonomic effects, such as temperature control, digestion, bladder control, and unfortunately sexual function. Basically, if he gave a bigger dose than safe he could cause any of the males to get a painful erection. He'd sighed after that, filling a little vile with his venom to show them all the color of it so they'd recognize it. 

Coming back to himself Midoriya's eyes focused again, looking to (M/N) and Mineta who had been talking softly. Or (M/N) had been talking with Mineta nodding along the best he could. 

(M/N) pulled back after a second or two of silence, putting the gun back in his pocket but keeping a firm hand over Mineta's mouth.

"Now I suggest you find a new hobby or you'll end up confused and dazed, not having any memory of the next 12 hours," (M/N) smiled lightly, head tilting a bit to the side, "You understand, right?"

Mineta nodded aggressively again, (M/N) smile getting larger before patting him on the back, standing up, and moving away from him. Midoriya watched Mineta for a second or two more before looking back to (M/N), flinching when he locked eyes with him.

(M/N) was just standing there, partially in the shadows staring at him. It was horrifying.

"(M/N)!" a voice called out, Mirio coming into the room with a shining smile.

Immediately all of the murderous intent left (M/N)'s system, a soft smile so different from the one a few minutes ago coming to his face. He looked exhausted, he had before but now even more so. 

Mirio came over, talking excitedly and waving his hands around, gently elbowing the taller male in the ribs as he laughed at something. (M/N) didn't say anything, just smiled and nodded, ruffling blond hair when he had to leave for his next fight.

Mirio's smile fell once (M/N) was out on the field, turning to look at Midoriya instead of his boyfriend through the glass.

"What happened?" he asked, face void of the happiness it had shown with seconds before. Now he just looked concerned, confused and concerned.

"I don't really know," Midoriya started, rubbing at the back of his neck as he looked at the ground. "I'd gotten lost in thought so he'd startled me when he tugged on my shirt and then he scared Mineta when he was creeping on Jirou.

Mirio sighed, looking back to the glass that protected them from the fight happening below. (M/N) was fighting Mina, the pink girl easy to spot against the mass of rubble around them. She was laughing, struggling to breath as she slapped her thighs. Mirio smiled lightly at that, (M/N) had said some dumb joke in order to distract her. Partial for the fight and partial for himself.

"Yeah that's (M/N)," he chuckled softly, watching as the young girl fell over, laughing so much she was crying with (M/N) frantically crouched over her, clearing panicking as if he'd done something wrong. "He's always nice to everyone, easily excitable but he's also pretty awkward."

Mirio then let out a slightly forced laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. "He's also always been someone who acts, so if Mineta was being a creap then I can't really blame (M/N)." 

Midoriya nodded, watching as Mina struggled to get up, (M/N) helping her the best he could with their height difference.

Maybe he'd just caught (M/N) on a bad day? Hopefully, they could be friends, or at least get along.

#my hero academia mirio #Mirio Togata #mirio togata x male reader #mirio x male reader #bnha #bnha imagines #bnha mirio #angst

[sk1fanfiction]

the many faces of tom riddle, part 4

-attachment, orphanages, and yet more child psych: time to add yet another voice to the void-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION.

I'm going to be super biased, because my favorite portrayal of Tom Riddle is actually Hero Fiennes-Tiffin as eleven-year-old Tom Riddle, in HBP and I get to chat about child psych in this one, sooo here we go.

First of all, I’m just so impressed that a kid could bring that much depth to such a complex character.

This is the portrayal, I feel, that brings us closest to Tom’s character. Yes, Coulson’s brought us pretty close, but by fifth year, the mask was on.

We don't really get to see Tom looking afraid very often, but it's fear that rules his life, so it's really poignant in our first (chronologically) introduction, he looks absolutely terrified.

The void being the fandom's loud opinions on a certain headmaster. I wouldn't call myself pro-Dumbledore, but I'm certainly not anti-Dumbledore, either. (Agnostic-Dumbledore??)

Since I'm not of the anti-Dumbledore persuasion, I decided to poke around in the tags and see what the arguments were, so I don't make comments out of ignorance.

Most of the tag seems to be more directed towards his treatment of Harry and Sirius, but a few people mentioned that Dumbledore should have treated Tom with ‘exceptional kindness’ and tried to ‘rehabilitate’ him.

As I said in Parts 2 and 3, I am 100% in favor of helping a traumatized kid learn to cope, and I don’t think Tom Riddle was solidly on the Path to Evil (TM) at birth, or even at eleven. Not even at fifteen.

Could unconditional love and kindness have helped Tom Riddle enough for the rise of Lord Voldemort to never happen? Possibly, but...

Yes, I'm about to drag up that Carl Jung quote, again.

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”

The problem with this is that if you’re going to blame Dumbledore for this, you also have to blame every other adult in Tom’s life: his headmaster, Dippet, his Head of House, Slughorn, his ‘caretakers’ at the orphanage, Mrs. Cole and Martha, and possibly more. In fact, if we're going to blame any adult, let's blame Merope for r*ping and abusing Tom Riddle Senior, and having a kid she wasn't intending to take care of.

Furthermore, you cannot possibly hold anyone but Tom accountable for the murders he committed. (I should not have to sit here and explain why cold-blooded murder is wrong.) And if you like Tom Riddle's character, insinuating that his actions are completely at the whim of others is just a bit condescending towards him. He's not an automaton or a marionette, he's a very intelligent human being with a functioning brain, and at sixteen is fully capable of moral reasoning and critical analysis.

I've heard the theories about Dumbledore setting the Potters up to die, and I'm not going to discuss their validity right now; but he didn't put a wand in Tom's hand and force him to kill anyone. Tom did it all of his own accord.

And while yes, I have enormous sympathy for what happened to Tom as a child, at some point, he decided to murder Myrtle Warren, and that is where I lose my sympathy. Experiencing trauma does not give you the right to inflict harm on others. Yes, Tom was failed, but then, he spectacularly failed himself.

We also have no idea how Dumbledore treated Tom as a student.

In the movies, it’s Dumbledore who tells Tom he has to go back to the orphanage, but in the books, it’s Dippet. We know that Slughorn spent a lot of time around Tom at Slug Club and such, yet I don’t really see people clamoring for his head.

I regard the sentiment that Dumbledore turned Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort with a lot of skepticism.

But let's hear from the character himself -- his impression of eleven-year-old Tom Riddle.

“Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?” said Dumbledore. “No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others’ sake as much as his."

Now, assuming that Dumbledore's telling the truth, I'm not seeing something glaringly wrong with this. No, he hasn't pigeonholed Tom as evil, yes, I'd be intrigued, too, and it's a very good idea to keep an eye on Tom, for his own sake.

“At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school."

Again, it seems like he's at least somewhat sympathetic towards Tom, and is willing to at least give him a chance.

More evidence (again, assuming Dumbledore is a reliable narrator):

Harry: “Didn’t you tell them [the other professors], sir, what he’d been like when you met him at the orphanage?” Dumbledore: “No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance.”

Now, I think Dumbledore is pretty awful with kids, but I don't think that's malicious. Yeah, it's a flaw, but perfect people don't exist, and perfect characters are dead boring. I am not saying that he definitely handled Tom's case well, I'm just saying that there's little evidence that Dumbledore, however shaken and scandalized, wrote him off as 'evil snake boy.'

It's also worth taking into account that it's 1938, and the attitudes towards mental health back then.

Why is Tom looking at Dumbledore like that, anyway? Why is he so scared? What has he possibly been threatened with or heard whispers of?

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course -- well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!

Tom keeps insisting he's not mad until Dumbledore finally manages to calm him down.

I'm really upset this wasn't in the movie, because it's important context. Instead we got these throwaway cutscenes of some knick-knacks relating to the Cave he's got lying around, but I just would have preferred to see him freaking out like he does in the book.

There was extreme stigma and prejudice towards mental illness.

'Lunatic asylums,' as they were called in Tom's time, were terrible places. In the 1930s and 40s, he could look forward to being 'treated' with induced convulsions, via metrazol, insulin, electroshock, and malaria injections. And if he stuck around long enough, he could even look forward to a lobotomy!

So, if you think Dumbledore was judgmental towards Tom, imagine how flat-out prejudiced whatever doctors or 'experts' Mrs. Cole might have gotten in to 'look at him' must have been!

Moving on to the next few shots, he is sitting down and hunched over as if expecting punishment or at least some kind of bad news, Dumbledore is mostly out of the frame. He’s trapped visually, by Dumbledore on one side, and a wall on the other, because he’s still very much afraid. uncomfortable, as he tells Dumbledore a secret that he fears could get him committed to an asylum (which were fucking horrible places, as I said).

It brings to the scene that miserable sense of isolation and loneliness to that has defined Tom’s entire life up to that point (and, partially due to his own bad choices, continues to define it).

And, when Dumbledore accepts it, his posture changes. he becomes more confident and more at ease, as he describes the... utilities of his magical abilities. 

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

I do think Harry, our narrator, is being a tad bit judgmental here. Magic is probably the only thing that brings Tom happiness in his grey, lonely world, and when I was Tom's age and being bullied, if I had magic powers, you'd better believe that I'd (a) be bloody ecstatic about it (b) use them. And, like Tom, I can't honestly say that I can't imagine getting a bit carried-away with it. Unfortunately, we can't all be as inherently good and kindhearted as Harry.

Reading HBP again, as a 'mature' person, it almost seems like the reader is being prompted to see Tom as evil just because he's got 'weird' facial expressions.

So... uh...

Nope, let's judge Tom on his actions, not looks of 'wild happiness.'

To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick. The wardrobe burst into flames. Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Okay, one thing I dislike is Tom's lack of emotional affect when Dumbledore burned the wardrobe, in the books, he jumped up and started screaming, instead of looking passively (in shock, perhaps?) at the fire. Incidentally, I can't really tell if he's impressed or in shock, to be honest. I think they really tried to make Tom 'creepier' in the movie.

This is one of the incidents where Dumbledore's inability to deal with children crops up.

I think he was trying to teach Tom that magic can be dangerous, and he wouldn't like it to be used against him, but burning the wardrobe that contains everything he owns was a terrible move on Dumbledore's part. Tom already has very limited trust in other people, and now, he's not going to trust Dumbledore at all -- now, he's put Tom on the defensive/offensive for the rest of their interaction, and perhaps for the rest of their teacher-student relationship.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

But I'm not surprised Tom is 'greedy.' He's grown up in an environment where if he wants something, whether that's affection, food, money, toys, he's got to take it. There's no one looking after his needs specifically. I'm not surprised that he's a thief and a hoarder, and I don't think that counts as a moral failing necessarily, and more of a maladaptive way of seeking comfort. It would be bizarre if he came out of Wool's Orphanage a complete saint.

Additionally, I think given that the Gaunt family has a history of 'mental instability,' Tom is a sensitive child, and the trauma of growing up institutionalized and possibly being treated badly due to his magical abilities or personality disorder deeply affected him.

And there are points where it seems that Dumbledore is quick to judge Tom.

"He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control."

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination."

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless?..."

And while this is all empirically true, these are (a) a product of Tom's harsh environment, and (b) do not necessarily make him evil. But the point remains that child psych didn't exist as a field of its own, and psychology as a proper science was in its infancy, so I'd be shocked if Dumbledore was insightful about Tom's situation.

But I've gone a ton of paragraphs without citing anything, so I've got to rectify that.

Let's talk about Harry Harlow's monkey experiments in the 1950-70s.

If you're not a fan of animal research, since I know some people are uncomfortable with it, feel free to scroll past.

Here's the TL;DR: Children need to be hugged and shown affection too, not just fed and clothed, please don't leave babies to 'cry out' and ignore their needs because it's backwards and fucking inhumane. HUG AND COMFORT AND CODDLE CHILDREN AND SPOIL THEM WITH AFFECTION!

I will put more red writing when the section is over.

This is still an interesting experiment to have in mind while we explore the whole 'no one taught Tom Riddle how to love' thing and whether or not it's actually a good argument.

Andddd let's go all the way back to the initial 1958 experiment, featured in Harlow's paper, the Nature of Love. (If you're familiar with Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, him and Harlow actually collaborated for a time).

To give you an idea of our starting point, until Harlow's experiment, which happened twenty years after Dumbledore meets Tom for the first time, no one in science had really been interested in studying love and affection.

"Psychologists, at least psychologists who write textbooks, not only show no interest in the origin and development of love or affection, but they seem to be unaware of its very existence."

I'm going to link some videos of Harry Harlow showing the actual experiment, which animal rights activists would probably consider 'horrifying.' It's nothing gory or anything, but if you are particularly soft-hearted (and I do not mean that as an insult), be warned. It's mostly just baby monkeys being very upset and Harlow discussing it in a callous manner. Yes, today it would be considered unethical, but it's still incredibly important work and if you think you can handle it, I would recommend watching at least the first one to get an idea of how dramatic this effect is.

Dependency when frightened

The full experiment

The TL;DW:

This experiment was conducted with rhesus macaques; they're still used in psychology/neuroscience research when you want very human-like subjects, because they are very intelligent (unnervingly so, actually). I'd say that adult ones remind me of a three-year old child.

Harlow separated newborn monkeys from their mothers, and cared for their physical needs. They had ample nutrition, bedding, warmth, et cetera. However, the researchers noticed that the monkeys:

(a) were absolutely miserable. And not just that, but although all their physical needs were taken care of, they weren't surviving well past the first few days of life. (This has also been documented in human babies, and it's called failure to thrive and I'll talk about it a bit later).

(b) showed a strong attachment to the gauze pads used to cover the floor, and decided to investigate.

So, they decided to provide a surrogate 'mother.' Two, actually. Mother #1 was basically a heated fuzzy doll that was nice for the monkeys to cuddle with. Mother #2 was the same, but not fuzzy and made of wire. Both provided milk. The result? The monkeys spent all their time cuddling and feeding from the fuzzy 'mother.' Perhaps not surprising.

What Harlow decided next, is that one of the hallmarks being attached to your caregiver is seeking hugs and reassurance from them when frightened. So, when the monkeys were presented with something scary, they'd go straight to the cloth mother and ignore the wire one. Not only that, but when placed in an unfamiliar environment, if the cloth mother was present, the monkeys would be much calmer.

In a follow-up experiment, Harlow decided to see if there was some sort of sensitive period by introducing both 'mothers' to monkeys who had been raised in isolation for 250 days. Guess what?

The initial reaction of the monkeys to the alterations was one of extreme disturbance. All the infants screamed violently and made repeated attempts to escape the cage whenever the door was opened. They kept a maximum distance from the mother surrogates and exhibited a considerable amount of rocking and crouching behavior, indicative of emotionality.

Yikes. So, at first Harlow thought that they'd passed some kind of sensitive period for socialization. But after a day or two they calmed down and started chilling out with the cloth mother like the other monkeys did. But here's a weird thing:

That the control monkeys develop affection or love for the cloth mother when she is introduced into the cage at 250 days of age cannot be questioned. There is every reason to believe, however, that this interval of delay depresses the intensity of the affectional response below that of the infant monkeys that were surrogate-mothered from birth onward

All these things... attachment, affection, love, seeking comfort ... are mostly learned behaviours.

Over.

Orphanages, institutionalized childcare, and why affection is a need, not an extra.

His face is lit the exact same was as Coulson’s was in COS (half-light, half-dark), and I said I was going to talk about this in Part 3. I think perhaps it's intended to make Fiennes-Tiffin look more evil or menacing, but I'm going to quite deliberately misinterpret it.

Now, for some context, Dumbledore has just (kind of) burned his wardrobe, ratted out his stealing habit, and (in the books only, they really took a pair of scissors to this scene) told him he needs to go apologize and return everything and Dumbledore will know if he doesn't, and, well, Tom's not exactly a happy bugger about it.

But interestingly, in the books, this is when we start to see Tom's 'persona,' aka his mask, start to come into play. Whereas before, he was screaming, howling, and generally freaking out, here, he starts to hide his emotions -- in essence, obscure his true self under a shadow. So this scene is really the reverse of Coulson's in COS.

And perhaps I'm reading wayyy too much into this, but I can't help but notice that Coulson's hair is parted opposite to Fiennes-Tiffin's, and the opposite sides of their faces are shadowed, too.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colorless voice, "Yes, sir."

Here's an article from The Atlantic on Romanian orphanages in the 1980s, when the dictator, Ceausescu, basically forced people to have as many children as possible and funnel them into institutionalized 'childcare', and it's absolutely heartbreaking.

There's not a whole lot of information out there on British orphanages in the 30s' and 40s', but given that people back then thought you just had to keep children on a strict schedule and feed them, it wouldn't have a whole lot better.

The only thing I've found is this, and it's not super promising.

The most important study informing the criteria for contemporary nosologies, was a study by Barbara Tizard and her colleagues of young children being raised in residential nurseries in London (Tizard, 1977). These nurseries had lower child to caregiver ratios than many previous studies of institutionalized children. Also, the children were raised in mixed aged groups and had adequate books and toys available. Nevertheless, caregivers were explicitly discouraged from forming attachments to the children in their care.

Here's a fairly recent paper that I think gives a good summary: Link

Here, they describe the responses to the Strange Situation test (which tests a child's attachment to their caregiver).

We found that 100% of the community sample received a score of “5,” indicating fully formed attachments, whereas only 3% of the infants living in institutions demonstrated fully formed attachments. The remaining 97% showed absent, incomplete, or odd and abnormal attachment behaviors.

