#Balance and movement disorders

[sachinbiher]

Angelman Syndrome: Causes, Symptoms, and Genetic Insights

    What is Angelman Syndrome: Causes, Symptoms, and Genetic Insights Have you ever heard of Angelman syndrome? It’s a rare and unique genetic condition that affects the way a person develops, communicates, and moves. This condition might be unfamiliar to many, but it’s important to shed light on it—especially for parents, caregivers, educators, and individuals who are passionate about learning…

[drchristophedelongsblog]

“Age tech” is a growing field, and it is important to distinguish it from “health tech.”

What is Age Tech ?

Age tech, or aging technology, focuses on developing technological solutions specifically designed to address the needs and challenges associated with aging.

Its main objective is to improve the quality of life of the elderly by promoting 

Autonomy 

Enabling seniors to remain independent for longer.

Health

Monitor and support physical and mental health.

Well-being

Improve comfort, safety and social connection.

Main differences with Health Tech

Although age tech and health tech share common health-related goals, there are important distinctions.

Target audience  :

Health tech is aimed at a broad audience, covering all ages and health conditions.

Age tech focuses specifically on older adults and their unique needs.

Specific objectives  :

Health tech often targets the diagnosis, treatment and management of diseases.

Age tech focuses on prevention, maintaining autonomy and improving the quality of life related to aging.

Approach  :

Health tech can involve complex medical technologies and clinical interventions.

Age tech favors user-friendly solutions, adapted to the abilities and preferences of older people.

Examples of Age Tech technologies

Connected objects  : Smart watches, motion sensors, health tracking devices.

Software and applications  : Cognitive exercises, communication with loved ones, medication reminders.

Robotics  : Personal assistants, companion robots, mobility aids.

Telemedicine  : Remote consultations, home monitoring, management of chronic diseases.

Smart homes  : Automatic lighting, fall detection, security systems.

In short, age tech is a specialized branch of health tech, focused on the unique needs of older adults. Its development promises to have a significant impact on the way we age, allowing us to live longer, healthier, and more independently.

Go further

[cherrygirlfriend]

─── YOU'VE GOT MAIL .ᐟ

...or seeing him with someone else.

★ pairing.ᐟ frat!rafe x nerd!reader

★ summary.ᐟ rafe cameron is the golden boy of kildare university; certified frat boy, captain of the football team, relentless party animal with lines of girls to sleep with.

reader couldn't be more different; while she has the best grades in the whole school, she suffers from social anxiety disorder, and her social life is limited to her three best friends and the cat she secretly snuck into her dorm room.

both of them decide to join the anonymous chatroom for their campus, and start talking to one another, a friendship starting to form between the two; but neither of them know how different the other is.

★ author's note.ᐟ i might be posting another chapter in a few days hehe,,, i've been thinking about making a post about the kind of outfits this reader wears, lmk if you'd be interested!!

YOU'VE GOT MAIL!

you looked down at the conversation you'd had with MalachiConstant last night, a small smile on your face as you read the messages between the two of you.

MalachiConstant: that was such a long drive MalachiConstant: i'm ready to crash

YOU: whaaat? no late night conversation with your favorite internet grandma?

MalachiConstant: as if. i'd stay up for a week for you, grandma.

YOU: now now. you're making my cheeks all warm.

MalachiConstant: i wish i could see that.

your feet dangled in the water and music played in your earphones, the sky still grey, shades of orange slowly starting to paint it. you hummed softly, kicking your feet in the water and making it splash, the diary you'd just finished writing an entry into in your lap.

"takes to the sky like a bird in flight..." you sung softly along to the song, swaying your head back and forth, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of the early morning breeze on your face.

only your reverie was cut short by someone grabbing you by the shoulders, making you jump and yelp out as you scrambled to take your earphones off. you looked to the side, seeing the boy you'd talked to at the party you'd attended, his eyes wide with panic, making you furrow your brows in confusion, not noticing your diary was starting to slide down your bare legs and into the water.

"shit!" you heard him exclaim, the boy diving forward, holding his arm out at your knees, which finally got you to notice that your diary was nearly in the water, making you scramble to try and grab it.

a loud splash! echoed around you.

your sudden movements had caused the boy to lose his balance, your eyes widening in shock when you noticed the boy had fallen into the water.

he emerged from under the water, the boy joining his cap and your diary amongst the things now floating on the surface. he looked to you, the two of you bursting into laughter at the exact same time.

after he'd clambered out of the water, the two of you made your way towards the main cabin, the boy having to remind you that his name was 'rafe' and not 'random frat boy'. but when you'd tried to remind him of your name, he'd stopped you before you could get the first syllable out, with a cocky 'i remember.'

the two of you were sitting at the kitchen table, a towel wrapped around rafe who now resembled a wet rat, and you pushed a cup of tea towards him, "i don't drink tea, so." he said, feigning arrogance, making you roll your eyes, "you might get sick." "i never get sick. i'm the god of health." "hmm. and let me guess, you're also the god of... humility?" "absolutely right i am." the boy gave you an exaggerated wink, making you chuckle under your breath.

you watched as he wrapped his red hands around the mug, "you're hands... you've gotta be freezing." you mumbled, and without even thinking, you brought your hands to cover his. but when you looked up at him and noticed that his eyes had widened from the sudden contact, you quickly withdrew them, clearing your throat, "sorry."

"no, uh, it's cool." rafe cleared his throat in the same way you had, as if trying to get rid of the remnants of the awkward moment, "can i, uh, ask you something?"

"sure." you said more eagerly than you should've, hoping that the change of topic would take the tension you felt rising, and the boy cleared his throat once again. "can you tell me about your friend?" he started snapping his fingers, "the, uh, the one..." "viv?" "no, no, the other one who drove with-" "oh, emilia!" you interrupted him, and he nodded, rafe's cheeks slightly red as he scratched the back of his neck. "yeah, her..."

"she's amazing. like, one of the most talented people i know. i swear, she's gonna be, like, an olympic gymnast one day. or a professional bassist. she's funny, but she's not hugely social. she prefers when it's just the four of us." you smiled softly, rafe's lips pursing in thought, "does she, uh, have any pets?" he asked hesitantly, "oh, yeah!" you smiled, "she has a cat. i'm not sure what her cat's name is, but he's adorable."

when rafe answered with nothing but a simple hum, you narrowed your eyes and smiled at him teasingly, "do you think she's cute?"

"do i think she's cute?" rafe snorted, "what is this, middle school?"

"hey!"

"and to answer your question... she feels familiar. but at the same time not." "rafe, you might be the weirdest guy i've met." the boy snorted, "right back atcha."

"well, i should get going. i don't wanna be here when normal people wake up. i'm not a people person." you stood up, the boy letting out a hum "what makes me not normal?" rafe asked.

"i dunno. guess it's that i don't mind your company." you smiled softly, "see you, rafe."

that evening, you, vivian and emilia were in the cottage you three were sharing for your stay, vivian and emilia both getting ready while you were on your phone, vivian still working on her makeup while emilia was trying on clothes, the girl only having a pair of fishnets and a leather skirt on as she looked through her bag as you stared at the private messages between you and MalachiConstant.

YOU: you there? sent at 10am YOU: i miss talking to you. sent at 1pm YOU: i'm booooreeeed :( sent at 4pm YOU: sorry if i'm bothering you :) sent at 6pm YOU: sry i'll stop now!!! sent now

you couldn't help the small frown that made your lips twitch down. you didn't know why you felt this way. you knew he had a life and you knew he'd be busy. he didn't owe you anything. he wasn't your boyfriend, or anything.

but for some reason, it felt like someone had plunged a knife into your chest.

your attention was pulled by emilia's question, "viv, do you have anything that goes with this skirt? i got cranberry juice on the shirt i was gonna wear." the girl asked, making vivian shake her head, "not unless you're going for the whole pastel goth vibe. i didn't bring anything black." "fuck..." emilia mumbled.

"why are you so fussy?" you asked with furrowed brows, making emilia groan, throwing her head back, "this one guy told me that he wants to get to know me. and if i wanna get over you-know-who, i should... try." emilia's admission made vivian squeal, "what guy?" she asked, her eyes wide with excitement, "the guy who drove with us." "rafe?" you questioned, "yeah, him."

"hm." you chuckled softly, "i might actually have something that goes with that. if you're not terribly against band t-shirts." "at this point, i'll take anything that doesn't look like it was puked on by an unicorn. no offense viv." emilia said, the pink-haired girl sticking her tongue out in response. you dug through your own bag, throwing her one of your fleetwood mac shirts. emilia took a look at the shirt, cocking her head to the side, "i'm more of a hole girl..." she mumbled, before turning to you, "you mind if i DIY it a bit?"

"knock yourself out. but you pay for it." "you know i'm good for it." she winked back at you, and what used to be your band t-shirt ended up becoming a tank-top, the sleeves showing most of her bra.

when you went outside to join everyone else, the three of you stuck together for the first few hours, but as the hours went by... first vivian was gone, going off to spend time with topper. and although emilia stayed for another thirty minutes, eventually, he went off to find rafe. and you were left alone.

tipsy, and so unaware of your surroundings that someone could've snuck up to you that you'd react to it after five seconds, you looked for your friends. you knew they were busy, but a part of you also hoped that they'd somehow telepathically know how much you wanted to be there for them.

but vivian was still making out with topper, his hand slowly going up her sk— ew. then when you looked for emilia, you saw her where you'd expected to see her. talking to rafe. and although you didn't want to admit it… a part of you wished that for once someone would've wanted you. you didn't even know what caused it. maybe the fact that he didn't feel like a stranger, that you didn't nearly faint from anxiety when you talked to rafe. but of course he'd choose her. of course he'd choose anyone but you.

why didn't anyone choose you?

