#Episodic water dependency disorder

[drawingrainbowsonthewalls]

Episodic Water Dependency [Disorder] [EpWD or EWDD]

Definition: A disorder characterized by having episodes of extreme water dependency that cause discomfort, distress, stress, and/or depressive thoughts, feelings, or actions. These emotions often result in impulsive or compulsive actions in order to be in, near, or consume water/another liquid. [this could also be used as a symptom or aspect of another disorder]

[tw: mentions sh and suicide below]

[Ones Dependent Liquid or DL may vary however this Disorder was made with water in mind… you could call it ELDD, Episodic Liquid Dependency Disorder if you wish or if that fits better]

Symptoms/Criteria:

      1) Distress, discomfort, dysfunction, stress, or dysphoria when one has not been in, near, or in—some cases—consumed water/their DL[dependent liquid] recently.

      2) Having a strong connection to water or your DL[dependent liquid] that may intertwine with various aspects of ones identity.

      3) during an episode being unable to function/experiencing a difficulty in functioning when one has not come in contact with water or their DL[dependent liquid] for short or extended periods of time [this can be as long as a month or as short as a few minutes].

      4) [If one experiences sensory differences] having ones sensory issues get worse during episodes where they have not had contact with water or their DL for an extended or short time. 

      6) experiencing depressive episodes, suicidal and/or self-harm induced thoughts/actions, or similar during/as a result of water dependency episodes. One could also turn to water/their DL for the answer/solution to problems. 

      7) Having these symptoms and experiences be more extreme than typical water/liquid dependency. 

      8) noticing episodic patterns for at least 3 months; an episode, worsening of symptoms, or development of this disorder may occur for a variety of reasons such as external factors like stress or fear as well as internal factors such as self-esteem, brain chemical levels, and/or other mental health problems. 

      9) Fear or distress caused by being dirty or feeling like your dirty even if you’ve recently showered, bathed, or washed off.

Possible causes, triggers, and risks:

      1) The cause/causes for this disorder are unknown however possible causes may include:

           - Neglect

           - Being without proper ways to clean/clean oneself fro extended periods of time

           - Low-self-esteem or poor mental health

           - Paranoia or a fear of germs

      2) You may be more at risk if you have another mental health disorder/syndrome such as Major Depressive Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, OCD, DPD, PTSD, etc. etc.

      3) Common triggers for an episode include but are not limited to; overwhelming / intense emotions, stressful and / or traumatic events, being away from running water / water / their DL, being unable to wash yourself, etc.

      4) Some of the possible risks that come with EpWD[D] is:

            -  Becoming overly dependent on water/your DL and running the risk of it becoming an addiction.

            -  Being unable to function or get work done because of distress, stress, or discomfort surrounding feeling messy/unkempt  -OR- being unable to work or function because you’re too caught up cleaning yourself and surroundings. 

            -  A disconnection in relationships as they don’t/wouldn’t understand and/or feeling too stress/distressed/uncomfortable to make strong bonds and connections

This term can be used by anyone // we have no DNI so neither do our coins // please follow your own DNI

As long as you use this term in good faith [genuinely, not as a joke or troll] we will have no problems as it is not our place to tell you what to do.

if this term or something similar has been coined prior to this consider it a recoin / redesign as we often do not know or realize

[shelovesosa]

PATIENT 001. SUGURU GETO

patient!Suguru x f!officer!Reader

Contains : MDNI, Dark (?), personality disorder, SMUT, explicit sex, obsessive, possession, Fingering, oral ( f receiving), p in v, dirty Talk, Making out, mental institution.

cw:13.5k

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, flickering every so often like they were struggling to stay alive. You hated that sound—it reminded you of hospitals, of cold spaces where people were forgotten. This job wasn’t supposed to feel like that. But after five months at Ishimura Psychiatric Facility, you were starting to forget why you’d come in the first place.

You moved down the corridor, past rows of numbered doors with observation windows sealed shut. Some rooms were quiet. Others were not. Screams had become background noise. Whispers, too. The night shift had always been your assignment, but lately, it felt like something was watching from the corners of every hallway. Something unseen. Not ghostly—but human. Raw. Unstable.

Tonight was different.

A file had been handed to you at shift change, its tab labeled in thick black ink: GETO, SUGURU – WARD 12B. You’d never heard the name before. Unusual, given how closely the staff gossiped about patients—especially the difficult ones. But when you asked, they avoided eye contact. One nurse simply said, “He’s new. You’ll see.”

You didn’t like the way she said it.

Ward 12B was restricted to high-risk patients—those with unpredictable episodes, violent histories, or, in rare cases, special classifications. Suguru was marked as the latter. “Split personality,” the notes said. “Unknown trauma. One compliant. One... less so.”

You stood in front of his door now, clipboard pressed against your chest.

Through the tiny glass square, you saw him. Black hair hung loose around his face, long and unkempt. He sat cross-legged on the floor, facing the wall. His hands rested on his knees, fingers twitching slightly as if playing a piano only he could hear. He hadn’t noticed you yet.

You knocked once. Firm, but not threatening.

His head turned.

You expected aggression. Or maybe emptiness. But his dark eyes met yours with a calm stillness, like deep water—quiet but capable of drowning you.

You opened the door slowly, stepping in with practiced caution. “Suguru Geto?”

He didn’t answer. His gaze shifted to the floor.

“I’m Officer Y/N. I’ll be assigned to monitor your behavior this week.” You kept your voice neutral. Not too soft. Not too firm.

Still nothing.

You checked the file again. 'Subject One: Reclusive, nonverbal, avoidant tendencies. Often presents first.' You wondered what that meant exactly. “Are you comfortable?” you asked.

He blinked once. Slowly.

You moved a little closer, cautious but curious. There was something magnetic about his presence—even without words. He had an elegance to the way he sat, an eerie calm that didn’t match the harsh lines of the institution.

And then, without warning, his lips moved.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured.

The voice was soft. Like a violin string drawn slow and low. You blinked, heart tapping against your ribs.

“Why not?” you asked.

He tilted his head to the side, expression unreadable. “Because he likes girls like you.”

Before you could ask what that meant, his body jerked. It wasn’t violent. More like a ripple passed through him. His posture shifted, relaxed. Then a slow smirk spread across his face.

And the second he looked at you again, you knew he wasn’t the same.

“Well, well,” the new voice said—deeper, smoother, cocky. “Finally. Someone worth looking at.”

You took a step back.

“Suguru?” you asked, more to ground yourself than him.

He grinned, pushing himself off the floor with too much ease. “Depends on who you’re asking for, sweetheart.”

His whole demeanor had changed. Gone was the quiet boy facing the wall. This one walked toward you with a swagger, a spark in his eye that dared you to stop him.

You should’ve pressed the emergency button on the wall. You should’ve called in backup. But something about the shift—something about him—made your breath catch instead.

“I’ve been bored out of my mind in here,” he said, circling you like a predator. “But you… you're interesting. Pretty. I like your eyes. Bet you’re fun when you’re off duty.”

He was close now. Too close.

And then just like that, he turned away, laughing as he threw himself back on the bed like none of it mattered.

“Tell the doc I’m fine,” he said. “Better, even. Now that you’re here.”

You watched him, unsettled. The way his energy flipped. The way your pulse raced.

Suguru Geto wasn’t a patient. He was a storm. And you were standing in the eye of it.

You requested the night shift yourself.

It wasn’t protocol for an officer to stay stationed outside a single patient’s room—but after what happened during your first encounter with Suguru, the supervisor made an exception. “Observe and document,” he said. “Only intervene if necessary. And don’t speak unless spoken to.��

You wondered how long that rule would last.

Ward 12B was quieter tonight. Most patients had been sedated after dinner. The hallway lights dimmed automatically after ten, casting everything in soft hues of green and blue, like the inside of an aquarium. You sat just outside his room, back against the wall, journal in hand. The door was closed but unlocked, observation glass at eye level.

Inside, Suguru was pacing.

Not the arrogant one. Not him.

This was the quiet version again.

His steps were small, calculated. He walked the room like it was a cage, tracing the same path over and over, fingers brushing along the wall as if feeling for something invisible. You couldn’t tell if he knew you were watching—but you felt like he did.

You wrote it down.

10:24 p.m. – Subject pacing. Silent. Facial expression neutral. Possible distress?

He suddenly stopped.

You froze mid-sentence.

Then he turned—slowly—and stared straight through the window. His eyes met yours with the same unreadable intensity as before, and even through the glass, it felt like his silence could crawl into your skin and rearrange something inside of you.

Your hand tightened around the pen.

He moved to the door.

Then he knocked.

Once. Twice. Three soft taps.

Your heart stuttered. You stood, hesitated, then cracked the door open half an inch.

“Yes?” you asked.

His voice was different now. Not the flirt. Not the mocking tone. Just a whisper.

“Can I ask you something?”

You stepped in cautiously. He was barefoot, standing near the wall where he’d been tracing his fingers. His shoulders were slightly hunched, like he didn’t want to take up space.

“You can ask,” you said, “but I might not answer.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours. “Do you… remember dreams?”

You frowned. “Sometimes.”

He looked away. “I think I had one. But it didn’t feel like mine.”

You stayed quiet, letting him speak in his own rhythm.

“There was a garden. A white dog. It had something in its mouth… something bleeding.”

The room felt colder suddenly.

You stepped closer. “Was anyone else in the dream?”

His lips parted like he was about to say something, but then—something changed.

His body stiffened.

And then he blinked, and when his eyes opened again—

There he was.

The flirt. The player. The storm.

“Oh come on,” he said, a smirk curling on his lips. “You really bought into that tortured poetry thing? The whole bleeding dog in a dream act?”

You stepped back immediately.

“Did you fake that?” you asked, voice sharper now.

“Does it matter?” he said, tilting his head. “You came in. You’re here. That’s all I need.”

He stepped toward you, slow and unhurried. A hunter with time to kill.

“I get it, though,” he said, eyes raking over you like you were something to be unwrapped. “You like the broken ones. The quiet boys with sad eyes. But what about me, huh?”

He was in front of you now, so close you could smell the faint traces of lavender soap they made all patients use. “What if I’m the real one? What if I’m the part you should be scared of?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

And then—

“Step back,” you said, voice firm. “Now.”

His expression flickered. Not with fear. Not even surprise. With interest.

Then he smiled.

“Mm. There she is,” he purred. “Didn’t think you had that in you.”

He backed away without a fight, hands raised in mock surrender. But even as he retreated, his eyes never left yours.

“I’ll be seeing you, sweetheart,” he said as he dropped back onto the bed. “One of us will.”

You closed the door. Locked it behind you this time.

You leaned against the wall, pulse hammering in your ears. And though you were alone in the corridor, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still staring.

And somewhere deep inside your chest, a quiet question stirred—
Which one of them was real?

The alarms went off at exactly 3:03 a.m.

Your pen dropped. A red strobe light blinked above the hallway. Loudspeakers echoed down the tiled corridor:
“Code White. Patient absence detected. Sector 12B. All units respond.”

Suguru’s room.

You were already running.

The hallway bent like a crooked spine under the flickering lights, your boots striking hard against the ground. It wasn’t possible. You had locked the door yourself. You had checked it twice.

But when you reached Room 12B, the truth was staring you in the face.

The door was wide open.

Inside, the bed was empty. Sheets undisturbed. No signs of a struggle. The camera in the corner blinked a dead red light—offline.

One of the nurses skidded into the room behind you, pale-faced. “Security’s sweeping the floor,” she said breathlessly. “They think he triggered the breaker for this wing. Half the feeds are down.”

You swallowed hard. “No. He didn’t trigger anything. He planned this.”

Suguru Geto was not just another patient.

There was no time to wait.

You grabbed your flashlight, clipped your keycard to your collar, and moved quickly toward the East annex. It was a dead-end hall, closed off since the renovations last winter. Most staff didn’t go near it anymore. Too cold. Too dark. Too... off.

But something tugged at your gut. A whisper in your spine.

You found the door half open.

Inside, the lights were out. The smell of mold and dust hit you immediately. Paint peeled from the walls in long gray ribbons. Every instinct screamed to call for backup, but something kept your hand away from the radio.

Something about him.

You stepped inside.

“Suguru,” you called softly, sweeping your flashlight across the old rec room.

Silence.

Then a shadow flickered past the beam.

You turned quickly. “Suguru!”

A breath. A shuffle.

Then you saw him—sitting cross-legged on the floor behind an overturned table, like a child hiding from the world. His hair was a mess, his shirt wrinkled, and for a moment… he looked small.

It was him again.

The quiet one.

“I didn’t mean to scare anyone,” he said softly.

You didn’t move. “Why did you leave your room?”

His eyes barely met yours. “He said he wanted to find her.”

“Her?”

He nodded. “The girl from the dream. With the bleeding dress. He said she’s here.”

You crouched slowly, careful not to get too close. “Suguru, there’s no girl. Just staff. You’re safe here.”

His fingers curled around the edge of the table. “He said she was hiding in someone. Wearing their face. And if we didn’t find her—she’d find us first.”

Goosebumps bloomed up your arms.

He looked at you then—really looked at you—and asked, “Is it you?”

You opened your mouth, but something in his voice made your chest tighten.

Before you could speak, he flinched. His hands gripped his temples. A pained groan escaped his throat.

“No, no, not now—stop—don’t—”

He lurched forward, body seizing briefly, then—

Gone again.

When he looked up this time, the smirk was back.

“Well damn,” he said, stretching his neck like a wolf waking up. “I leave for five minutes and you chase me down? I knew you’d miss me, sweetheart.”

You stood slowly.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you said, voice lower. “Disappearing. Playing games.”

“Who said it’s a game?” he murmured, standing up. “Maybe I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?”

He stepped closer. Closer than he had any right to.

“From him,” he whispered.

You stared at him, heart pounding. “Aren’t you him?”

He smiled—but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

The next morning, the order came down from the director himself: "Subject 12B will now be under direct observation for a 48-hour period. One-on-one assignment. No exceptions."

You didn’t argue.

No one else wanted the job anyway.

You sat outside his door again, only this time it was propped open. Two cameras were reinstated, one inside, one outside. Security was on edge, murmuring about how he could've slipped out unnoticed. But they didn’t understand.

He hadn’t slipped.

He’d chosen to disappear. And that was worse.

Suguru lay on his bed now, arms folded behind his head, one ankle crossed over the other like he didn’t have a care in the world. The flirt was awake.

“You know,” he called lazily, “I liked last night. You, chasing me through the dark. You looked hot holding that flashlight.”

You didn’t answer.

He grinned at your silence. “Still mad?”