Bowlby and Ainsworth, who did the initial study, thought that children would always attach to their caregivers, regardless of neglect or abuse. But some infants don't attach (discussed along with RAD in Part 2).

Here's a really good review paper on attachment disorders in currently or formerly institutionalized children : Link

Core features of RAD in young children include the absence of focused attachment behaviors directed towards a preferred caregiver, failure to seek and respond to comforting when distressed, reduced social and emotional reciprocity, and disturbances of emotion regulation, including reduced positive affect and unexplained fearfulness or irritability.

Which all sounds a lot like Tom in this scene. The paper also discusses neurological effects, like atypical EEG power distribution (aka brain waves), which can correlate with 'indiscriminate' behavior and poor inhibitory control; which makes sense for a kid who, oh, I don't know, hung another kid's rabbit because they were angry.

Furthermore...

...those children with more prolonged institutional rearing showed reduced amygdala discrimination and more indiscriminate behavior.

This again, makes a ton of sense for Tom's psychological profile, because the amygdala (which is part of the limbic system, which regulates emotions) plays a major role in fear, anger, anxiety, and aggression, especially with respect to learning, motivation and memory.

So, I agree completely that Tom needed a lot of help, especially given the fact that he spent eleven years in an orphanage (longer than the Bucharest study I was referring to), and Dumbledore wasn't exactly understanding of his situation, and probably didn't realise what a dramatic effect the orphanage had on Tom, and given the way he talks to Tom, probably treated him as if he were a kid who grew up in a healthy environment.

In case you are still unconvinced that hugging is that important, there's a famous 1944 study conducted on 40 newborn human infants to see what would happen if their physical needs (fed, bathed, diapers changed) were provided for with no affection. The study had to be stopped because half the babies died after four months. Affection leads to the production of hormones and boosts the immune system, which increases survival, and that is why we hug children and babies should not be in orphanages. They are supposed to be hugged, all the time. I can't find the citation right now, I'll add it later if I find it.

But I think it's vastly unrealistic to say that Dumbledore, who grew up during the Victorian Era, would have any grasp of this and I don't think he was actively malicious towards Tom.

Was Tom Riddle failed by institutional childcare? Absolutely.

Were the adults in his life oblivious to his situation? Probably.

Do the shitty things that happened to Tom excuse the murders he committed, and are they anyone's fault but his own? No. At the end of the day, Tom made all the wrong choices.

And, for what it's worth, I think (film) Dumbledore (although he expresses the same sentiment in more words in the books) wishes he could go back in time and have helped Tom.

"Draco. Years ago, I knew a boy, who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you."

#tom riddle #the many faces of #tom marvolo riddle #character analysis #character study #albus dumbledore

[billiedeanhwrd]

when i fell you were there, with your hands in the air

cordelia goode x fem!reader

summary: your depression is hitting you harder than most days, cordelia comforts you 🤍

warnings: depression, slight mention of childhood trauma, it's angsty mental health fluff basically

word count: 1.7k

a/n: this is my first ever fanfic and i'm very very nervous about it, so pls don't be too harsh, constructive criticism is very much welcome though!! also i'm sorry about any grammar mistakes, english is not my first language. i also have to add that this was very much self indulgent and based on my own experience with depression, so if you don't relate, that's fine, everyone experiences it differently. I hope you enjoy it tho, have fun reading <3

today was one of those days again. one of those days where everything seemed grey and pointless. one of those days where taking a shower was too exhausting. one of those days where it didn't matter if you left your clothes on the floor or a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. one of those days where you isolated yourself. one of those days that seemed to return to you every morning for almost 3 weeks now.

you had been struggling with depression for years now and attending therapy regularly still didn't take away from the embarrassment you felt about your illness. cordelia didn't know, you didn't want to burden her with your subjectively "silly" problems. It wasn't easy hiding something so life consuming from your lover, but whenever you were with her you felt as though you could reach for the stars and there was no point in ruining happy moments with sad stories.

Whenever you felt really depressed and unable to function, you isolated yourself. Cordelia and you had been together for 7 months now and the first time she thought she had done something wrong which had resulted in you needing space from her, but when she confronted you, you reassured her that sometimes you needed some time to yourself because you were a more introverted person. While that might be true, you wanted nothing more than for her to take you into her arms and tell you everything was going to be okay again, but the fear of possibly burdening the already very busy supreme held you back from confessing what was weighing you down.

you were used to this already, you always kept your darkness to yourself, too afraid of being too much or being abandoned by your loved ones, while the rational side of you knew that the people in your life who truly meant something to you would never abandon you because of your chronic depression, anxiety left no room for rationality.

you were always feeling kind of down, but some days it was easier to cope and enjoy your day despite that... and then there were those phases where you felt unusually down, those phases that caused you to isolate yourself and wait for the storm to pass in solitude. They usually lasted only a few days or maximum a week, but this one had been going on for much longer. cordelia was worried, you had never needed so much "alone time to recharge your social battery", but she didn't want to overstep your boundaries and possibly push you away, because what you weren't aware of was that cordelia too struggled with abandonment issues and fearing she would be "too much" (which she could never be for you, you adored every single second you could spend in the blonde witch's presence).

After leaving multiple text messages and trying to call you, only to be greeted by your voicemail, cordelia took it upon herself to see what was going on with you. The knocking on your door would've usually startled you, but you had just ordered a pizza, too tired to prepare a meal yourself and assumed the delivery was faster than they had stated on their website. your jaw fell open and the door was quickly closed again, shit shit shit, what am i supposed to do now? the place looks like a mess, i can't let cordelia se-

"y/n can you open the door please?" she asked in her gentle voice. "Uh, yeah, give me a second" you replied, hastily throwing on a hoodie that had been lying around on your couch, coincidentally that hoodie being one you stole from cordelia a few weeks ago, something that made your girlfriend's heart warm up a little and relieve her of some of the worried thoughts she had that this might be your way of signaling to her that you no longer wished to be in a relationship with her.

"can we talk? i haven't seen you in three weeks and you haven't answered any of my texts... what's going on? you know you can talk to me about anything..."

"uhm, yes, of course. sit down, make yourself at home, would you like anything to drink?"

"no, thank you, i just want to talk to you"

you didn't have the energy to lie to the woman who held your heart in her hands anymore, you were terrified of her reaction, not only to you being mentally ill but also to you hiding it for so long.

"i'm so sorry delia, please don't be mad", you anxiously stuttered out. cordelia grabbed your hand and smiled reassuringly, signaling for you to continue talking.

"I didn't tell you before because i know you've already got so much going on with the academy and i didn't want to pile onto that with my irrelevant issues... I was diagnosed with depression amongst other things a few years ago, it's something i have to deal with every day and some days are easier than others, but sometimes it all comes crashing down on me and i feel like i'm lost in an ocean of a sadness so powerful, i can feel the pain on my body. I know it can be challenging to be close to someone with severe mental issues and I understand if you don't want to continue being with me, i would never want you to stay with me because you pity me or because you're afraid i'd do something to myself if you'd left, you're not responsible for my feelings or actions and i would never want to impose you with such a burden and-"

you stopped rambling when you noticed the tears flowing down cordelia's cheeks.

your eyes widened and your heart started pounding rapidly in your chest. "i'm sorry, was that too much?"

"no, no, no, no, no... it just pains me to know that you've been dealing with this on your own for such a long time because you don't value yourself enough to believe that other people might want to support you through your everyday battles. y/n, i know you, you're the girl who's always there when someone else needs a shoulder to cry on, anytime, anyplace, you always go out of your way to make others feel seen and accepted, why would you ever think that you don't deserve the kindness you so openly give to others?"

now it was you who was crying, cordelia was right, you didn't value yourself enough to believe that. you didn't actively think of yourself as less than others but that thought always unconsciously motivated the way you dealt with the things that were bothering you.

cordelia patted her lap, signaling for you to sit on her lap and come into her arms. you hesitated though, you weren't used to being so vulnerable and open with your emotions and it scared the shit out of you. you feared cordelia was possibly annoyed at you and was only doing this to get it over with and then get out. she watched you, while you were anxiously deciding what your next move would be, her heart broke for you, you looked like a scared baby dear when all she wanted to do was to comfort you.

"baby, look at me"

her chocolate colored eyes were so full of love, simply looking into them managed to get your heart rate down.

"it's okay, i'm not mad at you for talking about your feelings and all i want to do right now is to hug some of your pain away, so please, let me hold you"

you melted at her gentle words and understanding nature, cordelia was an incredibly smart woman, who went through traumatic things herself and even from that little information you shared, she understood you. she saw her younger self in you, so incredibly lonely but oh, so scared of being vulnerable with another person, due to the emotional abuse her mother subjected her to, and while she might not have gone through the same things you did, she felt like she understood your feelings in this exact moment and she wanted nothing more than to make you feel safe with her.

you slowly crawled into her lap, still afraid this was all a trick to hurt you, but when she started combing through your hair and reassuringly whispering "i've got you" and "you're here with me, i promise you, you're safe", you relaxed into her arms.

after about half an hour of laying there with each other, calming down and enjoying the other one's warmth, you spoke up.

"delia?"

"yes, my love?"

"so you're not leaving me?", you hesitantly asked.

cordelia sat up and looked straight in your eyes while asking "would you leave someone you love because they're depressed?"

"no, never"

"then tell me, sweetheart, why would i leave you?"

her response left you speechless, you almost missed her confessing her love. "you love me?"

she hugged you tight and pressed a kiss on your forehead. "more than anything, and please, never worry about telling me about what's going on in that pretty little head of yours, no matter what it is, i wanna know, okay?"

you let out the breath you didn't know you were holding and confidently replied "okay"

a few minutes passed before you spoke up again when you remembered you didn't say those 3 special words back.

"i love you too, by the way"

cordelia smiled lovingly and stood up to reach out for your hand and pull you up. "i know, now let's go to bed, we can clean up this place tomorrow"

you accepted her helping hand and engulfed her in a hug. the way she so naturally used the word "we" and didn't seem to mind helping you clean up your mess of an apartment made you more emotional than you'd like to admit.

And while you knew this would not be the last time you were overwhelmed by your depression, you now knew that you could count on the woman who loved you to stand by your side and help you get through even your hardest day.

#cordelia goode x reader #cordelia goode #cordelia foxx #cordelia x reader #cordelia foxx x reader #ahs coven #ahs apocalypse #tw depression #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #american horror story #ahs fanfiction #ahs fandom #ahsfx #ahs imagine #cordelia goode imagine #fanfiction

[vtforpedro]

health update - long, long post

two out of three appointments done!! good news all around. first, with my hematologist... so apparently I've been in remission since december and didn't know it because the literature talks about milestones you have to reach for the type of leukemia I have but lmao ???? hey I've been in remission for almost eight months, cool ;P if I go two years with no signs of leukemia, we can extend my appts out! but for now we will still check labs every three months my endocrinologist sent me to an Expert Thyroid Radiologist and she said my ultrasound on the goiter/nodules looked good enough to not even need another ultrasound again (barring any major changes in numbers, I imagine) and my tsh levels are excellent so 👌 don't have to do labs again for a year!! I see my rheum on the 3rd and I imagine it will go much the same way as I've already seen my labs and they look ok to my layman's eyes lol and thank god she let me switch to a telehealth appt so I don't have to go in for this one because I had to go in yesterday to my hematologist's office hnnnn this is all really good news and feels great but GOD! it's extremely hard to tell what's been giving me symptoms since CML, hypothyroidism, and of course rheumatic diseases all cause intense fatigue, appetite weirdness, skin problems and more. but depression/anxiety/ptsd also cause all of these things and so do both of my neurological conditions. my rheum thinks the basic symptoms my PCP was concerned about for lupus or scleroderma is the whole shebang combined and I'm sure she's right it's always been the neuro shit that's given me the worst symptoms and agony and extreme discomfort I've ever felt in my life lol and that has an uncertain and at this moment frightening future so... yeah, we'll see where I'm at in a few months I guess and if there's been any improvement. but fighting what happens in my brain every day is the most exhausting thing I've ever done and the damage it does to my mental health cannot be understated, which my neurologist loves to do! so as soon as I do a couple tests he ordered I'm finding a new one. not for new answers, but only for someone not a complete mess of a person who contradicts themselves constantly within the same breath y'all my last appointment with him was absolutely BANANAS. he spent more time complaining about the company he worked for and defending himself and justifying himself to himself??? than like. treating me lol he makes so so so many mistakes, he lies, and I'm still boiling over the question he asked on the phone on july 1st 'so did anyone go over your MRI results with you?' (from mid-APRIL) like do you mean YOU, SIR???? god. he reviewed them with me on my appt on july 14th and got all huffy about them doing 'the wrong MRI' cause I was supposed to have an MRV, not an MRA, and yet he has put in like 6 or 7 orders (four in the same day) for an MRA, including on the 14th, just in case you need a picture of what this man is like. I could make three whole posts about him, he's chaotic and not in a good way him: 'well you've lost 30 pounds and with IIH, that should show improvement. and since there's no improvement, that's very uncharacteristic so it could be something else. but also keep in mind that even with losing the weight there may not be any improvement in IIH symptoms' hmm still working that one out anyway I've had insomnia for the majority of my life and only medical marijuana helped. I'd go to bed at midnight and not fall asleep until 3 AM if I was lucky before I tried it. now that I can't be on it, but I am at war with my brain 24/7, I'm sleeping the whole night through better than I have for most of my life 😒 this sounds like a good thing, but I'm still exhausted waking up every morning. my brain can't catch up on rest while it's this bad I still don't have a lot of hope for this shit. and it is IIH, he just doesn't want to say it. we all know it's IIH, it's literally the one explanation and fits all my symptoms. I wish it had been the easiest one to cure and was gone because it's a living hell. gonna continue

working toward my goals and hope my health is eventually as kind to me for this as it's been for the CML I really want to go to therapy to deal with the trauma of the last year and a half but I can't have a conversation, especially not an emotional one, and I can't process or think very well when talking to someone anymore. it sucks and it's scary feeling my brain function is not what it was just two or three months ago. memory 👎 decision making skills 👎 processing questions 👎 mixing things up/confusing myself on the daily? 👍 neuro referred me to a neuropsychologist for cognitive function stuff so yeah. hoping for a miracle at this point anyway, pretty proud of myself for losing weight though and in a healthy way. my neurologist, neurosurgeon and psychiatrist seemed doubtful I could do it on my own, but my 31lbs gone says hey fuck you lmao 19 more to my big first goal! even if it doesn't fix IIH and I have to have surgery, not being obese anymore will make it safer and I'll feel better all around. started at 210 and I'm now at 179 c: sorry for good news and also doom and gloom but s i g h at least there's forward progress in some ways, right?

#medical #personal #vtforpedro personal #I just saw someone mention oversharing as being like a bad trait #so I'm sorry if me blogging about my health issues is uncomfortable or feels like oversharing but it helps me #i'll always have these to look back on #I also only have like two people to talk to about this stuff otherwise and I need to really let it all out so I can breathe #but now I'm rethinking if I should've ever started blogging about my health in the first place hnnnn #i really am sorry if they make you uncomfortable so i added a new tag you can blacklist #anyway love you all please stay safe and healthy

[lumilasi]

I'm just curious what your thoughts on Shigaraki are. Im praying he gets control back. I would be so sad if the body take over is dragged out. It looks like they are going the save Tomura route which is great but my thought is that means we won't get him back till the end.. I swear if they have Eri rewind him 😤 I hope it's OK to ask you this, if not please ignore and accept my apologies and have a good day. ☀️🌞

Ha ha it’s alright! I don’t mind talking about my favorite character, and musing out my thoughts about what might happen. Of course, keep in mind this is just my thoughts/viewpoint, and I would never say anything I muse out about this is a fact; I’m not the writer after all.  I’m just going over the story bits we already know and considering what could possibly be the story-direction we’re going towards! 

(Also warning, this is probs gonna get a little long-winded because I have a lot of thoughts about this, and Tomura and Izuku’s stories are pretty tightly tied to the larger one at hand about the world they live in.)

To give you a short summary: I think Tomura might indeed stay possessed for a while, and perhaps Izuku could team up with his friends to help save him from this possession. I also don’t think Eri should be using her powers a whole lot right now in the story, given her trauma and age. She needs to heal herself first to avoid unintentionally causing more damage to her mental state. Trauma recovery takes time, often more than what we’ve seen so far in the manga. 

And now for the long-winded explanation (under the cut so this post isn’t ridiculously long:)

So, considering the overall narration and themes Horikoshi has used in the manga, it feels reasonable to say that one of the end goals in all likeness is to “save” those the current society would not bother saving, including Tomura, and especially Tomura, considering his character and story kind of symbolizes the overall failures and problems of this society. His BG touches on so many bad things and problems wrong with the way their world runs currently.

(Apathy from people being over-reliant on heroes, lack of proper help for mental health, hero idol worship that makes people neglect their families over their duty as a hero, abusive parental figures, dehumanization, etc.)

Izuku’s main goal, the goal of his story after all, is to become the greatest hero as the beginning narration expressed. The most reasonable way to do that given the things we’ve been shown about this world, is to do something none of the current heroes would; save those deemed “unfit” to be saved. It’s not only something personally fitting to Izuku’s character, but holds larger symbolic meaning for the overall narrative. I actually saw somebody discuss this particular topic in a post a while back, that put it better than I ever could. 

(click the link if you’re curious to read it, it’s a pretty interesting one)

Now, what that saving means in practice is likely going to be more complicated, since the people in question have done bad things that deserve consequences, and I won’t deny that. 