TAGLIST: @yktayy9669 @tinythebunni @dywho @melalsworld @akobx @samwinchesterisawhore @st8rkey @jjasmiineee @ltristessedureratoujours @a-lovers-card @uselessnewt @lunaleah @letstryagaintomorrow @cinnamqnnlatte @papapoy @kay133sposts @wtfisastiles @butterfly1c @emmiesummers @melodyyybubbles @toomanywhitelies @littl3loveydovey @scne-vampire @alwaysmaybank @mysticbby2009 @luna443 @drewstarkeyswife-7 @flowerluvr @kisselxoll - cont. in com

[dissociacrip]

anyway um. shoutout to disabled people who move their bodies in ways that are considered "wrong" or "abnormal" regardless of the cause or how it's classified. and this isn't limited to just ambulation.

paralysis. dystonia. gait abnormalities. people with muscle weakness and/or atrophy. people with brain damage. rotational differences. clubfoot. knocked knees. other limb and bodily differences. functional deformities that affect movement. tissue contracture. muscular dystrophies. spasticity. impaired proprioception, balance, and/or coordination. chronic pain. spinal disorders. dyspraxia/DCD. apraxia. ataxia. dystaxia. tourette's syndrome and other tic disorders. conversion symptoms. tremors. neurodegenerative disease. degenerative bone diseases. joint instability. myoclonus. parkinsonism. tardive dyskenisia. various other neurological problems.

...and the list goes on.

personally i feel a bit surreal when my body not doesn't always move in the ways i want it to because that straightforward connection that's there for abled people has been disrupted in a myriad of ways. but no one is gross, ugly, or scary for being unable to move their body in ways that society considers "normal" and "healthy." no one deserves to be gawked/stared at or treated like they're subhuman because of the way their body moves.

it's okay for us to exist.

[unboundprompts]

Hello!!! I hope you don't mind doing this one,

Can you help me write a traumatized person who's having trouble talking because of past trauma? (They can still interact with people, but only with signs and movements, not voice) and also a little anxious

Tell me if you need more details =)

How to Write a Mute / Non-Speaking Character

-> healthline.com

-> verywellhealth.com

-> descriptionary.wordpress.com

Types of Mutism:

selective mutism: having the ability to speak but feeling unable to.

organic mutism: mutism caused by brain injury, such as with drug use or after a stroke.

cerebellar mutism: mutism caused by the removal of a brain tumor from a part of the skull surrounding the cerebellum, which controls coordination and balance.

aphasia: when people find it difficult to speak because of stroke, brain tumor, or head injury.

What Causes Selective Mutism in Adults?

having another anxiety condition, like separation anxiety or social anxiety

experiencing physical, emotional, or sexual abuse

having a family history of selective mutism or social anxiety

having fewer opportunities for social contact

having an extremely shy personality

having a speech or language disorder, learning disability, or sensory processing disorder

parent-child enmeshment, or lack of clear boundaries in the relationship

traumatic experiences

Traumatic Mutism vs Trauma-Induced Selective Mutism

if you have traumatic mutism, you may be unable to talk in all situations following a trauma.

with trauma-induced selective mutism, you may find it impossible to talk only in certain situations-- for example, in front of the person who hurt you or in a setting that resembles the circumstances of your trauma.

Different Ways Individuals with Mutism May Choose to Communicate:

Nonverbal Communication: they may rely on facial expressions, gestures, eye contact, and body language to convey their thoughts, emotions, and intentions.

Writing or Typing: they may use a pen and paper, digital devices, or communication apps to write messages, notes, or responses.

Sign Language: they can convey meaning, emotions, and engage in complex conversations through hand signs, facial expressions, and body movements.

Augmentative and Alternative Communication (AAC) Devices: these devices provide individuals with a range of tools and technologies to support their communication needs. They can include speech-generating devices, picture boards, apps, or software that allows users to select words, phrases, or symbols to generate spoken or written output.

Communication Boards and Visual Aids: Communication boards or charts with pictures, symbols, or words can assist individuals in conveying their messages.

Assistive Technology: various assistive technologies, such as speech-to-text apps, text-to-speech programs, or eye-tracking devices that aid individuals with communication.

Tips on Writing a Mute / Non-Speaking Character:

Explore the vast array of nonverbal cues such as facial expressions, body language, gestures, and eye contact. Use descriptions to convey their intentions and reactions.

Utilize internal dialogue. Offer readers a window into their internal thought process, and turn their internal dialogue into a narrative that reveals their inner struggles, triumphs, and complexities so that reader can connect with the character.

Establish a communication system that is unique to your character (Sign language, written notes, telepathy in a fantasy setting, etc.). Having a communication system allows your character to interact with other characters and contribute to the narrative.

Surround them with Understanding Characters that can aid in communcation and fostering meaningful relationships.

Establish the Barriers/Conflicts They'll Experience. Don't forget to be realistic.

Your character is not defined by their inability to speak. Make sure you do not write stereotypes and cliches. Being mute is only one aspect of their identity rather than their defining trait.

Do your research! Seek out firsthand accounts, experiences, and perspectives. Check out online forums and resources to gain insights into their unique challenges, adaptations, and strengths.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

[bananasofthorns]

America, Thankk You for the Mental Health Crises, but I Need You to Stop: An Analysis of Will Wood's "Marsha, Thankk You for the Dialectics, but I Need You to Stop"

I wrote this for my midterm in my Rhythm and Revolutions: Music and Social Change class, which examines the relationship between music/musicians and social change or social movements. It's a really fun class and this was a very fun essay to write. Please enjoy!

America is in a mental health crisis. Although there is no one thing to point at as the direct cause, there are two polarized viewpoints on mental illness that have exacerbated the issue into the ongoing crisis it is today. On one side of the divide are those who ignore mental illness and see it as a shameful weakness; on the other side are those obsessed with pop psychology and the pathologization of all aspects of human existence. In his song “Marsha, Thankk You for the Dialectics, but I Need You to Leave” from The Normal Album, Will Wood confronts both viewpoints in a parody of dialectical behavioral therapy.

The title of the song refers to psychologist Marsha Linehan, the creator of dialectical behavioral therapy (DBT). She hoped to treat patients struggling with therapy that focused on changing their thoughts and behaviors by instead teaching them to recognize how their different systems of thought influence each other and how to balance these reactions. At its core, DBT aims to synthesize contrasting views (Swales, 2009). Additionally, the American Psychological Association’s (APA) dictionary of psychology defines “dialectic[s]” as “any investigation of the truth of ideas through juxtaposition of opposing or contradictory opinions” (APA, 2018a). These concepts serve as the framework for “Marsha, Thankk You for the Dialectics, but I Need You to Leave.”

In an interview with New Jersey Stage, Wood explains why he based his song around dialectic theory: “I think the major directions people come from in the mental health discourse are both deeply flawed but mostly well-intended.” The two directions he focuses on in “Marsha, Thankk You” are of those who dismiss mental illness and those who define themselves by it. He also says, “The level of vitriol with which people identify with their often-extreme perspectives on the subject prevent the conversation from making serious progress.” In this song, he expresses his frustrations with the current conversations surrounding mental health, but he also hopes that the song will bring comfort to those struggling with their own uncertainty about mental illness, as well as push them to examine the ways they feel and speak about the topic (“Will Wood Releases,” 2020). He does so by contrasting the two above perspectives in a way that satirizes them both, highlighting how absurd he thinks both extreme sides of the conversation around mental illness are.

Throughout most of “Marsha, Thankk You,” Wood speaks to the listener as if they are someone who defines themself by their mental illness, whether or not that diagnosis is true or self-assigned. In doing so, he addresses issues that plague modern psychology and society, such as over-medicating and the increasing prevalence of pop psychology which pathologizes all aspects of being alive.

One problem with how mental illness is currently treated is the over-prescription of psychiatric drugs. In an interview with psychologist Lawrence Rubin, psychiatrist Allen Frances explains that the expanded diagnosis criteria in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition (DSM-5), has led to over-diagnosis and over-prescribing. “Drug companies have become experts in selling the ill to peddle the pill,” he tells Rubin, meaning that these companies take advantage of the too-broad definitions in the DSM-5 to profit off of people who do not actually need medication but believe they do, based on an unnecessary diagnosis. (Rubin & Frances, 2018) “How many milligrams of you are still left in there?” Wood asks the listener in the song’s chorus (Wood, 2020), implying that their true self is being replaced by who they are when taking drugs that they rely on but don’t need.

He expands on his implied criticism of this attitude in an interview with Kill the Music. This perspective, he says, is pushing the belief that mental illness is inherently unfixable and is telling those who are mentally ill that, “[their] only hope is spending the rest of your inherently sick existence worshiping the chemical technology the heavens sent down to us through AstraZeneca,” a global pharmaceutical company. Wood finds this hopeless, over-reliant perspective to be unproductive. (Mohler, 2020)

He adds that these people also find it necessary to “fanatically identify with pop psychology platitudes,” (Mohler, 2020), which is the main issue he speaks against in “Marsha, Thankk You.” The APA dictionary of psychology defines “popular psychology” as “psychological knowledge as understood by members of the general public, which may be oversimplified, misinterpreted, and out of date” (APA, 2018b). Pop psychology has always existed, but it gained traction in modern times through self-help books and magazines. Recent years have seen the rise of mental health influencers–people who spread mental health knowledge and advice on social media platforms–which has led to even more pop psychology “facts” becoming general knowledge. As Wood pointed out in the interview above, people begin to rely on or obsess over the tips and tricks in pop psychology videos and self-help books. This leads to them defining their lives by a mental illness or psychological condition they may not even have.

Throughout the song, Wood’s lyrics point out how absurd this way of living is; he criticizes the lifestyle in the hope that people will realize the ridiculousness of what they’re doing and reassess how they think about themselves. “You could sing a pretty malady like a black canary, but a crow don’t know the smell of carbon monoxide,” he tells the listener in the first verse (Wood, 2020). “A canary in a coal mine” is an expression that indicates an early warning of danger, based on how coal miners used canaries to detect carbon monoxide. Wood likens the listener to a crow mimicking the real thing: it can make the noise, but it cannot actually do the job, and the listener can fake the symptoms of a mental illness but that doesn’t mean they actually have it.

The bridge of “Marsha, Thankk You” especially draws attention to pop psychology’s tendency to pathologize normal aspects of life. In this part of the song, Wood takes the stance he has been criticizing, singing as if he is the one obsessing over a perceived symptom or unnecessary diagnosis. “Doctor, what’s my prognosis if the studies show that / Disease is in the eye of the beholder?” he asks in the first two lines of the bridge (Wood, 2020). “Disease is in the eye of the beholder” is a play on the saying “beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” which means that everyone has their own standard of what is beautiful; in these lines, Wood says that pop psychologists redefine mental illness to be whatever they think fits them best, whether that is true or not. 