“I’m not here to entertain you.”

“Ouch,” he said, mock wounded. “And here I thought we were finally bonding.”

You flipped a page on your clipboard, noting his behavior. “Why did you run last night, Suguru?”

He rolled his head to the side, eyes narrowing. “You’re not talking to the right me for that answer.”

“I think I am,” you replied quietly.

That stopped him.

He sat up slowly, gaze sharpening. “Interesting. You think I’m lying?”

“I think you know more than you pretend.”

He laughed under his breath, but there was no humor in it. “That’s rich. You’re stuck with me for two days, and now you think you’ve got it all figured out?”

“I don’t,” you said. “But I’m not scared of you.”

He stood, and just like that, the air in the room changed.

Not violently.

But deliberately.

He walked toward you—not quickly, but with purpose, like every step had meaning. You held your ground.

He leaned in, so close his breath hit your cheek. “Maybe you should be.”

And then—like flipping a switch—he stopped. His shoulders dropped. His mouth opened slightly, as if startled by the distance between you. His hand reached out and hovered near your arm, not touching. Just trembling.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” the soft voice said. The quiet one. “I didn’t want it to go this far.”

You froze.

“You’re back,” you whispered.

He looked down at his hands like they didn’t belong to him. “Sometimes I wake up and he’s already done things. Things I don’t remember.”

Your voice softened. “Can you feel him before he comes?”

He nodded slowly. “It’s like… a shadow under my skin.”

You didn’t speak for a moment.

Then: “Do you want help?”

He blinked, then looked at you, truly looked. “Would you help someone like me?”

Your chest tightened. “I think you’re already helping yourself. You just don’t know how to finish.”

A pause.

Then he sat down on the edge of the bed again, hunched forward, hands clasped tightly. “He likes you. I can feel it.”

“I know,” you said.

“But I think… I think I do too.”

You didn’t write that part down.

You stayed later than your shift required. Not because you were ordered to, not because anyone asked—but because something in Suguru’s eyes when he said “I think I do too” kept echoing in your chest. It wasn’t love. Not yet. But it wasn’t nothing, either.

The night nurses noticed your silence. The way your fingers hovered over the call button just a second too long before retracting. One of them offered to take your place for the watch. You said no.

You weren’t ready to let anyone else in the room with him yet.

It was nearly midnight when you returned to his door.

Suguru was awake, curled in the corner of his room like a boy who had never learned to sleep properly. He was drawing something with the stub of a pencil—images of hands and mouths, abstract and jumbled, like memories he didn’t understand. You stepped inside without speaking.

He didn’t look up. “I knew you’d come back.”

“I told you I would.”

He set the pencil down, slow and deliberate. “Not everyone keeps their word around here.”

You sat in the chair by the wall. “I’m not everyone.”

He nodded once. “No. You’re not.”

There was a long stretch of silence between you, but it wasn’t heavy. It felt like shared breath. Like dusk pressed between two people who had nowhere else to be.

Then he spoke again.

“Sometimes, he dreams,” he said, voice low. “And I see the pieces when I wake up. He’s not just a monster, you know.”

You blinked. “He?”

“Him. The other me.” Suguru glanced up, hesitant. “He remembers warmth. A woman’s hands. A name he never says. I think… I think something happened to him. To us. Before all of this.”

Your throat felt tight. “Did you ever try asking him?”

“I can’t,” he whispered. “When he comes forward, I disappear. And when I come back, he’s already ruined something.”

You stared at him for a long time.

“I don’t think he wants to hurt you,” you said carefully. “I think he wants you to be seen.”

Suguru’s lips parted. He didn’t respond. Not with words.

But then, in the stillness of the room, he asked the smallest question yet:

“Can you stay?”

It broke something soft and trembling inside you.

You nodded. “For a while.”

He closed his eyes. For once, he didn’t twitch. He didn’t curl away from your presence. He just breathed, and for a moment, it felt like a ceasefire inside his chest.

You didn’t know how long you sat there. Time passed differently in the presence of someone fragile—slow, sacred. It wasn’t until you shifted in your seat that the air changed.

He stirred. But it wasn’t him anymore.

Not the quiet one.

The eyes opened sharper this time. Darker.

“Well,” the flirt drawled, lips curling, “you two getting cozy now?”

Your shoulders tensed. “Don’t ruin this.”

His head tilted. “Ruin what?”

“Whatever that was. The way he trusts me.”

He leaned forward. “Don’t get confused, sweetheart. You think he trusts you? That shy little part? He’s just a boy clutching at whatever light’s nearby. But me?” His grin widened. “I choose to want you.”

You stood. “That’s not the same thing.”

“It’s better.”

You walked to the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, without looking back.

“You always do,” he called after you.

But his voice followed you out like perfume—sweet, thick, and dangerous. And for the first time since starting this job, you questioned if staying close to Suguru was saving him…

…or ruining you.

You arrived earlier than scheduled. You told yourself it was to check paperwork, review the footage, confirm medication dosages. But none of that explained why you brought coffee for two—one black, one with cream, the way he liked it when he was the one sitting in control.

Suguru was sitting on the windowsill when you entered.

The flirt was gone. You could tell before a word passed between you.

This was the quiet one—shoulders hunched, knees tucked to his chest, gazing through the reinforced glass like he was searching for someone outside. You gently set the coffee down beside his bed, but didn’t call his name.

You waited.

After a long silence, he spoke.

“I remembered something.”

Your heart skipped.

You crossed the room, crouched down beside him, your voice low. “Tell me.”

“It wasn’t a garden. Not really. The one in the dream.” His eyes stayed fixed on the window. “It was a backyard. Fenced in. Grass too tall. And there was a dog… It didn’t have anything in its mouth. It was just barking. Loud. Over and over.”

You said nothing, letting him unravel it on his own.

“I think… I was hiding. Under a porch or something. Small space. Dirt and wood. I remember the smell.”

His hands curled around the windowsill, knuckles pale.

“There were footsteps. Someone yelling. Not at me—at someone else. A man.”

You asked gently, “Do you remember the words?”

He hesitated. Then:

“You’ll ruin him.”

A chill crept up your spine.

Suguru’s voice broke on the next sentence. “I think that’s when it started. The split. The silence. One of us disappeared to survive, and the other one stayed to fight.”

You reached out slowly, hand brushing his sleeve. “You didn’t ruin anything. You survived.”

He turned to look at you then—and there was something raw in his eyes. Something real.

“I don’t know who I am without him.”

“You’re still Suguru,” you said. “Both sides are. You don’t need to choose between them. You need to understand them.”

You didn’t realize how close you were until his forehead touched yours, just barely, a soft press like a truce. You didn’t pull away.

But the second it became still—too still—you knew.

He was back.

The flirt’s voice brushed your ear like smoke.

“You’re making this harder for him, you know.”

You froze, breath caught.

“You think he needs your comfort? He doesn’t. He needs me. I’m the reason we’re still alive. I’m the one who fought.”

You pulled back, angry now. “You’re also the one who scares him.”

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I scare you, too. Don’t lie.”

You stood, jaw tight. “Not anymore.”

“Oh?” His grin twisted. “Then why do you flinch when I smile?”

You didn’t answer. You walked to the door.

But before you left, his voice softened just enough to stop you.

“You can’t save him from me,” he said, quiet now. Honest. “You’re already choosing. And I don’t like to be second.”

You didn’t turn around. You just left the room.

But your hands trembled the whole way down the hall.

It started with a locked drawer. You weren’t snooping. You were looking for a form—routine, harmless. But when you found the drawer in Dr. Kaede’s office slightly ajar and a corner of Suguru’s file sticking out, something in your gut twisted.

You told yourself it was protocol. You told yourself you had clearance.

The folder was thicker than any other patient’s. Thick with redacted pages, notes scratched out violently, timestamps missing from observation logs.

And there, tucked between transfer papers and medication schedules, was a name.

Naoe Geto — listed under guardian/contact, then struck through.

No parent information. No emergency contact. No birthday. No photo on file.

But the handwriting on the back of one note caught your eye.

Split began after second incident. Patient exhibited knowledge of injuries sustained while in fugue state. Second personality claims responsibility. Violent protector instinct triggered. Suppress with sedatives until further review.

The date? Four years ago. At his last facility.

And scribbled at the bottom, almost too small to read:

He remembers more than he says.

You returned the file carefully, heart thundering in your ears.

That night, you didn’t sit outside his door. You stepped in and stayed.

Suguru was humming to himself, pacing. The flirt again—smirking, restless, aware of his own gravity. He looked over his shoulder when you entered, all arrogance and gleam.

“Back for another late-night confession?” he asked. “Or are you finally giving in?”

You locked the door behind you.

His eyebrows lifted. “Oh?”

“I found your file.”

His smile slipped.

“I know about the second incident. About how he blacked out, and you took over. You protected him.”

For once, he didn’t have a comeback.

You walked toward him, slowly. “You’ve always been trying to protect him, haven’t you? That’s why you act like this. You’re not just angry. You’re afraid.”

His jaw flexed. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you stopped him from seeing something he couldn’t handle. I know you keep people away because if someone gets close enough to hurt him again, he won’t come back.”

His breath hitched.

You stopped in front of him, close enough to feel the warmth rolling off his skin.

“I know you’re not a monster, Suguru. Not this version. Not the other.”

He blinked. “Why are you saying this?”

“Because I see you. Not just the quiet one. You.”

The silence between you was sharp, trembling.

Then, so softly it nearly broke you: “No one’s ever said that to me.”

Your hand reached out—just a little. Not touching him. Just there. A choice.

And he made one too. He stepped forward. Not to tease. Not to flirt. But to press his forehead to yours, breathing hard, shaking slightly. No armor. No sarcasm.

Just him.

“If you keep this up,” he whispered, voice raw, “I don’t think I’ll want to give him back.”

Your heart cracked.

“I’m not asking you to.”

The letter arrived on your desk the next morning.

To Officer Y/N L/N:
Your recent assignment to Patient 12B is being re-evaluated. There is concern of emotional enmeshment and compromised objectivity. Effective immediately, you are to cease direct overnight monitoring.
—Dr. Kaede, Chief Psychiatrist

You read it twice, then folded it once and tucked it into your coat.

It wasn’t a request.

It was a warning.

You sat with it through the day—through stale coffee, through clipped conversations with other staff who now watched you a little too closely. The institution could always tell when someone got too close. It had rules for this.

“Keep your distance.”

“Don’t talk like they’re people.”

“Don’t get attached.”

But they didn’t know Suguru like you did.

They didn’t see what you saw.

That night, you returned anyway.

The nurse at the front desk barely looked up as you passed. You weren’t scheduled. You didn’t care.

You entered his room quietly. The lights were dimmed. Suguru sat on the edge of the bed, head lowered, fingers interlaced like he’d been waiting hours without moving.

He didn’t look up when you spoke.

“They’re trying to pull me off your case.”

A beat.

Then: “Figures.”

It was the flirt. He looked up slowly, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth, but it was worn down now—frayed around the edges. Less armor, more exposed wire.

“You told me to stay away once,” you said. “But neither of you meant it.”

“No,” he said softly. “We didn’t.”

You sat across from him, closer this time. He didn’t pull back.

“They think I’ve compromised the boundary,” you said.

He leaned forward, eyes shadowed. “You did.”

Your breath caught.

“You’re not supposed to care about me,” he murmured. “Not either of me.”

You held his gaze. “But I do.”

He exhaled, like something inside him unclenched. “Then you’re more dangerous than I thought.”

You reached for his hand—not the quiet one��s, not the flirt’s. Just Suguru’s.

He let you.

And for a moment, he was silent. Utterly still.

Then he said, “He’s scared, you know. The other me. Scared if you keep coming back, I’ll disappear.”

You squeezed his hand. “And what about you?”

He met your eyes.

“I’m scared you’ll stop.”

The next morning, they moved him. Not far. Just a different wing. A different door. A new guard on his file. But they didn’t tell you. You found out when you showed up for the night shift and his room was empty. And on the whiteboard where his name used to be, someone had written in red:

RESTRICTED. DO NOT APPROACH.

You weren’t supposed to be in Wing D.

It required clearance you didn’t have anymore, a keycard that had been quietly deactivated the morning they moved him. But you were still wearing the uniform. You still walked like you belonged.

That was enough to bluff the new intern at the checkpoint.

You found his room near the end of the corridor—glass window, reinforced lock, nothing personal inside. Cold and clean, like he’d never been there at all.

He was sitting on the cot, knees drawn up, eyes glassy and still.

It was the quiet one.

But something was off.

You stood there for a moment, waiting. Expecting his gaze to shift, to lift at the sound of your voice. Waiting for recognition. The tiny flicker that always bloomed in his face when you entered.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping inside. “They didn’t tell me they were moving you.”

No response.

He didn’t even look up.

You tried again. “I brought you something. It’s just a drawing pencil. They wouldn’t let me bring the coffee.”

Nothing.

“Suguru?”

His head turned slowly, mechanically. He blinked once. Then again.

And then he asked—

“Who are you?”

You stopped breathing.

You moved closer, carefully. “It’s me. Officer L/N. I’ve been with you since the beginning. You—” your voice faltered, “you remember me.”

His expression didn’t shift. “I don’t.”

A pause. His hands trembled.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

You crouched down in front of him, heart hammering. “No, no. You’re just confused. This is part of it. Sometimes memories slip when one of you retreats. You just need time.”

He flinched at that word. One of you.

“Are there others?” he asked, voice fragile.

Your stomach sank.

He didn’t even know.

Someone had done this. Pushed him down so deep the fractures closed over. Someone had sedated him—or worse. He looked like a painting that had been scrubbed clean.

Empty.

You reached for his hand slowly. “You’re safe. I promise.”

But he pulled away.

“I don’t know you,” he said again, firmer now.

And you knew, then. He wasn’t lying. Whatever piece of him had remembered you—had needed you—was gone.

Or worse, buried.

You left the room in a blur, biting down on the scream in your throat. As the door locked behind you, you saw it: a camera in the corner blinking red.

Someone had watched the whole thing. Someone wanted you to see what happened when you got too close.

You didn’t sleep that night. You went home, sat in your car until the windows fogged, then sat some more. All you could see were his eyes. Vacant. Soft-spoken. Blank.
Who are you?

You knew he had two personalities—two sides trying to survive in a world that never gave them the tools to feel safe. But this wasn’t a shift. This wasn’t natural.

It was a wipe.

You returned the next morning in civilian clothes. No badge. No keys. Just questions.

You waited until the security guard at the front turned to chat with the front desk nurse, then slipped into the restricted records room using a code you weren’t supposed to remember.