However, one of the biggest issues is, that the way this society functions seems to kind of be the very source of these villains doing bad things. If only somebody would’ve bothered to pick up this scared kid walking on the street before AFO got to him, none of what is happening now would have happened. (or at least, it would’ve been someone else in worst case scenario)

So, to go back on what you actually asked about; I do think that in order to reach the goal Izuku was set, he does need to free Tomura from that possession, that’s probably the least he can and should do. 

In that sense, it would honestly make sense it would happen close to the end of the story as the best way to symbolize Izuku becoming the greatest hero - saving even the person who everybody else likely deemed unworthy of saving. 

Not to mention, I recall Horikoshi mentioning that he planned the ending to be something where heroes and villains have to team up to reach an end goal of sorts. Izuku teaming up with Tomura’s friends to save Tomura could fit into this concept. 

As for Eri...her rewind powers are bit of a...yeah. I also have lot of thoughts about that so bear with me.

They’re pretty difficult from narrative perspective, because they come off very “deus ex machina” or “magical fix all” that removes any stakes, and I’ve seen from the fandom people wishing Eri to just magically fix everything each time somebody is horribly injured, which...that’s a tad disturbing to me? Asking this little traumatized girl who’s seen lot of horrid injuries and gore to view MORE of it potentially, to heal your favorites? Even if she’d want to do it willingly (which she probably would out of gratitude) she’s, what, six? 

(yes I know this is fiction and I might be taking this a bit too seriously, but I am also looking at this from the narration point of view, and her doing these magic fixes would also actually be bad for the story narration IMO, I’ll explain below)

She’s just a child, she probably can’t really grasp yet what she can and can’t handle, when it comes to her trauma, and what is and isn’t good for her.  Eri “magically fixing everything” is an absolute no from me, both for her own sake and from narration perspective. 

Like I get it, anybody would be sad when their fave gets hurt, I am too, but Eri’s a traumatized child, and tbh having her magically fix everything at her current state would in my eyes go against the point the narrative is trying to make, about the need for change and doing things better from the previous generation. Her rewinding these “changes” in the story, as a traumatized kid, is basically holding up the status quo that is harmful. Using somebody’s remarkable power out of duty to do good while potentially ignoring the impact it can have on the individuals own well-being, which basically will hindrance their ability to do said good in the future.

I can let fixing Mirio’s quirk pass, because he wasn’t horrifically injured in a manner that could potentially trigger Eri’s traumas. It was still a tad risky in my eyes to make this kid do it, because even if she did train for it, what if things went horribly wrong and she made Mirio disappear? That would’ve just caused her unnecessary mental anguish. They basically got lucky there that Hori was kind enough to make it work. 

I would not mind so much, if the person having this power wasn’t a traumatized kid basically, in a story that is about a flawed system and the harmful effects it has on the individuals living in it with the way it currently runs. 

So personally, I don’t want to see Eri use her powers at this point in that manner. She’s still recovering herself and probably not mentally ready to handle these things. Once she’s in a mentally better place, older and more capable of understanding what is or isn’t good for her, then she can go ahead and rewind people’s lost limbs left and right and use her quirk as the next generation superhero healer. But not right now, not when she’s still just a kid with horrible trauma.

 Plus, I feel her point in the story was less about her power, and more about her parallels with Tomura; she could’ve become like him if she hadn’t been saved, and in turn, Tenko could’ve been like her if he had been saved. 

So, from narrative point of view, It feels likely (though I could be wrong of course) that Tomura will remain possessed for a while, and Izuku’s end goal (or one of them) is to save him from the possession, and perhaps they’ll work together to defeat AFO. This last part I’m not that sure about though, given we still don’t have all the puzzle pieces. There’s probably a lot more to be learned about AFO himself, that will have an impact on how the story goes. We’ll see.

So yeah. Sorry this is kind of long, but sometimes you need lot of text to properly convey your thoughts xD Plus I’m just kinda used to writing long pieces of text. 

#my musings #answered ask #bnha tomura #shigaraki tomura #midoriya izuku #bnha izuku #mha izuku #manga spoilers

[dyke-remy]

Live And Let Die, part 3

Part 1   part 2   Part 4   Part 5    Part 6

Description: Agent 008 and Agent 009, professional spies for the MI6 with liscense to kill. Partners in both work and love. After an agent goes missing the partners have to once more go out into the field. (It’s a James Bond AU)

You don’t need to know anything about James Bond to be able to read this fic, trust me

Cw: Described assasination

Words: 3832

The sun had just about risen when the agents woke up. It was the morning after the mission and they were laying cuddled up in the hotel bed. Remus had plopped himself on top of Remy and wrapped his arms around them like usual. He said it was to snuggle while they slept but it was really so that he could act as a human shield for them even in sleep.

"g'mornin my dear dead heart of min-" Remus began to mumble out but Remy placed a finger over his mouth to shut him up.

He laid still and listened. The sound of someone opening the door to the hotel room could be heard followed by quiet steps. The agents glanced at each other. From the angle Remy was laying at they couldn't see much except for the ceiling and their husband's face. Remus slowly moved his hand under the pillow and grabbed the knife he'd hidden under it just in case.

The footsteps continued until they stopped by the side of the bed. Out of the corner of his eye Remus saw the person move making his instincts go off. In one swift motion he'd turned around to press the knife against the enemy's neck.

"What a charming greeting 008" Q also known as Logan muttered out. He eyed the knife held against his neck with an unimpressed look on his face. He had a black briefcase with him.

"Q!!!" Both of the Rems let out a happy exclaim.

"You should have said you were coming!" Remy said while sitting up in the bed.

"That's what she said" Remus added.

"I wasn't going to but then I figured it would be for the best if this mission got another step"

Remus moved the blanket aside and patted the spot between the two Rems "Cuddle up motherfucker!"

"008 please put some pants on. I've seen That thing enough for a lifetime" Q stated before sitting down in the middle.

The Rems promptly latched onto him. Hugging him. Remy ran their hand through his pressed down curly hair. Remus nibbled kisses by the start of his neck.

"So 008, you said in your report from yesterday that the man who held the real copy of the keys to Picani's room was named Ron Stewart correct?"

"Yeah"

"Well I discovered that he is on a train today towards Lithuania along with cargo for his company. His company is stated as an electricity manufacturer but it didnt take a lot of research to find he also has ties to something else. I am not sure of what yet but it is earning him a lot of income. For your information Picani's mission before he was killed was to find solid evidence of what this side business was"

Remy held back a wince at the mention of Picani "Aight easy. We get on the train. I Kill him. We figure out like what the fuck he's up to and like revenge Emile. Piece of cake" Remus nodded along.

"Yes well" Q opened the briefcase "In other news I took a few gadgets with me to aid you" He took out a pair of black high heels and handed them to Remy "Same function as always. Black like you requested"

"It's 'cause black tots goes with like anything"

A small box, not bigger than a thumb, was up next. Q opened it slightly to show white pills inside before giving it to Remy "I've tried to make it so the taste of poison is even less subtle"

The enby got a sinister smile on their face "They won't know what hit them!"

Remus dragged in Logan's sleeve "Me time!! I want gadgets too!!!"

Q nodded before taking out a long thin black straw and gave it to the duke "Be careful. Please! This is your 7th laser so don't break it. It's not a knife. It's not a stick. It's a laser. It heats things up. It doesn't cut through things. It heats them up. Please I don't want to have to make another one"

The duke looked at it with a giddy smile before looking up. A few moments of silence went by before his smile disappeared "That's all? I only get 1 gadget???? Rem got 2! You're playing favorites just 'cause you fuck them!"

"No. I am playing favorites because they don't break their gadgets!........But I do actually have another gadget for the both of you"

Q took out 2 pens and several coins. He sat the coin as far away on the blanket as he could. He pressed down on a specfic point on it before leaning back and pressing the pen up and down 5 times. The coin exploded leaving a hole in the blanket. The Rems let out oooohs and ahhhhs in response.

"Explosives. Each coin causes 1 explosion. Right now I'll give you 20 to use but you can always request more. Oh and 008" He took out 2 packages of pills "You forgot you stimulants" It was to help him focus better, his lil autistic rat brain wasn't good at that "And antidepressants at the base again so I thought I'd bring them to you"

"Aww thanks Q. How caring!"

"No problem. As your quartermaster I must care for you after all. INcluding caring for your mental health. Well I wish you good luck on your mission"

The Rems glanced at each other before sending Q puppy eyes. "You can wish us good luck better than that can't you?"

Logan let out an amused sigh and rolled his eyes before nodding. He gave Remus a kiss on the lips before doing the same to Remy. He was aro and didn't see kissing as a serious thing, neither did the Rems. The kissing before missions was just a nice tradition.

Remy traced their finger over their lips "I already have a feeling this mission will go splendid"

--

3 hours later Remy was sitting by a luxurious vanity in front of a mirror. They were meticulously filling in their lips with cheery red lipstick. Remus came up from behind and put his hands on their shoulders before leaning down to press a kiss to their cheek.

The enby took the blade laying on the vanity and held it up to his face "Dear if you kiss me now you'll ruin my make up and I will have to kill you for that"

"Sounds like a sweet death" He teased in return.

"If I wanted to make it a sweet one I would"

Remus glanced around at the make up products while putting on an overly extra pout "Why can't I ever get to be the lady???"

"Hun you have a giant caterpillar on your upper lip and it is the bane of my existance. If you could just let me shave it off-"

The duke gasped and covered his precious mustache with his hands "NEVER!!!"

" Well it would make disguising you much easier. If some baddie sees you once they're gonna remember that nasty ass muschie for like months! And secondly you don't really have like the right bone structure. Like girl you would look like the most beautiful lady I'd ever seen but you wouldn't look like the kind of gal these dirtbags want y'know?"

"I know"

Remy leaned their head against his chest and smiled up at him. "When we get home I can make you look nice and pretty kay? I'll evem lend you my fav mini skirts...As long as your dumptruck ass doesn't destroy them"

Remus grinned and let out a giddy laugh "OHOHOHOH let's get these bitches killed so we can get home PLEase!!"

After another half hour Remy was ready to go. They'd hidden a blade on their left thigh and stuck the box of pills on the side of their underwear. Remus took them by the arm and they walked out into the hallway of the train. They looked around various mini suites before coming out into a bigger cart. The bar.

Blue satin sheets framed the windows. Sunlight strimmed in onto dark wooden tables with comfortable seats surrounding them. The bar was ornate and it's menu was filled with expensive cocktails.

The enby bumped their elbow into their husband's ribs before pointing over to a booth in the corner. There Ron Stewart sat alone with a bowl of olives and a beer.

Remus mumbled a quiet 'you got this' before letting go off their arm. He sat down by the bar at such an angle so he could watch Stewart without it being noticeable. He ordered a glass of water and began to sprinkle copious amount of salt and pepper into it as he watched Remy go up to Stewart. Their body language was completely different. He overheard something about coincidences and seeing him at the casino. It didn't take long until Stewart had moved so Remy could sit down next to him.

The duke let out a content sigh and looked out the window. It was in quiet moments like these, while waiting for his spouse to do what they did best, that he admired them more than ever. All he could do was sit and think about how much he loved them. How he loved Every part of them. Thinking and thinking until it felt like his heart would burst.

It wasn't until someone bumped into him he got out of his thoughts. He looked up and saw Remy leaning on the bar.

"Vodka martini. Shaken not stirred please" Remy ordered.

Remus poked his elbow into their ribs plafully "Dork. Using my dad's catchphrase like that" He teased with a smirk.

They rolled their eyes at him before adding "And you can place a bottle of champange in suite 17!"

While the bartender worked on it the enby sat down next to Remus. They looked in the other direction while speaking so Stewart wouldn't notice.

"He's involved in human trafficking. That's where his like money comes from. Was supa easy to get it out of him. Dirty bastard. Didn't get what is in the cargo but he joked that it wasn't human at least"

"Okay good!" Remus exclaimed "So we go to the cargo see whats up. And then when we're done we can go back and arrest Stewart when we're done. Easy peasy pumpkin pie motherfucker"

Remy dug their nails down into the table so hard it left marks "Nah I'm murdering him now"

Remus opened his mouth before closing it again and thinking. He decided the wise and only choice was to support his spouse in their killing ways "Okay yeah sure. Have fun. If you're not back in 15 minutes I'll assume something has gone wrong and will come help"

They sent him a small smile "Thanks babe"

They downed the martini in one sweep and took a deep breathe before putting on their fake smile again. They went back to Stewart. All it took was a few flirty comments while leaning close to him to get him to walk with them to his room. Like a lamb blissfully going to the slaughter.

The champagne had been set on the bedside table in a bucket of ice like they'd requested. Stewart sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the place next to him. Remy obediently sat down. A taste of nausea filled their mouth when he placed his hand on their inner thigh. But they kept their facade of liking it up. Kept it up even as he whispered what he wanted to do with them into their ear and pressed kisses to their neck.

Remy leaned away when he tried to go for a kiss on the mouth "Shall I get the champange Dear?"

He eagerly nodded in return. They got up and made sure to move slow. They cast a look back at him while moving their dress up up to their right hip, just enough so a bit of their underwear showed. They ran their hand under their underwear line feeling where the small box they'd hidden laid. The box with poisonous pills in it.

They kept their expression the same as they caught hold of the box and in one smooth motion hid it under their bracelet. They kept their dress up as they poured up the champange. Out of the corner of their eye they could see Stewart only looking at their thighs so they took the opppurtunity to let a single white pill go down into one of the drinks.

It dispersed in the drink in under a second. They made a mental note to give Q an extra kiss for his excellent job the next time they saw him. They gave the glass to him before sitting down to straddle his lap.

"Cheers" Remy said.

"Cheers baby"

Their smile widened as they watched him drink. They waited until he'd emptied the glass before smashing their own glass against his skull. Stewart barely had time to let out a yell before they'd pushed him down with his back against the bed. They laid their weight on hips to keep him down while forcing his arms over his head.

"What are you-" Stewart didn't finish his sentence. He let out a strange sound as his face began to turn red. The poison was setting in.

Remy took the blade from their thigh and held it up to his neck. Close enough to let out droplets of blood but not close enough to cut him open.

"When I got home after staying out all night for the first time my moms cried of relief because they were sure I'd been taken by human traffickers working for the likes of you. I've had friends go missing just 'cause people like you think no one will notice if a homeless person disappears" They growled out.

"I will-" He forced out.

"Honey you won't do shit" Remy interrupted. They let out a cold chuckle "You'll lay there and wait to see if the poison or-" They cut the knife into his neck with such precision it hit the veins just enough to open them, like they'd done a hundred times before "the blood loss kills you first"

Stewart couldn't say anything more. He was choking on air and blood at the same time. The white satin sheets turned red as Remy sat still and watched every slight change in his expression. It went from anger to a pained one to complete fear of death.

His legs kicked to instinctively try and get Remy off and his hands flailed around his neck to try and stop the bleeding but it was to no avail. Soon his limbs stopped moving and the desperate sounds he'd been letting out quieted. Before finally his eyes became glossy and he stopped blinking. The blood had stopped dripping out.

"Blood loss huh" Remy said to of course no answer.

They stood up and hid the blade under their dress again. They let out an annoyed groan when they noticed blood stains on the dress. They'd liked this one! They searched around the room for anything useful.

In the drawer of the nightstand they found a key card to the cargo section of the train. They gave themself a pat on the back and was about to leave when they saw a document that had laid next to the key. They stuffed it down their top to keep it for later. Q was usually the one who told them if a document was important or not.

Remus shone up into a big goofy grin when he saw his spouse return. He held himself back from giving them a big long kiss. They took his hand, intertwined their fingers, and pulled him along to the small passage leading up to the cargo parts of the train.

There was a thick metal door stopping them from entering the cargo part. With a triumphant smirk Remy pulled out the key card and unlocked out while Remus gave them a small round of applause.

008 kept his gun ready in his hand as he entered the first cargo train with 009 right behind him. There were 2 guards who both immediately reached for their guns. Remus shot one of them at the same time Remy threw their blade into the neck of the other.

The couple high fived. Remy was using the new gadget high heels Q had given them. They took the heels off so the high heel turned into a normal shoe, it somewhat looked like a ballet shoe. Inside the heels 2 more blades were hidden.

The train was empty aside from a few meaningless boxes but there were one more cargo cart to look through. "How about I stay here and make sure no like bitches come at you from this side and you continue to the rest of the like cargo?" Remy suggested.

"Sounds like a plan!"

Remus pressed a kiss to the top of their forehead before quickly continuing on to the small outside part connecting the two carts. Remy closed the door behind him.

He pressed his ear against the door to the next cart. There were footsteps coming from the other side. He rolled up his sleeves before jumping up and just about grabbing on to the edge of the cart's roof. With a strained groan he heaved himself up. The wind nearly knocked him over as soon as he stood up. It was the last cart so whatever was important in the cargo section had to be in there.

The roof was made out of metal. Remus took out the black laser. He was careful to not point it at himself as he moved it against the roof. When he turned it a spark went off before it's cold blue almost fire looking laser burried down into the roof.

Slowly the metal began to melt. He moved it just as slowly around in a square motion. Until it had melted enough that he was able to move it. He made sure the laser created a small hole, just about to press a few fingers in, before turning it off. He covered his hands in the fabric of his shirt and let out a grunt as he grabbed onto the hole in the metal and moved it until a small opening down into the carriage had been made.

He peered down and like he'd suspected there were at least 10 guards inside. All of them were heavily armed. There was no way Remus would be able to take them all.