Throughout the rest of the bridge, he satirizes this attitude, ending the section by saying, “We’ll all sing when the bell curve rings in lyrics symptomatic of the way we think / If our harmonies don’t sync, we can change our voices / A chorus on condition of our diagnosis” (Wood, 2020). The bell curve refers to the visualization of statistical average, also known as “normal distribution” in statistics; this line ties the song into the themes of normality and conformity that Wood explores in The Normal Album. He is saying that all these people who buy into pop psychology beliefs do so because they want to feel “normal,” and pop psychology gives them ways to treat symptoms or actions that they see as “abnormal” (whether they are or not). When he adds, “If our harmonies don’t sync, we can change our voices / A chorus on condition of our diagnosis” (Wood, 2020), he means that these people change how they act or see themselves based on what the most recent pop psychologist (a self-help blogger, a mental health influencer, etc.) says their “symptoms” (pathologized human behavior) mean. They will do anything to fit into an acceptable box, even if that label doesn’t truly apply to them or doesn’t actually mean what they’ve been told it means.

All of “Marsha, Thankk You,” but especially the bridge, forces the listeners to examine how they think about their own mental health and whether or not they are susceptible to over-relying on pop psychology. However, the song is meant to be a critical comparison between two perspectives, so over-pathologizing is not the only attitude Wood discusses; he also comments on the opposite side of the spectrum, in which people dismiss mental illness entirely.

Attitudes towards mental health have changed drastically over time. The pop psychology trend is mainly prevalent in younger generations; in contrast, older generations are more likely to ignore or deride mental illness. According to Arielle Kanitz, director of dialectical behavioral therapy at FHE Health, the Silent Generation, Baby Boomer generation, and Generation X all carry a heavy stigma against mental health. For the former two generations, it was assumed that anyone being treated for mental illness was insane, and treatment for those outside that label was unheard of; for the latter generation, they “suck[ed] it up and deal[t] with it” (Robb-Dover, 2023). Even today, when conversations regarding mental health are much more normalized and acceptable, those attitudes and beliefs remain. 

Wood uses the choruses of “Marsha, Thankk You” to mock that perspective of mental illness. In the first chorus, he puts himself in the older generations’ shoes and sings, “Back in my day we didn’t need no feel-good pills and no psychiatrists / No, we just drank ourselves to death / And god damn it, we liked it” (Wood, 2020). The phrase “back in my day” is associated with reminiscing on the past, especially in a fond way, but oftentimes the past was not as good as it is remembered. Wood, speaking as the older generation, derides therapy and pharmaceutical drugs and in the same phrase lauds self-medication through alcohol. This contrast emphasizes the absurdity of dismissing valid treatments for mental illness in favor of ignorance and harmful coping mechanisms.

In the next two choruses of the song, Wood reiterates this criticism by increasing the disparity between the speaker’s judgement of modern mental health treatment and their acceptance of harmful ways to deal with the issue. In the second chorus, he replaces the second line of the quoted lyrics above with “No, we just bled out in our baths.” By following that statement with “And god damn it, we liked it,” (Wood, 2020), he points out how foolish it is to dismiss mental health treatment, because back in the “good old days” when that treatment wasn’t normalized, people killed themselves when they were unable to receive help. 

Finally, in the third and last chorus, he sings, “I said, back in the days of lobotomies and shock therapy and mad scientists,” (Wood, 2020) in reference to some of the common ways to treat mental illness that were prevalent in the late 1800s and early-mid 1900s. Not only were these methods later decided to be harmful and unethical, they were also mainly used on patients with more stigmatized mental illnesses like schizophrenia or bipolar disorder; if a patient was receiving these treatments, it was because they needed to be “fixed.” As a result, people who grew up when these treatments were more common still hold the attitude that mental illness is something bad or shameful, even when modern treatments (the “feel-good pills” and therapy that Wood mentions) are proven to be beneficial. This attitude means that these people refuse to reassess their own mental wellbeing, even when they are hurting because of it. Wood finds this attitude equally as unproductive and harmful as over-relying on pop psychology.

“Marsha, Thankk You” is meant to parody a dialectical behavioral therapy session in how it seeks to juxtapose two contrasting perspectives on mental illness. This becomes especially evident in the song’s outro, where Wood speaks as the listener’s therapist, forcing them to face harsh truths about themself. Regarding their identity, in relation to mental illness, he tells them, “It’s not the way that you were raised, or what the advertisements say / Not what you pay for, what you pray for, what you want, or what you say” (Wood, 2020). These statements address both perspectives that he has criticized throughout the song: the listener’s beliefs about mental illness should not solely be formed by the stigma they grew up with, nor by the self-help “guides” trying to sell them something. Their personal mental state, and any diagnoses they may need, are not reliant on what they buy into, what they hope for, or what they tell others (or themself) that they have. These lyrics summarize Wood’s goal with this song, which was–as he told New Jersey Stage–to get people to examine their attitudes towards mental illness and, hopefully, get them to become more comfortable with themselves.

He continues with the lyrics, “And I see your tendency to redefine disease by what you need / And I’m afraid I can’t prescribe the diagnosis that you seek” (Wood, 2020). This once again frames the listener as someone on the pop psychology side of the conversation, over-reliant on a diagnosis to tell them who they are. Wood, in the position of the listener’s therapist, calls out this behavior and refuses to enable it. He tells the listener, “and something tells me / You prefer to be sitting there flipping through those old issues of People,” (Wood, 2020), implying that the listener cares more about the pop psychology anecdotes in the magazine than the real help their therapist is trying to give them. This final observation drives home Wood’s criticism of this type of person.

The last line of the song is spoken; Wood states, “Well that’s our time, see you next week” (Wood, 2020), effectively ending the dialectical behavioral therapy session and the conversation between the two perspectives he contrasted in the song.

Actual DBT aims to find a balance between conflicting thought processes or ideas. However, in this case, Wood thinks it would be more beneficial to get rid of these attitudes entirely. The conversation between pop psychologists and mental illness deniers is “getting us nowhere,” he says in an interview with Kill the Music. “It’s a game of tug of war with the teams a mile apart and no objective judge. We don’t need to meet in the middle, we need to give up the game” (Mohler, 2020). Although he used dialectic theory as the framework for “Marsha, Thankk You,” he does not actually believe that there is any way for these perspectives to reconcile. Neither are helping America’s mental health crisis, and in fact it may be more beneficial to society if both sides did not exist at all in the extremes that they do.

[mypoorocs]

Shaking

In honour of my recent trip to the ER because I started shaking uncontrollably for no discernable reason, here are some ideas for whumpees:)

Randomly shaking for no discernable reason is actually pretty scary. A lot of movies and TV shows use shaking as The main visual indicator that a character has been poisoned or their body is shutting down, so there may be a fear in the back of your mind that you are dying or irreparable damage is being done, and the more your shaking worsens the worse the fear will be.

Fear can make shaking worse. You may not have started shaking because you were scared, but if you get scared while already shaking it may get significantly worse.

Shaking feels more like caffeine jitters than shivering. It's slower and the movement are bigger than caffeine jitters, but, like with caffeine, you feel it in your chest and "blood"/veins. Even if you aren't visibly moving you can still feel the shaking. With shivering the movements are sharper, and you can supress it (unless you've got early stage hypothermia or something). You can't supress shaking.

Shaking makes it hard to squeeze things or hold onto anything that requires a firm grip.

With mild/moderate shaking, you can still hold things as long as you don't have to grip them tightly, or there is something to press/pull against. I didn't have a problem brushing my teeth because the brush is wedged between my teeth and lips, but I did struggle to squeeze the toothpaste. Placing things back in my open purse was harder than managing the zipper.

Motor control isn't as precise. You might reach for something, but your hand ends up going several centimetres in the wrong direction.

The motor control issues may affect ability to walk more than the actual shaking. You may end up doing a less dramatic variation of the drunken sailor walk because your feet just aren't going where you tell them to.

Muscle weakness may also affect walking. I felt like my legs could have given out at anytime.

Balance will be off, especially when standing up or leaning over. You may lean over way too far and whack your head on something, or you may stand up and immediately fall back down.

If the shaking is really mild/subtle it can still be noticed when picking up something light like a pen. Cell phones may or may not be too heavy to see it.

Idk if this is true if all shaking, but that little rocking thing some people's body's do right as they fall asleep was the number one aggravater of my shaking. My solution to this problem was just to stay awake (for all you lovers of the whumpee refusing to sleep trope).

Being woken up during a shaking episode is very disorienting. It may take several minutes just to be able to sit up in bed without feeling like you just spun around 30 times in a row and don't know which way is up anymore.

If your whumpee gets those little full body twitches/jerks - the ones when you have an upsetting thought and your body does a Hard Physical Reset to get rid of it - shaking will make the twitch/jerk go on non-stop for a full minute or more before it finally dies down. If your whumpee is really anxious and keeps getting new boughts of twitching/jerks, it may be an hour or more before the shaking returns to normal.

If your whumpee has a bouncy leg, it will be extra bouncy.

Mild/moderate shaking doesn't affect vision, speech, or ability to think. Your whumpee w-won't b-be s-s-stuttering.

Mild/moderate shaking doesn't hurt. I can't speak for more severe shaking though.

Shaking may come with other neurological symptoms. For me, it was pins and needles tingling in the tips of my fingers and toes, as well as stabbing and squeezing pains all over my body that came and went.

Bonus: Shaking + Hypermobility/joint instability

If your whumpee has some kind of symptomatic hypermobility or joint instability disorder shaking might have some additional side affects (from someone with G-HSD/hEDS):

Some small joints may shake themselves in and out of their sockets. My jaw wobbled in and out a bunch - I had to hold it in place with my hand at one point - and my finger knuckles kept locking in that position where they snap between open and closed, and I had to keep cracking them back in place.

Your whumpee will roll their ankle. It's not an if, it's a when.