Room logs. Observation footage. Medicine schedules.

And one word that shouldn’t have been there:

Midazolam. A sedative. Strong. Memory-altering in high doses.
Not standard for patient 12B.

And the signature beneath it?

Dr. Kaede.
No time. No consultation. No counter-signature.

You backed away from the file like it had burned you.

That night, you returned to Wing D. This time, you weren’t sure what you’d find. But as you stood outside his room, peering through the window, you could feel it before you saw it.

He wasn’t sitting on the bed. He was pacing again. Not slow. Not confused. Predator-smooth. Controlled. Angry.

You unlocked the door quietly. He didn’t look up at first. Then, slowly, he turned. And there he was. The flirt. The fighter.

“Oh,” he breathed, voice ragged. “So they didn’t kill you.”

Your chest rose. “You remember.”

He blinked hard. His smile cracked at the edges. “Not all of it. Just enough to hate what they did.”

You stepped inside.

“I found your file,” you said. “They’re drugging you.”

He nodded once. “Yeah. I figured, when I woke up and felt like I’d been replaced.”

You moved closer. “They’re trying to erase the split. Force you back into one person.”

He laughed bitterly. “Good luck with that.”

“You fought your way out,” you whispered. “You remembered me.”

His voice dropped to something darker, something real. “How could I forget the only person who’s ever seen both of me... and didn’t run?”

And then he stepped closer. Close enough for your breath to catch.

His hand hovered near your face—but didn’t touch. “You’re not scared of me anymore.”

“No.”

“You should be.”

“I know.”

And still, you didn’t move.

His fingers brushed your wrist lightly, almost reverent. “You stayed when he forgot you.”

“I knew you wouldn’t.”

His throat bobbed with the effort not to feel too much.

“You’re the only reason we’re still here.”

You looked up at him, steady. “Then help me fix this.”

He didn’t hesitate.

“I will,” he said. “But you need to understand something.”

You waited.

“If they try to take you away again…”
His eyes burned now, no smirk, no grin—just a promise.

“I won’t let them.”

It started with a sketch. You found it under Suguru’s pillow during a routine sweep. Not hidden well, not meant to be. A page torn from the corner of a therapy notebook. Charcoal smudged, lines rushed.

It was of you.

Not perfectly — the face only half-finished, your expression a little too calm, like he wasn’t sure how to draw your fear or your fire. But your posture, the slope of your shoulders, the softness in the way you seemed to look back — it was unmistakable.

You shouldn’t have kept it.

But you did.

You folded it once, tucked it into your jacket, and said nothing.

That night, when you visited, the flirt was gone. Suguru sat cross-legged on the floor, gaze fixed on the wall. He was murmuring to himself — not words, just sounds, like his mind was pacing too fast for his mouth to keep up.

You stepped inside quietly.

“Suguru,” you said gently.

He looked up. Startled. Not at the sight of you — but like he hadn’t expected to exist in the room at all.

His voice was thin. “You’re back.”

“Always.”

He blinked slowly. “He draws you when he misses you.”

You paused. “You both do.”

A flicker of something crossed his face.

“I see him sometimes,” he whispered. “Not as a voice. More like… a pressure. A breath on the back of my neck. When you leave, he comes back.”

You nodded. “And when I return?”

He hesitated. “He wants to touch you.”

The words hung heavy between you.

“And you?” you asked, voice quiet.

He didn’t answer for a long time.

Then: “I want to know what you smell like when you’re not in uniform.”

Your heart stuttered.

It wasn’t a flirtation. It was longing, honest and pure — a sensory detail that told you how closely he watched. How deeply he wondered.

“I want to know if you laugh when no one’s around,” he added, softer. “If you ever cry in your car. If your hands shake when you take your coffee.”

You knelt down beside him, heart aching.

“Why?”

“Because I’m not supposed to,” he whispered, almost ashamed. “I’m not supposed to want you like he does.”

“And yet…”

“And yet,” he repeated, eyes locking with yours, “I do.”

There were no jokes now. No smirks. No distance.

Just Suguru. The quiet one. The wounded one. And the man who, slowly, was letting love become more terrifying than madness.

He reached for your hand — timidly, trembling.

You let him.

And in the silence, you knew the truth neither of them dared say yet: They were both falling for you. And if the institution found out? They’d tear him apart to fix it.

You were called into the conference room without warning.

The door shut behind you with a final-sounding click, and Dr. Kaede was already seated at the far end of the table. A cup of untouched tea steamed beside her stack of files.

She didn’t look up when she spoke.

“Have a seat.”

You obeyed.

She opened Suguru’s file. You saw your own handwriting in some of the margins — updates, behavior notes, even small observations like ‘Responded to touch. Flinched when asked about mother.’

Dr. Kaede tapped her pen against the page.

“We ran a cognitive persistence scan last night after your visit.”

Your stomach dropped.

“You weren’t authorized to—”

“I wasn’t asking for your permission, Officer.”

You folded your hands in your lap, steadying your voice. “What did you find?”

She finally looked at you.

“Splintering.”

A cold silence filled the space.

“You said there were two,” she continued, “but now we’re seeing evidence of cross-memory bleeding. Flashes from one self appearing in the other's memory lane. Inconsistent emotional anchors. Even dream contamination.”

She paused.

“In simple terms: he’s losing cohesion. The lines between them are thinning.”

You gritted your teeth. “Because you’re forcing them to disappear.”

“No,” she said. “Because you are.”

That stunned you.

“What?”

“You’ve created an emotional link,” Kaede said flatly. “Both personalities are attaching to you. It’s destabilizing him. You’re not a tether — you’re a mirror. And it’s breaking him.”

You stood up.

“I’ve helped him.”

“No, you’ve complicated him.”

She flipped a page, and your breath caught. A scan. Brainwave activity. The two distinct rhythms — the shy one and the flirt — once clean and separate.

Now? They were overlapping. Bleeding into each other.

“If this continues,” she said, “they will consume each other. And when that happens, the core self — whatever’s left of the original Suguru Geto — may disappear entirely.”

You whispered, “So stop the sedatives. Let him balance naturally—”

“We can’t,” Kaede snapped. “If we let this run wild, he’ll either collapse into a singular violent state… or he’ll vanish mentally. Empty.”

Your throat tightened.

“And what’s your solution?” you asked, bitter.

She didn’t blink.

“Separation. Effective immediately.”

“No—”

“He’s being moved to a high-security psychiatric transfer facility tomorrow morning. No visitors. No staff continuity. No more contact.”

You felt the ground tilt.

“You’re erasing him.”

“I’m saving what’s left.”

That night, you didn’t sneak into his room. You ran. Suguru was waiting. Not pacing. Not joking. Just waiting. And when he saw your face, his smirk vanished instantly.

“What happened?”

You fell into him. Into his arms. Into everything. And he caught you like he’d known this would be the night.

“They’re taking you,” you said. “They’re transferring you tomorrow.”

His jaw clenched.

“No.”

“They said you’re breaking down. That the memories are bleeding. That you’ll disappear.”

His voice cracked. “That’s not true.”

“It’s happening, Suguru. You’re merging.”

He was silent.

Then, like it hurt to say it: “He knows.”

You pulled back, heart racing. “What?”

“The other me. He told me last night… in a dream. Or a memory. Or both.” His breath shook. “He said if we fall apart, he hopes you remember us.”

Your hands gripped his shirt. “Don’t let them take you. Fight.”

He looked at you then, really looked — and something terrifying flashed in his eyes.

“I will.”

They came for him at 5:47 a.m.

Two guards. No warning. No sedatives this time—just hand restraints and a tight escort schedule to a black-window van waiting at the back gate of the facility.

You weren’t on shift.

But you were already there.

You had slept in your car again, slouched beneath a thin coat and a thick ache in your chest, eyes locked on the red-lit loading zone outside Wing D. You hadn’t blinked since 5:00.

The moment you saw the guards open his door, you moved.

You didn’t knock. You didn’t hesitate.

You intercepted them in the hallway—almost threw yourself between them and Suguru. One of the guards reached for his baton, and the other barked your name.

“Officer L/N,” he growled. “Step aside.”

“No,” you said. “You’re making a mistake.”

Behind them, Suguru stood still. But his eyes— His eyes were alive. Not glassy. Not blank. Lit with something burning.

“Y/N,” he said. One word, soft and low.

And you knew. It wasn’t just him. It was them. Both of them.

His expression shifted before your eyes. From wide and trembling… to dark and furious. The way he used to smile when he was about to say something dangerous.

“I warned them,” he muttered.

The guards moved to grab him. Then everything unraveled.

He yanked free before they could clamp down. One guard stumbled. The other shouted, reaching for a syringe.

Suguru ducked, twisted, slammed his elbow into the man’s ribs. A breath later, he was standing behind you, chest to your back, arms around your waist, breathing hard.

“Which one are you?” you asked, half-whisper, half-prayer.

His lips brushed your ear.

“Both.”

You froze.

The shy one had never touched you like this. The flirt had never said your name with such reverence. And now—

Now they were here, at once. Sharing space. Sharing voice.

“I can’t leave,” he said, and it sounded like a confession. “Not without you.”

You turned to face him. His pupils were blown wide, his hands trembling against your waist.

“Then don’t,” you whispered. “Run.” And he did.

They issued a facility-wide lockdown five minutes later.

Wing D swept. Doors sealed. Alarms wailed. You stood near the empty hallway where he had last touched you, heart in your throat, the echo of his voice still humming in your skin.

They didn’t know where he went.

But you did.

There was one place Suguru had always studied on the map during his sessions. One door that was never locked properly. One stairwell that fed straight into the woods behind the east wall.

He was coming back. For you. Or maybe he never left.

They put you in the observation room. No handcuffs. No lawyers. Just four white walls, a camera in the ceiling, and a chair that wobbled slightly when you sat.

You’d been here before — when new hires were trained, when patients were questioned under sedation. But you’d never been the one being watched. Dr. Kaede entered without knocking.

She looked at you like you’d murdered someone.

“Where is he?”

You didn’t answer.

She dropped a manila folder on the table — inside, timestamped screenshots from hallway security cams. Suguru gripping your waist. Suguru whispering in your ear. Suguru not resisting.

“Do you understand what you’ve done?”

You lifted your chin.

“I helped someone who was being hurt.”

She scoffed. “You helped a violent schizophrenic with identity fragmentation escape a federally regulated psychiatric ward.”

“He’s not violent,” you snapped.

Her eyes sharpened. “Not yet.”

Silence stretched thin between you. Then, Kaede opened a drawer. She pulled out something small. A folded note.

She tossed it in front of you.

“We found this taped under your desk this morning.”

Your blood ran cold.

You opened the paper.

It was torn from the same therapy journal. Charcoal pencil. One line scrawled in the center in familiar, messy handwriting:

Did you miss me, pretty girl?
– S

You bit your lip to hide the tremble. He was here. Still inside. Still watching.

Kaede grabbed the note back. “He’s unstable. Unraveling. And somehow, he’s still managing to access restricted wings, unmonitored corridors, and empty offices without being seen.”

You looked her dead in the eye.

“Maybe you trained him too well.”

That night, another note. Slipped into the back of the file you weren’t supposed to touch anymore. This one was neater. Smaller handwriting. No signature.

I remember your voice better than my own.
That’s how I know I’m still me.

You pressed it to your chest and cried for the first time since he left.

In the days that followed, the staff began whispering. Files disappearing. Lights flickering. A staff phone found with the entire photo gallery wiped except one: a blurry picture of your back, seated at a desk.

The institution was haunted. Not by a ghost.
But by someone who refused to disappear.

The nights were getting colder in the halls of the institution. Too quiet. Too still. The other staff spoke in hushed tones when you entered. Some stared. A few avoided you entirely.

You weren’t sure if they pitied you, feared you, or blamed you. But none of it mattered. You were searching for Suguru. And he was leaving breadcrumbs.

That morning, you returned to the records room. You’d watched the same tapes again and again — footage from his therapy sessions, logged by date, dull and repetitive.

But something kept pulling you back to Session 18A.

You remembered it only because it was the first time he’d gone completely silent for the full hour. No eye contact. No movement. Just sitting there, breathing.

Until the last three seconds.

You hadn’t noticed it before. Maybe because you were already looking away. Maybe because you were trying not to get attached.

But this time, you leaned closer to the screen, eyes narrowed.

Just before the feed cut, Suguru raised his hand.

Two fingers to his temple. Then his lips moved — barely.

You replayed it again. And again. No audio. But you didn’t need it. Because you could read his lips now.

“I won’t forget her.”

That night, you stayed late. You shouldn’t have. The halls had emptied. Wing D was under double surveillance. And yet— You heard footsteps. Not the rhythmic stomp of a guard. Barefoot. Light. Deliberate. You turned the corner.

And a hand gripped your wrist.

The moment you saw him — truly saw him — everything in your body locked up.

Suguru. Shadowed in the dim hallway light.
Barefoot. Breathless. Beautiful in a way that felt wrong.

His fingers wrapped around your wrist — tight, possessive. Not enough to bruise, but close.

“Hey,” he whispered, like he hadn’t been hiding inside these walls like a phantom. Like he belonged here, in this moment, with his breath on your cheek and a thousand secrets in his eyes.

You said nothing. Because all the air had left the room.

His fingers slid slowly from your wrist to your palm. They lingered there, tracing the line where your lifeline curled inward — like he was learning you by touch, memorizing you by feel.

“I thought I lost you,” he said.

His voice was raw. Hoarse. Like it belonged to a different man entirely — not the flirt, not the quiet one.

Something in-between. Something new.
Something dangerous. And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle.

It was possessive. Sharp. His mouth moved against yours like he was trying to brand you from the inside out. He tasted like static, like adrenaline and regret, like all the nights you’d spent thinking about this when you shouldn’t have.

His hand slid up your spine, cupping the back of your neck to pull you closer — until your body arched against his chest, until there was no space left between you.

And you kissed him back. Harder. Wilder. Because you weren’t afraid. You wanted this.
You wanted him.

Even if he burned you down with it. When he pulled away, his breath shook.

“I’ll go,” he murmured, eyes still locked on your mouth. “But only if you come with me.”

You didn’t hesitate. You nodded. And you ran.

You got him out using an expired visitor pass, a hoodie, and nerves made of trembling steel.

You avoided the cameras. You lied to Kaede’s face. You cut across the east corridor while the security team was busy searching the supply wing. You kept his hand in yours the entire time, your grip trembling but firm.

By the time you reached your car, the sun was beginning to rise. He sat in your passenger seat — hood over his head, head against the window, silent.