Luckily he didn't have to. He took one of the explosive coins and clicked on it before dropping it down into the carriage. He didn't even give the guards a chance to react before detonating it.

No more sounds came from inside the carraige. Remus dropped down from the roof and opened the door. The guards laid still on the ground. He checked their pulses. It was going slow and unsteady so they wouldn't be waking up soon (aka in several days probably).

There wasn't much in the carriage. A few box filled with guns and ammunition littered the wooden floor but aside from that all there was was a metal box in the corner. It was big enough to fit a human if they hunched down. It was thick enough that he doubted even one of the explosives would get it open. He tried the key to open it but it didn't work.

"What the fuck" He mumbled to himself.

On the sides and top of the box things were engraved. He was unsure if it'd been engraved a knife or...teeth.....somehow. The same sentences were written over and over.

Remus tried to read it but all the words swirled around and changed places. He hit his hands against his head and tried to concentrate. Usually Remy read things for him when on missions (and when home too honestly), and before he had them he had.....He had.....

He despised his dyslexia so much. Sensory overload could be avoided by Q ordering clothes with the exact textures he could handle and making him earpieces that filtered out just enough sound so he wouldn't panic. People didn't notice his lack of eye contact and fumbling with social cues and voice tones as long as he was looked normal. But there was no way to get around his dyslexia.

It took (in his opinion) an embarrassing amount of time before he was able to piece the words together. But when he finally did his body went cold.

Targets: 0̶0̶5̶ 0̶0̶1̶2̶ 009 008 - Remus Smythe

They knew his name. They knew his name.

Remus felt nauseous. His heart was beating so fast he could hear it. How the fuck did they even know that. What more did they know?? He was used to people knowing his name as Remus Smythe the son of Octavia Smythe. But not as Remus smythe the 008 agent.

He knew his mom could defend herself. All of the women, his caregivers, on the floating palace could. but still. At least they didn't know Remy's name. At least- At least- They were after them though! They specifically wanted to murder the love of his life.

Sure people had been trying to kill them before. Many a times. But he and Remy had known the two of them were strong enough to proctect themself. But....but....these people had killed Picani. Emile Picani! They could- they would-

He took a step back. Logically he should figure out a way to open the box. That was why he has here wasn't it? But he had to make sure Remy was okay. Had to-

He turned around and quickly went towards the door. He stopped midstep as he heard something metal-like crash under his foot. He looked down and realized he'd stepped on a dogtag one of the guards had been holding.

The metal plate was cold in Remus' hand as he tried to read it. His eyes widened. He didn't have to struggle to make the words out. He would always be able to recognize that name in an instant.

His hand shook as he forced the dogtag down into his pocket. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe.

He stumbled out from the carriage before throwing the door open to the next one. He was hyperventilating as he collapsed onto his knees. He looked up through tears at the blurry sight of Remy.

They'd been sitting on a box cleaning one of their blades while using the bodies of the guards they'd killed as a footstool. When they saw their husband they quickly went over and sat down in front of him. They moved their arms around his shoulders while checking for injuries.

"What happened? Are you hurt?"

"R-remy" He cried out. He hugged them as tight as he could and slumped his head against their chest. Uneven sobs racked his body.

"It's okay. It's okay babe. Shhh. Breathe for me" They moved their hand through his hair to soothe him "Just follow my breathing"

"You c-can't be hu-hurt"

"I'm not. I promise. You always take my injuries for me like an idiot. I'm 100% okay"

"It's- They- He-"

With a shaky hand he took out the dogtag from his pocket. It felt like the name engraved on it burned into his skin. Remy held onto his hand.

"What- who's tag is that?"

Remus glanced up at them with tear filled eyes "The f-former 009. Roman"

#live and let die #remus sanders #remy sanders #logan sanders #ts remus #ts remy #sanders sides #thomas sanders #intrusleep #remsleep #resleep #rem^2 #please reblog

[bubblegumchaos]

TW: Violence, dark humor, all that jazz. Go no further, angry shit, yadda.

So, yanno...i'm just gonna yell into the void about something.

When i was very young, I read a lot of encyclopedias. Most of my knowledge of the world was attributable to the Encyclopedia Britannica, which my mother kept because well, a home should have a nice, impressive looking set of books. Along with a bunch of other old books that just...really weren't the best choice for a regressive anti-technology apocalyptic fundamentalist cult, but then, as we used to joke, my mother doesn't have to make sense, she just has to make decisions.

So, I eventually started plumbing the depths to try and figure out "what the hell is wrong with my family."

While i didn't get an answer about my family in general, I did note that i seemed to be oddly suited to the definition of "psychopath," minus the whole "being a problem for society at large" thing. Asocial, low empathy, lack of guilt, inability to plan cohesively, difficulty conceptualizing consequences, near total lack of emotions except curiosity and rage, both of which are carefully stifled, aggressive tendencies...frankly, I look at my younger siblings and i can definitely assure anyone that asks that had I not been raised quite far away from society, or if I'd stayed in the cult, I would most definitely have been a problem for society.

But psychopaths are *monsters,* you see. They're so, so bad, you see. Everyone assured me, at great length, that I couldn't be that, no, no sirree. I was too nice. Too kind. I didn't punch people nearly often enough (largely because I don't like being punched outside of sex, and I like to be in charge of where I'm being punched, and even that mostly cause I'm kinda badly out together physically, but that's aside the point.)

I wasn't *hate-able.* My empathy was too high.

On that last note, I have spoken elsewhere and i believe here regarding my empathy. My empathy is specifically a learned skill picked up by reading Edgar Allen Poe's Auguste Dupin stories. Dupin explains his near preternatural ability to get inside people's heads by his learned skill of micro-mimicking body and facial language and then analyzing what he feels when he copies someone else. Works absolute wonders, particularly as up to that point (i was 8-9), I was using the classical technique of provoking and hurting people around me to experimentally figure out how other people worked. Admittedly, it's somewhat like recording a speech and listening to it at the lwvel of a whisper in a crowded room, but then mimicry is far less likely to get you punched, and see previous for my feelings on getting punched.

But now i had, for all intent, a system to demonstrate empathy. Thanks to my mother's abuse, I had a complete paranoid delusion aping guilt. I could check plans past others, and once I got my hands on Google at 14, I had the capacity to directly look up what the general, societal consequences of most actions were and model behaviors that achieved my ends. I further had 18 years of direct training in mind control and manipulation, thanks to my cult.

You may notice that what you just read sounds like the origin story of a serial killer. Ape people around them to avoid detection, paranoia making them scrupulous enough to not get caught, and careful study of laws to find the lines, plus a hyper manipulative persona.

Roll with me here. This continues forward.

So, i'm out and about, 2, 5, 6 years free of my cult. I have married a self avowed psychopath who actually HAS been diagnosed with antisocial disorder thanks to a teenage habit of theft and punching people. He is fairly sure I am not one, since I perform guilt and empathy fantastically, by rote at this point. I literally have days that my face hurts from faking emotions for too long, i am slowly developing agoraphobia because there are far too many people to mimic in a retail job, and my guilt subroutine is just a voice chanting in my head, "they're coming to get you, don't fuck up" 24/7 to the point that i am developing hallucinations, but yeah. It's definitely not psychopathy. At this point, that's just ASPD, and i'm just too darn social. Never that. I'm no monster, you see. I'm "nice."

About this point, I have learned to use mind control techniques to help people, carefully applying them with direct permission to help people open up and discuss problems. My near preternatural ability to get into people's heads, my ability to find information, and my absolute lack of fucks about morals (thus making me wildly nonjudgemental), makes me the go-to confidant for many of my friends. This neatly surrounds me with people that can smooth my life out, but you can't tell people you're friends with them cause the world is made of grey paste and you're deathly bored 24/7 and being allowed to pick through people's minds and help them optimize is the closest you get to not wanting to shoot yourself or others. Or that you carefully maintain contact with people so you can check and make sure you're not doing anything jail worthy. Or that a large group to mimic lets you blend in easier, and finding one that also is transgressive, but socially permissable (thanks, kink) blows off some steam.

Of course, people that don't know me find me deeply off-putting, as I am at this point rapidly learning to turn off the mimicry when not immediately interacting with people. This results in me appearing utterly emotionless, but as soon as people talk to me, bing, back on. I had also joined the kink subculture, giving my hedonistic and transgressive sides an outlet.

I'd also gone to the trouble of getting a multifaceted degree. Ostensibly, my degree is "multimedia journalism." If you aren't aware, this means I have a degree in research, interpersonal communication, public speaking, written communication, mass communication, some psychology, critical thinking, media creation and analysis. In short, I have the literal perfect degree for figuring out, communicating with, and functionally understanding people, as well as a vastly enhanced ability to locate obscure information.

Fast forward again. Three mental breakdowns, four years of therapy, poking at my gender, figuring out a lot of mental health problems, and a rotating series of diagnoses, life is...slowly improving. I've left a toxic marriage (toxic on both sides), moved to a completely new place, started over. I have sort of resigned myself to focusing on my (admittedly annoyingly complex and wide ranging) physical disabilities.

And it comes up, in talking to my partner, that his adoptive mother displayed (she's dead) quite a few signs of ASPD. And he asks curiously if there's any connection between ADHD, autism, and ASPD, mainly cause the "personality disorder" part. PD's can, with long or early exposure, sometimes be passed on, you see.

Guess what's being studied, right now? Not a connection between ASPD and ADHD. A connection between psychopathy and ADHD. Wait, but I thought psychopathy wasn't a thing, says I? I thought there was only ASPD, now?

Ah, but for you see, the DSM is a load of horseshit. And i have heard that from multiple communities with different relations to it, and from multiple therapists, psychiatrists, professors...as a general rule, when the people who use it, the people it's used on, and the people who teach it all agree that a document is manure, I get a touch distrustful. I get more so when current studies use umbrella terms disavowed by a document known for being reductivist and that has been noted as having a great number of entries that were manipulated deliberately to make them as narrow and unusable as possible.

So anyway.

Turns out that while no, ADHD and Autism don't make you a psychopath, there's a distinct overlap. Empathy issues are a possiblity in all three, though both ADHD and autism can create *hyper*empathy. Inability to navigate social constructs is another point of overlap.

But really, it's the serotonin deficiency that hurls it across the line for me. And the genetic factors. Can psychopathy result from environment? Yeah, seems so. But there does seem to be a genetic and neurochemical component. Which is...curious for a disorder presented as purely a traumatic abreaction that creates dangerous amorals.

I then looked it up. And wouldn't you know, psychopathy is only pathologized as ASPD/APD, and DPD? The former is the sort of psychopathy that is characterized by violent amd criminal antisocial behavior, and the other an inability to understand and perform social mores at all. But this is the DSM, so these are of course diagnosed by problems caused for others as a first line.

Violation of societal norms, lack of emotions other than rage, aggression...it's almost like the same people that named a serotonin and function deficiency Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder to enshrine the disorder only by those aspects that make neurotypical people uncomfortable rather than seeking to help the neurodivergent person, the same people that invented torturous behavioral correction therapies to "fix" the neurodivergent person? Those strike me as people that might possibly have looked a serotonin deficiency that causes rage, limited emotions, impulsivity, difficulty conceptualizing consequence, and potentially a hell of a lot of other fun side shit and decided to call that "Doesn't get along with others well" disorder.

What really kicks it in the teeth for me, however, is that psychopathy used to mean more than "a social pariah." You see, Theodore Millon, the guy that wrote the book on personality disorders, noted between 5 and 10 subtypes. Do you know what they are?

Nomadic

(including schizoid and avoidant features)

Drifters; roamers, vagrants; adventurer, itinerant vagabonds, tramps, wanderers; they typically adapt easily in difficult situations, shrewd and impulsive. Mood centers in doom and invincibility

Malevolent

(including sadistic and paranoid features)

Belligerent, mordant, rancorous, vicious, sadistic, malignant, brutal, resentful; anticipates betrayal and punishment; desires revenge; truculent, callous, fearless; guiltless; many dangerous criminals, including serial killers.

Covetous

(including negativistic features) Rapacious, begrudging, discontentedly yearning; hostile and domineering; envious, avaricious; pleasures more in taking than in having.

Risk-taking

(including histrionic features) Dauntless, venturesome, intrepid, bold, audacious, daring; reckless, foolhardy, heedless; unfazed by hazard; pursues perilous ventures.

Reputation-defending 

(including narcissistic features) Needs to be thought of as infallible, unbreakable, indomitable, formidable, inviolable; intransigent when status is questioned; overreactive to slights.

(It should be noted: the features listed above are simply what each presentation is most likely to display if disordered. A reputation-defender may not display narcissm, a risk taker may not be histrionic. A malevolent [what a terribly judgy name...] could be negativistic, or avoidant, or histrionic. And so on.)

Now, ya may be going, "wait, hold up, narcissism is on there! We still have that! Schizoid is on there, we have that! Sadism, paranoia, we got all those things!"

Flash quiz: do you know what a personality disorder is? It's a series of learned behaviors that require moderation and unlearning.

Why yes, they did spin multiple neurotypes off into diagnoses that require behavioral therapy to "fix." Why on earth would you think they wouldn't? They're still trying to use reparative therapy on auties. Hell, near as I can figure, histrionic got spun into Borderline Personality disorder. You know what the therapy for that is? DBT, aka, "it IS your fault and you SHOULD feel bad."

Beyond knowing there used to be different flavors, did you know that there is about a millionty scare articles about how psychopaths are everywhere? Guess why.

What do you get when someone has an absolute need to see what's on the other side of the hill and no real fucks to give about how you get there? You get scientists, explorers, people utterly driven to find out. Think about how many of our science and exploration heros are noted as deeply weird and off-kilter. We have whole stereotypes about this. There are books and articles devoted to the transgressive personas and behaviors of famous scientists and explorers.

What do you get when someone is belligerent, paranoid, truculent, violent, fearless? Snipers. Literally. The army has openly stated they like psychopaths quite a lot. Someone that can look at a map of human lives and commit calculus with the phrase "acceptable losses" makes a damn fine general, wouldn't you say? Hunters, too. Make a good king? Or bounty hunter. Or, if we're going to be honest, a martial artist. Hell, think of all the ways our society accepts violence in real terms and symbolically. Management. Video gamer. Espionage. Actuary. Pest control. There are THOUSANDS of of societal uses for people like this.

Covetous? Well, banks are openly quite loving towards psychopaths. CEOs are indicated here. Businessmen. Fandoms with collection as a function have any number of anecdotes of individuals who have an intense drive to get more. "Focused on the chase, rather than the victory, to the exclusion of all else" is considered a positive, laudable personality trait. To put it in other terms, "can't stop, won't stop, never done." Sports players, yes? Football, rugby, hockey...

Risk takers are the real standouts, in terms of societal love. Doctors. Firemen. EMT's. Skydivers. Extreme sports players. Equipment testers. The list goes on. Society loves risk taking psychopaths. Hell, look at the diagnostic criterion up there: it's mostly traits with high positive connotations.

Reputation defending? Politics. Law. Advertising. Acting. Writing. Religion. Leadership of any kind.

I'm not talking out my ass here. All those fields have been noted as friendly towards, attractive to, and having a high representation of people who fit the behavioral model of psychopath.

But only if they're useful. Like literally every other non-normative neurotype.

Society loves ADHD and autistic people when they're displaying savant abilities or when they can mask well enough to use their sensory and cognitive differences to societal ends.

And if they're a problem for people around them, that's treated. The underlying difficulties? The societal structures that punish and harm them? The pain of adapting their entire neurobiome to do all the work of interfacing with different neurotypes while being driven to harness anything useful and discard the rest of their brain? No, we don't treat that. That's just the price of doing business. "Pull yourself up and don't be a problem."

And here's the problem, in plain terms: psychopaths who learn to cope, to mask, to adapt like I did are never diagnosed. I have spent most of my life fairly concerned about the fact that I seem not to have emotions or compunction, that i am always consciously working to figure out and connect to people around me on the most basic level, that I am constantly working to keep an active model of social norms going at all times. And I don't mean "shake hands, eye contact." I mean I have the same mental conversation regarding "don't shoot that person" and "use a turn signal." All prosocial behaviors, all social behaviors period, are a struggle to understand.

The funny thing is, it also makes antisocial behaviors difficult. Shooting someone seems remarkably inconvenient in many cases. Regardless of whether I care about getting caught or not, shooting somone will interrupt my day.

Not shooting them also seems remarkably inconvenient in many cases. Yes, it'd be a pain in the ass to shoot them, but then again, if I do it correctly, I only have to do it once.

But again, "correctly" is a wildly unfixed variable, and the whole question won't come up if I always ensure I fail the "do i currently have a firearm" step. And I don't. Ever.

That's how my brain works. Y'all go on about moral and ethical and legal reasons. That's an exhausting conscious mental conversation to have every other day, so my shortcut is:

"Should I shoot them? Oh, right, I don't have a gun. Guess not. Should I get one? No, cause I might shoot someone, and that'd be a pain in the ass. Welp, no shooting people."

And so it goes. I don't understand any social norms. Good or bad. I have all the problematic issues still, mind you. Environmental factors. I mimic and I was raised in an apocalypse cult in Oklahoma. I spend a lot of brain space sorting between prosocial behaviors and the violent antisocial behaviors I was taught were prosocial.

Because, you see, I can't really understand the prosocial behaviors, but I can see they work. And antisocial behaviors don't, really. Have i impulsively pocketed something? Couple times. Even got away with. Can't steal a house, though. And theft gets boring, for me.

Ok, except piracy. I may quite enjoy piracy.

