#I saw the cure live recently and I am not the same

[panthermouthh]

On candy stripe legs, the spider man comes…

[kirythestitchwitch]

Klaroline WIP Wed - freaky friday time travel fic

my prompt was the future Caroline Mikaelson and Caroline Forbes swap places and I was like, okay, I am going to shoehorn an entire plot in here after prom but before graduation. author is loading canon and firing it into the sun

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The package was sitting innocently enough on the porch swing when Caroline got home from school. After a weird day of fielding concerned questions from her peers about Elena’s whereabouts–Stefan and Damon locking her in the Boarding House all weekend after prom was a last-ditch effort that looked like it wasn’t working–Caroline wasn’t really in the mood for a surprise. 

When a cautious sniff towards the box brought her the acrid smell of oil paint and turpentine, though, she had to bite down on her smile. The smell liked to cling to Klaus after he’d been painting all morning, as she’d discovered two days ago, the morning after prom. She’d been crossing the Square, coming from the Sheriff’s department toward the Mystic Grill to meet Matt for lunch and flashcards, when her name being called pulled her head back to the here and now.

“Caroline!” Klaus’ smile was delighted to see her as he crossed the street to meet her on the grass, dimples brighter on his face than the sunshine, and god wasn’t that cheesy and ironic, just like her agreement to be friends with the nightmare creature that had plagued their lives for months. Even stranger, that she actually wanted to. Okay, maybe he hadn't been plaguing their lives very hard recently. What with the others unleashing Evil Dead and Elena taking home all the queen bitch prizes previously scooped up by Katherine, Klaus had almost seemed like your friendly neighborhood serial killer in comparison. 

She waited until he caught up, swinging a large brown paper bag by string handles. “A word of advice?” she offered. He raised his eyebrows in intrigued curiosity. “Don’t go loudly chatting up the Sheriff's teenage daughter in the middle of town when you look like… that,” She gestured at all of him, including his loose-necked henley and comfortable jeans liberally smeared with paint, “Unless you want to get called a dirty old man behind your back.”

The laugh was practically startled out of him. He looked like an artist grad student at most, the kind that would debauch you on the furniture props, but judging by the slightly judgy looks from a few faces she could see around the square, that was too old for just barely eighteen Caroline. Oh yeah, Liz would be hearing about this before the day was out, and wasn't that just what Caroline needed?

Klaus leaned forward slightly, for all the world looked like he was sharing confidences with her. "Do you find me old, sweetheart?" he asked, dimples on display.

"Ancient, decrepit," she deadpanned.

His voice dropped a little softer, and unconsciously this time she leaned in a little to hear him. “You know our kind don’t measure time in years, sweetheart, it’s more about experiences.”

With a scoff and an eye roll, she leaned back. “Oh my god, you did not just ‘Age is just a number’ me. It’s jail for you, sir.”

“Mmm, they haven’t built a prison that can hold me yet, but if you prefer that sort of role-play, I'm sure I could think of something,” he said cheekily.

“Wow, okay!” She laughed, trying not to think of ‘Klaus’ and ‘role-play’ in the same context, “You are feeling much better than the last time I saw you.”

He seemed to sober, tension pinching his soft mouth. “Silas hasn’t shown himself that I’m aware of. Elijah is refusing to hand over the cure to either Rebekah or myself. Her on the grounds that she failed her trial, and me…” Klaus glanced away.

Caroline tried to dredge up some sympathy, really she did. “Well, we are all very much hoping there will not be an apocalypse hell-on-earth. I never met your parents and I would like to keep that track record going, thanks.” Klaus ducked his head, laugh soft, and Caroline nearly preened. “So, what’s in the bag? Thumb screws? Arsenic? Stolen lollipops?”

“Your imagination is a never-ending delight, love. There’s an art supply shop down the street that orders my paints for me. Which is fortunate, I was getting low on Cadmium Orange.” His fingers fiddled with the bag string.

“That is a very specific color,” she teased gently.

He tilted his head to the side in a self-deprecating sort of way. “Well, I need it for a very specific bit of shading, you see. The fall,” he gestured vaguely with one hand at some unseen painting, “Isn’t quite right. I’ve been working on it all night.”