You didn’t speak until you hit the highway. Only then did you look at him and whisper, “You’re safe.”

He didn’t answer with words. He just reached over and laced his fingers with yours.

You didn’t bring him to a motel. You brought him home. Your apartment had never felt like a crime scene before.

But now, with Suguru standing in your hallway — soaked in shadows, wearing your brother’s black hoodie and not blinking — it felt like you’d crossed a line you could never uncross.

He didn’t speak. He just stood there, chest rising slowly, like he was trying not to snap.

You shut the door. Locked it. Exhaled. Then turned. And he was on you.

Suguru's dark eyes drank in every inch of your body as he pinned you against the wall, his chest heaving with barely contained desire. His calloused hand slid under the hem of your shirt, fingers trailing fire across your sensitive skin as they inched their way up your side. Suguru's mouth found your throat, his lips brushing against your racing pulse before he dragged his teeth over the delicate flesh, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core.

You gasped, tilting your head to give him better access as your hands fisted in the fabric of his hoodie. Suguru smiled against your skin, a wicked curve of his lips that made your heart race and your core throb with need.

"Still think I'm just sick?" he murmured, his voice a low, dark rumble. "Still think you're just helping me?"

Before you could respond, Suguru captured your mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue delving past your parted lips to claim you thoroughly. He kissed you like a man starved, like you were the air he needed to breathe, the sustenance he craved. Your fingers slid under his hoodie, nails raking down the scars etched into his muscular back as you clung to him, losing yourself in the heat and passion of his embrace.

Suguru's hands slid down to your hips, gripping them tightly as he lifted you effortlessly, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist. He carried you down the hallway, his lips never leaving your skin, tasting and teasing every inch of your throat and jaw. By the time he laid you down on your bed, you were both breathing heavily, desire pulsing through your veins like liquid fire.

Suguru knelt over you, his dark gaze roaming your body, taking in every curve and line as if committing it to memory. Slowly, almost reverently, he peeled your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His calloused fingers skimmed over your collarbone, down the center of your chest, coming to rest just above the waistband of your jeans. Suguru leaned down, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your sternum, his tongue dipping into the hollow of your throat before trailing lower, over the swell of your breasts.

Your nipples pebbled under the thin fabric of your bra, straining against the confines of the lacy cups.

Suguru's fingers deftly unhooked the clasp of your bra, tossing it aside to reveal your bare breasts to his hungry gaze. "Fuck, Y/n," he breathed, his voice rough with desire as he took in the sight of your naked flesh. "You're perfect. Even more beautiful than I imagined." Suguru leaned down, capturing one stiff peak in his hot mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud before sucking hard, sending jolts of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

You arched into his touch, your fingers tangling in his hair as he lavished attention on your breasts, alternating between suckling and teasing, bringing you to the brink of madness with his skilled mouth and hands. All the while, his hips pressed against yours, the hard, thick ridge of his erection evident even through the confines of his jeans.

Suguru's hand slid down your stomach, popping the button of your jeans and lowering the zipper with deliberate slowness. He hooked his fingers in the waistband, tugging your jeans and panties down your legs in one smooth motion, leaving you bare and exposed beneath him. Suguru's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of your naked body splayed out on the bed, his gaze lingering on the glistening flesh between your thighs.

"Spread your legs for me, Y/n," Suguru commanded, his voice a low, authoritative rumble. "Let me see this pretty pussy, so wet and ready for my touch."

Suguru's eyes flashed with hunger as you slowly spread your legs, revealing your slick, swollen folds to his intense gaze. "Fuck, baby," he growled, his voice strained with desire. "Look at this perfect little cunt, so fucking wet and ready for me." Suguru leaned in closer, his calloused fingers brushing against your inner thigh, making you shiver with anticipation. He traced the seam of your sex teasingly, not quite touching where you needed him most, before finally dragging his fingers through your slick arousal.

"Suguru," you whimpered, your hips lifting off the bed as you chased his touch. Suguru smirked, his eyes glinting with wicked amusement as he brought his glistening fingers to his lips, sucking your essence from the digits. "Mmm, you taste divine, Y/n," he purred, his voice a low, sensual rasp. "I could get addicted to the taste of your sweet cunt."

Suguru settled between your thighs, his hot breath fanning over your aching sex. He leaned in, his tongue parting your folds in a long, slow lick, savoring your flavor as he teasingly circled your clit. You cried out, your back arching off the bed as pleasure exploded through your body, your fingers fisting in Suguru's hair.

"That's it, baby," Suguru encouraged, his voice a low, rough murmur against your sex. "Don't hold back. I want to hear all those pretty sounds spilling from your lips as I taste this sweet little pussy." He sealed his lips around your clit, sucking the sensitive nub hard as two thick fingers pushed deep inside your tight, clenching channel.

Suguru's fingers pumped in and out of you, curling and stroking your inner walls as he lapped and suckled at your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. The room filled with the obscene sounds of your moans and the wet, lewd noises of Suguru's mouth on your sex as he devoured you like a man starved. Your thighs trembled, your toes curling as the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your lower belly, ready to snap at any moment. Suguru could feel you getting close, your walls fluttering and gripping his fingers like a velvet vise as he worked you towards your release with skillful, relentless motions.

Suguru could feel your body tensing, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he pushed you closer to the edge. He looked up at you, his dark eyes glinting with triumph and hunger as he watched the pleasure play out across your face. "That's my good girl," he murmured, his voice a low, approving rumble. "Come for me, Y/n. Let me feel this pretty pussy spasm around my fingers as I make you fall apart."

With that, Suguru sucked your clit hard, his fingers pumping faster, stroking that special spot deep inside you with each thrust. Your body seized, your back arching sharply as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. You cried out Suguru's name, your voice echoing off the walls as ecstasy consumed you, your sex clamping down on his fingers like a silken vice.

Suguru groaned against your flesh, the vibrations of his voice prolonging your pleasure as he worked you through your climax with skilled, relentless strokes. He didn't stop until your body went limp, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. Only then did he pull back, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal as he crawled up your body, a look of dark satisfaction etched into his handsome features.

"Fuck, Y/n," Suguru growled, his voice rough with desire and something deeper, more primal. "Watching you come undone, feeling this sweet little cunt squeezing my fingers...it's everything I've ever wanted. You're everything I've ever wanted."

Suguru captured your lips in a searing kiss, pouring all of his pent-up desire and emotion into the embrace. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the musky, slightly sweet flavor of your combined essences making your head spin with lust. As you kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands slid under his hoodie, nails raking down the scars etched into his muscular back. Suguru hissed into your mouth, his hips pressing harder against yours, the thick ridge of his erection grinding against your sensitive, throbbing sex.

Suguru broke the kiss, his chest heaving as he struggled to regain control. "I need to be inside you, Y/n," he rasped, his voice strained with the force of his desire.

Suguru's hands made quick work of his hoodie, tossing it aside to reveal his scarred, muscular torso. His abs rippled as he leaned down, kissing and nipping at your collarbone, trailing lower to lavish attention on your breasts once more. Suguru's calloused fingers skimmed down your sides, hooking into the waistband of his jeans. He stood up briefly, unbuttoning and shoving them down his powerful legs along with his boxers, freeing his thick, hard cock.

You gasped at the sight of him, your eyes widening as you took in every inch of his impressive length. Suguru was large, larger than any man you'd been with before, and the thought of him stretching you open sent a thrill of both excitement and trepidation through you. He crawled back onto the bed, settling between your spread thighs, the head of his cock nudging teasingly against your entrance.

Suguru's dark gaze locked with yours, his eyes blazing with hunger and a fierce, almost possessive intensity. "I've wanted this for so long, Y/n," he murmured, his voice a low, rough rasp. "Dreamed of this moment, of finally being one with you. I know I'm not...I know I'm not the man you deserve. But fuck, I need you. I need to be inside you, to claim you, to make you mine in every way possible."

With that, Suguru surged forward, the thick head of his cock parting your folds and pushing inside your tight, slick heat. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as you were stretched wide around him, your walls clenching and fluttering around his invading length. Suguru groaned, his hips pressing forward until he was buried to the hilt inside you, his heavy balls coming to rest against your ass.

"Fuck, Y/n," Suguru panted, his voice strained with pleasure and something deeper, more primal. "You feel incredible. Like this is where I belong, like I was made to be a part of you." He started to move, pulling out until just the tip remained inside you, before slamming back in, setting a deep, powerful rhythm that made the bed creak beneath you. The room filled with the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin.

Suguru's hips rolled in a steady, relentless rhythm, his thick length stretching and filling you so completely that you felt every ridge and vein as he claimed your body. One of his hands slid under your knee, hiking your leg up and back to change the angle of his thrusts, allowing him to drive even deeper into your core. The other hand gripped your hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he held you in place, pinning you beneath him as he took his pleasure from your willing body.

"Y/n," Suguru growled, his voice a low, rough rasp in your ear. "You're mine now, do you understand? This sweet little cunt belongs to me. Your pleasure, your ecstasy...it's all mine to give and take as I please." To emphasize his words, Suguru circled his hips, grinding his pelvis against your sensitive clit, sending sparks of electricity shooting through your nerves.

Suguru's mouth found your throat once more, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh as he marked you, branding you as his. You could feel the heat of his skin, the strength of his muscles as he loomed over you, dominating you, consuming you with the force of his desire. Your fingers slid up his back, nails raking down the scars etched into his skin as you clung to him, losing yourself in the raw, primal passion of his lovemaking.

Suguru's hand slid between your bodies, his calloused fingers finding your clit and rubbing the sensitive nub in hard, fast circles. "Come for me, Y/n," he demanded, his voice a low, commanding rumble. "I want to feel this pussy spasm around my cock as I fill you up, as I pump you full of my seed. I want to feel you come undone, knowing that you're mine, that you'll always be mine." His words, combined with the relentless stimulation of your clit and the deep, powerful thrusts of his hips, sent you hurtling towards the edge of another shattering orgasm.

Your body tensed, your back arching off the bed as your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave. "SUGURU!" you screamed, your voice echoing off the walls as ecstasy consumed you. Your sex clenched and fluttered wildly around Suguru's pistoning length, gripping him like a velvet vice as you came undone beneath him. Suguru groaned, his hips stuttering as your walls massaged his cock, bringing him closer to his own release.

"That's it, baby," Suguru growled, his voice strained with pleasure and something darker, more primal. "Milk my cock with this perfect little cunt. Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me, begging for my cum." He slammed into you with renewed vigor, his balls drawing up tight as he chased his own end. The room filled with the obscene sounds of your moans and Suguru's grunts, the creaking of the bed, and the slapping of sweat-slicked skin against skin.

With a final, brutal thrust, Suguru buried himself to the hilt inside your still-fluttering sex. His body shuddered and tensed above you, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he found his release. "Fuck, Y/n!" Suguru roared, his voice echoing off the walls as hot, thick ropes of his seed painted your insides, filling you up until you could feel it seeping out around his throbbing length.

Suguru collapsed against you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. He pressed sloppy kisses along your shoulder blades, his lips brushing against your sweat-damped skin as he slowly came down from his high. "Y/n," he murmured, his voice rough and sated. "That was...fuck, that was incredible. You're incredible." He lifted his head to gaze down at you, his dark eyes filled with a mix of awe, wonder, and something deeper, something that made your heart ache in your chest. “This,” he whispered against your collarbone. “Is the only time I don’t feel insane.”

And you clung to him. Because you understood. You were his anchor. And he was your undoing.

You woke with his hand already on your skin.

Fingertips sliding across your hip, tracing the shape of you beneath the sheets like he was mapping out something he couldn’t risk forgetting. His chest pressed into your back, warm and heavy, the steady rise and fall of his breath syncing with yours.

“You didn’t leave,” he murmured.

You didn’t open your eyes. “I wouldn’t.”

“Even now?” he whispered against your neck. “With them looking for me? With everything I’ve done?”

You turned your head slightly, eyes meeting his — the shy one, for now. The one who rarely spoke. Except now, when it was only you and him. When it was dark and quiet and dangerous.

“I don’t care,” you whispered.

He kissed you again. Slower this time. As if he knew he didn’t have to fight for it anymore.

The knock came midmorning. Two short raps. Measured. Military.

You looked up from the couch, heart stalling.

Suguru emerged from the bathroom shirtless, towel slung low on his hips. He paused when he saw your face. When he heard the knock.

Your eyes locked. Don’t say anything, don’t move, don’t breathe— A voice called through the door.

“Officer L/N? Dr. Kaede sent us. Have you seen any unusual activity? A… possible suspect who may have followed you off campus?”

You stood slowly, pulling on your cardigan to cover the marks still blooming on your skin.

Suguru didn’t speak. He didn’t blink.

But his whole body had gone still — like a predator cornered.

“Hold on,” you called back, keeping your voice steady.

You crossed the room. Pressed your hand flat against Suguru’s chest. His heart was hammering like it would burst. But he didn’t move. Not until you tilted your head toward the hallway closet.

Without a word, he slipped inside.

You turned the lock on the door and opened it two inches.

Two men stood outside. Both in uniform. Both looking at you like they already knew the answer.

“We’re just checking in,” one said. “Dr. Kaede said you’ve been... emotionally compromised since his escape.”

Your mouth went dry.

“I’m fine.”

The other officer glanced over your shoulder.

“Anyone else here?”

“No.”

Pause. Then:

“You smell like cologne,” he said slowly.

You smiled thinly. “I’m not dead.”

They didn’t laugh. Eventually, they left. You locked the door again, hands trembling — and then opened the closet.

Suguru stepped out slowly. And for a moment, neither of you said anything.

Then his hand gripped your chin. Firm. Unyielding. He tilted your head back, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“You lied for me,” he whispered.

You nodded.

“You’re mine now,” he said. “You understand?”

Your pulse jumped.

But you didn’t pull away.

“I was yours the moment you kissed me.”

That night, he didn’t sleep. You woke to find him at your window, bare-chested, silhouetted by moonlight — a ghost outside his own reflection.

“They’re going to find me eventually,” he said.

“Not if I keep hiding you.”

He turned to you, and his smile was sharp. Cold.

“No,” he said. “I won’t let them touch you.”

His voice was low. Dangerous. Protective. Possessive. You should’ve been afraid.

Instead, you stood. Crossed the room. And kissed him like it would be the last time.

Because even if the world burned, you knew he’d burn it for you.

You noticed the shift before he even opened his mouth. Suguru was different that morning.

Not in the way he sometimes switched — from brooding silence to teasing flirt. No. This wasn’t either of them.