A hypermobile whumpee may subconsciously start clenching the muscles around their more unstable joints as you shake (like hips, shoulders, wrists) to hold them in place. This will cause pain eventually, and they may suddenly realize they've been holding those joints in weird positions for who knows how long, which may cause further instability.

For cane-using whumpees: I thought maybe the muscle weakness and shaking would make it useless to use my cane, but because I was just pressing down on it with my body weight, and I didn't need to clench or hard-grip it, it was actually fine. The greatest hazard was actually tripping over my cane because my feet weren't going where they were supposed to. But the cane did give me my balance back, so depending on the activity it was a worthwhile trade off.

[kayakima]

How the 104th cadet corps gets their exercise routine

(Plus bonus Porco and Pieck)

Eren: Jumped around on different types of exercise until Tae Kwon Do really resonated with him. It ended up being a great outlet for his energy and temper and once he started doing it regularly, everyone noticed he mellowed out a lot in his personal life. He’s a probationary black belt currently and once he earns his black belt he wants to make a display for all of his previous belts to hang up in his living room.

Mikasa: Hosts her own workout class once a week. Runs a fitness blog that focuses more on balance rather than pushing yourself continuously. Heavily cautions against eating disorders (especially towards men) and ends all her videos with “you are a warrior. Know this. You have the power to slay all the obstacles in your path, even if you have to do it alone.” Can bench 300 but doesn’t really talk about it. Is 100% that ultra-feminine girl that Eren loses his mind over when she randomly flexes and he calls her “muscle mommy” as a joke

Armin: Jogs casually in the mornings but he had a discount on ClassPass and eventually found a yoga studio he fell in love with. Wears traditional salwar pants and got embarrassed when Eren said he was wearing “MC Hammer pants”. Yoga is his time to decompress and he can probably fold his body into a pretzel. Goes to the meditation studio next door right after for an hour. Takes Annie to goat yoga for her birthday

Annie: Saw a run club online and thought that was cost-effective and easy to commit to. Sasha heard her mention it and got super excited. She still jogs with her headphones on and doesn’t talk while actually running but she enjoys Sasha’s company regardless. Does the color run every year with Sasha and Connie. Armin always writes a silly sign for her and sneaks a picture of her covered in rainbow cornstarch with a huge smile on her face and sets it as his phone background

Bertholdt: He’s tall and kind of lanky so you wouldn’t really think much of him working out, but he’s really into longboarding and is REALLY good at snowboarding. He’s casually doing Olympic-level stunts and is like “dude it’s really not hard you just have to lean into the movements and let the board go where it wants to go” if anyone asks him about it. His longboard is COVERED with OddFuture stickers he got at Zumiez

Reiner: Lives and dies by lifting. Has whey protein with every meal and curates everything he eats by its macros and nutrient density. It took Mikasa everything she had to convince him to stop paying attention to all of that and to just eat whatever he wants when he’s hungry because at the end of the day he’s still in great shape even if he eats some cookies. He still fell for the Bloom superfood powder hype though but at least it’s not creatine or alpha male podcasts.

Ymir: Doesn’t really think about working out but can hike from sunrise to sunset without so much as panting. Has a matching owala with Historia’s and could probably climb Mount Everest without assistance or gear if you left her to her own devices. When she’s in the vicinity of one she will scale a rock wall in ten seconds.

Historia: Works out more for the aesthetic than for the health benefits because she’s already hiking with Ymir pretty often. A stairmaster HATES to see her walking into the girls-only gym with her Owala that’s clattering with charms. Only wears matching sets from gymshark and does no upper body at all. Not because she “doesn’t want to look bulky,” but because she doesn’t know how to properly do any upper body and doesn’t really care to learn since Ymir is already physically strong.

Marco: Casually works out but he’s a swimmer through and through. Freestyle is his stroke but Jean keeps telling him he has the wingspan to compete professionally in a 200m butterfly. Goes to the local public pool on his own time but prefers when Jean is free so he can use his guest pass to swim in a private gym instead. His favorite pair of racing trunks are the ones Jean gave him for his birthday that look like Patrick Star’s

Sasha: Isn’t super devoted to working out but when Annie mentioned the run club she got SUPER excited and signed the both of them and Connie up. Took Annie to get matching running shorts and shoes and posts her stats on her Instagram stories. After running a 5k and the city’s annual half-marathon she celebrates by absolutely pigging out at Applebee’s

Connie: After joining the run club he unintentionally picks up a TON of girls on a regular basis. He doesn’t even notice they’re fawning over him and just thinks they want his number to get updates on official events. Gets really passionate about Hokas and all of his running shorts have some ridiculous pattern on them. Qualifies for the half-marathon every year and dumps a bottle of water on his face five seconds after crossing the finish line

Jean: ABSOLUTELY has an Equinox membership that his mom pays for (she knows someone in corporate who gets her a 75% discount). Brings travel bottles to fill with Aēsop soap every time. Does not have Equinox merch because he’s self-aware enough to know that it’s douchey. You’d think he lifts but he’s actually a great swimmer and invites Marco on his guest pass to race every week (he lets Marco win because he likes seeing him get so excited)

Pieck: Pilates Queen. Mooches off Jean’s guest pass at Equinox but he doesn’t mind because she always likes to take “gym couple” photos. Outside of that she goes to a local Pilates studio and gets the staff holiday gift baskets every year because they’re tight like that now. Has matching sets to work out in with the girlies but prefers to work out in biker shorts and one of Jean’s tshirts when she’s on her own

Porco: was originally a CrossFit fiend until he pulled a muscle and realized CrossFit does NOT prioritize form and you’re actually just destroying your body. Bought an Equinox membership at Jean’s behest but does wear the merch because he thinks it’s comfortable and doesn’t care if it’s douchey. Says Pilates is for girls and doesn’t want to be the weird straight man in a Pilates studio but is secretly very interested in it.

[kastellaran]

Hinezumi Character Bios

The Medicine Seller (Kusuriuri)

A mysterious being who wields the Sword of Exorcism which has the power to exorcise and slay mononoke. He entrances people with his otherworldly appearance, suddenly appearing before those who are being troubled by strange occurrences and melting into the backdrop just as quickly. Sometimes brazen, sometimes cool-headed, he observes strange occurrences and the situations they cause and faces these terrible and ferocious things while at the same time getting up close with the feelings that have become mononoke.

Ootomo Botan

Regards herself highly as the daughter of Administrator Ootomo. Now that she's attained the highest rank in the Ooku, otoshiyori, she exercises strict control over the Ooku, faithfully maintaining order and balance.

Tokita Fuki

Originally a town girl. As soon as Tenshi saw her, she was made an ochuurou, and is now the sole object of his affections. There is a deep gap between her and the order-loving Botan.

Tokita Saburoumaru

The third son of the Tokita household and Fuki's younger brother. He's worried about Fuki, who's living in the Ooku, in the aftermath of the chaos of Karakasa.

Sakashita

Guard in charge of security at the Ooku. He met the Medicine Seller in front of Nanatsuguchi, the gate that sees the most traffic. He's always on the lookout for any strange movements.

Asa

One of the two protagonists of Karakasa, the first chapter. She's taken on the role of goyuuhitsu, managing the documents of the Ooku, but still carries the damage she sustained from Karakasa in her heart.

Tokita Yoshimichi

Fuki and Saburoumaru's father. He originally ran a kimono shop, but when Fuki was selected to be an ochuurou they were able to become a samurai* family. For some reason, he was made to be Ootomo's shogi partner. *In English we use the word "samurai" differently from how it's used in Japanese, and usually when people are talking about the military/nobility class in the Edo period, they'll say 武家 (buke/military family) which is what is written here. Likewise, when talking about warriors, the word 武士 (bushi) is more commonly used than samurai. But I said samurai because it's got its own meaning in English, and I thought saying "military family" might be confusing since to me it sounds like a family who has a military background.

Administrator Ootomo

Botan's father and one of the four administrators who looks after the interests of the shogunate. Keeps an eye out so that Tenshi's reign can continue stably, hates things that invite disorder, which he calls "sparks."

[novaursa]

Hi! Could I please request more for Jaqen H’ghar x reader, either a sequel to what you wrote if you’re open to doing that but if not then just anything with him in it. I’d never really considered reading stuff about him before but you honestly had me hooked with the fic you’ve made for him and I would just love love love some more if possible, thank you so much!

The Game of Faces (name)

Requests are closed!

- Summary: You meet your sister’s “friend” and he offers his help, for a price.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Jaqen H'ghar

- Rating: Mature 16+ (jus to be safe)

- Previous part: 1

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The nights in Harrenhal seem longer than the days, each hour stretching into the next as if time itself is trapped within the cursed walls. The weight of Jaqen’s words still hangs heavy in your mind, as though each passing moment presses you closer to the inevitable. Arya is asleep beside you, curled against your side in the straw bed, her small form breathing steadily. But you cannot sleep, not with the decision that gnaws at your soul.

A name. That is all he needs.

You sit up slowly, careful not to wake Arya. She has seen too much already, and you want to shield her from this—whatever this is that Jaqen H’ghar has pulled you into. Quietly, you slip out of the bedding and make your way through the dim hallways, your footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone floors.

When you find him, Jaqen is standing near the kitchen fires, his silhouette lit by the flickering orange glow. His back is turned to you, yet you know he senses your approach. He always does.

“A girl comes,” he says without turning, his voice smooth and soft, as if he had been waiting for you.

You stand there for a moment, the heat from the fire warming your face as you try to gather your thoughts, your courage. “I have a name,” you whisper, your voice trembling more than you’d like.

Jaqen turns to you then, his mismatched eyes meeting yours, and for a heartbeat, you feel as though the world falls away. There is only him and the promise hanging between you.

“A name will bring death,” he says, his tone as soft as ever, though there is something sharp beneath it. “But it will bring freedom too.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. You know what you are doing, and yet, the weight of it is heavier than you imagined. You think of Arya, of the prisoners, of the suffering that has stained this place. And then you think of the man who keeps you all bound here.

“The Tickler,” you say, your voice steady despite the fear clawing at your insides.