Cooperation with a larger whole can and does yield benefits. Forcing myself to sit through mind numbing gratification delays does seem to yield results that are beneficial, though I really try to keep that one to a minimum. I refuse to be bored if I can help it. Making nice talky sounds gets me shit faster than making angry talky sounds.

Possibly this is a result if being raised manipulative. No idea. Kinda don't care.

Point is, I'm one of the psychopaths that, while not immediately useful, is also not actively a problem. So no-one will listen when i talk about everything being gray and cold and exhaustingly complicated because people make no sense and almost all my emotions are dialed so far down it's a joke i lack the ability to laugh about.

No one has believed me that the one emotion I have in spades is rage and that i have to literally consciously work out from first principles why violence is a bad option as my sole method of controlling that, my ONLY EMOTION OF ANY STRENGTH, which I cannot allow myself to feel for any length of time because I start losing sight of that consequence model and I worry i'll make a mistake I can't unmake. Or that it took me two decades to learn not to smash things I need when someone looks at me funny. Or just smash them.

Or that i have to keep my hands in my pockets and chant "don't steal" in my head some days. That I wear tight clothing with shallow pockets to make stealing harder so that, like guns, I simply can't do it easily and therefore short circuit my behaviors.

People are more than happy to hurl me at any problem that requires a lack of emotion, but if I dare to be less than appropriately emotional on a date? At a wedding? Funeral? If I make an error and don't diagnose it myself and perform contrition appropriately, regardless of if I knew there was a social or personal rule there? Well, I'm fired/broken up with/punished/evicted.

But I am not actively a problem for society. So none of those things are worth diagnosing. Or helping in any way.

And those that are useful? Are often fed utter horseshit and encouraged to break society. Bankers creating recessions. Generals commanding useless wars. Cops. Doctors that uphold a broken system. Politicians that pursue a broken society.

I know, I can see, that ASPD people catch a shit ton of shit cause they get blamed for "useful" psychopaths mistakes, and none of the benefits when said same psychopaths are lionized. Looking back at what it was, and what it is now, pathologically speaking, it makes perfect fucking sense for the asshats that designed a diagnosis to only include the people they don't like as the "sick" ones, and label the "good" ones as "heroes." Makes a nice distinction there between people we want to demonize and people we want to lionize for having the exact same chemical imbalance, and neatly creates a fall group when any of the "heroes" trip up. Silence those who can't cope, elevate those that can, treat neither effectively, and if an elevated one stops coping, we can just "realize" they were "sick" all along, and oh, yeah, those sick people are so bad, you guys, nothing like those heroes at allllllll.

I am...so tired of this society bullshit.

So anyway, I'm a psychopath. Paranoid, some schizoid. So whatever grains of salt you feel like taking, grab 'em, I guess. I'd mostly like for people like me to stop being weaponized, lionized, or punished for having a different neurotype. I'd like to be able to talk to a doctor about that and for there to be some options beyond "stop that," "get locked up," "have you considered the army" (yes, a doctor actually asked me that as a teenager) or "you seem fine, tho."

And if you resonate with this, well...I'm 32, never been arrested, mostly managed to avoid terrible shit, and I've got a life, couple partners, and I'm surviving, so like. You can do this. Lotta people wanna tell you you can't have this or that cause "you're not bad, tho." They're stupid. Y'ain't evil, just different. Don't let them get to you.

And (this is a joke) if you decide to shoot someone, do it once, correctly. Saves time.

#actuallymentallyill #vent #tw violence

[crushaa]

Explaining the long break and how I got diagnosed with ADHD:

This is a post about mental health. There’s a TLDR at the bottom :) 

“Apply yourself, Cien. If you wanted to pass this class, you would be trying.” 

When I was 15, I got my tonsils out. I got the same kind of statement from a few friends and even family members; “Oh yeah, they used to take EVERYONE’S tonsils out! Even if they didn’t need it, it was the cure to everything. But now everyone’s got ADHD, so that’s the new trend.” 

Around the end of July 2019, I was running out of steam. I still had plenty of creative energy, but I couldn't understand why I wasn't able to work on anything anymore. The truth is that I knew I would hit another music block, and I wouldn't be surprised if anyone else expected it too. My posting history has always been very irregular, even back in high school with long unexplained breaks in between new songs. Knowing it would happen, I felt confident in my ability to tackle it and change my pattern of behavior.

I never thought it would last this long. With each month passing by I began to feel guiltier and guiltier, trying to find out why I couldn't do it. I'd sit in front of an empty FL Studio project for hours, and all my Paint Tool Sai canvases never had more than a few lines.  As the months went on, some pretty dramatic life events took place- various family deaths, 2 near death experiences myself, an abusive doctor. For whatever reason, I just could not recover. 

I used the tragedies as excuses as to why I couldn't do it. It would be reasonable to not be able to do anything. My antidepressants were definitely working for the first time in my life, but why couldn’t I work? I spent the New Year holiday feeling just as guilty and frustrated as ever…. I couldn’t do it anymore. I decided that I was going to go back to my doctors loaded with new theories and ideas as to what could possibly be wrong with me. It never occured to me to tell anyone I couldn’t write more than 2-3 songs in one year when it’s literally my job to write music. 

I began speculating the possibility of another psychiatric disorder, and that made me nervous. Would she think I was lying? Or faking it? I could no longer stand the treatment from the nurse practitioner who had been treating my psychiatric illnesses. I’d always been very uncomfortable with how she treated me, but she’d found the rare genetic disorder I had. I felt that I owed my progress to her and that I should stick it out. But I was still leaving her office in tears at the end of every session. An off color comment, passive aggressive reminders to take my medication, the feeling that I had no say in my own treatment plan… it was too much.  But she was the only one in town who was available to see me. So I went, and I was administered an MMPI by a psychiatrist in that same building. At the end of February, I’d get the results.  

The next appointment with her was the last time she’s ever going to see me. The results of the test had come in as inconclusive, and my world fell apart. She asked what I thought of the results, and I answered truthfully. I told her I was afraid that she saw me as a hypochondriac. 

“Well what if you are?” I didn’t answer. “Well, you are,” she went on with a cocky smile. 

She began to tell me it was my own fault. She told me I had brain damage. But it was fine, because she told me I could be treated for believing I was still sick. 

It affected me deeply, for days I couldn’t stop crying or eat a full meal. The guilt, frustration and embarrassment swallowed me whole; the problem was me. Of course I was making it up. I felt suicidal for the first time in 4 years. There was no point in trying anymore because I as a whole was defective. This world would be better off without a lost cause like me. 

I pulled myself out of this headspace for a while one day, and realized that a HEALTH CARE PROVIDER made me feel this way. 

WHERE WAS THE BRAIN SCAN, BITCH????

 All the guilt, embarrassment, shame- it morphed into a new red hot burning rage. I fired her immediately and revoked any permissions she had. I went to my primary care doctor and asked him to prescribe me my psychiatric medications while I looked for a new psychiatrist, to which he agreed. I asked him for an ADHD test, but he wasn’t comfortable doing it himself. He referred me to a psychiatrist with a 6 month waiting list who then tried to refer me to the abusive nurse practitioner. I set up the six month appointment wait and began to look into doctors in other towns.

On Monday, April 6th, I went to go see a different doctor for something completely unrelated and walked out with an ADHD (Inattentive type) diagnosis. And now less than a week later, everything about my life has changed. 7 long months of executive dysfunction came to an end in the 1 hour it took for the first half-pill to dissolve. Hot damn. 

It felt like everyone else in the world was allowed to use the sidewalk to get from place to place, but there was a rule that I had to dodge incoming traffic to get anywhere. Now, I can use the sidewalk too. I am relearning everything that I know. 

I am no longer ashamed that I have the GPA of a baked potato. I know that I am not lazy, I am not stupid, and this was NOT my own fault; I was sick and nobody knew. The signs were there, but how we view ADHD has changed entirely since I was a child! People still called it ADD. So why was it so hard to get diagnosed in this day and age?

The stigma has shifted into something far more dangerous than I’ve ever realized it was. I don’t hear “I have ADHD OO SHINY” jokes anymore, you know? We believe it to be a grossly overdiagnosed behavioral disorder meant to punish children for having a lot of energy. We wave it off, calling it the new tonsil removal surgery trend. Of the three types of ADHD; Predominantly Hyper-Impulsive, Predominantly Inattentive (that’s me!), and Combined Type; a mix of the two, there tends to be more stigmatized attention towards the hyper-impulsive type. We believe in what we see, breaking the first rule of mental illness: Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there. 

This leaves those suffering from both inattentive type and combined type to rot. Attention deficiency itself doesn’t have much of a stigma because it isn’t even seen as having a seat at the ADHD table. This is catastrophic and will continue to destroy lives because people don’t feel hyper enough to even consider that they might have ADHD. In turn, those who are told to try harder, apply themselves, stop procrastinating, and to stop being so lazy do not receive the proper care they need. Those who suffer without treatment get worse over time; they lose confidence in themselves, they don’t start new things in fear of the inability to finish, they break promises to friends and family with the inability to follow through, damaging important relationships beyond repair. 

My confidence has been shattered. I was the artist who failed art class. College was never an option because I knew I’d go straight back to failing every class I took. I feel like I am a burden and the token “lost cause” of my family, the one everybody worries about because I’m not right in the head. I’ve grown to become a reclusive, bashful adult who struggles to make and answer phone calls and emails. ADHD devastated my life in deeper ways than my OCD, my PTSD, my anxiety or depression ever could. 

The number of diagnoses are going up because we can recognize it better. This is not a bad thing- science is evolving to show possible causes of the disorder itself. We know not to smoke while pregnant anymore, we know not to eat and drink high fructose corn syrup, we know not to sit in front of blue light screens all day, and we’ll continue to learn.

As soon as I started my medication, I was able to start taking care of myself and working again. The symptoms of my other mental illnesses began to let up, and I felt like a human being for the first time in my life. I have control over my own emotions- I can walk on the sidewalk with everyone else, I am free. 

However, it’s going to take the rest of my life to unlearn the methods I came up with to perform basic self-care functions. It will take many years to gain confidence in myself, to make phone calls without shaking or to even consider the thought of college, potato grades and all. But my mindset has transformed from “I can’t” to “Maybe I could try,” --a first for me. 

Question everything, don’t settle for the minimum, and don’t stop fighting. Thanks for reading this post. I'm hard at work on Propaganda part 2 and hope to post it on May 31st. See you then :-) 

TLDR: ADHD destroyed my life in ways my depression, anxiety and other mental illnesses never could. The stigma surrounding ADHD is shifting to become more dangerous than it has been in the past.  

We live in a society.

#Mental Health #ADHD

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.21

Tense. Things at home were tense. Lance had muttered about needing to go shopping, then left. Keith knew when to bite his tongue, and this was definitely a time for tongue biting. Wanting to do something helpful Keith put his mind to cleaning. Not like in-depth cleaning, but enough to be counted as an effort around the house. That meant first he had to find everything, then he had to argue with the washing machine as he tried to figure the damn thing out as he didn’t know if sheets were washed on the same cycle setting as clothes... if they weren’t before, they were now. Blue had acted like it was the end of the world once the vacuum cleaner went on, dramatically running from the living room so fast she skidded. Adam would have been proud of him. As was every foster family he’d never fit in with. Sure, he had anger issues, but he wouldn’t have anger issues if people stopped making him angry.

Keith got less done than he’d set out to accomplish. Barely finishing the first floor before there was the sound of a car horn out the front, the approach drowned out by Lance’s ancient vacuum that would have been tossed out long ago if Adam had seen the device. Adam really did have the one functioning brain cell between him, Shiro and Keith. The hunter knew it was unhealthy to hold onto things, Adam had died over a year ago now, but he and Shiro together had been the best family Keith had ever had. Shiro never treated him like a legacy. The child of a hunter who’s name carried far too much weight. Since being accepted into the Order and beginning his training as a cadet, he’d lived in the shadow of the great werewolf hunter Krolia. He understood why she had to leave him, why she did fought as she did, but... Shiro and Adam felt more like family to him than she did. Krolia was... she was... it was heavy to think about her accomplishments. Stowing the vacuum back in the laundry, Keith rushed back through the house, trying not to appear like he cared whether Lance was alright or not... because he didn’t.

Heading out, Lance was standing at the back of his bronco, trunk door open

“Help me carry stuff”

Lance wasn’t supposed to be doing anything exerting like carrying in the whole damn shop from the look of it

“Did we really need so much stuff?”

“Not supposed to go out, remember. So I stocked up. Before you bite my head off, I didn’t go shopping alone. I found my phone in the car and shot Hunk a message”

“You... talked to Hunk?”

“Am I not allowed?!”

The snappiness in Lance’s tone kind of hurt, as did the fact Lance had talked to Hunk before they’d had a chance to talk about their situation

“I’m not saying that. I’m just wondering what... It’s none of my business”

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have snapped. I told him Mami had a fall, well, Miriam had a fall and I was in Platt due to it. He went a little crazy shopping”

“So you’re blaming Hunk for this?”

They needed a whole army to eat the amount of food in the back of the bronco. Lance sighed as he passed Keith the first bag

“He’s a good man. I really do think he and Pidge are both interested in you, as in being friends. Sorry, can we save talking until we’re back inside. I want to wallow a little longer”

“Alright... but don’t think you’re getting out of this”

“I wouldn’t dream of it”

*

People were exhausting. Hunk was one of those people. He was a natural born worrier who’d worried the moment he showed up. Lance was pulled into a tight hug, hiding his discomfort as he was. Normally he loved Hunk’s hug, but he couldn’t tell him the truth and it sucked big hair testicles. Repeatedly trying to redirect the conversation from him, Hunk kept bringing up how unwell Lance looked and how he needed to eat more. Yeah. He did. But looking at all the food in the supermarket isles made him sick. It fed the knot of anxiety that’d settled in his gut. He was changing for the worse, and there was no way to back out of it now. When Matt came, everything would change again. Pidge would be over the moon to see her brother again, while Matt would be terrified of one wrong move exposing his secret. Secrets sucked. They festered like wounds. Growing and spreading that infection until you felt physically ill.

Settling down with a cup of coffee, like a normal human would, Lance stared into the cup as Keith put things away. Lance wanted to take control, he wanted to take back some kind of order in his life, yet with Keith living there, he needed to loosen up. Keith needed to know where things went and how to navigate his kitchen beyond how to use the coffee machine. Keith really seemed to like his coffee. He wasn’t so fond of broccoli, or corn for that matter, but he also never really complained about eating anymore... provided he could hover while Lance he cooked, still kind of paranoid Lance was going to poison him or something. If he was going to do that, he would taken care of Keith the second Shiro was clear of the picture.

“You look pale. Do you need blood?”

Keith’s question took Lance by surprise. He never hid his drinking blood from his friends, but they thought he was simply indulging in red wine. Keith had seen him drink, and extremely embarrassingly vulnerable. He’d swallowed down that blood bag at VOLTRON with no worries thanks to how hungry he was... So why was it now he was feeling self conscious thanks to Keith asking? And why were his teeth almost throbbing at the idea? It would be a blood bag like the rest of the times he fed, having Keith there was not his ticket to a fresh meal because he didn’t want a fresh meal. That’d mean only submitting to his vampire way

“Not yet”

“Coran said you need to keep your strength up”

“Since when did you care?”

Keith placed down the box of cereal he’d been trying to find a home for

“Since I don’t run away from mistakes I’ve made”

Ouch. Yeah. Keith had fucked up, but he was kind of trying... but only because he felt obligated too. Obligations sucked. Lance knew he was only a job to Keith, but “mistake” struck like a bullet to the heart

“Dude, ouch”

“I... I mean. I take responsibility for my actions. You’re changing because of me. We can’t ignore it”

“I can try”

Keith slammed his plan down on the kitchen bench with enough anger that Lance felt himself jump

“Why?! Why do you that? You said nothing to Luis. You didn’t try defending yourself. You didn’t ask to be turned”

He really hadn’t. He’d been such a lonely kid, he always seemed to have plenty of people around him, but he’d always felt so filled with faults that he kept messing up his friendships. Every month he seemed to have a new best friend who’d leave him to play with someone cooler and smarter than he was. Someone who better at games, and didn’t have problems with English as Spanish was the spoken language at home. He’d been alright with his siblings until they all started to grow older... then they’d all sort of... given up on their little brother

“Luis gave into his fear long ago”

“That doesn’t make it right. He tried to have you hunted”

“I know he did. Look, I’m way too sober for that conversation. But you’d be right if you thought I ruined our family. No one knew how to handle a kid with flashbacks, nightmares and all the things that come with being a vampire. I’m happy they all got out and had a life...”

“The rest of your family’s like that? Like, Luis?”