This version was still. Focused. Like something inside had clicked into place and started humming.

He sat on your living room floor, legs crossed, his eyes fixed on nothing as sunlight spilled in through the blinds.

“Did you know there’s a locked room under the south wing?” he said.

You blinked, coffee halfway to your mouth.

“What?”

“In the institution. Beneath the therapy levels. There’s a staircase behind the archives. They keep it bolted shut.”

You set your cup down slowly.

“I only remember pieces,” he continued. “Flashes. A woman in a red coat. Bright lights. The smell of iron.”

Your stomach twisted. “Kaede wears a red coat sometimes.”

His eyes flicked to you.

“So you’ve noticed.”

That afternoon, when you returned to the institution under the guise of picking up a report, Kaede was at her desk.

She looked up from her screen, smiling warmly. Always the same.

“Officer L/N,” she said. “Surprised to see you. You’re on leave, aren’t you?”

You nodded, your fingers gripping the strap of your bag a little too tightly.

“I left something in records. Just one file.”

Kaede tilted her head, then reached into her drawer and handed you a visitor clearance tag without question.

So easy. Too easy.

You waited until the floor was mostly empty. Evening fell like a warning outside the windows. The fluorescent lights above buzzed low. You slipped past the therapy rooms. Past the records office.

Then — just like Suguru said — behind the file cabinets, there was a door. Old. Steel. With a security pad. You typed Kaede’s birthday.

It clicked open. The stairs creaked downward into darkness. You flicked your flashlight on.

Dust. Cold. The walls were cement, and the floor beneath your boots was lined with rusted tiles. But then… photos. Dozens of them. Mounted behind glass along the hallway like a museum no one was meant to see.

Test subjects.

Some had names. Some just numbers.

And there, near the end of the hall — a young boy with long dark hair and hollowed eyes.

Subject 5C: Geto, S.

You stepped closer, heart pounding in your chest.

Below the photo was a note:

“Alter induced via stress-amplification. Dual personality results unstable.
Progress suspended following patient breakdown.
Memory suppression advised. Contact: Dr. Kaede Nakamura.”

You turned cold.

You didn’t sleep that night. When you returned home, Suguru was waiting for you. He didn’t even ask if you found it.

“I saw the file,” you whispered. “I saw you.”

“I know.”

You paused. “Why didn’t you tell me you were experimented on?”

He tilted his head. “Because I didn’t know until last night. Something triggered it. Maybe being near you. Maybe being free.”

His gaze darkened.

“They tried to erase me. Split me in two. Then lock away the pieces.”

You reached for him — and he caught your wrist, pulled you into his arms.

“They didn’t just break me,” he whispered, forehead against yours. “They made me forget who I really was. But I remember now.”

“And who are you?” you whispered.

He smiled. Slowly. Sharp.

“Something they’ll never be able to contain again.”

The first time Kaede asked if you were okay, it didn’t feel like concern.

It felt like bait.

You stood across from her in the break room, clutching a cup of tea you hadn’t touched, trying to act like your heart wasn’t pounding. Like your skin didn’t still bear Suguru’s fingerprints beneath your clothes. Like the weight of his breath against your neck wasn’t something you still craved like oxygen.

“You’ve been… distant,” she said. “Quiet.”

“I’m just tired.”

Kaede smiled — too small. Too knowing.

“Funny. Officer tired, therapist curious.”

You blinked. “I didn’t know you were a therapist.”

“I didn’t say I was,” she replied gently, stirring her tea. “But I know a trauma bond when I see one.”

You froze.

She didn’t look at you.

“Careful who you let in, Y/N. Especially if they were once kept locked behind steel.”

Your throat went dry.

That night, you barely made it through your front door before Suguru pulled you into the dark and kissed you like it had been days instead of hours.

You tasted desperation in it. Hunger. The threat of losing something he didn’t even believe he could keep.

“You saw her today,” he muttered, dragging your jacket off your shoulders. “Kaede.”

You didn’t answer.

“Did she say something?” His tone sharpened. “What did she ask you?”

“Nothing I didn’t expect.”

He stared at you for a long moment. Then something changed in his expression — something softer, almost pained.

“She’s going to take you away from me.”

“No,” you whispered. “I’d let them lock me up with you first.”

He pulled you into him. Hard.

He didn’t speak. He only watched you—watched the way your lashes trembled, the way your lips parted slightly like you’d already begun to surrender.

“I could ruin you,” he whispered against your ear. “You’d still beg for more.”

You didn’t deny it.

Your fingers reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. The scarred line near his ribs, the slope of his collarbone—every inch of him was a story he hadn’t told you yet, and you were desperate to learn it with your mouth.

He leaned down and kissed you—slow, deliberate, consuming.

His lips were warm and soft at first, but then his teeth grazed your bottom lip, biting just enough to make your breath hitch. You could taste the ache behind it. His tongue swept against yours, and something low in your body responded like a lit fuse.

“You still think I’m dangerous?” he asked, voice ragged.

“I hope you are,” you whispered. “I want to see what it feels like.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist, and carried you to the floor like you weighed nothing. The carpet burned soft against your spine. His body caged you in, heavy and grounding, his hands roaming like he couldn’t believe you were real.

Suguru's hands slid up your thighs, pushing your skirt up around your waist as he knelt before you. His calloused fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. "Lift your hips for me, Y/n," Suguru commanded, his voice a low, rough rasp. You obeyed, lifting your hips off the carpet as he peeled your panties down and off, leaving you bare and exposed to his hungry gaze.

Suguru's hands slid back up your thighs, pushing your skirt up further as he settled between your legs. He leaned in, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, working his way steadily upward. Your breath hitched as his lips brushed against your sex, teasing you with the promise of his touch. Suguru smirked, his eyes glinting with wicked amusement as he watched you squirm with anticipation.

"Suguru, please," you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to pull him closer. Suguru chuckled, the sound low and dark, sending a shiver down your spine. "Patience, baby," he murmured, his breath hot against your sex. "I want to savor every moment of this."

Suguru's hands slid under your skirt, gripping your ass as he massaged the soft flesh, pulling you closer to his mouth. He leaned in, his tongue parting your folds in a long, slow lick, savoring your flavor as he teased your clit with the tip of his tongue. You cried out, your head falling back against the carpet as pleasure coursed through your body, your nails digging into Suguru's shoulders.

Suguru's fingers pushed deep inside your tight, slick heat, stroking and curling in a way that made your eyes flutter closed, your mouth falling open in a silent moan. He worked you with a skillful, relentless pace, his tongue and fingers moving in tandem as he brought you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Just as you felt your climax building, Suguru pulled back, leaving you aching and empty. He stood up, quickly shedding his shirt and tossing it aside, revealing his scarred, muscular torso. His hands slid up your body, pushing your skirt down and over your legs, leaving you bare and exposed beneath him.

Suguru's eyes raked over your naked body, dark and hungry as he drank in every curve and line. "Fuck, Y/n," he growled, his voice strained with desire. "You're even more beautiful than I imagined. I could spend hours just looking at you, touching you, worshipping this perfect body."

He settled onto the carpet above you, his muscular frame caging you in, his skin searing against yours. Suguru's hands slid into your hair, tilting your head back as he claimed your mouth in a searing, dominating kiss. His tongue plunged past your lips, stroking and teasing, exploring every inch of your mouth as he poured all of his pent-up desire into the embrace.

Suguru's lips trailed down your throat, his teeth grazing your collarbone before he latched onto the sensitive flesh of your breast. He sucked and nipped, his tongue swirling around your nipple as he teased the stiff peak with his teeth. You gasped, arching into his touch as jolts of electricity shot straight to your core. Suguru's hand slid down your stomach, his fingers teasing through the slick folds of your sex, stroking your clit in slow, deliberate circles.

"Suguru," you whimpered, your voice breathy and needy. "I need you. Please, I can't wait anymore." Suguru chuckled darkly, his eyes glinting with wicked promise as he looked up at you. "Don't worry, baby. I'm going to give you exactly what you need. I'm going to fuck you so hard and so deep, you'll forget your own name. The only thing you'll remember is screaming mine as I ruin this tight little cunt for anyone else."

With that, Suguru settled between your spread thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging teasingly against your entrance. He gripped your hips, pulling you down onto him as he surged forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight, slick heat with one powerful thrust.

"Fuck, Y/n," Suguru groaned, his voice strained with pleasure as he started to move, setting a deep, relentless rhythm that made the carpet creak beneath you. He loomed above you, his muscles flexing and rippling with each thrust, his dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that stole your breath.

Suguru's hips rolled in a steady, pounding rhythm, his thick length stretching and filling you so completely that you felt every ridge and vein as he claimed your body with deep, powerful thrusts. He hooked your leg over his shoulder, changing the angle of his assault, driving even deeper into your core. The new position allowed him to hit that special spot inside you with each snap of his hips, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body.

"Suguru," you cried out, your nails raking down his back, leaving red lines in their wake as you clung to him, losing yourself in the relentless pace he set. Suguru groaned, his voice rough and strained as he felt your walls clench and flutter around his pistoning length, gripping him like a velvet vice.

"That's it, baby," Suguru growled, his breath hot against your ear. "Take this cock, take every fucking inch of it. This cunt was made for me, made to milk my dick dry." He punctuated his words with a particularly hard thrust, grinding his pelvis against your clit, sending sparks of electric pleasure shooting through your nerves.

Suguru's hand slid between your writhing bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing the sensitive nub in tight, fast circles. "I can feel you getting close, Y/n," he rasped, his voice a low, wicked murmur.

Your body tensed, your back arching off the carpet as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your sex clamping down on Suguru's length, gripping him like a silken vise.

"SUGURU!" you screamed, your voice echoing off the walls as ecstasy consumed you, your vision going white behind your eyelids. Suguru groaned, his hips stuttering as your walls massaged his cock, bringing him closer to his own release. "Fuck, Y/n," he growled, his voice strained with pleasure.

Suguru's body shuddered above you, his muscles flexing and tensing as he fought to hold back his own climax, wanting to prolong your shared pleasure. He captured your lips in a searing, desperate kiss, pouring all of his hunger and desire into the embrace. His tongue conquered your mouth, stroking and teasing, as if he were trying to devour you whole.

Breaking the kiss, Suguru trailed his lips down your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point before he bit down, marking you as his. "I want to fill this tight little cunt with my cum, Y/n," he rasped against your skin, his voice rough and strained. "I want to pump you so full of it that it takes days for it to all leak out. I want everyone to know that this pussy belongs to me now, that I've claimed you, ruined you for anyone else."

With that, Suguru redoubled his efforts, his hips slamming into yours with a force that rocked you both. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and your wanton moans filled the room as Suguru chased his release, his cock throbbing and pulsing inside your still-fluttering sex.

"Fuck, I'm close," Suguru panted, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts against your neck. "Tell me you want it, Y/n. Tell me you want to feel my cum flooding your womb, marking you as mine." His words sent a dark thrill through you, your core clenching around him at the filthy, erotic image he painted.

"I want it, Suguru," you gasped out, your voice ragged and needy. "Please, fill me up. I need to feel your cum inside me, claiming me, ruining me for anyone else." Suguru let out a guttural groan at your words, his hips stuttering as he felt his climax approaching rapidly.

"Fuck, Y/n!" Suguru roared, his voice echoing off the walls as his orgasm crashed over him like a tidal wave. His body shuddered and jerked above you, his cock throbbing and pulsing as thick, hot ropes of his seed painted your insides, flooding your womb just as he had promised.

Suguru collapsed against you, his muscular frame pressing you into the carpet as he struggled to catch his breath.

he sat up, breathing heavy, the moonlight cutting across his bare back.

“She wants me dead,” he said finally. “She’s covering her tracks. Everything I remembered… she’ll make it disappear.”

You reached up and traced the lines of his spine with your fingers. “Then we make a move before she does.”

He turned, eyes narrowing.

“You’d help me?”

You didn’t hesitate.

“I already have.”

[belit0]

HEAR ME OUT!!!

Okay so like, I just had a bombastic idea that always bugs me whenever I'm into a fictional media.

What if modern Reader gets sent to the Naruto universe but when she first sees the characters she only goes "Damn, nice cosplay, you look exactly like (character)!"

Like, she fr believes she got kidnapped and left in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of cosplayers and talks to the characters as if they're gen Z 😭😭😭😭😭 I think it would be so funny

(But the moment they do some jutsu she almost shits herself and thinks she's just having an horrible psychotic episode...)

JAHSDAKSHHDSAJHDSAKJHD NA CAUSE THIS IS SO FUNNY

Shisui

(Y/N) stumbles into a stream and nearly faceplants into someone crouching beside it, sipping water like it’s an anime opening.

-Jesus, you’re hot. Are you part of the same cosplay cult or are you like… a forest spirit trying to kill me with your jawline?

Shisui blinks in pure confusion.

-Do you need help? You look lost.

-I am lost. I woke up in a discount Studio Ghibli reboot with some 10/10 anime thirst traps and I haven’t had Wi-Fi in hours. This is either a prank, a mental breakdown, or I got kidnapped by really well-dressed weebs with a budget.

Shisui tilts his head, like she’s a particularly intriguing puzzle.

-You’re speaking strangely. Are you under a genjutsu?

-You’re the one in the lacefront and eyeliner, man, don’t come at me with “genjutsu.” That’s straight-up gaslighting.

Itachi

She finds Itachi meditating under a waterfall and screams.

-BRO. Not you doing the tortured emo anti-hero arc under a waterfall like this is a music video.

Itachi opens his eyes slowly, confused, water cascading around him.

-You should not be here.

-No shit. I was ordering a Starbucks oat milk latte like fifteen minutes ago and now I’m in “Hot Anime Boy Simulator 3.0: You Can’t Escape.”- She stares. -Also, can you like, not look at me like that? I have trauma and your gaze is giving me flashbacks to every mistake I’ve ever made.-

Itachi squints.

He doesn’t understand a word she’s saying but finds it spiritually exhausting.

Sasuke

He doesn't entertain her nonsense.

He's busy, thank you very much.

When he finally gets tired of her “delusion”, Sasuke does a full technique to prove he's real.

(Y/N) just STARES at the giant skeleton emerging from his form and ripping through the trees.

And then:

-Okay. Nope.- She backs away slowly. -Nope nope nope. That’s not cosplay. That’s pure sci-fi with a personality disorder. IS THIS A PSYCHOTIC BREAK? AM I DEAD? IS THIS HELL? Why are you all hot if I’m in hell?!-

She turns to a tree. -Hey Siri, call my therapist.