Jaqen's eyes gleam in the firelight, and his lips curve into that familiar, enigmatic smile. He inclines his head ever so slightly, as if acknowledging the choice you’ve made. “It is done.”

You feel the air shift around you, as though a part of the world just turned on a dark hinge you cannot see. Jaqen steps away from the fire, his movements graceful as ever. “A girl will see.”

Before you can ask what he means, he is gone, his figure swallowed by the shadows.

The next day, chaos erupts. Word spreads quickly that the Tickler is dead, his body found in the night with no sign of a struggle, no clue as to how he met his end. The Lannister soldiers are in disarray, scrambling to keep control of the prisoners, but it is clear that the balance of power has shifted.

Amid the confusion, Arya tugs at your sleeve. “Now,” she whispers, her eyes bright with urgency. “We have to go now.”

You don’t hesitate. With your heart racing, you and Arya slip through the chaos, blending into the mass of bodies and movement. The guards are distracted, too occupied with the growing disorder to notice two prisoners slipping away. You follow Arya, your mind whirling with the thought of escape, of freedom, of the promise Jaqen made to you.

As you near the outer gates, you feel a hand close around your arm. You turn, startled, only to find Jaqen standing there, his grip firm but not painful. His eyes lock onto yours, intense and unreadable.

“A man honors his promise,” he says quietly, his voice cutting through the noise of the surrounding commotion. “A girl is free now. But a girl must follow.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as his words sink in. Follow him? Away from Arya? You glance back at your sister, who is darting through the gates with the prisoners, her small form disappearing into the crowd. For a moment, panic grips you—how can you leave her? But then, you remember Arya’s strength, the steel in her eyes, the fire that burns in her heart. She will be fine. She has to be fine.

Jaqen’s hand on your arm pulls your attention back to him. His face is calm, his gaze unwavering. “In the chaos, a girl will be safe. But if a girl stays, death will follow.”

The weight of your promise presses against you. You gave him your word, and he fulfilled his part of the bargain. Now it is time for you to honor yours.

“A girl must obey,” Jaqen says, his voice soft but firm, as though reminding you of a vow already made. And in that moment, you realize there is no turning back.

You nod, your throat tight with emotion. “I will follow.”

Jaqen releases your arm and steps back, his gaze lingering on you for just a heartbeat longer before he turns and walks away, his pace measured, deliberate. You hesitate for only a moment before you take a deep breath and move after him, your steps quickening to match his.

As you leave Harrenhal behind, the sounds of the castle fading into the distance, you glance back one last time. Arya is gone from sight, but you know she will survive. She has always been a survivor, just like you.

Jaqen’s figure leads the way, silent and sure, and you follow without question, stepping into the unknown.

[frvnkcastles]

SET MY WORLD ON FIRE ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You struggle with sex because of pain but want to give it a try with Frank.

Warnings: Female reader, feminine nicknames, light smut

Word count: 1.6k

Author’s note: Soooo I’m back with another PTSD related fic. I rarely write smut anymore but I wanted to do something like this because surprise surprise, it’s something I deal with. I suffer from chronic pain called vulvodynia, which is kinda similar to vaginismus I guess, and it makes having sex very painful or even impossible. There isn’t a lot of information about it available but I’m pretty sure it can be connected to (C-)PTSD or trauma in general (also other anxiety disorders). And I just think Frank would be so understanding and a safe person to try new things with. That’s all, thank you for reading <3

Your breathing was heavy as you rested on your back, your eyes locked with Frank’s as he hovered above you on the bed, and your fingers running through the coarse hairs on the back of his head. The air was tense and there was a ball of nerves in the pit of your stomach, but deep down, you were excited, too. And most importantly, you trusted Frank. You knew that the moment would be over with your say-so, and he’d be off of your body within seconds, but so far, you were willing to push your limits.

”Gorgeous girl”, he muttered while caressing your cheek and traveling down to grip your jaw softly, just enough to tilt your head up so he could lean down to kiss your neck. His lips left a trail of goosebumps and you closed your eyes to fully revel in the feeling, your arms hanging around his neck and your legs around his hips.

His name escaped your lips and you could feel his mouth curling up into a smile against your skin. ”Yeah, sweetheart?” he rasped, lifting his head from the crook of your neck so he could look at you. He took in the sight of you, eyes squeezed shut and a mixture of pleasure and anxiety twisting your features. ”Hey, look at me”, he demanded gently, and licking your lips, you met his gaze only to feel even more vulnerable under the intensity of it.

”Y’know nothin’ happens without your permission, yeah? ’M just here to go at your pace. You got nothin’ to worry about, I promise”, he explained, tilting his head at you, and slowly, you managed a nod.

You had wanted this for a long time. You had wanted him for a long time. But no matter how strong that desire in you grew, you knew that your body wasn’t on the same page with you, that regardless of your feelings, it would hurt. And when you had told Frank as much, he had sworn to be gentle with you, to proceed as slowly as you needed him to, with promises of being honored you’d trust him with it.

”Breathe for me, pretty girl”, he encouraged, and swallowing, you inhaled deeply through your nose, and following his example, you exhaled through your mouth. ”There ya go”, he smiled at you before biting his lip and deciding to dip a toe in the waters. ”Can I touch you?”

Your breath got stuck in your throat, but once again, you nodded. ”Yes, please”, you requested quietly, and satisfied, Frank let his hands venture across your body. You were already reduced to just your underwear, making it easy for his thick fingers to graze against your skin and glide down between your legs. He was careful, but you still tensed up, and he could immediately tell. You stared at the ceiling and tried to keep your breathing balanced, but you were scared.

”Want me to stop?” Frank asked, but despite the fear bubbling in your chest, you immediately shook your head.

”I want to feel you”, you admitted, and chuckling softly, Frank nodded.

He tried his best to be gentle, but you still gasped sharply at the feeling of his finger prodding, and Frank’s chest ached at the idea of causing you any pain. Nevertheless, when you didn’t tell him to stop, he pushed further, and somewhere within his movements, the initial pain melted into a warm, pleasant feeling.

”This okay?” he whispered, peppering your face with kisses as he moved his hand back and forth, and nodding rapidly, you clamped your hand over your mouth to stifle any stray moans about to slip out. Frank noticed in an instant and with his free hand wrangled your palm away from your face, wanting to hear everything.

”It’s good. It’s really good”, you breathed out, and with a crooked smile, Frank leaned his forehead against yours and kissed the air out of your lungs. His lips were like magic, just like his fingers, and the combined sensation of the two had you seeing stars, speechless as you writhed under the weight of his body.

Before you could reach your climax, though, Frank withdrew his hand from you, and when you whined at the loss, his grin widened. ”Shh, sh, it’s okay. Be patient f’me, baby”, he reassured before wetting his lips and looking down at where your bodies were about to connect.

”We’ll take it slow, yeah? I got you, sweetheart. Tell me to stop and I will”, he promised you, and with an impatient nod, you agreed to his words. It was a terrible mix to be both needy and scared, to want him more than anything in the world but dread that you wouldn’t be able to go through it. But Frank was endlessly patient with you, and like he had sworn, his movements were languid and careful.

The grunt that rose from his throat when he entered you made you want to keep going. You would have done anything for him in that moment. The exertion of being slow was obvious on his creased forehead, but he didn’t break his promise — he slid in slowly, pausing as soon as you sucked in a pained breath.

”Hurts”, you croaked out, wringing your eyes shut, and immediately jumping to action, Frank smoothed the lines in the corners of your eyes.

”Hey, hey, don’t worry. I ain’t movin’ ’til you tell me to, aight?” Frank whispered, and with a gulp, you nodded.

”Maybe… maybe if you… make small movements back and forth”, you proposed, and humming in response, Frank kissed your forehead.

”You know what to do if it ain’t feelin’ right”, he noted before inching his hips forward just the slightest, then pulling back and repeating the motion. It was an attempt to get you used to him, and it had you huffing and puffing with the hopes of remembering to breathe through it, but it didn’t seem like the pain was going anywhere.

”This would be a lot easier if you were… smaller”, you pointed out with a wry smile, earning a snort from Frank.

”Wanna stop?” he asked again, but you shook your head.

”I think I can take a little more”, you said hopefully, and with concern shining in his eyes, Frank nodded reluctantly and made a firmer thrust, only for you to immediately regret it.

Your hands flew to his chest to push him away, and reacting quickly, Frank pulled out and watched the ache bloom on your face. With a frustrated huff, you ran a palm across your features, and as Frank got off of you and knelt on the bed, you sat up, as well.

”You okay, sweetheart? Shit, I shoulda— I didn’t wanna hurt ya”, he stammered, hands hovering over you, not sure if it was okay to touch you.

Pursing your lips in a sad smile, you took his hand and squeezed. ”I’m okay. It’s not your fault”, you told him quietly. Nonetheless, regret blossomed in Frank’s chest as he watched you curl up and wrap your arms around your knees bashfully. But when he saw the look on your face, he knew you were feeling much worse than he was.

”Hey, it ain’t your fault either, ya know that, right?” he spoke up, tilting his head down to catch your gaze, which you expertly avoided. Frustrated tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but you were quick to wipe them away.

”I guess”, you shrugged. ”It just doesn’t seem fair to you. To—to get you all worked up, and then I can’t even—I can’t—”, you tried to explain, but Frank hastily shot down your anxieties.

”You don’t owe me anythin’. Just ’cause you make me turned on, and trust me, you really do, I don’t expect you to do anythin’ ’bout it. It ain’t fun for me if it ain’t fun for you”, he stated matter-of-factly, his fingertips caressing your arm as he sat closer to you.

”I guess we can always do other stuff”, you tried to see the positive in the situation, and with an encouraging smile, Frank opened his arms for you, and you didn’t hesitate to crawl into the welcoming embrace.

”That’s right, sweetheart. I’m happy to use my fingers if that felt good. Would love to get my mouth on you”, he whispered into your ear, and with blush creeping to your cheeks, you covered your face with both hands and giggled. ”And if you ever wanna do the same for me, that’s more than enough. Or if you want to try this again some other time, I’m okay with exploring. There’s no pressure”, Frank went on, and with a genuine smile, you gave him a grateful look.