“It’s complicated. They don’t understand why I’m the way I am. Why I don’t drive a car in the hundreds of thousands of dollars, why I live in a house that’s a cross between farmhouse and plantation. Why I work so cheaply when I could be earning more. They all think I sponge off Mami, and stay with her so I have control over her. It’s easier to pick your battles and the way I see it, Mami won’t live forever. I’ve caused her enough pain that shouldn’t have to see me fighting with my siblings. Fuck... I really am way too sober”

Taking off his glasses, Lance leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms. Keith didn’t know his life outside of whatever he’d read. He didn’t know how hard it was in the house to have a blood sucker. He didn’t know how many times Lance had made things hard for their family. How he’d cost them all this extra money to keep him fed and safe. Then there was therapy. Him changing schools. Him dealing with his mental health while trying to deal with puberty and nightmares. And God knew how hard it was. How hard it was for his parents, how exhausted they were. How his condition was kind of taboo, and no one was allowed to make a joke about it lest his Mami heard and you’d get smacked across your arse with her pink slipper. Keith picked up the box of cereal again, Lance could hear his moves. The way the contents of the box shook, and the way his clothes rustled. The tiny shift of his footing as he stood on tiptoe to find a space in the cupboard

“I think you were wrong not to stand up for yourself”

Of course “Crusader Keith” thought he needed to stand up for himself, he’d been trained by “Shiro the Hero”

“Tried that, doesn’t work”

He always sent cards, via Mami who knew their address

“Even if Shiro turned, I don’t think I could ever give up on him”

“That’s because you’re far more emotionally mature that my siblings were when they had to deal with a messed up little brother. I’m going to get a bottle of red. Fuck being sober, I’m going to wallow the patheticness out my system, then hopefully I won’t be such a grumpy dick”

“I don’t think you’re being too grumpy. You’re still a bit of a dick”

Lance snorted, placing down his cup of coffee

“That might just be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me”

“Don’t get used to it”

Lance’s lips turned upwards, the ghosting of a smile. Keith was a total dick, and had no place in Lance’s life, but he wasn’t as obnoxious as he’d been when they first met

“Have a look in the blue bag, down the bottom. I got you something while I was out”

*

“Have a look in the blue bag, down the bottom. I got you something while I was out”

Keith didn’t get Lance at all. He’d been moping, now he was kind of smiling, or grimacing, Keith wasn’t completely sure, but the fact Lance had bought him something seemed kind of like a trap

“You got me something?”

“Yep. Blue bag is all yours”

His? Wasn’t the food because he was human? What else did he need?

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why did you get me something?”

“Because when I saw it, I thought of you. Don’t make this weird”

It was already weird. All of this was weird as fuck. Peaking in the first blue bag there was a whole heal of vegetables, including broccoli which he hated, Lance snorted at him

“Not that one. The other one”

“You could have told me that”

“Coulda, woulda, shoulda”

Whatever that meant. Grabbing the second blue bag, Keith pulled it forward by the handles

“Milk?”

“Lactose free. Actually, all the milk I’ve been buying lately to feed your coffee addictions been lactose free, so you’re welcome over that. I said in the bottom. You know, under everything else”

“Shut up. It just looked like bottles of milk”

“On the top, maybe. I’ll give you that”

Keith sighed to himself mentally. How was he supposed to put up with Lance for another two weeks when he had nothing to do. He couldn’t work out, Coran had benched Lance from teaching him anything physical. Sitting around and doing nothing didn’t agree with him. Lifting out the two bottles of milk, he was annoyed that Lance had something nice. He wasn’t strictly like allergic to lactose, but some brands definitely upset his stomach more than others. At the bottom of the bag was a wrapped box, the paper slightly wet from the condensation off the milk bottles

“It’s a box?”

“Wow, I bet those powers of observation are what makes you a great hunter. Open the box, dummy”

Grumpily Keith took the box out of the bag, mumbling as he did

“You didn’t need to buy me anything”

“You’re really bad at accepting gifts aren’t you?”

“Shut up”

Inside the box was a red digital camera. Keith had always loved the colour red, he also indulged in a little photography thanks to Shiro. It wasn’t as fancy as his camera at home, but it wasn’t bottom of the range either

“You got me a camera?”

“Yep. If you’re going to be sticking around, I figured you might want one to keep up the pretence of having left it here”

This would have easily cost Lance a couple of hundred. Didn’t the vampire have better things to spend his money on?

“Why...?”

“Not this again. Fine, I’ll play along. Why, what?”

“Why did you spend money on me?”

“Because you’re stuck here and I thought that it might be nice to have something of your own. It’s also an apology for all the shit I put you through by turning into a bat. Just make sure you get a few photos of the house, I told the others you were taking photos to help me renovate. Accept the damn gift”

Lance seemed as bad at giving gifts as Keith was at receiving them. Not that the camera was a bad gift, the vampire seemed embarrassed that he was making a fuss over it all. Big gifts like this were shaved for birthdays or Christmas, no one went around simply buying things for other people, unless it was Shiro. Shiro had absolutely awful impulse control, Keith’s not that much better. His savings only went as far as saving for what he wanted, buying it, then looking at his abysmally empty bank balance sadly. There was no reason to really save when any mission could see him dead...

“Thanks. I’m not used to things like this”

“I can tell. Just... the camera isn’t me trying to buy your apology. Just so you know, I wanted to do something nice for you, with like, no strings attached... and now that this has gotten even more awkward, I’m off to get that red”

As Lance pushed his chair back, curiosity struck, Keith tilting the box in Lance’s direction

“Hey, Lance... Do you show up in these things?”

“Really? Photos, videos and mirrors... People wish they’d looked as good as I do dead. I mean, otherwise it’d be super suspicious when I didn’t show up in Pidge’s videos, when I let her film me”

“Oh... I hadn’t thought about that”

Lance snorted at him

“Some vampire hunter you are. Please don’t destroy my kitchen while I’m gone. Also, I grabbed some stuff so we can make pizza for dinner... I assume you don’t mind pizza and beer?”

Keith wrinkled his nose. That sounded like he was going to be cooking... and if the piece of shit toaster Lance used to have was anything to go by, then maybe that wouldn’t be the best idea. Lance was already walking towards the kitchen door

“I don’t know how to make pizza”

Raising his hand, the vampire waved his concerns off

“Then prepared to do the learn. Man, I’m going to have to teach you everything, aren’t I?”

“About vampires?”

“Nope. First you learn to do the human, then you’ll learn how to do the dead human. Don’t forget, I’ll hear you if you try breaking my kitchen... ow, fuck...”

Walking straight into the door frame, Lance rubbed at his forehead. Keith had no idea how Lance managed to walk into so many things and be so absolutely uncoordinated while in his own house. He wore glasses, shouldn’t that like help him see? Shouldn’t he have some kind of sense when he was getting too close to something? What kind of a vampire needed glasses? Lance didn’t make sense at all.

#once bitten #oncebittentwicestupid #once bitten twice stupid #klance #mpreg #voltron #vld au

[ultfreakme]

Vent session, scroll if any of these bother you- i need to feel like i’m talking to someone and writing this down in a diary would just make me more misreable. ya know, fake audience and the idea of someone listening because of internet and followers and all so.....sorry-

tw possible eating disorder, mental health, body image.

Okay my self-induced vomiting's somehow getting worse. It went from 3 times to now.....at eight....it’s not frequent but I do it and I thought “okay, this is just a temporary thing” and i think it is, but.....fuck i know how shit it feels but it also feels good. Yeah at the moment, absolutely terrible- but the fact that I feel like I’m getting rid of something bad, something wrong....it feels good. 

You know how in the movies vomiting and purging is always portrayed with the person being really audible, and there just  being a lot when they do vomit? Man it is not like that at all. In fact it’s so fucking silent, no one can hear it. My mom and dad would pass by the bathroom(you can hear people walking in there even if the door is shut) as I’m making the ‘noises’ or whatever and they have no clue. Nothing. Nada. 

And I’ve found a way to cut down on food. 

idk, it’s just escalating. 

I used to be able to actually step on a scale before but now even looking at the thing makes me terrified, I just push the damn thing away under a table or the couch the second I see it. 

And I am actually really privileged given the conditions. The country I’m in has covid fully under control, unlike the place where my uni is, where my friends are, which is falling apart. I KNOW. But I’m still so weak that even a little bit of pressure broke me. Just this much and I’m done. 

Not sure if this was a long time coming or just abrupt. 

The last time I purged was yesterday and my throat hurts. Not too much, but it does. What the fuck am I doing? I’m such a little snowflake, acting as if I HAVE something when I’m probably just calling for attention. It’s pathetic honestly. 

That’s what I say but all my textbooks and my ug psych degree says “nah, you probably need to get this checked”. 

I tried to broach on it with my mom- tried to tell her “hey uh, people in my class are all having a difficult time, and I think I am too” and maybe it’s the way I said it....okay my mom’s not good at the whole...emotional stuff....so I immediately backed up and said “never mind” to her but she followed it up with “you have it better than everyone, you’re not going through anything bad”

And now I’m writing this. 

It’s my fault that I didn’t tell her “hey mom! I’m purging and not eating right and i’m terrified i’m going to damage myself!” but....come on......

it’s so easy to say “just tell someone”. And then what? I become more of a burden? People look at me like I’m disgusting? I already get enough of that with how terrible I look. Enough people reminding me “hey your skin is terrible- here’s my solution you pathetic thing, hey your acne is disgusting- here’s what you should do you disgusting fuck ;), hey your teeth needs fixing, hey you need to get rid of those glasses, hey did you gain weight lol what happened to losing it all?”

I GET IT. 

I FUCKING GET IT. 

I’m a loser who can’t even function even when everything is handed to me. I GET IT. 

But

BUT I still got the damn rights to have problems. I can still have these fucking feelings. 

Every time I do say my problems, every time I let people get a glimpse of what’s in my head, my parents look terrified. Everyone looks unsure or terrified, which is honestly, understandable. Because I cry and scream like I’ve lost my mind and I stutter and I cannot breathe. It happened twice and twice is ENOUGH. 

I jsut want to get over this. I thought i’d be over it. I think I am but am i? One turned to three and now I’m at EIGHT.

[altik-0]

Personal Revelation

I've spent the last two weeks trying to figure out how to write this post, but my mind has felt like it's tumbling around a washing machine and trying to figure out how to straighten my thoughts into a coherent message has felt impossible. But I'm driving myself crazy continuing to hold off on saying something, so I'm going to just rip off the bandage now, and we can talk in more depth after the cut.

Hi! 👋 I'm Asexual and Aromantic! Let's talk about it.

Where to even start

This month has been a fucking trip.

On the one hand, this has been the fourth month of nearly continuous quarantine for the COVID-19 pandemic. On the other, the end of May was the spark that began a wildfire of protests against police brutality that have swept across the country, including the seemingly milquetoast land of Salt Lake City. I found myself simultaneously figuring out the umpteenth way to keep myself entertained while being in home nearly uninterrupted for over 90 days, while also desperately searching for the courage to exit my home and join the marches against injustice.

And in the background of all of this, it was Pride Month.

On the 12th, a Youtube creator I follow released a video about their experience discovering themselves as non-binary. You should watch it, but what is important for the sake of this post is that the bulk of the video is an asynchronous telling of various moments throughout their life that, in reflection, show them that "[they] were who [they] are now, back then". These moments form a tapestry that tell a story of self discovery, and the result is incredibly powerful.

They released a rough cut about a week earlier for Patreon supporters, and I was immediately transfixed. I watched it three times in a row on the first day it was uploaded. I watched it twice more after the release. Hell, when I pulled this video up now to get the share link I couldn't help but sit and watch through it all over again.

At first I didn't really know why I felt so attached to this piece in particular. Yet still, I spent multiple nights laying awake for hours in what felt like a dreamlike haze at the time. It took three nights like this for me to realize I had spent all this time reflecting on my own past moments, and revisiting them through the lens this video had shared with me.

How I got here

It is September 2005. I am currently at a school dance. I know I am supposed to be finding someone to dance with and enjoy that for some reason, but all I want to do is go home. I might consider mustering up some courage and just asking someone, anyone, to dance, if it weren't for the fact that I still didn't have any friends. Instead, I feel trapped, wandering up and down the side wall, waiting for it to be over so I can finally leave. I stumble across a small group also sitting on the sides; a girl reading manga, and another playing Yu-Gi-Oh! with a boy across from her. I approach: "I didn't realize anyone still played this" They invite me to join, and soon I find myself with genuine friends at school for the first time in years. I never think about asking someone to dance again.

It is the summer of 2017. I am at a bar with some coworkers at the end of the week. I don't drink, but I've opened myself up to joining people for happy hour because it feels like a good way to socialize, and I've genuinely enjoyed getting to know folks. My team lead makes a comment that he feels it's impossible for a man and a woman to ever have a friendly relationship without having some element of sexual tension between them. I rebuff this comment -- initially I feel a sense of feminist frustration at the concept, as if it is implicitly saying that men and women should not work together. As the conversation continues, I realize the real reason I feel so sure this is wrong is because I have never felt this way toward anyone I've worked with.

It is the summer of 2008. I am in church, listening to the new instructor for my Sunday school class shift the discussion towards politics. Since he began, every lesson without fail will eventually derail into right-wing screeds. For him, any issue that is even vaguely left-leaning is a potential avenue for Satan to take hold of you: feminism, activism, even environmentalism. But lately he has had a particular fixation on the topic of gay marriage, and it is beginning to take a toll on my mental health. Being in these classes, hearing a man in a position of authority repeatedly say "it is not that we shouldn't love these people, but we need to still understand that they are committing a sin" has become physically painful to listen to. Of course, I am not queer, just an ally -- I can only imagine how painful this must be for those who are directly affected. I will nearly pass out from exhaustion and anxiety during sacrament meeting a few hours later.

It is February 2020. I am out to lunch with a friend and coworker. I have just recently changed jobs after less than a year, because I was hopelessly miserable at my last one. It should have been a dream job, marrying two of my closest passions, but instead I felt suffocated by being in a world where everyone seemed indifferent towards me at best, or actively hated me at worst. My friend invited me to join this job, and although it is a miserable job, I find solace in being able to go to lunch and have genuine conversations with someone I get along with. He mentions his wife is pregnant, and the stress of tending for his current child while she is resting. I acknowledge the frustration, though somewhat awkwardly since I am still single. "Oh, yeah, I sometimes forget you aren't married yet, haha. Well, don't worry, you'll get to join in on the fun soon enough!" I want to say "I very much doubt that"; instead I say "Well, I guess we'll see." The conversation does not feel so genuine anymore.

It is January 2009. I am watching House M.D. with my dad. We bond a lot while watching tv. We're both avid fans of MST3K, and we are invariably the obnoxious people in a movie theater a few rows down cracking jokes throughout the film. It feels fun and rebellious, even if we're doing it at home where nobody will be annoyed. This episode starts with Foreman and Thirteen waking up together in bed after clearly spending the night together. My dad cracks a joke about how "they're going to get in trouble, since they aren't married!" I quip back "nah, it's not a big deal, they just slept together, haha." My dad pauses the show and turns to me, deadly serious: "Who told you that was okay?!" I am a deer in headlights. I suddenly realize that I meant "slept together" literally, but nobody else uses it that way. I don't understand how I missed that.

It is October 2010. I am at home, speaking with my mother after coming home from school. She has always been a political firebrand, and especially after I left the church and started college the two of us have connected on this a lot. She has just read an article that mentioned the expanded acronym "LGBTQIA", and says she doesn’t know what all the "I" and "A" refer to. I don't yet know what the "I" refers to, but I suggest the "A" is probably for "asexual". She says she hadn't heard of asexuality, though that does make sense. I realize I don't recall hearing about asexuality before either. I don't actually know if anyone identifies like that. It just somehow feels like something that must exist.

It is the spring of 2007. I am at a local game store playing at a Friday Night Magic event for the first time. I suffer from very extreme social anxiety, and I spent the entire week a ball of nervous energy. Despite myself, I have managed to drive myself to the event and register. I have promised myself dozens of times over that I already knew Magic players were people similar to me, so there was no reason to worry. My first match is against someone wearing a frilly dress, cat ears, and tail. She mews at me several times while playing. On the surface I have frozen and only robotically go through motions of playing the game because my anxiety has boiled over to the point that I cannot quite function properly. Inside, I am filled with pure delight at realizing that someone could feel comfortable expressing themselves that openly in a space like this. I eventually become friends with this person who I will later learn is trans -- I had never met a trans person before. I will become close friends with three more trans people, at least two enbies, and countless other queer people over the next decade of playing this wonderful game.

It is November 2019. I am at work, sitting at my desk, feeling completely numb despite starting the day energetic to the point of mania. I've just had an argument with a close friend -- perhaps the closest friend I've ever had -- and it ended... poorly, to put it mildly. So poorly, in fact, that it is safe to say we are just not friends anymore. The reality was that there were always problems between us, and this was a culmination of conflict that never really got effectively resolved. It might not have even been possible to resolve. In the moment, though, I cannot escape the suffocating feeling that I am a failure as a human being; someone who simply does not know how to maintain a relationship. My mind goes through loops of how I could have said something differently to have it end better. The emotional pain will not fully make sense to me until several months later, when I realize this was the closest thing to a break-up that I've ever experienced.

It is January 2012. I am watching House M.D. with my dad again. Since leaving the church, watching shows like this has been a desperate lifeline for our relationship. We don't joke as much anymore. This episode features a side plot with an asexual couple, who House determines is simply impossible, and uses his power of supreme logic to prove the asexuality wasn't real all along. I have heard of asexuality, though I don't know where or when, so I am angry at this. Of course, as an ally. I want to joke with my dad to release some frustration, but he is still in the church, and I don’t think he will empathize. I stay silent, and do not enjoy this episode.

It is December 2019. I am scrolling through a Discord channel I was invited to from one of the leftist creators I follow. This community has been a breath of fresh air in many ways, and one I found surprisingly helpful was an NSFW adult content chat channel where people are open about sex, fetishes, and more. I've considered myself fairly open-minded and sex-positive, but I'm still a virgin at 28 so I've found there is a lot I just don't know about. Today, someone has started a conversation about what qualifies as "taboo" and relating it to kink-shaming. Another member replies, mentioning they are asexual and find the whole notion of taboos being kind of bizarre. My mind reels at seeing someone who identifies as asexual in this chat. Over time I find out there are several other people who identify at least gray-ace in this chat, some who even draw risque artwork for commission. I realize how little I actually understood about what asexuality really was, and begin scouring the internet for articles and wikis on asexuality.