Wrinkling her nose at him, she adjusted her purse on her shoulder. “Is that why you have that ‘freshly bathed in linseed oil’ smell?” Knowing she was about to set the tongues wagging but unable to resist the look it would put on his face, she reached out and snagged his hand, flipped it over backside up. Bright yellow paint was smeared on his skin. “You missed a spot.” she pointed out helpfully.

He rumbled softly in his throat. “So I did.” When Caroline looked up, his hungry blue eyes were on her, quiet, watchful of what she’d do next.

“So,” she said, drawing out the vowel, “I’m supposed to meet Matt for lunch.”

“The human?” Klaus managed to fit a world of disgruntled judgment into two words.

“Ugh.” Caroline dropped his hand with a bit of force. “Matt is failing some of his classes and needs a study buddy. I happen to be queen of the flashcards, thank you very much. Finals are next week, and I just want…” She paused, emotion clawing up her throat and she swallowed. Blinked. The sun that seemed so bright before–but not warm, never warm, never again–seemed a pale imitation of itself. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Klaus’s hand hovering next to her arm as if wondering if his touch was unwelcome.

This wasn’t helpful, this wasn’t what she needed, in the middle of the day, in the middle of the Square, for god’s sake. Her chin raised, she looked Klaus in the eye. He looked solemnly back. “I just want us to make it through graduation. All of us. So.” She pasted a smile on her face. “I do what I can, which means flashcards.”

Something bitter tilted his mouth. “The talents of a general and they have you tutoring the quarterback.”

Caroline scowled at him. “It’s not a waste of my time to care about my friends. You certainly benefited from that.” With a huff, she turned to go, and he stepped sideways into her path.

“Admitting you care, love?” There was something predatory about the glint in his eyes.

Raising her eyebrows loftily, she pushed past him, trying to ignore the heat from his body that seemed to cling to hers. “In your dreams, Klaus,” she shot over her shoulder as she headed toward the Mystic Grill.

While her vampire hearing might have been bogged down by the noise in the Square, she was annoyingly attuned to Klaus’ presence. His parting words reached her easily: “Someday, you will.”

[trillscienceofficer]

I saw you said in the tags that you don't agree with Seven being about 13 etc, and I could not agree more because it irks me so much when people say how Seven was mentally 6 when they freed her from the Borg, or something to that effect. She was abused by the Borg to the point of not having her own thoughts but she still aged. Maybe she struggled socially after she was freed from that but it didn't take away the years she spent in the collective. It's basically infantilizing and paired with Seven being perceived as autistic by some, or just the fact that she went though the trauma of being Borg, is ableism to me. End of rant.

I apologize for not replying sooner to this ask but I wanted to grab a couple of links before replying because yes, I think you're totally right that saying anything to that effect (that Seven is actually a child, or that 'she doesn't actually know what's best for her') is infantilization of a character who is canonically a physically disabled adult, as well as having a very strong subtext for neurodivergence, and that it plays into ableist stereotypes that contribute to making the lives of real disabled people tangibly worse.

First, I want to make clear that no matter how muddled the metaphors get when it comes to Seven (and oh boy do they, between the cyborg technobabble and the completely absurd way Seven was "dressed" and made up on Voyager, talking about her is always a struggle), she is disabled. She makes use of many prosthetics and she has to regenerate (ie she has to make use of an external device) regularly or there are unpredictable consequences to her health. I realize this is maybe not super clear from the text, which sometimes conveniently forgets about Seven's limitations re: regeneration (see this post) and turns her prosthetics into a sort of superpower; I'm not saying it's an accurate depiction of disability by any means, but it's not something that can be completely ignored when discussing Seven either. In all honesty I've downplayed this aspect of Seven's character in the past and I really regret it because after it was pointed out to me, it's indeed pretty obvious. The trauma of Borg assimilation was disabling, and it's embodied in Seven even more than it is in other xBs, since it happened to her so young. She can never 'get rid' of it and she doesn't exactly want to, either*, even with all her very understandable ambivalence about it ("I am human, but I am also Borg").