Tree: 🌳

-I’m hallucinating. I KNEW I shouldn’t have taken that edible.

Madara and Izuna

When (Y/N) opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was the smell of pine.

The second thing was that the ground was suspiciously real.

Coarse, scratchy grass pressed against her arms, and the sky above her was a perfect blue—not the digital kind.

Birds chirped somewhere in the distance.

Someone was yelling.

Great.

She’d either been kidnapped and left in a forest, or this was the worst hangover of her life.

A shadow passed overhead.

She sat up slowly, blinking blearily at two men standing at the edge of a clearing, arguing like their lives depended on it—or maybe just their egos.

They were dressed in high-collared black cloaks trimmed in deep red, their hair flowing like something out of an anime opening.

One of them had his arms crossed, radiating judgmental older brother energy.

The other one looked like he’d either stab you or flirt with you.

Possibly both.

(Y/N) stared at them.

And then she snorted.

-Damn. Y’all really committed to the cosplay, huh?

Both men turned.

Madara’s gaze narrowed, slow and piercing. -Who are you?-

She points at Madara. -You must be, like, the rich kid of the group. You’re giving final boss energy. Uchiha brothers huh? You look exactly like them, 10/10, no notes.

-Who sent you?— Madara’s voice is grave, suspicious.

-Bro’s method acting. Oh my god, are you one of those “I live as my character” people? Do you sleep in your wig?- She gasps, then grins. -Wait, wait, don't tell me—are you filming a fan movie? Can I be the confused villager who accidentally seduces the main villain? Because I have range.

They look at each other like she might be an enemy with a screw loose.

-What are you even-

-You, Izuna guy- she turned to Izuna, eyes sparkling in awe, not giving them time to speak -You look exactly like him. Are you the one hottie from TikTok who does the transformation edits? Because if this is a prank video, you’re getting views.

Izuna’s brow twitched. -You know my name?-

-Of course I do. Izuna Uchiha, canonically dead but fanonically hot. There’s, like, ten thousand thirst edits of you. Your face is plastered across Tumblr like you invented cheekbones.

-Tumblr...? I'm pretty much alive, as you can see. What the hell are you even talking about...- Izuna, the god of flirtation, is too stunned to even react to the information of those edits.

Madara stepped forward. -You’re not from around here. Are you a spy?-

(Y/N) laughed.

Hard.

-A SPY? What am I gonna do, leak your next outfit drop to the Hidden Leaf Fashion Week? Bro, I don’t even know where I am. I was getting a latte. Then BAM—forest. It’s giving Kidnapped by Cosplayers™, not espionage.

Izuna stepped beside Madara, his expression both amused and confused. -She could be under a genjutsu.-

-Y’all keep saying that like it’s not just gaslighting with special effects.

Madara exchanged a glance with Izuna.

Then, without a word, he inhaled and weaved through a few seals. His hands moved fast—too fast.

(Y/N) was about to make another sarcastic remark about method acting when suddenly:

FWOOOM.

A wall of fire roared to life behind him, spiraling up into the sky like a dragon made of flame.

The air shimmered with heat.

Trees cracked in protest.

The sheer force of it knocked her backwards.

She screamed.

-OHMYGOD WHAT THE FU—

She scrambled backward on all fours like a raccoon caught in a spotlight, eyes wide as saucers.

-THIS ISN’T COSPLAY. THIS ISN’T A BIT. THIS ISN’T A FANFILM THIS IS ARSON WITH A FIRE GOD.

Izuna took a step forward. -Still think this is a prank?-

-I think I’m hallucinating. Or dead. Or in a coma. Is this one of those “you died and now you live in Naruto” fever dreams? I swear to god if Kakashi walks out next I’m gonna cry.

-Who's even Kakashi?- Izuna asks, utterly confused.

Madara crouched beside her with the slow grace of a predator. -You claim not to know where you are. Then explain how you know our names, our faces.—

-Because you’re fictional!- she snapped, hair disheveled, eyes wild. -I read fanfiction about you! You’re supposed to be from a manga. YOU DIE.-

Izuna frowned. -We. Are. ALIVE!... And you keep saying that. "Fictional." Is that a clan?-

-YES.- She pointed at him. -The Clan of Heartthrobs Who Ruin Women’s Standards Worldwide.-

Madara tilted his head slowly. -She's insane.-

-You’re not even wrong.

For a moment, all three just stared at each other.

Then (Y/N), still panting, stood shakily to her feet and dusted herself off.

-Okay. Okay, think. I got this. I just need to find a hospital. Or a mirror. Or a void to scream into. Do you guys have those here?

Izuna blinked. -A… void?-

-Never mind. Do you guys at least have coffee?

Madara and Izuna would go back to the compound deeply concerned.

(Y/N), meanwhile, would sit cross-legged under a tree later that night, staring at the moon, muttering:

-This is fine. I’m in Naruto. I’ll just marry a war criminal and vibe. It’s fine. I’m adaptable.

[theweirdwideweb]

I have bipolar 2 and caffeine was not always an issue for me but for years now EVERY instance of having anywhere like, a cup of coffee equivalent is a dice roll. Depending on my overall "load" (have i been sleeping consistently, am i eating and drinking water, am i overworked, did i have an very positively or negatively exciting life event or especially high juice hyperfocus incident recently, etc) sometimes its basically 100% it will trigger an episode. I absolutely have to avoid it if im risking crisis if i keep cycling/cycle worse, i can chance it when i can afford 1 round of hypomania/ensuing depression without fucking up my life

Okay 1) I'm learning a lot of people with bipolar disorder follow me. 2) I love a system that works. 3) All of this is new to me so thank you for the advice.

[sophieinwonderland]

"Now compare!"

Compare what?

Is this still about the "disgusting creature" line?

Okay, let's compare then.

Calling people "psychotic" became offensive after decades of the word being misused as an insult to apply to anyone seen as irrational or mean. (The latter, I think, is because some people conflated it with "psychopaths" which is a completely different category.)

Also, there's a good amount of ableism baked into the history of "normal medical terms" from eras where people with mental health conditions were locked in asylums against their will, experimented on, and sometimes lobotomized.

And... Since we've been talking about eugenics, forcefully sterilized as part of eugenics programs... So a lot of old terminology was made by people who often used it to dehumanize people with mental illnesses. And when I say dehumanize, I mean it in the actual way of being used for systemic dehumanization.

Not your watered down version of dehumanization that is just insulting people by comparing them to nonhuman things.

There are a lot of reasons why calling people "psychotics" fell out of fashion and is considered dehumanizing. Both from within the medical community and from outside after it caught on with the general public as an insult.

It should be noted though that "psychotic" is not a bad word depending on its context.

Saying someone has a "psychotic disorder" is fine. Saying they're experiencing a psychotic episode is fine (when said as a matter-of-fact, not insulting someone for perceived irrational behavior). Taking "antipsychotics" is fine.

There is a nuance to "psychotic" where a lot of uses are completely acceptable. It's pretty much just the "you're psychotic" type of usage that should be avoided.

And in fact, this type of linguistic shift happened with marginalized people all over. Not just in the realm of disabilities. "People with psychotic disorders" as supposed to "psychotics." "Transgender people" as opposed to "transgenders." "Gay people" as opposed to "gays."

Now for the "disgusting creature" line... Obviously, calling somebody disgusting in any way is always an insult. It's derogatory. So right from the start, it's in a different category altogether. Nobody is arguing it isn't an insult.

But the burden of proof is on you to show that "disgusting creature" is "Nazi language" and that it's antisemitic. Because you still haven't even provided a single example of Jewish people being called "disgusting creatures" by Nazis. Meanwhile, I've pointed to multiple instances of it being used AGAINST Nazis.

Unlike with "psychotic" which became offensive due to a long history with a specific association with psychotic disorders and using the disorder as an insult, I've found zero history of "disgusting creatures" actually being Nazi language.

There is really no comparison here because the histories of these words have literally nothing in common.

[sketchygardenbah]

A fresh water fish mermaid headmate thingy , level 001 + MUDs and a typing quirk , basic but go wild with it , urgency like a 3 ish ig . thankies !!!!

↳-Letter 023-༉‧₊˚✧ °‧🌱 Thank you for stopping by the gardens , here is your New Plant ! We hope you enjoy mer company ! ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Your patience has been much appreciated , may the stars guide you onwards .

《 Name[s]: Moray , Ripple , Cove , Anago 

《 Nickname[s]: Ray / Rae , Mori , Riri 

《 Age[s]: appears and acts 17 - though due to being a fantastical species aligns more with being a couple hundred years old

《 Role[s]: Melanchonoir , Hydronaut , Swimmer , Nightmare soother

《 3rd Person Pronouns [e.g. she/her]: hx/hxm , thxy/thxm , shx/hxr , it/its , eel/eels , fresh/water , rock/rocks , hide/hides , strike/strikes , cave/caves , shock/shocks , eerie/eeries , sier/siers , mer/mers , tide/tides , ebb/flow , river/rivers , pond/ponds , zap/zaps , ⚡/⚡s , 🐟/🐟s

《 Gender[s]: Genderflorer , Pangenderfaun , Vernipondic , Fishskeletic

《 Sexuality / Orientation: Panromantic , Bisexual [ pref for androgynous presenting beings ] , non-human4non-human

《 Source [if applicable]: none [ brainmade ]

《 Faceclaim:

[ 1 ]

《 Likes: swimming , nighttime , darkness / low-lights , rainfall , bioluminescent creatures / plants , underwater caves , nature documentaries , humming , going boating / canoeing , donating to or supporting ocean preservations , collecting shiny objects , electricity , wearing noise cancelling headphones

《 Dislikes: pollution , extreme heat , chlorinated water , bright lights , loud noises , open spaces , processed / oily food , eating eel or squid , being dehydrated 

《 Violence Level: 3.5

《 Typing quirk: adds an extra s or two [e.g. sso how’ve you been faring outsside the sssafekeepingss of home?]

《 MUDs: ESD - Emotional Sponge Disorder , Nonhuman Hyper-Empathy Disorder , EWDD - Episodic Water Dependency Disorder

.˚₊‧༉︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

[the-milkshake-bah]

jumps around !! yippee yippee yippee :3

visually impairments and dyslexic are meanies grrr /silly

onto my request now ! :3 uhmm could i grab a.. caramel milkshake with syrups, sprinkles, and cherries? (i like them flavourful /silly)

uhhmm.. perhapsss based off the emojis "🪻🐾🩷🌈🍓☕" ? but like masc.. or.. uh.. whats the word.. a femboy(?), just some cutesy feminine guy that can help tend to our garden :D,

(can we use "—🎍💊" as an anon sign off? :P)

impairments and dyslexia are evil!!!!! /silly

one caramel milkshake with flavourful toppings!!

・┈ ୨୧ ﹕names : aiden ! tommy/tommie ! elio ! fern

・┈ ✦﹕ prns : he/him ! phy/phyta/phytan/phytans/phytanself ! hx/hxm ! bloom/blooms ! thxy/thxm ! garden/gardens

・┈ ୨୧﹕age : 20-24 ! perma17 ! perma21

・┈ ✦﹕ gender : cutecreature ! strawberrybowic ! strawberrykit ! cutecoric ! plantgender ! sproutlinggen ! floraine ! florlunaine ! dandealic ! fleurcute ! lotusflowic ! 🪷emojiic ! aloegender ! caffèan ! coffeefeelic ! coffeegender ! pinkheartic ! pawthing ! pawgender

・┈ ୨୧﹕ orientation : asexual, polyromantic, polymono

・┈ ✦﹕role : garden tending !

・┈ ୨୧﹕ proxy : 🪻☕ ! 🩷🍓 ! 🐾🌈

・┈ ✦﹕faceclaim : neka & neka

・┈ ୨୧﹕ source : themed !

・┈ ✦﹕☂️ : transadored ! imaginid; imagihanahaki ! jokegirl ! trisadorable ! transspecies ! transfox (cat to fox, semi transitioned) ! imaginidating ! transcharacter ! translotusflower ! agefluid ! bi-age ! perma17 ! perma21

・┈ ୨୧﹕🥄 : 🎁, 🌿, 🎶, 💭, Ω

・┈ ✦﹕💧🌱 : possessive-type feral personality disorder ! water sensory syndrome ! floravexia disorder ! episodic water dependency disorder ! character affinity identity disorder

・┈ ୨୧﹕ misc : he probably enjoys a warm drink in the mornings before he gets to work in the gardens !

[lesvegas]

ritchie’s🎃💀 ABCs of Horror Movie Marathon!! 💀🎃

Horror movie challenge prompted by @quintsmachete

Day Sixteen - P is for Psycho (1960)

Don't you love it when a classic actually lives up to the hype?

There's nothing I could say about this movie that hasn't already been said. And nothing I say could ever really capture just how phenomenal this movie is, but I feel like its immense cultural impact speaks for itself.

Honestly, I don't really *want* to say much about this movie, because I think if you're reading this and somehow haven't seen it yet, you need to. If you can go into it knowing as little as possible, if you've somehow gone this whole time without knowing the twist (I, fortunately, only knew half of it) then you need to experience this movie for yourself.

But if you somehow really need me to sell it for you, here are some things you might want to know:

The cinematography is peak, and still holds up beautifully. The use of sharp, dark shadows and quick cuts that show everything you need to see while leaving things up to the imagination are especially impressive.

Story-wise, this movie feels like an extended episode of the Twilight Zone. If you don't know why that's a good thing, you really, really need to go watch an episode of the Twilight Zone.

In that same vein, this movie isn't all that scary to modern viewers unless you've really never seen a horror movie before. That might make it seem safe or lame depending on your outlook, but personally I found it had just the right amount of tension.

Walt Disney fucking hates this movie. That's not a myth, he said it was disgusting. I haven't heard a better testament for a movie since Ben Shapiro talked shit about The Shape of Water.

It would honestly be faster and easier to name the few things I didn't care for, so here's those (tbh this list also doubles as a content warning if you're unfamiliar with film before like, 1999):

Obviously the depiction of a certain mental disorder here isn't great. It was 1960, after all. The best I can say about is that it sort of makes sense and *seems* well-researched for the time. Talking about this in detail would also be a major spoiler so I'm not gonna do that, but if the demonization of certain conditions gives you the ick then you may want to pass up on this one. Or just the last 10-20 minutes of it. I still think you should give the first 30-40 minutes a shot regardless.

Misuse of the word 'transvestite' in an obviously transmisogynist way did not age well. Obviously. But to the movie's credit, the particularities of this subject are handled similarly to The Silence of the Lambs (again, I'd elaborate, but it's major spoilers).