It is April 2010. I am at an Apollo Burger across the street from the local game store where I am playing in a Magic prerelease. My friends I followed over are talking about weekend plans, and one of them makes a joke about doing some chores to butter up his partner to have sex. The joke does not go over my head -- I am straight, and understand sex, even if I am still a virgin -- but I still can't help but think out loud: "You know, I just don't get why people make such a big deal out of sex." The awkwardness and confused looks are suffocating. I drop the topic immediately.

It is June 2020. I have just watched a video from an enby Youtube creator about their experience discovering their own gender identity. Over the next three days I will see every one of these past experiences, along with hundreds of others, flash before my eyes in rapid succession, over and over, until I begin to realize that I haven't allowed myself to truly identify how I do. Every time I asked "am I asexual?" in the past, I would dismiss it because I understood sex and have a sex drive. Once I actually researched asexuality, though, I almost immediately found stories of people who identify as ace and still experience a sex drive. I also discover a lot of stories from aromantic people that sound painfully similar to feelings I hadn't even realized were not the norm. For the first time I begin to realize I may not just be an ally.

So what does this mean

I came to a sense of satisfaction with living alone and single a long time ago. At first this came with a certain level of shame, because I felt like it was only because I was too cowardly to enter the dating scene and try to find a relationship for myself. Over time the impact of the shame diminished, but it never went away; it just became a quiet background noise that I got accustomed to pushing back.

But now that I feel comfortable calling myself "Aromantic", I don't feel any shame. A romantic relationship is simply something I don't need. Instead, I can focus on fostering the kinds of deep relationships that do feed my soul. That will likely be a difficult thing to do -- awkwardly traversing intimacy was something most people worked through as a teenager or young adult, and I'm nearly 30, haha. But it at least feels possible now.

But really the biggest change for me is that I feel like I can be honest and public about who I am in a way I never was before. Simply being open about this piece of my identity somehow feels important if for no other reason than to let other people who felt like I did growing up that they aren't alone.

So... yeah. I'm aroace. And I always have been.

#coming out #aroace #aromantic #asexual #pride #god it's nice to have an emotional post that doesn't need to be tagged as garbage for once

[hoezier]

I'm really curious to see what you think of the episode once you watch it because I thought it wasn't that bad tbh

Hey nonnie, so I just finished watching the episode and I’m ... conflicted. I’m conflicted by my reactions towards this show since the Michael’s return SL ended tbh. In the first 7 episodes, I so obviously disliked the storylines and where it was headed but afterwards my reactions were not so resentful. I became a lot more ... conflicted because the writing is not obviously bad or bad bad, it just became confused, unfocused, rushed and somewhat inconsistent. Somewhat, being a generous qualification on my part tbh. So, I’m gonna try to break it down here. Keep in mind, though, that I haven’t given a ton of thought to what the show has had to offer in a while now. It seemed futile to me, primarily, but also, because I’ve been far too busy to actually spare too much energy here. Nonetheless, here it goes:

 First and foremost, the romance in this season fell on its face in a lot of way. Starting with the main romances of Petramos and Jafael.

1. Petramos: In a lot of ways, the trouble of Petramos is a lot easier to spot for me, a little more obvious, and a little less complicated than jafael’s, more contained than Jafael’s. Probably due to the shorter history of the relationship. I think the controversial revelation that Petra’s been lying to JR about Anezka this whole time was detrimental to the relationship in a nearly unfixable way. To fix it would need care and finesse and patience and build-up. JtV has always had some trouble with all of that, what’s with it being so dramatic and over-the-top, but I think it’s struggled to achieve nuanced writing especially this season. In that way, Petramos’s writing has been doomed since the very start of the season. Like fine, okay, you went ahead with the Petra lying, something that I won’t even get into how unlikely it seems to me, but the relationship needed a LOT more care than what they gave it. Having JR choose to get back with Petra so prematurely only to have them break-up later on did NOT do the writers any favor. Their reunion was rushed, their build-up was quick and a lot of it off-screen. And then their break-up was a disaster writing-wise. It wasn’t heartbreaking, it was angering and insulting to me as a viewer who has functioning braincells thank you very much. It was done for drama and did not really follow coherently, especially with the add-on of Petra wanting to propose and all that. It just fell on its face. For me, a much better way to deal with the situation would have been to let their season 4 break up land throughout the first half of the season, then come up with a reason for a rekindling, a tentative alliance, a careful build up that leaves me squealing like a schoolgirl when they reunite. Have Petra go through the journey of getting over JR in the first half, have her go through that character growth, and THEN reunite them. And here’s the thing, I’m still about 99% sure that Petramos is endgame, but we’re literally supposed to get the reunion and the endgame in ONE episode, an episode that’ll largely be about Jafael so like... IDEK man. This’ll be really hard to sell beyond the aesthetics of two gorgeous people getting together on your screen. 

2. Jafael: I have SO many conflicting emotions about Jafael this season. Don’t get me wrong, I love them, I ship them. I always will. And we did get some really good material over the course of the season, but boy oh boy, do I have problems with how this is all panning out. First and foremost, the treatment of this relationship with Michael’s return has been disastrous, and i think we can all agree on that. Like okay, fine, you want to reach this point of breaking up. Okay fine. You want to reintroduce the love triangle. Okay fine, but pray tell, what the actual fuck was that treatment of the storyline? I was genuinely excited about the potential for angst that this’ll give Jafael. I wanted the pain and the heartbreak, I wanted Rafael to be the one to break up with Jane because he just does not want to do this anymore, but the way they went about it was confusing to me. For example, I loved the idea of “Rafael got his memories back, too”. I thought that was clever, but to me the trigger of it was not as clever. Remember back in season 1 when Raf proposed and then he saw her laughing with Michael and that kind of contributed to sending him spiraling? Yeah, I needed something like that. Something to remind Rafael and the audience of this journey, a physical evidence of that trouble in front of him. We got none of that of course. And then we had to deal with the whole Mateo thing and Mateo’s feelings and involvement and it was so not the right focus. It lacked feeling, it lacked heart, it lacked things that were genuinely a part of the core of Jane as a show. The whole point of Michael returning was supposed to be the emotional baggage of it all, but it turns out JtV was truly not at all equipped to handle something with that complexity. So the break up was a bit of a mess in that regards and I’m just... yeah. Let’s just leave it there for now. 

Because what was even more aggravating than the break-up, is their reunion. I’m not gonna get into the whole thing about Raf’s depression here (see below the section about characters), but what I will get into here is, how in fuck’s name did we get a whole reunion SL without even a glimpse of what, exactly, was going through Raf’s mind as he went through therapy? Like just how? How did he come to not trust her? How did he come to realize that he’ll always love her? What the f was going on in his mind this whole time? Was he pining in his own way, too? Okay, fine, you don’t want to give us this storyline about his depression (why thank you, fuck you too), but can you uhhh, IDK give us a SL about them getting through their issues. Remember Jafael in season 1 and 2 going to therapy to hash out their trouble? I miss those days. I’m honestly beyond flabbergasted that they did not immediately march into a therapist’s office and try to fix their trouble. That would’ve made their whole journey come full circle. It would have helped dissect their problems. His and hers. How they’l move on. How they’ve grown together. You know, the kind of stuff you do when you tell a person that you don’t trust them anymore but you also really love them? Remember the proposal episode? Yeah, how the F did we not get a we’re going to therapy SL afterwards? And now, in 5x17, Raf is like I’m not worried about MIchael trying to win you back again, anymore. And I’m like, k, cool, but why? We have seen very little development in that regards, can you please explain it better? Can you please show me more? PLEASE? But I guess not, and it is what it is now. 

In a lot of ways, Jafael’s trouble is that the show is trying to cram 2 or more seasons worth of buildup and SL into half a season, half a season whose focus has been disastrous to say the least. So yeah, the reunion has been tainted for me with a lot of trouble. And now, thinking about it, I actually can’t find very clear ways in which Jafael’s journey this season could have been fixed wih easy and simple shuffling of certain events. To truly make it pop, they NEEDED to delve deep into Rafael’s mental health, which is not a simple fix in itself. Otherwise, this only partially satisfactory stuff is all we are left with. In my mind right now, I think I would have gone much farther back, though, and tweaked their story to maintain the Michael returns SL without it making the story so bland and aggravating. I think I wouldn’t have let Jafael get together at all in season 4. Rafael, following that breakdown he had with Jane in 4x05 goes to therapy. Jane has a romance with Adam that runs its course. Jafael rebuild their friendship and start to catch feelings again. They’re really falling in love and about to get back together when BAM Michael returns. I think that would have worked for the purposes of the triangle more. Jane is not really committed to anyone, except now she’s in love with Raf. And it would have made even her choice more powerful. But alas, it is what it is. But even more ideally, IDK, come up with a more creative obstacle than Michael’s return. 

3. Villadero: Honestly, I’m only gonna talk about them to vent, cause I’m MAD, you guys, so MAD and I don’t even ship it. But I’m MAAAAAD. Like just... okay, okay, you take all of season 5 and it’s literally just Jennie shitting on M/J and I’m like what the actual fuck? The blows never stopped coming? Michael returning only to have his heart broken all over again not enough for ya? Having to see Mateo say that he hates him not enough? Oh, no, it’s not. We gotta not only make the book about their relationship a flop (which like, fine, as an aspiring writer it’s cool to see this being a more complicated journey for Jane than an immediate hit) but to also have its publication be a literal bribery? Why?? JUST WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY? And then to imply that M/J where just a step for Jafael and M/C now?????????????????? WHY WHY WHY???????????????????? Remember the show that had Jane worry that her moving on with Raf would make it seem as if Michael is just a step? I want that show back. I just... UGH. 

Characters and characterization is another thing that the show really struggled with this season. Like a LOT. 

1. Petra: I’ll start with Petra because I honestly think she got the better deal out of everyone. This season has really managed to highlight and showcase how much she’s grown and how far she’s come. I think aside from the supposed plan to propose to JR, Petra has been the least inconsistent this season. Though she did have lines that showed real amnesia on the writers part, like telling Jane that JR is the reason she doesn’t lie and manipulate anymore. But oh well, she did well. 

2. Jane: I feel like Jane has lost a lot of her vibrance this season. I can’t really pin point why, but I think it’s a combination of reducing her to her bouts of guilt, the weird way that they’ve dealt with her career this season, fluctuating between utter disregard and then literal cramming of episodes worth of her writing development into half an episode (I mean Ro has FAAAAAAAR more build up towards This is Mars than Jane has with her book) it’s been really hard to see the life that Jane exuded in the past. 

3. Rafael: I’m tired. I don’t wanna talk about it. I’m just tired. 

4. Michael: Also tired. I just wanted him to feel like a person with emotions and trauma but like... *rubs forehead*

5. Xiomara: This makes me the MOST tired. She faded into the background so much I want to ram my head through a wall. Like what the fuck man just what the fuck? The build up of her going to nursing school came from no where. Now she’s willing to go to NY so quickly? No struggle? All the struggle is on Ro’s part? Why just why I don’t understand how the writers who gave us Xo from season 1-4 can just suddenly forget. Even the wrap up of her cancer SL was anticlimactic. It’s just. 

Also, Luisa deserves better. 

Another thing that season severely struggles with is focus. So much screentime for Jorge and Alba and it’s just not that interesting of a SL. So much time for River Fields and literally no one I know gives a flying fuck. So much wasted time, time that should have gone to Raf’s depression, more Luisa, and definitely more Xo. But NOOOO we had to deal with River’s relationship with her daughter and I’m like... who even gives a damn? 

One last thing I’ll say cause I’m too tired to say anymore about this, though I could: where are the magical realism elements in the show? Where has that magical feeling about them gone???????????????

Anyways, let’s see how they wrap it up I guess. 

#jane the virgin #in conclusion; i am bitter #Anonymous

[danbensen]

…or how tracking my life told me I was abusing coffee and social media

So there I was, my nails digging into my palms, my right molars pressed into each other. The air hissed in through my nose as my vision narrowed to a point. It was like hurtling down a roller-coaster. It was was terrifying, and I had no idea why it was happening.

I’d be doing nothing especially ominous – sitting down on the couch, carrying my younger daughter, thinking about bread – and suddenly I’d be gripped by this intense sensation of danger. BREAD! The image of a whole-grain loaf gained the mass of a church bell. DOOM! It rang. Toll the yeasty knell, oh brazen fate, for all men shall one day die. Die, oh, mortal flesh. Die and meet thy baker. (whoo! I am so sorry about that pun. Deep breaths now…)

Tiny drops of steam Ebb and flow before the light With each of my breaths.

It was ridiculous, but of course knowing that it was ridiculous didn’t help. I was like a cat, freaking out for no reason. Or was there no reason? Aren’t I supposed to listen to my body, now that I’m meditating and whatnot? But what exactly was my body supposed to be telling me? Avoid carbs? Run from the couch? Something about my daughter…? Yeah, If I searched hard enough for a reason to be terrified, I’d surely find one. Now there’s a reason for fear.

So I meditated more. I stopped using social media. I took my daughters to the park and watched the sky as it changed from brass to rose and the street lights blinked on. I talked to Pavlina. And I realized that over the course of the past month, I’d gone from drinking two cups of coffee a day to four.

The trees turn black and The sky, indescribable. Look up and it’s changed.

Scheduling is hard. My older daughter’s in first grade now, and school starts at 8:10 in the Center. The younger one’s in kindergarten, which starts at 8:30 in Levski G. At some point, it would be nice if Pavlina and I could go to work, which is back in the Center. If we want to have breakfast and drink our coffee in peace, we need to wake up at 6:15. Three hours later, I’m finally in the office and I’m tired. That scares me because I associate being tired with being sick. Fatigue=death.

I’m supposed to listen to my body, but my body is a stupid animal. It’s not going to say, “you’re drinking too much coffee.” It says “coffee reminds me of being happy!” and “not being productive scares me!” It says “I’m tired! I must have cancer again!” It’s up to me to keep track of what I’m doing, cut out the distractions, and give myself enough mental room to notice the patterns.

Right. So that’s why I’m not doing social media any more. Because part of the reason I was too distracted to notice I was drinking too much coffee was the last newsletter I wrote. I posted it on facebook, which made me want to check facebook for likes and comments. And once I was on facebook, why not see what other people are posting? Oh. Oh. That’s what they’re posting. Oh no.

I debated writing this explanation. Why not just stop using social media? Why talk about it on social media? But my litmus test for whether I should write something is “will this help people?” Maybe this is helpful: social media is distracting and depressing. It fills my head with noise. Maybe you have the same problem and this is the solution.

The sky at seven The color of hope that hurts And the crying swifts

I’ll continue to post my work on my website (including these newsletters) and mirror or link to those posts on Tumblr, Twitter, and Facebook. Readers are welcome to like and comment, but I’ll only read those comments once a week (Friday seems like a good day). Comments on my website, PMs, and emails to me will get my attention earlier. I won’t read any content that isn’t sent personally to me or that I didn’t sign up for. Hopefully that means I’ll still get news from people I care about, but not about tragedies that I have no power to solve. That way, I can continue to function from hour to hour.

What do you think? Is this going to work? Can I stay connected without sacrificing my mental health? Let me know in the comments. Or even better, email me.

In other news, I had some good writing stuff happen this month. Interchange has hit its 2/3 mark and, more importantly, its rhythm. I’ve managed to block off a fairly reliable 90-minute chunk of time in the mornings, which I use to meditate and then “speedwrite,” which means writing without thinking about what I’m doing. I generally end up with a single element of a scene, such as the conversation the characters are having, how they feel, what’s going on in the environment, or what actions the characters are taking.

Then I usually have some time after lunch (and my second and final coffee), and I can layer those scene-pieces onto each other and smooth the edges. If I have more time, I do research, which usually involves shooting messages to generous experts. In this way, the inestimable and inspiring Thomas Duffy helped me tie a ribbon around the center of my book, in which a biologist’s subconscious belief that she owns the environment she’s studying leads her to destroy it. As the forest crumbles around her, she blames herself…then makes exactly the wrong decision about what to do next. Yeah! Fiction! Thomas, I’m going to send you roses or cacti or something.

Another new tradition I’ve instituted is spending my Friday mornings not working on Interchange. It’s a little release of pressure, a chance to play and remind myself that writing isn’t just another chore I have to do. The first week, it was a short story. That one turned out so well, I’m going to try to publish it. It’s called “The Sales Event” and it’s about smart phones and general relativity. Do you want to beta-reader it?

I got another couple of “no”s from publishers about The Sultan’s Enchanter, but one of them was that very gratifying “no” that comes at the head of a long list of things I could do to fix the story. Making those fixes will be educational, even if that particular publisher still passes. Wealthgiver is rather like The Sultan’s Enchanter, after all, and the lessons I learn from one will be important for the other. The world needs more books about amoral Balkan people!

Yeah, I’m still working on Wealthgiver’s neo-Thracian language. I even posted a little of it on Tumblr. But don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten my little goats!

Kapt kapēnon ainē kesa / byźai darsai ypo dēsâ. Ēbron, aiźi, byźâs kâ / skalmon, bleptē, bystâs kâ, As tae yper iatśikan / kapâ pe ta ve abbrinkan.