”Sorry for ruining the mood. I really do want you, you know”, you wanted him to know, and with half a smile, Frank kissed you.

”Don’t be sorry, sweet girl. I know”, he sighed, his hand caressing your hair tenderly. ”How ’bout we order some food and maybe you’ll feel better?” he proposed then, and full of adoration for the man and all his patience and understanding.

”Thank you, Frankie.”

The guilt in you began to dissipate eventually, and underneath all the frustration, you felt lucky to have someone like Frank. Someone who you could trust to take care of you, someone who was okay with taking things slow. It hadn’t always been the case with other men, but with Frank, you felt safe. You felt like it would be okay, regardless of the outcome.

[rin-and-jade]

Welcome to the World! : A Starting Guide for Alters

This guide's purpose is to help either new formed/split, or those recently risen from dormancy, or the unregistered/unrecognized alters to get one step closer to functioning at the outside world!

It'll be one long rundown, click below to start right away, see you on the flip side.

From here on, what will be mentioned are things to assess some potential problems, questions, and self-discovery prompts. It is recommended to follow the flow of the guide, but if you necessarily need to skim to a certain section, this table of contents will help you:

table of contents

The beginning - Introduction

Things to look out for - potential problems to assess - Mobility - Gender & Species unalignment - World confusion

Starters - self discovery questions

How a system works - lite educative version

Closing - last notes + extra materials

The beginning

Nice to see you here, in the flip side! Now i know you have lots of questions on hand right now, and why you might be reading this as first thing's first; it's because i am here to help prepare yourself in many different aspects that cannot be learnt/figured out in such a short amount of time unless it is assisted with an experienced person.

If you haven't know what's going on up to this point, along with the kind of situation you're in, first off, you're a system.

Yes, thats right, system is a word for a collection of many parts within one body and you are also a part of it. This can mean you'll hear other kinds of accent inside head, and feeling + liking fully different things, as well as possessing different levels of certain skills and memory. More or less, this belongs to the qualities of a Complex Dissociative Disorder,, where there are types like DID, OSDD, Polyfragmented, etc.

This happens because of how dissociation can wall up barriers between other facets of yourself that stops some level of communication or complete it's integration when bad things happen in early years, leaving them mainly separated and self-autonomous; they're known as 'alters' but i personally love calling them as 'parts' or some might go with words like 'headmates' or 'facets' or even 'members'.

This isn't enough to explain the disorder itself, but i hope it suffices in explaining your situation! Feel free to check some extra system details if your gang has one, let's get to the next section.

Things to look out for

Just a quick warning and a reminder, if you are rather new or have not been actively out,, there is a high chance of having issues with limb coordination, control, and balancing. Other than that, the off-putting sensations you feel such as wrong type of species, height, gender, or even the world being foreign from how you perceive it can make things scary and overwhelming.

Fear not, as i also have the solutions for all these:

Handling poor mobility: First off, take a good moment to recognize your length of the arms, legs, learn the shape of your palm and fingers, and to every corners of your body. Start holding some simple objects like mugs or pens, remember how it feels to grab something with your fingers and gauge your grip strength, experimenting when you squeeze or loosen it. Then start interacting with the objects with both your hands, attempt to twirl it, or hold it in different positions and turns. You can also go for a test walk and sway all your joints to get a better picture of your movement range, practice makes perfect in easing your balance and momentum, it is normal to stub or be wobbly or clumsy at first, so take it easy okay?

To manage unalignment: It is hard to feel comfy if it is not the right height, especially for non-human aligned parts, so using props or any equipment or accessories can give you some sense of comfort (you can even walk on toes if you do need to feel a bit more tall, but don't over do this). Since fully eradicating this is impossible, doing anything in your power to lessen the discomfort is the best thing you can do,, there are also phantom limbs which basically means the extra body parts you identify with does not exist. This can be remedied by applying some gentle pressure to think that it is attached to your main body or use your imagination to satisfy that missing limb. for those not being aligned with the gender, if the body is feminine but you are masculine; try investing or search for a binder. If a binder is out of reach, wearing oversized, or baggy clothes, or hoodies will do the trick. And a boyish clothing style and short hair style if possible too. If its masculine in a feminine instead, using more girly oriented clothing style and do your nails, or any activities that affirms feminine aligned gender. I am very sure there are silicon chest pads but not in terms of where it is being sold at, so try to find them if it's available in your area. When neither and is androgynous instead, try searching for gender neutral clothes that are also neutral colored like grey/black/brown. There are many inspirations of this type of fashion so use the internet to gain inspirations on making your own androgyny look, you could even use make up to contour your shape of face. Now, for the ones who walk in hind-legs, get some platform heels/shoes/sandals/boots. You can find a flat one or the slanted one to match your needs. The idea is the slanted part of the shoe and the thick base gives an impression of canine/feline foot balance and for those who have hooves, respectively. (honestly, paw printed socks will do too, i hope) And to manage claws, or fangs, try using fake nail art of your color, or attach a fake vampire teeth guard, respectively. For symbolic means, you can even consume foods that are juicy and red, like meat cooked in medium,, or if you want the more vegan option: watermelons, or gummy that represents meat or grubs or just by being red to represent blood. Lastly, for the avians who have a pair of flaps--multiple wings, or in unusual spots (arm, face) can be eased by applying constant pressure points (any adhesive and items like tape, cotton, band aids, tissue, or plastic wrap) or a cloak/mantle/loose jacket or vest can give you that comfortable enshrouded sensation that comes with wings. Making flap sounds from cloth or any fabric will also give you a stable sense of input for having a 'functional' one, although phantom.

Getting used to the world Start learning how technology works--phone, laptop, kitchen tools, vehicle if any, and anything else that are often used. Make sure you practice enough to easily operate them, and learn how to use the internet and helpful plural apps or websites such as Lighthouse or start using Simply Plural. Try many foods to enhance culinary awareness, identify lots of other objects and the geography of your area to navigate and understand better. Touch many kinds of materials to train your sensory processes. You could also invest in watching shows and try a variety amount of activities to deepen your understanding of life. Explore different kinds of subject that you are particularly interested on, and lastly, never be afraid to do and try new things! This will guarantee you to seamlessly function with anything the world has to offer.

For starters - Self Discovery

Do you have a name?

do you what's your age?

What's your gender?

What are your pronouns?

Do you remember anything, and how much?

Do you seem to retain some past knowledge?

Can you describe what you look like? (Includes species)

Do you find the outside world familiar or foreign?

Can you state your bio name, family, or any important info?

Is it possible to describe yourself identity/vibe wise? (crucial part to tell apart fragments from splits and from holders that do not embody a personality)

What role could you fit as? (a host, protector, etc. Search for alter roles)

Do you like the outside world? Will you have a chance of being out more often? (to gauge how often one will front)

Have any likes and dislikes or preferences/hobbies?

For the bullet points you couldn't answer, take this as a sign to start searching! It will take some time, but you can ask help from anyone and even me when needed.

How a system works

A system works in communication (be it internal or external) and switches that also often have a specific trigger to call out someone else. Sometimes, though not a must, will have an innerworld that facilitates as a place for everyone to meet and interact.

These things are crucial for cooperation, because you'll definitely need that in order to navigate the world and adapt accordingly.

Communication

There are many kinds of communication styles, sometimes a mix of some or have all of the above,, whatever style you have, make sure to use it to the maximum. There are: via images, via abstract vibes, via emotions, or via direct (verbal) internal thoughts. Some do not have any internal communication, so external ones would be things such as keeping notes or write in a diary or any app for text editing.

Keep in mind that the clarity of communication fluctuates due to various factors, stress as one of them. So it is important to know that it will not work in a constant 100% at all times, use this awareness to strategize if, somehow, you have lost contact with the others.

Trigger & Switches

It is something that elicits a feeling that belongs to a part, which in return, can 'wake' or call one to co-con or front. There are negative and positive charged triggers, and i suggest you to explore what are your potential triggers.

The relationship with trigger and switches is, depending on how strong it is, can cause a switch to happen, where you will be swapped out by another one who got 'called' upon. This mechanism is for adapting to different kinds of situations, and these certain triggers are the key to ensuring the right part handle it's respective job as needed.

Switches can be very subtle, or slow, or obvious, or in a snap. This fully depends on how your system is made to handle problems on hand or when in stress, as sometimes it can cause rapid-switching, or the opposite, being stuck or locked in front. Sometimes, they also cause physical symptoms.

System terms - Basics

Fronting - the alter who has full control of the body, and performing tasks. Co-front - the alter, who have awareness between the outside and inside world, as well as able to control the body though not as complete as the fronter. Co-conscious - the alter who have awareness of the outside world, and spectates, and does not have any direct control of the body. Passive influence - when an alter's specific traits or likes/dislikes leaked to others and/or at front, that changes the initial reaction to be more blended with the other one. E.g. A like fries, B is there and likes spicy sauces. So now, A is craving to eat the fries with something spicy, even if A has no interest when it comes to spiciness or sauce.

For closing

Practice makes perfect, this is everything you need to know to hone your knowledge before finally stepping outside with complete freedom, where you can start anywhere you'd like, and to resume your collective's path to functionality and well-being. It's okay if things didn't go well at first try, and remember to reach out to people who you could trust as it'll help you progress faster!

I am aware that this guide still have a lot of room for improvement, so any requests or feedback will be added here for future viewers! This guide will be subjected to constant updates with even more sections being discussed on, or added touch of details. I will also add on my own posts here to serve as additional knowledge that is related to this topic:

Types of amnesia

Are you a Shard, Fragment, or Alter

Types of subsystems

Front-stuck, and how to deal with it

Physical switches

Comorbidity

Being blurry

Starters to system foundations

How comorbidity affects plurals (ADHD & Autism)

Dealing with the sense of faking

The person who needs to give their back a break, - j

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

This is Jinx: my brother found her after she was abandoned at a local park, but he scooped her up and brought her home; she has a neurological disorder that impairs her ability to walk properly, and thanks to a birth defect, she doesn't have any teeth

In addition to the neurological disorder and the dental defect, Jinx also has some minor deformities in one of her eyes, her tail is kinked, she's a runt, and she apparently had a botched spay procedure at some point in her life. She's mostly just heart-stoppingly adorable, though.