Treating taxidermy as a creepy/bizarre hobby only done by weirdos. This is less of a major issue and more of a pet peeve or nitpick.

Actually that's honestly it. I'd argue the movie is flawless otherwise.

If you like horror at all, if you like old films at all, if you like appreciating the greatest classics at all, this movie is a must-watch. I highly recommend watching it on a lonely evening while eating some sandwiches after a long day of work.

This movie gets five outta five showers 🚿🚿🚿🚿🚿

[imagine-silk]

What if you have a character who's dyspraxic which makes them kind of clumsy along with being oblivious to surroundings or social cues who knows martial arts would that make them useful or useless for fight scenes?

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=-DwLvzR5_kg&pp=ygUMTWFydGlhbCBhcnRz

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=PlXi9IuTPfM&pp=ygUFSnVkbyA%3D

They're the more obvious ones like not understanding when someone is going to attack you based on not understanding certain social cues. There's also the issue of sometimes not being fully aware of your surroundings or focusing on the wrong thing. Sometimes you take your comrades too seriously or too literally so you don't fully understand what they're saying. If you're fighting by yourself that leaves room for inconsistencies that you have to face by yourself and will make it harder for you to focus. People are sloppy and messy and that will make things harder for you to understand. Especially if the other person doesn't know what they're doing, you shouldn't expect people to respect whatever boundaries you have set up.

As for the clumsiness because this is a disorder and not a conditional thing there's nothing you can really do about the clumsiness. You might think you can compensate for it by overachieving or underachieving but really you will have no control over whatever clumsiness you have. It is not ideal for you to fight if you have this specific disorder. Punching someone in the face might be straightforward but kicking is another thing entirely. Not to mention you need to calculate how hard you hit someone because the point of a fight is to hurt them but not kill them. Killing them lands you in jail. If you cannot control how hard you hit you should not try to find yourself in a fight.

If you're writing a fight scene it highly depends on whether you're writing a movie scene, a TV scene, or a novel scene. Movie scenes need to be quick and fast they need to have no real practicality because the spectacle of it is the point. If you're making a TV scene you need to bring back things that you have set up in previous episodes or maybe even earlier in that episode. If you're making a novel scene you need to focus on what is being done and how that made the characters react and feel. It is important in a novel to get the emotional and mental turmoil of what is happening rather than what is happening specifically. Learn how to describe things and you will be fine. These are not hard and fast rules but this is my advice as someone who took cinematography for 4 years.

Ignore my advice or keep it. I've said my piece. If you were looking for some flowery message you came to the wrong person. I am autistic and very blunt while also caring about how things are portrayed accurately and trying to do it justice while having some sort of creative adjustments. I am willing to compromise on what I leave in and what I take out based on what is in the original material however if you are not going to use a source material like fanfiction that muddies the water and because I don't know specifics I can only tell you what the situation would entail from a general perspective. Leave in or take out whatever you want.

[alexandersimpleton]

When Frederick woke up, his head ached. He felt hot and cold at the same time.

This was happening more lately. Was it getting worse? Was he going to die!? The doctors said-

No. Frederick was sick. He knew to never trust his emotions while sick.

This happened all the time. His brain was overthinking everything, just like it always did when Frederick woke up sick.

That provided minimal comfort for Frederick's brain however.

Wh-whatever. He'd be fine by tomorrow. He always was. He'd just have to hide it from the CPC for the day.

...

Frederick looked at his quivering hands.

...

He wasn't hiding this from the CPC.

But he could try not to inconvenience everyone with it.

Frederick got up from his bed. He realized that the CPC didn't actually have his plaid jackets. The closet was full of a variety of different clothing, from tee shirts to sweater vests. One caught his eye though. A pastel green sweater, just like the one he'd always wear when he was a kid. He put on the garment, and he felt incredible.

The feeling of tightness from his jacket touching his skin is an experience he always despised, and this sweater was loose. It felt like it freed his skin. And the material was soft and fluffy, like he was wearing a cloud.

Frederick lay in bed for a while, savoring the feeling, before continuing down the stairs. His room was upstairs, right next to Whitney's.

Nobody was there. Was he up to early? Frederick looked next to him. Curtis was there. Curtis was looking at Frederick like he was a ghost.

"Are you alright?"

Frederick nodded. As much as his body begged him not to, Frederick decided to ask "Am I up early? Nobody's down here."

Curtis noticed his voice sounded like his that was filled with gravel.

Curtis led Frederick upstairs.

"But I thought-" Curtis shushed Frederick. Talking clearly wasn't going well for Frederick right now.

He practically forced the boy back into his bed. Curtis knew a lot about medical care. In fact, he was pretty sure he knew exactly what chronic Frederick had, but he figured Prez would at least like to know of this, so he left the room and went into Prez's.

"Is he okay?" Prez asked when she got the news.

"I think so. I believe he mentioned a condition to you? The exact name is irrelevant, but it's a disorder with the immune system, where it reacts to threats with urgency when in reality they're menial, or in this case, completely nonexistent. Generally how long these episodes last, as well as their severity, depends on the patient. At least, that's what it appears to be."

Prez nodded and got out of her bed, immediately moving to Frederick's room.

She cracked the door open, seeing Frederick lying on his stomach on his bed, reading a book.

He looked up at her and Curtis as they entered. Frederick's eyes were foggy and delirious.

"Hi-" he said, before wincing and clutching his throat. He looked pale.

Curtis came back into the room with a thermometer, and put it in to the boy's mouth. He was coming up with a pretty nasty fever.

"Calpernia, could you go get a few ice packs? And some water?"

Prez nodded and made her way outside.

"Frederick, could you take that sweater off?"

Frederick looked alarmed and shook his head frantically.

"Can you tell me why not?" Curtis asked. He realized that making Frederick talk was a bad idea, and handed him a small notebook with a pencil.

Frederick looked hesitant. It looked less like he didn't have a reason, and more that he just couldn't describe it.

"Maybe..." Curtis went into the boy's closet and took out a simple white shirt. It has short sleeves.

This had seemingly appeased Frederick as he took off the sweater. The shirt felt loose on him. Not as loose and comfy as the sweater, but it didn't trap his torso or arms in fabric prison. It was so thin that you could kind of see Frederick's torso though it. Curtis took note of how thin it looked. He guesses that it was because of his immune system taking up a lot of energy fighting things that didn't exist.

Prez came back with a few ice packs. Curtis lay Frederick down again and took them from her. He placed towels under each, and put one on Frederick's for head and one on his stomach.

Curtis and Prez could both tell he enjoyed this feeling by the way his eyes relaxed. And within a couple of minutes he was out cold.

Frederick woke up to the sun in his eyes around noon, and instantly regretted it. His head was pounding, he felt hot and sweaty, and he could barely think.

He looked over to the bedside table, and saw something that wasn't there earlier today. It was a bowl, and next to it was a card. It said "Get Well Soon!" On the front, and had little doodles of the CPC members on it. Inside were the signatures of all the CPC members, and, oddly, his family's as well. Blaine, Lance, and Isolde. Did they go all the way to the Plaid kingdom? Something bloomed in Frederick's chest. It felt nice. If felt really nice. He knew that he should feel bad. He made them go to the Plaid kingdom just because he was a little sick. But, still.. it made him feel good. Nobody had ever cared this much when Frederick's body decided to hate him. For them, it was just an inconvenience that they had to deal with ever so often. But, to this club...

It felt nice knowing someone cared.

He slipped the note in a drawer of the bedside table for safe keeping.

In the bowl next to it was soup. Frederick guesses by the sun through the window that it was around noon. He should be eating lunch. He was getting hungry.

As he was about to pick it up, he realized that he had been tucked into bed. That happy feeling appeared in his chest again.

Frederick sat up and put the bowl on his lap. He put the spoonful in his mouth, and could immediately tell that it was made by Gwen. Frederick still wasn't used to eating actual food. It was weird. He was only trapped in that dungeon for a couple of weeks, which, compared to the rest of his life, wasn't that long at all. And yet, he could tell that he wasn't getting used to this any time soon.

The soup was completely gone within a couple of minutes. It warmed up his insides, but not like his fever was. It felt nice, like steam was moving straight to his heart.

That sensation made Frederick sleepy again, so he lay down his head, an blacked out.

[thebibliosphere]

Thank the op! And also just because some people are being a bit unkind in the notes and telling people that if this works for you, you don’t have migraines you have tension headaches:

Cervicogenic headaches are a thing and are just as debilitating and are not just simple tension headaches and are often sometimes lumped under the umbrella of migraine disorder.

They are caused by muscle dysfunction and damage to the nerves in the neck/base of the skull and they often represent as typical migraines in terms of pain intensity, pain pathways and also the longevity of the attacks. They can also cause nausea, vomiting and a whole host of other symptoms that are typically treated with migraines targeted drugs.

They can also become chronic or episodic depending on the cause and also result in the development of other chronic pain and neurological disorders such as occipital neuralgia which can also feel like a migraine and often trigger the brain into experiencing the exact same symptoms due to following the occipital pathway which is the most common representation and cause of migraine pain and other symptoms.

You’re migraines might not be caused by muscle dysfunction, but for a lot of people it is a contributing factor or even a symptom of migraine itself as migraines can cause the muscles in the neck to tense up in response to the misfires going on in the brain during an attack, leading to other problems like the above mentioned.

My occipital neuralgia was likely caused by many facets of my neck injury, but my neurologist and pain specialist both agree my migraines going from episodic to chronic was also a part in it because of how my body tenses up during migraines. The migraine aggravates my neck injury, which then causes the muscles around my skull to crunch the occipital nerve, leading to occipital neuralgia which now causes me to have daily migraines if I can’t get my neck to give up the death grip it has on my skull.

Sometimes I can do this with stretches and massage which can lessen the pain. Other times I’m in the ER getting shot full of IV anti-seizure meds because it’s the only thing that calms down the migraine which in turn stops the muscle spasms.

Migraines are a complex neurological disorder that represents differently across the spectrum of sufferers. Hell, some people don’t experience pain at all with their migraines. It’s a weird fucking disease.

I understand the desire to emphasize how much worse migraines are than normal headaches that respond to hydration and pain killers. Believe me. I’m one more “have you tried drinking water?” away from going on a justified murder spree. But we also don’t get to look at stuff like the above and say “well that’s not a migraine” when yeah, actually, it can be.

There’s a reason neurologists will often try sending patients to physical therapy for severe migraines. And it’s because the sternocleidomastoid is a cunt and that cunt being fucked up can make migraines worse.

Yeah, maybe some of the people in notes just have tension headaches. Or maybe some of them have got fucked up neck muscles from their migraines and learning how the neck is involved in migraine management might be helpful for some. Is it going to help everyone? No. Does that mean it’s not a relevant thing to discuss in context of migraine disease? Also no.

Okay I’m currently furious that migraines are often so blindly easy to treat and I had to find this out myself at the age of 26 when I’ve been to a neurologist since I was 11 lol so I’m about to teach you two neat and fast little tricks to deal with pain!

The first is the sternocleidomastoid muscle, or the SCM muscle.

This big red section is responsible for pain around the eye, cheekbone, and jaw, as well as some temple pain. Literally all you have to do is angle your head down a little, angle it away from the side that hurts, and then you can gently pinch and rub that muscle. I find it best to start at the bottom and travel upwards. The relief is so immediate! You can increase pressure as you feel comfortable doing so.

Here is a short and easy video showing this in action

The second is a fast and easy stretch that soothes your vagus nerve, which is the nerve responsible for calming you down. The vagus nerve, for those unfamiliar, is stimulated by deep breathing such as yawning, sighing, singing, or taking a deep breath to calm your anger in a tense situation.

You can stretch this out by sitting up as straight as possible (this does not have to be perfect to work) and interlacing your fingers. Put your hands on the back of your head with your thumbs going down the sides of your neck and, while keeping your face forward, look all the way to one side with just your eyes. Hold that until you feel the urge to breathe deeply or yawn, or until you can tell there’s a change. Then do the same thing on the other side. When you put your arms down, you should clearly be able to turn your head farther in both directions. If the first session doesn’t get rid of your migraine, rest and repeat as many times as necessary. I even get a little fancy with it and roll my eyes up and down along the outer edge sometimes to stretch as much as I can.

If you need a visual here’s a good video on it. I know some of the language they use seems questionable but this is real and simple science and should not be discarded because it’s been adopted by the trendy wellness crowd!

I seriously cannot believe I didn’t hear a word of this from any doctor in my life. Additionally, if you get frequent recurring migraines, you may want to see a dietician. Migraines can be caused by foods containing histamines, lectin, etc. and can also be caused by high blood pressure in specific situations such as exercise, stress, and even sex.

If any of this information helps you I’d love to hear it btw! It’s so so fast and easy to do. Good luck!

[swasthyapro]

How Seasonal Allergies Affect Your Full Body Checkup Results

Seasonal changes often bring relief from extreme weather, but they can also bring an unwelcome guest—seasonal allergies. These allergies, triggered by pollen, dust, and other environmental irritants, can have a notable impact on your health. What many people don’t realize is that seasonal allergies can also influence the results of your full body checkup in surprising ways.

Understanding the Basics of Seasonal Allergies

Seasonal allergies, also known as hay fever or allergic rhinitis, occur when your immune system reacts to allergens like pollen, mold spores, or pet dander. This reaction leads to symptoms such as sneezing, congestion, itchy eyes, and fatigue. While these symptoms are annoying on their own, they can also interfere with your body’s biochemistry and immune responses, which may be reflected during a full body checkup.

Why Timing Matters in a Full Body Checkup

A full body checkup is designed to provide a comprehensive overview of your health status. It includes tests for blood sugar, cholesterol, liver function, kidney health, thyroid levels, vitamin deficiencies, and more. These readings depend heavily on your body being in a normal, uninflamed state. When seasonal allergies strike, the immune system is activated and may skew some of the lab results.

For instance, inflammatory markers in your blood, such as CRP (C-reactive protein) and ESR (erythrocyte sedimentation rate), might be elevated during allergic episodes. These elevated markers can lead to misleading interpretations in a full body checkup, suggesting infections or chronic inflammation where there might be none.

The Immune Response and Its Impact

When you undergo a full body checkup while experiencing seasonal allergies, your white blood cell count may be higher than usual. Allergic reactions stimulate the production of eosinophils, a type of white blood cell associated with allergic inflammation. This can be mistaken for parasitic infections or other immune-related disorders during a full body checkup, leading to unnecessary concern or further testing.