There were at one time / brave goats under heaven. A kid, a nanny, and a billy goat / clever, loyal, and tough, Who would dance up / a hill for to make themselves fat.

Dâ ispilsen opē rinkon strymē / parân ân, śân târâ dymâ. Iśē iserpa źēryntē / źymlē mērē urdēnē. Byźulâs ada pyrân źilmân / dâ bolvarâs pia rhobton saimân.

But a quick-flowing river blocked / the path with an evil guard. There coiled a beast / a great water-dragon. A goat will eat green grains / but a serpent will slurp blood

Peskēnon ērga ēbron do. / Pliskon ērga śân negō. Źymlē zē semân iglytsa. / “Kis ēs tu?” Neston iglâtsa. “Semâs manon ēm ēźo.” / “San ar ēsti? Abadam so!”

First comes the kid. / It splashes with its hooves. The dragon heard this. / “Who are you?” she roared. “This only am I.” / “Is it so? I will eat you up!”

Things are heating up! I’m still not entirely comfortable with the articles and deitics, but I do like that last line. And the orthography is shaping up nicely. I love googly things over letters.

Another potential conlanging project for that other hundred years I plan to live: Western Hellenism. What if the Greeks had conquered Iberia?

And finally, PROTECTOR! This is the comic project I’ve been working on for literally six years. Words by me and Simon Roy, inks by Atryom Trakhanov, colors by Jason Wordie, and lettering by Hassan Otsmane-Elhadu. What a crazy, fun, glorious process this collaboration was!

Protector is a post-apocalyptic scifi story about a slave who stumbles across “a demon of the Profligate Age,” a military cyborg who’s been in hibernation for the past thousand years. The post-human robots who are terraforming the Earth are not amused, and send in some sweaty future-vikings to put a stop to these shenanigans.

There will be five issues, and issue one comes out in January. If you’re interested, please order a copy, or better yet, tell your local comic or book store to order lots of copies! Give us some numbers that will convince Image to ask for a sequel

And finally, some books and stuff

Daring Greatly by Brené Brown – this book wasn’t as transformative for me as it could have been because I’ve read Brown before and I already agree with her. Shame is bad. Vulnerability is the cure. Bam. What I like about Brown is that she collects good data, lets it prove her wrong, and suggests how the lessons from the data can be usefully applied. It’s not just science, it’s engineering.

Falling Free by Lois McMaster Bujold – I think this was the third read. What happens when GM humans become obsolete? What happens when an engineer has a spiritual epiphany? It wasn’t quite as much fun as some of Bujold’s other science fiction, but it has a lot of heart.

Spooky Action at a Distance by George Musser – an excellent physics book, examining the concept of space, which lies at the center of the contradictions of relativity and quantum physics. If space didn’t exist, the universe would be chaos, but a lot of experiments only make sense if space _doesn’t_ exist. Great stuff, and it inspired that short story I’m so proud of.

Death by Water by Kerry Greenwood – a refreshing splash of chilly New Zealand sea spray. Phryne pursues a jewel thief and has a little bit of sex, but a lot of good food, drink, and dancing. There’s also a hakka.

Wicked Prey by John Sandford – it was actually a little boring. The police’s side of the story didn’t hold up as well as the criminals’. But this is a relatively early book in the series, which means Sandford is improving.

The Upright Go Pro – it’s a little device that you glue to your upper back so it will buzz at you when you slouch. Immediately after I put it on, I realized I have little tiny tyrannosaurus arms that don’t reach any table or counter-top. It ran out of batteries one day and man did my back hurt that night. So I guess it’s working.

Gravity by Against the Current and Brighter by Patent Pending – Good Interchange music.

Be Kind to Yourself by Andrew Peterson – It makes me feel better.

Song of Durin by Clamavi De Profundis – I haven’t gotten goosebumps from a song in a long time. It’s about dwarves.

The Twits by Roald Dahl – I read it to my older daughter and boy howdy did Roald Dahl know how to write for children. Everything seems utterly ridiculous but it all somehow satisfies. Like eating dirt cake.

Steven Universe – My younger daughter found me rewatching it on my phone and made me cast it on the big TV. Now it’s all “I wanna watch Steeben dabout a Giant Woman. I’m Pearl.” No, younger daughter, you are not Pearl. Pearl is my older daughter. My younger daughter is Amethyst. Nobody is more Amethyst than my younger daughter. (I’m Peridot)

#mystuff #newsletter #simon roy #thomas duffy #Artyom Trakhanov #writing #mental health #science fiction #thracian

[bigskydreaming]

So it took interest rates that were like WE OWN UR SOUL NOW U FOOL HAHA TWILL BE OURS FOREVER, but joke’s on them lol like I never use that thing anyway. But I got the personal loan for $10K in the end after like a month of searching but who knew that obsessively raising my credit score for a year by like....occasionally chilling all night in an IHOP rather than use a credit card too much on a room would like....pay off with a credit score that actually is useful to me in a way that means I don’t even care right now that hahaha credit scores are just pointless imaginary numbers that really only exist because capitalism’s a dick?

Look I’m allowed to be a hypocrite for three weeks let me have this, I promise I’ll go back to ranting about people selling their souls for the sake of strings of binary code on a computer screen, like just cuz I wasn’t using mine doesn’t mean other ppl don’t want theirs.

Because oh yeah so I was like gimme the loan plz and they were like ugh fine and I somehow got my credit card companies to raise my limits because I’ve had them for over a year now and I honestly couldn’t even tell you how I convinced them to do that like did I haggle did I beg did I put out, who knows, it’s been a very long and strange and sleep deprived month and that’s on top of a long, strange, sleep-deprives two years. Point is between raising my limits on those two, the loan of DOOM and getting a CareCredit card with the remaining credit left to me or before the latter realized I’d just massively dinged my credit cuz the raised limits and loan hadn’t been reported yet, I came up with the $12400. Like again most of that is in the form of imaginary money that I’ll probably spend years paying out of future paychecks so if anyone wants to go ahead and put The Revolution on the books for like, say October, that would actually really work for me. I’d even be all pumped and full of rest and vigor and extra fightey and like, you know how fightey I usually am to begin with I’m just saying....

So now I am literally just waiting for my loan check to clear in my bank account cuz my doctor doesn’t accept checks. Second it does, probably Monday, I’ll go down to my doctors office, pay the $6200 upfront and finish the insurance paperwork for them to submit the claim for the insurance company’s part of it, and they can officially schedule my surgery, possibly in as little as three weeks??!!

Which is absolutely surreal to me, like after literal years of treading water and setbacks and everything dragging out endlessly and he’ll even just yesterday, it’s utterly bizarre finishing my stuff at my bank and doctor’s this morning and hearing how matter of fact they all are about how quickly things could happen now and like. Finally be over. Or like, start lol in the sense of holy shit I could actually maybe have an actual life again.

They can’t confirm a date until my first payment is processed, only then does she officially put me on the books at Cedar Sinai when they can get me into an open OR, but it hopefully could be the 20th. She’s already got another surgery scheduled for that day and an OR booked for it with potential slots before and after it but I can’t count on the 20th as a given just yet. Could still be one, two or even three weeks after that before they actually fit me in, so I’m trying not to set my thoughts and hopes too much on that three weeks from now appointment but that’s easier said than done. LOL.

But whenever it’s actually set for, I go in the day of, pay the second half of the payment, and the surgery takes a few hours but they send me home the same day. My high school friend from San Diego hopefully is going to be able to take enough time off to look out for me while I recover, we’ve been tentatively planning for that for most of a year but couldn’t guarantee anything with her work until we had actual dates which I mean we still don’t technically have. But my jaw will be wired shut for ten days so there’s no way I can manage on my own, esp the way I’ve been getting by day-to-day, and I’ll be on a liquid diet and having to drink everything through a special straw and stuff and completely unable to talk the whole time and oh yeah also apparently in agonizing pain that I’ve been extensively warned could put anything I’ve experienced thus far to shame, so I’m really REALLY looking forward to that part lol. Currently pondering the viability of just knocking myself unconscious every day. We’ll see how it goes.

But after that I go back in ten days later and they unwire my jaw, check that everything looks okay and I’m healing the way I’m supposed to, and I have two weeks of physical therapy and....that’s it. It’s over. I’m just. I’m just leaving that right there for now because I honestly don’t even know what to do with that thought after all this time, it’s. Like I can’t quite wrap my head around it and even really picture how that works. Idk my brain just fizzes out and it’s like wait, are you sure, that doesn’t sound right.

But like I made them go over it multiple times to make sure I wasn’t missing anything or understanding it wrong or whatever, like my doctor was this combination of kinda amused but also exasperated when I finally stopped asking to go over it all again. LOL look I just really really really needed to be sure there wasn’t something else involved that like I was supposed to already know or have been told by someone else, I don’t know okay? Anyone who’s been following me the last couple years knows that this isn’t how this sort of things go, they’re supposed to get my hopes up and then tell me they have no clue what’s wrong or send me off to someone else or tell me oh yeah you also need another thirty thousand and an MRI and some headgear that’s like made of platinum, but we just thought you already knew that. LOL.

But. I mean. Yeah. That’s it. I checked. A lot. Theoretically though unless there’s some new bizarre development in which case I will most likely detach my spirit from my body and evolve into my ultimate great rage power Digimon form, AreYouFreakingKiddingMeMon, and go like, fight god or the physical embodiment of the universe or whatever like I keep threatening....like, that really is what’s left. And then it’s all over. My jaw should by all accounts be restored to its full functionality from before all this. No more pain, no more eternal headache, no vertigo, blind-outs, no problems eating any particular food or swallowing or 45 degree slope to my lower jaw, none of the shit that’s been my day to day existence for well. Years. LOL.

Yeah. Really don’t know what to do with that yet. I just. Can’t. Haha.

Anyway, as I’ve said before, I literally couldn’t have made it to this point without the support of people here, both emotionally and financially. I hate to ask it because you’ve helped so much already, but I’m definitely going to have to ask for your help a little longer, there’s just no way around it. I am completely wiped and tbh overwhelmed so I’m probably going to try and sleep the rest of the day - I was pretty much up all night, unable to sleep while I waited to hear back on all this.

Then when my head’s fully processing things again and not friztzing our because I’ve forgotten how to process good news, lol, I’ll probably be putting together a post asking for your help paying my insurance premiums one last time, and on Monday or once I get the official set in stone date for my surgery I’ll be doing another, basically begging you guys to help keep me afloat the hopefully no more than three weeks til then.

I really really hate having to do that when I know you all have helped and given so much already, and it’ll literally be nothing more than my basic expenses of motel room and food, I don’t need anything beyond that, but I truly don’t see anyway around it. I exhausted every possible avenue available for me to try with my credit in order to get this loan and raise my limits enough, and I milked every cent I could out of those. There’s just no more money to be pulled out of any of that, it took everything I had to get what I needed for the surgery. And I’m afraid of the very real possibility that if I don’t ask for this help because of pride or because of how much I’ve asked for already, I’ll end up using one of my credit cards to pay for my room and such and end up stuck without enough money at hand to cover the second half payment on my day of surgery and I truly literally can not afford that. I have no idea what will happen with my insurance if I have to reschedule, how long it would take to reschedule, etc.

And the other side of this is there’s really not a whole lot left I can do for work at the moment. I’ve finished off all my existing projects except for one last cover and they already paid for it in advance. I honestly don’t know that I could take on new jobs if it ends up with my surgery on the 20th in just three weeks. Searching for more jobs and clients has become more and more time consuming these past months as is, and the simple truth is I couldn’t in good conscience or in honesty guarantee any new clients that I could finish their job in that time frame. Not with my present state physically and mentally and the uncertainty of my day to day expenses and stress about potential complications hanging over my head and not, truthfully, mixing all that well with my pre-existing mental health conditions lol. And yeah, if I can’t guarantee getting any new projects done in three weeks, I can’t afford to take them on for any potential client’s sake, not to mention the sake of my professional reputation, which I will really need to be, y’know, intact, in order to rebuild my life basically from the ground up, once my previous physicality and quality of life comes back after my surgery and recovery (knock on wood). With at least two or three weeks of recovery after the surgery even assuming it goes well and has no other complications, that’s way too much time to leave clients hanging and not be available to address any needs, concerns, revisions, etc. Especially if they’re not returning clients but brand new ones.

So yeah, as much as I would love to not have to ask for any more help than I already have and have been given, I sincerely just don’t see any alternatives that don’t jeopardize or risk wasting all the help I’ve already been given. You know I am fully aware of just how much that is and what its cost some of you, and I already could never repay you for this, not even in terms of just the money itself, but the fact that I know some of you have given at your own very real expense, sending me money that you really could have used yourself, that wasn’t any kind of surplus. I am already beyond grateful and humbled and overwhelmed how many of you have stepped forward to help me in ways that even though I’m older than many of you, I honestly have no precedent for, in ways and to an extent I’ve never received help or support from family. So I just needed to say that again, because I have not asked for any of this lightly, and I don’t now either. Really, really thank you. I’m not exaggerating or being dramatic or hyperbolic or silly for a change, when I say you guys most likely saved my life. Its simple fact. Hell, I was genuinely hours away from sleeping outside freezing my ass off in December, that first time I posted asking for help and you guys came through for me. So, yeah. I will never ever forget this, and never ever be able to give back as much as I’ve been given these past few months, though I will always do my best to pay it forward.

I’m going to go ahead and leave my paypal link here anyway, though I’ll be making those two additional posts tomorrow and next week, as I said. Aiming to keep them shorter than this, well, shorter than any of my posts, really, as shorter posts really just get more traction and I’ll need that. I can always link to the longer explanations of my situation for those wanting to know more.

Again, thank you all more than I can figure out how to put into words. I’m finally. Fuck. LOL. Sorry, I’m being very umm, sentimental over here but like its your fault I’m overwhelmed lol, like omg you guys, you can’t just throw love and affection and support at a guy with so much childhood traaaaaaaaauma, his brain doesn’t know how to handle it, look, you broke him. Are you happy? You broke his brain machine.

Okay cool, we’re back to inanity and obnoxious humor as an overcompensating self-defense mechanism, whew, everything’s normal, everyone can relax. LOL. Anyway, I’m gonna shut up now and go try and get some rest. Just know that I’m doing so feeling way more....hopeful? Optimistic? Faith-in-humanity-and-goodwill-and-community-ey? Than I have in years.

....the fact that I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now is called probably tells you all you need to know about me, huh? LMFAO God I’m so messed up lol. But whatever. Still alive and kicking. So. Y’know. There’s always that.

https://paypal.me/bigskydreaming?locale.x=en_US

[myvelouri]

Still have a fever. This is insane. I'm sweating so much I have a headache from becoming dehydrated

I'm really weak. Been sick too many days now. Nothing is working

How did I end up here?

I remember when I moved here in 2015. My mom and dad were healthy and we were doing well financially finally. So many promises. I remember our neighbors being nice. I was still pretty at the time, I remember the daughter totally had a crush on me. She was way young though, and I embarrassingly didn't recognize her. She wanted to hug me and I said no, idk I was upset at that moment. Idk if I even hugged her or not. I just didn't recognize her. Oh wow I'm so weak right now it's hard to move my fingers to type. Yeah my other neighbor, older lady thought I was beautiful, she told my parents haha. I remember being happier. I had been recovering from jaw surgery and going to college. I moved all of our belongings from the old house to this one. Yeah before I had a bad back problem. I was doing well. Suddenly, my dad got rhumatoid arthritis, my mom got many different conditions, my dad got more conditions. Suddenly my dad couldn't work anymore, my health started deteriorating badly, I'm ugly as fuck now, my depression makes it nearly impossible to pass classes as I can't retain or understand anything, it's the depression. I can't work as much as everyone else, I mean I'll do 30+ hours sometimes but still it breaks my body. My dad is getting denied for disability even though he needs it. He's in pain everyday. Hate seeing him like that. I'm not making enough money. I can't go to college or University unless I take loans but even then, I'd likely fail as I couldn't study enough (I need to A LOT due to depression) because I'd still have to work. My parents are dumb, they want me to work full-time as well as go to college full-time and they think getting a scholarship is easy and anyone could get a full ride. Just cause my sister got a full ride scholarship. She's able to pass classes just fine. I'm not her. It's weird because she's a dumbass lol. I still teach her shit, and I'm just like, why the fuck am I struggling with classes. Well, I didn't struggle prior to depression. Yeah so now I'm here. We're losing the house. Our health deteriorating, I am stuck, I can't get out, I want a normal life in this regard at least, you know, just going to college, like everyone else. Ffs. I am so abnormal that I can't even have that. I went through a breakup too, I didn't have sex with anyone, I only hooked up with one girl, I wish I didn't though. I kissed 2 other girls and I stopped because it was all so weird, it was too early. And I stayed abstinent, didn't even fap for months to a year. Suddenly I got hsv1 and I kept getting EXTREMELY ill EVERY MONTH. I'm still suffering, but this time I stayed healthy for 4 months. But fuck, it's still too soon. And I'm recovering so slow it feels like I'm not recovering at all. I feel so weak everyday, my brain is not fully functioning. So much is wrong. And all the other things I've said I hate about myself and my bs conditions, all the unfair shit wrong with me. Just all of it. I don't want this life. I'm grateful for all the good memories and great things when I had them. Life sucks but can have some beauty. But honestly, I'm tired now. I don't want to live anymore.

It's physically and mentally painful to be around now. And it's sad because I remember when I used to be happy. That'll never happen again. Basically like entropy. You can't get it back.

How did it end up like this

#personal