Here is a video of her trying to be ferocious:

My brother brought her home about three years ago, after he found her sitting in the parking lot of a local park. When he first approached her, she tried to run away, but she immediately fell over and then struggled to get back up again. My brother just assumed that she was injured, so he scooped her up and carried her back home.

When we took her to the vet, we learned that she wasn't injured, but that her balance issues are likely the result of a disorder known as cerebellar hypoplasia (CH), which is sometimes referred to as "wobbly cat syndrome." It's a developmental disorder in which the cerebellum (the part of the brain that controls movement and balance) fails to develop properly in utero. The disorder affects her ability to stand, walk, jump, etc.

Cats with CH can have mild, moderate, or severe disabilities, but Jinx's impairments are on the mild/moderate side of that scale -- she can walk, but she is very uncoordinated, and she frequently staggers, sways, or tips over, especially when she's startled or in distress. She then has a lot of trouble regaining control of her limbs and getting back up again, which sort of makes her look like a "fainting goat." It's hard for her to keep her head steady, so she repeatedly "bops" her nose against anything that she's trying to sniff or eat.

The bobbing motion means that she is a very messy eater, and that issue is made even worse by the fact that she doesn't have any teeth and she generally forgets to close her mouth. Her toothlessness is the result of another congenital defect known as oligodontia, meaning that her teeth failed to develop, aside from a couple of tiny, mishapen "toothlets" near the front of her mouth.

She also seems to have had a botched spay procedure at some point, because there's evidence that another vet attempted to spay her (and she has the scar to prove it) but she still goes into heat at erratic intervals, and it seems to cause her much more distress than you'd normally see in a healthy cat. Our veterinarian suspects that the person who performed her surgery accidentally left behind some of the ovarian tissue, thereby wreaking havoc on her hormones.

Given the circumstances, we're pretty sure that someone deliberately abandoned her. The lot in which she was found is located in the middle of a very large park, and it's surrounded by several acres of pine forest, densely packed thickets, thorns, tall grass, and muddy terrain. Given her mobility issues, there's no way that she could have traversed all of those obstacles on her own, especially not without getting at least a little bit disheveled and dirty, but her fur was still clean and well-groomed when we found her...which means that someone must have driven her there and then left.

She's an absolute sweetheart, though. She has some peculiar habits, but she is still incredibly affectionate. She literally comes running to greet me every time I open my bedroom door, and she does the same thing with my brother.

She always sleeps next to my Dad at night, too, and as soon as he goes to bed, she follows him in and says "goodnight" to him by snuggling up to his neck, kneading his shoulder, and kissing his face (tho her kisses are kind of messy, because the toothlessness means that she drools a lot and almost always leaves her mouth hanging open).

Edit: Jinx was diagnosed with CH, but there's a possibility that her symptoms are the result of a congenital vestibular dysfunction instead, because both disorders are known to cause issues with balance, movement, and posture, but she has some symptoms that are more closely associated with CH, and others that are more closely associated with vestibular disorders. CH is still the likelier culprit, tho.

[cultkinkcoven]

I don’t really be going to the club or partying much, I’ve never really understood what exactly you’re supposed to do. To me it’s just a bunch of people standing in a room while lights shoot them in the face, never could get it. Don’t know how to dance, just do that autistic baby bobble thing. I don’t drink, so bars and clubs never had any real appeal to me.

But last night I went to a goth dance party with my friends and I did some shrooms with them. And I immediately understood.

The thing I like about going to the club, or even the things I go to more regularly like punk shows, is the people watching. I love people watching at the club, especially at queer clubs.

Idk how to explain it but there is definitely a Dionysian magic there. I love it.

All these different people from all these different walks of life clash in this one room. It’s beautiful.

While I was high as shit there, Lord Lucifer was speaking to me and his voice was loud and clear. And he almost made me cry in the club lol because what he was saying was resonating so highly.

“Look around. What do you see? There are 86 people here, few of them are sober. All these people here have different jobs, they come from different families, speak different languages. They are all walking around with a unique concoction of brain soup in their heads and drugs in their bodies. Autism, bipolar disorder, paranoid schizophrenia, phobias, fixations, fetishes. You are watching all of these things on display right now, they are interacting with each other in real time. Watch them dance. The substances dance around their bodies, and their bodies move. Weed, shrooms, coke, acid. They pulse with the rhythm of the music. They must, it reminds them they’re alive. For the boy with severe adhd, this is his sanctuary. There is no world that exists for him beyond the rhythm of the beat. He must dance, and tonight he will. When there is nothing else to hold onto, we will all dance. That man over there, he lost his job the other day. And that woman over there, she just got divorced. But look at them dance. You can find anything and anyone on the dance floor. You’ll find people finding themselves, learning for the first time who they can be. Everyone tonight is wearing a costume. Here is where you can find a real life fairy, a queen, a goddess, a clown, and something else that escapes the grasp of words completely. Look at your friends dance (my two roommates were dancing together and they had so much chemistry it was incredible to watch genuinely), look at the archetypes they fulfill. There’s a crazy girl who has no idea what she’s doing, and her goblin who’s afraid of the dark, who can only function properly if their weight is perfectly balanced. Two people that will never ever fit in anywhere in daylight, but in the night they come alive. The woman over there with the 10 inch mohawk, the man over there wearing the assless chaps. Where do they go when the sun comes up? And you, oh you of course. What archetype do you fulfill? The black punk boy with a battle jacket full of political patches. The culture you observe with awe looks back at you, it reads the advertisement written on your back. “Protect trans joy”, that is the role you fulfill. The witness and the announcer.

This is the underbelly of humanity. The part they try to hide, but it never goes away, it can’t. No it hides underground in tight, humid, dingy spaces sweating and bobbing its head to sounds that only make sense in movement. There are Gods in this room that can only be found here. What is this ritual? Listen to the strange atypical sounds of the post punk music. I want you for a moment to imagine what a club inhabited by the Gods would look like. I assure you, my love, it doesn’t look much different than this. This right here is realer than anything else. You are spirits letting yourselves be manipulated. Minds, bodies, hearts, all now beating in union. Even now you rock and sway aimlessly, you let the music and the drugs move you. Now look, what is this? A force is being generated. Look closely. See the way certain bodies group together, pull on each other with invisible magnetism. This force, watch it closely now. Look at your friends. You know what this force is called. It’s love. Look, it’s taking hold of you right now. Do you see the way the pink and blue lights bounce across your lover’s face? Look at the way he smiles, he’s looking at you. His features become abstract paintings in the movement and mist. And hey, this is a song you really like. The force is being amplified now. What are you going to do? What else can you do but kiss him?”

Gods I love partying with freaks and queers. It reminds me that humanity is still sick, wild, and desperate for connection. It reminds me that sick weird fucking freaks who can’t function properly are still having fun with their friends, kissing, crying and laughing on the dance floor. It’s always a good reminder, because when I go back to suburbia where everyone is expected to be quiet, I sometimes get into this echo chamber of thinking I’m the weirdest person in the world, and that I am alone in that. But I’m not, not nearly. I don’t know why I feel so at home in the over heated beer spilled floors of an underground bar. But I did.

I don’t ever want to be anywhere in my life where that, whatever that is, is lost to me. I love my friends and I love strange people so much. Catch me crying in the club because the immense diversity and chaotic beauty of the human race hits me too hard o lord

[tonalwhiplash]

Hi how are ya?

Yeah I know I said more Wolfgang related stuff was coming but I got distracted by the hot nerd. Give me a break.

So ulysses has Kallmann syndrome btw.

Let's talk about how I know that.

Oooo u wanna look under the cut soooo baaaaad!!!~

Though, to be transparent, his wiki page already brings up the possibility itself. So even though I didn't know that till after writing all this, I think it's important to say that I'm not the first to suggest this. But I'll be bringing a bit more to the table than the short blurb on his wiki does.

With that out the way, let's get into it!

When we unlock the pharmacy, we get the opportunity to talk to Ulysses and Diana. Regardless of who you click on, they both speak, but the conversation is different.

When you talk directly to Ulysses, he brings up how he's familiar with a lot of medications due to his bonkers ass parents throwing them at him to see what would work when he was a wee lad. Prior to him getting diagnosed, anyway. Not *super* relevant beyond letting us know that he's been afflicted with something visible since early childhood.

When you talk to Diana, she comments on not being able to tell what scent a perfume is and asks Ulysses to help, however he admits that he can't smell jack shit.

Now, he doesn't say the name of what he has, smart man, but here's the list of facts he gives about his condition.

• It's genetic/ he was born with it

• His body doesn't produce sufficient hormones

• And, of course, he can't smell.

Thankfully, that's literally all Google needed to throw a name at me.

KALLMANN SYNDROME!

Anything in quotes from here on is straight from the wiki article about it.

"Kallmann syndrome is a genetic disorder that prevents a person from starting or fully completing puberty."

"Kallmann syndrome has the additional symptom of a total lack of sense of smell (anosmia) or a reduced sense of smell."

All three requirements met! Just like that! Case closed! I win! Youre welcome! That'll be 20 dollars!

Oh but I can go a little further with the evidence!

Let's take a look at some of the listed symptoms, shall we?

• a cleft lip or cleft palate

Now, from his sprites we can see that his lips aren't abnormal in any way, but what about the roof of his mouth?

Simply not seeing the roof of his mouth isn't enough on its own, but when paired with the following symptom

• abnormal development of the teeth/missing teeth

And when you take into account his very strong lisp, it's very likely Ulysses has at least one of these symptoms that he's yet to talk about. So the reason for his lisp goes beyond "he's a nerd so of course he has one."

Now, this one's a bit more of a stretch, but hear me out.

• generally poor coordination

From what I could find, none of the disorders named as symptoms directly match the connection I'm about to pull out of my ass. But like, hear me out anyway.

In Ulysses' third free time event, he says he won't be going to the gaming tournament due to video games giving him motion sickness.

Maybe I'm swinging too far out there, but would it be reasonable to say that a genetic disorder with a whole host of symptoms that affect coordination and can even cause involuntary movement in the eyes may just exacerbate the likelihood of you getting motion sick?