Allergies and Respiratory Readings

Allergic rhinitis or pollen-triggered asthma can influence oxygen saturation and lung capacity. If your full body checkup includes spirometry or oxygen level testing, seasonal allergies could cause slightly impaired results, especially if you’re congested or wheezing. This might raise false flags regarding your pulmonary function, particularly if the doctor is unaware of your allergy history.

Effects on Liver and Kidney Function Tests

While seasonal allergies don't directly harm the liver or kidneys, the medications taken to manage these allergies can. Antihistamines, decongestants, and corticosteroids may alter enzyme levels or create minor shifts in blood pressure and hydration, thereby affecting liver or kidney panels in a full body checkup. That’s why it’s crucial to disclose any medication you’re taking before testing.

Fatigue and Vitamin Deficiencies

One of the lesser-known symptoms of seasonal allergies is chronic fatigue. This fatigue can mimic the signs of nutrient deficiencies, such as low B12 or iron. During a full body checkup, fatigue-related symptoms and blood chemistry might lead to mistaken conclusions about nutritional status if allergies are not factored in.

How to Prepare for a Full Body Checkup During Allergy Season

If you’re planning a full body checkup during allergy season, consider the following steps:

Inform your doctor: Always notify your healthcare provider about your allergy symptoms and medications you’re taking.

Avoid testing during peak symptoms: If possible, schedule your full body checkup when your allergy symptoms are under control.

Stay hydrated: Dehydration can skew kidney function tests. Drink plenty of water the day before and the morning of your full body checkup.

Avoid over-the-counter meds if not essential: Some medications can influence test results. Consult your doctor before temporarily pausing allergy drugs before your full body checkup.

The Importance of Honest Reporting

Being transparent with your healthcare provider about your allergy symptoms and treatments ensures more accurate interpretation of your full body checkup. In many cases, abnormal results caused by allergies can be contextualized or retested at a later time when symptoms subside.

Conclusion

Seasonal allergies are more than just a nuisance—they can influence multiple biological processes that are evaluated during a full body checkup. While these effects are generally temporary, they can complicate the interpretation of your test results. If you’re experiencing allergy symptoms, it’s wise to time your full body checkup strategically or discuss your condition with your doctor beforehand. Understanding how allergies intersect with health assessments can help you achieve more accurate, actionable results from your full body checkup.

[biomorphakash]

Bisulide P – High-effectiveness Compound Tablets

Introduction to Overview of Bisulide P 

What is Bisulide P? Bisulide P is a clinically effective combination tablet containing Nimesulide and Paracetamol (Acetaminophen). It is designed to provide fast relief from pain, inflammation, and fever. The dual-action mechanism helps reduce the chemicals in the body that cause pain and swelling, making it suitable for a wide range of conditions such as toothache, muscle pain, headache, joint pain, and fever. This formulation is often prescribed for acute pain episodes or inflammatory conditions where rapid relief is essential. Bisulide P is a trusted option for patients who need a reliable, multi-action pain management solution.

Benefits of Using Bisulide P 

Why choose Bisulide P for pain and inflammation?

Bisulide P offers several key benefits due to its dual-action formula:

Fast-acting relief: Nimesulide and Paracetamol work together to provide rapid control over pain and swelling.

Anti-inflammatory effects: Reduces inflammation at the source, not just the symptoms.

Effective fever reduction: Helps lower body temperature quickly and comfortably.

Wide applicability: Useful in headaches, back pain, menstrual cramps, dental pain, joint inflammation, and fever.

Simplified treatment: Reduces the need to take multiple separate medications.

Patients who take Bisulide P often report quicker recovery and an improved ability to perform daily activities. It is especially helpful for individuals suffering from musculoskeletal disorders, viral fever, and post-surgical discomfort. Compared to ordinary painkillers, the combination in Bisulide P offers broader relief in a single-dose format, saving time and reducing the overall medication load. It is an ideal choice when fast, effective relief is a priority.

Dosage Instructions and Usage Guidelines 

How should Bisulide P be taken?

Standard Dose: One tablet twice a day, or as directed by a doctor.

Timing: Best taken after meals to reduce chances of stomach discomfort.

Administration: Swallow the tablet whole with a glass of water; do not chew or crush it.

Missed Dose: Take as soon as you remember, but skip if the next dose is due soon.

Never exceed the prescribed dose. Long-term or unregulated use may lead to health risks, especially to the liver or kidneys. Always follow the exact instructions provided by your healthcare professional.

Who Should Avoid the Medicine 

Important precautions before using Bisulide P

Not everyone should take Bisulide P. Avoid using this medicine under the following conditions:

Liver disease: Since Paracetamol is processed in the liver, those with liver issues should use with caution.

Kidney problems: Nimesulide may put additional strain on the kidneys.

Gastrointestinal disorders: Individuals with ulcers or chronic acidity should avoid this medicine.

Allergies: Do not take if allergic to Nimesulide, Paracetamol, or any similar medications.

Pregnancy and breastfeeding: Should be used only on medical advice.

Children under 12 years: Not recommended unless prescribed.

Alcohol users: Increased risk of liver damage when combined with alcohol.

Ongoing medication: Consult a doctor if taking anticoagulants, steroids, or other NSAIDs.

Taking Bisulide P without proper medical advice may lead to complications such as liver damage, stomach bleeding, or allergic reactions. Inform your doctor about any existing health issues or current medications to ensure safe use of this product.

Conclusion 

Summary and Final Advice on Bisulide P

Bisulide P is a dependable and well-balanced compound tablet designed to address multiple symptoms including pain, inflammation, and fever. It offers the advantage of dual-action relief through a scientifically proven combination. While it is highly effective, it must be used responsibly under proper medical guidance. Adhering to dosage instructions and understanding who should avoid it are key to safe and successful treatment. For individuals seeking a reliable, quick-acting solution to everyday pain and discomfort, Bisulide P remains a preferred option recommended by many healthcare professionals.

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vyvanse 30 mg

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Vyvanse 30 mg is meant for oral adult consumption for two indications: to treat attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and to treat binge eating disorder (BED) limited to moderate to severe episodes. Vyvanse operates as a CNS stimulant, increasing focus and attention while reducing the impulsivity of patients receiving treatment.. There has been much discussion about it recently, with its long-lasting effects and steady symptomatic control.

At medikit.com, we mainly intend to ensure that accurate and concise information is available on prescription medicines like Vyvanse so that a person can know what to expect with their treatment.

Vyvanse 30 mg is the active product. By name, Vyvanse (generic name lisdexamfetamine dimesylate) is a prodrug; that is, the drug becomes active only after it has been metabolized by the body. This provides the drug a very unique property in that it decreases the possible abuse because it becomes active only after digestion.

The dose that is mostly given is 30 mg as an initial dose for new stimulant drug-using adolescents and adults. Depending on the patient's response and tolerance, the dosage could then be titrated under the guidance of a healthcare provider.

Clear Mechanism of Vyvanse 30 mg

Indeed, it is Vyvanse that fosters concentration, attentiveness, and control of impulsiveness through an increased concentration of dopamine and norepinephrine within the brain. Therefore, with increased concentrations, hyperactivity and impulsiveness are lessened among the subjects suffering from ADHD.

Unlike stimulant medications that can otherwise be marketed, Vyvanse has a relatively slow onset and a long duration of action—up to 14 hours—allowing for the daily control of symptoms without a sudden crash at the other end.

Vyvanse 30 mg Applicator

Vyvanse may be taken in the morning with or without food. Vyvanse may disturb your sleep if taken later in the day. It can be taken whole or opened up to mix contents with water, yogurt, or orange juice for swallowing purposes in individuals who have trouble swallowing whole capsules. 

Adjust dosage on your own and follow the instructions provided by your doctor. Do not share your medication. Misuse of Vyvanse can lead to addiction or other serious medical issues.

Potential Side Effects and Who Should Not Use It

Common adverse effects of Vyvanse 30 mg include:

Insomnia

Dry mouth

Decreased appetite

Increased heart rate

Irritability or anxiety

Under very rare instances, however, some may work; unwanted side effects may range from hypertension, cardiac complications, to psychiatric alterations, where depression may set in or increase in severity. When there is chest pain, trouble breathing, or suicidal thoughts, please consult the doctor.

Were there is a family history of these conditions, then talk to your doctor before beginning Vyvanse: heart problems, mental disorders, or substance abuse? 

Where to Learn More

medikit.com is an excellent, reputable resource for complete drug information, including Vyvanse 30 mg. With medication instructions regarding dosage and ordering through a secure site, this provides clarity and confidence whether initiating a new medication or considering treatment. 

Information below is to be taken for educational purposes only; it never supersedes medical advice. Always consult your physician or health care provider for any questions regarding the use of any medication or adjustments to its use.

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What is Alpz 1mg and How Does It Work?

What is Alpz 1mg and How Does It Work?

Alpz 1mg is a widely used prescription medication for managing anxiety disorders, panic attacks, and insomnia. It belongs to the benzodiazepine class, known for its calming effects on the brain and nervous system. If you’re considering buying Alpz 1mg tablets, it’s essential to understand how it works, its benefits, and safe usage.

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What is Alpz 1mg?

Alpz 1mg contains Alprazolam, a benzodiazepine that enhances the effects of a natural brain chemical called gamma-aminobutyric acid (GABA). This helps reduce nervous tension, anxiety, and excessive brain activity, making it highly effective for anxiety disorders, panic attacks, and sleep disturbances.

Common Uses of Alpz 1mg:

✅ Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) – Reduces excessive worry and restlessness. ✅ Panic Disorder – Helps manage sudden panic attacks and fear episodes. ✅ Insomnia – Induces relaxation for better sleep. ✅ Depression-related Anxiety – Eases symptoms of anxiety linked to depression.

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How Does Alpz 1mg Work?

Alpz 1mg works by increasing the levels of GABA, a neurotransmitter that slows down nerve activity in the brain. This helps to:

Reduce anxiety and stress levels

Promote relaxation and calmness

Control panic attacks

Improve sleep quality

The effects of Alpz 1mg start within 30 to 60 minutes of taking the tablet and can last 6 to 8 hours. It’s essential to follow the prescribed dosage to avoid dependency or side effects.

Proper Dosage and Safe Usage of Alpz 1mg

Standard Dosage Guidelines

🔹 For Anxiety Disorders:

Starting dose: 0.25mg to 0.5mg, taken 2-3 times daily

Maximum dose: 4mg per day (as per doctor’s prescription)

🔹 For Panic Disorders:

Initial dose: 0.5mg to 1mg, taken once or twice daily

Maximum dose: 10mg per day (only in severe cases)

🔹 For Insomnia:

Dose: 0.5mg to 1mg, taken before bedtime

🔹 For Elderly Patients:

A lower dose is recommended to avoid excessive sedation and risks of falls.

Important Safety Guidelines

✔ Take the tablet with or without food, but preferably with water. ✔ Do not exceed the prescribed dose to prevent addiction risks. ✔ Avoid alcohol while using Alpz 1mg to prevent dangerous side effects. ✔ Do not suddenly stop taking it to prevent withdrawal symptoms. ✔ Consult a doctor before adjusting the dosage.

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Side Effects of Alpz 1mg

While Alpz 1mg is effective, some users may experience mild to severe side effects.

Common Side Effects:

🔸 Drowsiness 🔸 Dizziness 🔸 Fatigue 🔸 Dry mouth 🔸 Nausea

Serious Side Effects (Seek Medical Help):

⚠ Difficulty breathing ⚠ Memory problems ⚠ Extreme drowsiness ⚠ Seizures

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Where to Buy Alpz 1mg Tablets Online?

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Final Thoughts

Alpz 1mg is an effective medication for anxiety, panic disorders, and insomnia when used responsibly. If you’re searching for a trusted source to buy Alpz 1mg tablets, Medskart24 offers authentic products, secure delivery, and excellent customer service.

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Seroflo Inhaler 250mcg

The Seroflo Inhaler 250 mcg is a prescription medication used to treat asthma and chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD). It contains a combination of two drugs: Fluticasone Propionate (a corticosteroid) and Salmeterol (a long-acting beta-agonist). Here's a detailed overview:

Active Ingredients:

Fluticasone Propionate (250 mcg): A corticosteroid that helps reduce inflammation in the lungs.

Salmeterol (25 mcg): A long-acting beta-2 agonist that relaxes the muscles around the airways, making breathing easier.

How It Works:

Fluticasone reduces inflammation and swelling in the airways of the lungs, which helps prevent asthma attacks or worsening of COPD symptoms.

Salmeterol helps to open up the airways by relaxing the smooth muscle, making it easier to breathe. It works for about 12 hours, providing long-lasting relief.

Uses:

Asthma: It is used for the regular treatment of asthma, preventing symptoms like wheezing, breathlessness, and coughing.

Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD): Seroflo is also prescribed for COPD patients to help with airflow obstruction and to reduce exacerbations.

Dosage:

Adults: Typically, one inhalation twice a day (morning and evening), or as directed by a healthcare professional. The dosage may vary depending on the severity of the condition.

Children: Dosage for children will be decided by a doctor, based on the condition and age.

Note: Seroflo Inhaler is not intended for usage in the short term to treat asthma episodes. Generally, a rescue inhaler (such as a salbutamol inhaler) is advised in the event of an unexpected respiratory crisis.

How to Use:

Shake the inhaler well before each use.

Exhale fully and place the mouthpiece in your mouth.

Press the inhaler to release a dose as you inhale slowly and deeply.

Hold your breath for 10 seconds before exhaling slowly.

If a second puff is needed, wait about 30 seconds before the next inhalation.

After using the inhaler, rinse your mouth with water to avoid the risk of oral infections like thrush (caused by fluticasone).

Side Effects:

Common side effects may include:

Throat irritation

Hoarseness of voice

Oral thrush (fungal infection)

Headache

Nausea

Muscle cramps

Less common but serious side effects:

Increased heart rate or palpitations

Tremors

Pneumonia (in patients with COPD)

Allergic reactions (swelling, rash, or difficulty breathing)

Adrenal suppression (with long-term use)

Precautions:

Allergies: Avoid if you are allergic to fluticasone, salmeterol, or any other ingredients in the inhaler.

Infections: Patients with untreated infections (e.g., tuberculosis) should be cautious, as corticosteroids can weaken the immune system.

Pregnancy and Breastfeeding: Should be used under medical supervision.

Diabetes, Hypertension, and Thyroid Disorders: Salmeterol may affect blood sugar and heart rate, so monitoring is required.

Regular Monitoring: Long-term users may need periodic bone density checks due to the risk of osteoporosis with corticosteroids.

Storage:

Store below 30°C.

Keep away from direct sunlight and heat.

Keep the inhaler out of children's reach.