Ulysses is entirely still images. So, unfortunately, a lot of the symptoms for kallmann syndrome are either impossible to prove as of now, or have evidence going against them.

Here's the ones we have nothing for

• skeletal defects in the feet

• manual synkinesis

• poor balance (though, if he can sleep standing...)

• hearing impairment

And here's what's completely out of the question due to his sprites or statements given in game

• coloboma

• ptosis

• scoliosis (debatable ig)

• skeletal defects in the hands

• Colorblindness

(For colorblindness, I'm taking his comment about the bright red shrapnel in the case 1 trial as proof that he can see all colors. As red is typically one of the colors that cant be seen to those with color blindness. No, I'm not hunting down that screenshot.)

Now, I know that with all these symptoms that can't be easily linked to Ulysses, it's tempting to say I'm barking up the wrong tree. However, no.

Take it away wiki!

"The exact genetic nature of each particular case of KS will determine which, if any, of the non-reproductive features will occur. The severity of the symptoms will also vary from case to case. Even family members will not show the same range or severity of symptoms."

Yeah, he could have literally none of the non reproductive related symptoms and still qualify for the diagnosis. He confirms he has the requirements outright.

Lack of smell and hormone deficiency.

Being able to link a few of the other symptoms only strengthens my case, even if the majority can't be linked to him. Because none of them are manditory.

That's all I've been able to put together with what we have available right now. If you have a different opinion on what he might have, I'd love to hear it!

Thank you for reading!!

Also, yes, the implications of this are very funny, and I've been giggling about the anatomy stuff as I am immature, but keep your comments as normal as you can. I don't age gate my stuff.

[tobemissconstrued]

(.0) spiracle; h. abernathy x reader

c h a p t e r z e r o

a spiracle refers to an external respiratory opening in the exoskeletons of various insects, myriapods, and arachnids to allow air to enter the body. While essential to the anatomy of the associated animals such a miniscule hole can become a potential weakness.  derived from late 18th century Latin, spiraculum, from spirare ‘breathe’.

post-victory of the sixty-sixth hunger games, you’re thrown into the limelight as the capitol’s newly revered victor. while basking in the attention with a thinly spread smile, your body aches and mind reels, only worsened at the realisation the hunger games had never been confined to the arena. 

Tags/Warnings: unrequited love; arranged marriage; age-gap relationship; slow-burn; angst; (maybe eventual smut); depiction of chronic illnesses; mentions of canon-typical violence, forced prostitution; mentions and depictions of post-traumatic stress disorder syndrome, eating disorders/disordered eating behaviours, addiction to alcohol/drugs.  potential spoilers for sunrise on the reaping; little use of [y/n]; barely proofread; consistency is not available

word count; 1.4k words / six minutes

s p i r a c l e c o n t e n t s ; [ h e r e ] < previous chapter | 𖦹 | next chapter >

n o t e s ;

this chapter has been skimmed but not fully proofread !! > any errors/mistakes, please let me know and i'll amend them

the layout and chapter format is still a work in progress,, things may look wonk every now and again while i figure things out

crying over sotr, this is me coping

Air seemed to scratch at your throat, weaselling into the pair of lungs that felt disconnected from your body. Physically, the bubble of oxygen would not move far beyond the thick branches that tapered into bronchioles. The act of breathing, a simple bodily function, becomes a gruelling exercise, leaving you feeling less human, less real. The towel, doing its damndest to soak the beads of cold water from your skin, almost seemed to be a constricting snake. 

Tighter. 

Tighter. 

The tile at the base of your skull, hard and uncomfortable, soaked with the remnants of water infused with sickly sweet shampoo. Hair stuck to your neck and forehead, drenched and dribbling snakes of water that traversed down to the sunken curve of your back and collarbones. 

You were vulnerable, exposed. It wasn’t a hard thought to muster. Automatic, really. Your instincts were fucked beyond repair, hyperactive, running rampant to cause chaos within the entirety of your nervous system, unable to tell the difference between… anything. 

The walls nauseated you, not necessarily because of vibrant orange peel tile, but the weight of your eyes dug back into their sockets, watching helplessly as the walls spun and spun despite lying still. To simply get up was more of an effort than to let it pass. You doubted your carousel of a mind would allow your legs to hold their weight. To balance the invisible movement of your head atop a torso incapable of taking a decent breath. 

It stretched on. Countless seconds swam by, minutes to moments drawn out and diminished with each shudder of your spine. It was all lost to you, unable to grasp onto something, anything to ground yourself.  

Focus. Just focus. 

All goes to show, the view from the floor accentuated just how little you matter. Water damage on the lower cabinet door suddenly became wildly interesting, the lining separating from the cheap wood. Bowed, hanging, and barely clinging on with cheap glue. Chipped in all sorts of places, a crack just shy of the shadow cast from your propped-up knees, and, most wonderfully, a squashed bug. 

Pure luxury in the Capitol, it seems. 

The poor thing had become two-dimensional, one with aging mint paint that was in the process of discolouring into a sour yellow. 

That squashed bug really reeled you back to reality, your head swarming and lulling as you fight the panic-stricken inclination to freeze. You hadn’t even realised eerie wheezes had been escaping your chattering lips. The sound reaching your ears and making you feel ill all over again, only further reminding you of your moments spent teetering the line between whatever this was and death. 

“Jesus, fuck–”

Warm hands cupped your jaw, and suddenly your view of your little bug friend was replaced with a wide-eyed thirty-something-year-old man. Haymitch. Frayed hair brushing your forehead, as he scrambled to shove a towel under your head. He was muttering something, it didn’t reach your ears. Not even when he looked to you for an answer. All you could make out was the alcohol on his breath and pitiful, clouded eyes. 

He seemed to be under the impression you were in the midst of a panic attack. 

Well… yes, but no. 

What started this nonsense was showering in mildly hot water. No, not a flashback or undiscovered trigger, but heated steam with the combination of something undiagnosed. Air hunger that followed the fatigue. It was inconvenient, not traumatic. At least until you were alone in a bathroom with your brain drowning without oxygen. You didn’t know the reason. You weren’t sure if you wanted to. 

It only made matters worse when you came to the realisation he wasn’t muttering, your hearing was simply fleeting. Instead replaced with incessant ringing and what was effectively someone holding pillows to your ears. 

His palm pressed to your forehead, firmly patting around your scalp for any indication you had hit your head. You blinked heavily, a futile and purely telepathic attempt to shake his touch. Sluggish and weak, you swat him away. A limp arm colliding with his shoulder. 

He seemed more offended that he had to help you rather than the languid contact. 

“Come on, kid,” he grunted, pushing you up into a sitting position. 

The sharp contrast between the skin of your shoulder blades and the ceramic walls had you lurching forward. Weathered hands were quick to recline you back. You mistook it for malice. However, the rough movement was only intended to have you upright for the rather morose wheezes to ease. 

“Away,” you weakly rasp. Another attempt at a swat falling short.

“How did it start?” He asks, ignoring your words (or word). His hand running over your forehead, fingers brushing stuck strands away. 

“Shower.” 

Evidently, you were a paragon of the English language. 

“What started the panic attack?” His voice was flat, exhaling his words with a not-so-subtle flick of his eyes. A year of barely seeing each other, two days in and he was already sick of you. 

“It wasn’t a panic attack. I couldn’t breathe.” He doesn’t listen; instead looks around for anything remotely related to your games. 

“That’s a panic attack.” A stark generalisation. You give up on further explaining yourself. 

Pain continued to radiate at anything more than a slight expansion of your ribs, held prisoner by shallow, dizzying breaths. His grip was firm on your arms, holding you to the ugly tiles. You wished you could sink into them. On the occasion, you would intend to inhale fully only to make multiple half-hiccuping attempts before giving up. 

At the slow stop of your wheezing, Haymitch takes that as a sign to have you stand. Your weight fully depended on his arms as he begrudgingly held you to his chest. A rare reversal of roles. 

Still dazed, he had wrapped a towel around you. The fuzzy material pilling, sticking to your skin and itchy all while he guides you into the connected bedroom. You were a rag doll in his grasp, limbs likened to jelly as you stumbled and tumbled onto the thick mattress. A firm hand lingering on your shoulder to ensure he could keep you sitting up while reaching for the closet, pulling some clean clothes over to you. 

He barely tolerated you as is and wasn’t sympathetic enough to dress you, at least not sober enough to be so sympathetic. Grateful, you were. You were already mortified he’d found you in the bathroom. 

Stepping back, he looks at you. Assessing if you were okay to be left alone. You tighten your grip on the towel, suddenly timorous and shrinking under his grey gaze. Eventually deciding you would be fine, he moved to leave. 

“Please stay,” you croak, sheepishly, almost ashamed. 

Back to you, he hesitates but nods, barely sparing a glance over his shoulder. 

He couldn’t look at you.

“Let me get a bottle,” he murmured, continuing his stride to the main living space. It gave you a moment to stiffly pull on the silk pyjamas he had pulled from the cupboard. 

You half expected him to not return, but he soon stepped back in with a half-full bottle of amber-something, smelling warm, prickly as he poured it clumsily into one of two glasses.

Haymitch offered you a glass. You took it. 

No conversation followed. He simply slid under the covers, an arm's width away from you. The bed dipping, creaking from his weight, mattress oddly even. You paid no mind to him, focusing on the expansion of your lungs with each wavering inhale. The ornate glass in your hand, like his, had the Capitol emblem plastered across the side. The pad of your thumb ran over the wings, across to the thin raised arrows along the lower side. 

You hadn’t realised how long it had been. Haymitch’s voice and gentle hand on your shoulder bring you back. 

“Are you going to drink that?” He asked, his voice low, teetering on a whisper. 

You nod, taking the first sip. 

As you expected, the intense flavour reached your nose. You fought the compulsion to scrunch your nose, easier to ignore than it used to. Warming your mouth, creating a hearth through to your sternum. You savoured the taste before it would quickly turn bitter. His eyes were on you. You thought he was half disappointed you would finish the drink yourself. 

Really, he was watching himself tumble down the same path, and he was helpless to stop it.

t a g l i s t ; comment to be added <3