(*I think Picard S2 makes this argument more complicated but recent live-action shows have been truly fucking awful at dealing with disability and metaphors thereof so I won't try to make sense of it. What matters is that Seven ultimately couldn't be 'magically cured' there either.)

ETA: I forgot to add, Seven is absolutely an adult. To me there's no question about it; she's played by an adult and none of her storylines, none of her struggles about figuring out how to be an individual in a group, about how to live with the terrible guilt and responsibility about her actions as Borg drone make sense if she isn't an adult. The whole character of Seven of Nine falls apart if she isn't an adult who is struggling with the terrible consequences of trauma.

Second, infantilization is a very real manifestation of ableism. This article defines infantilization as "a nondisabled person having more power than a disabled person and using that power against them to invalidate their thoughts, opinions or experiences. This can show up in numerous ways, such as indirectly speaking to a disabled person or assuming that the individual can't advocate or speak for themselves." In short, treating a disabled person like a child who needs to be directed at all times and who is assumed to not fully understand the ramifications of any independent decisions. It's not a matter of just language, either: the same article points out that 1.3 million disabled adults in the US were under conservatorship in 2018, and that forced sterilization of disabled adults is still legal in at least 31 US states plus Washington D.C. So let me make this super clear: disabled adults having their autonomy revoked, especially their bodily autonomy, is absolutely an issue in our current world. And it all stems from this ableist conceptualization of disabled adults as being like children, incapable of making the right decisions by themselves and for themselves, especially about their own bodies.

Now it's maybe clearer how this relates to Seven's whole deal, both in the show and in fandom. On the show, so many things about her prosthetics and about her looks were decided by the Doctor without consulting her at all, and how ironic it is that the one taking the decisions is a hologram coded with the biases of so many medical professionals, and it's one of those cases when no one, no one challenges the EMH! Sure, the Doctor pretty much saved her by making the reclamation process very smooth, but of course the idea that he can 'shape her' and ultimately 'cure her' of her disabilities (subtextual neurodivergence included) keeps popping up in the show pretty frequently, and she almost never gets a word in edgewise. Seven and the Doctor end up striking up a friendship, and things get a little less eyebrow-raising, but still it's pretty horrifying how the sexism of the production translates into ableism diegetically, though to be fair to Voyager it's definitely not the only Trek show where this happens. It's just that being about Seven, it's a very sustained theme on Voyager, and one I really wish wasn't there.

Off the show, in fandom, I think it would behoove us to at least try to do better than Voyager. Ultimately Seven of Nine is a fictional character that has no real feelings to hurt etc, but again what message does it send to real people when (part of) the fandom insists that Seven is 'mentally a child' or 'doesn't know what's best for her' and can't take her own decisions about her own future, even her own name? Again I'm not saying this to be a scold, and I can recognize that I haven't always been fair in my approach of Seven's disability. There's a lot of work I still need to do, and language is just a very tiny start. But it is a start nonetheless; I'd like it if people could see it as well.

[pinkxlicious]

Loveless P.2

Tom Riddle

Doesn't follow timeline, Part 3??

Warnings: Toxic relationship, cursing, angst, bittersweetish

Word count: 2162

'''

You did not, in fact, go back.

To your surprise you kept your promise and blocked Tom from your mind, for all you knew he was dead. It took a lot to not go back to him, but after that night you knew you had enough of his neglect. You decided to start off fresh and move out into the city. You went back to school and you were working towards a major in charms, you planned on becoming the new charms professor at Hogwarts. The headmaster had personally reached out to you after he heard the word that you were back in school.

You had also came in contact with a few of your best friends from Hogwarts. Overall you had been doing pretty well. You were living in a small one bedroom apartment with a golden retriever, Daisy. You recently bought Daisy to cure your boredom and loneliness since living alone in the city could get quite depressing. Life was good.

Until the day you heard a knock on your door, and something was telling you that something was very wrong. You had considered not opening the door but you felt drawn to whatever was behind that door. You turned the nob and nearly fell when you saw who was behind the door.

It was Tom. Looking just as handsome and majestic as before. But something was different, he seemed... you couldn't put your finger on it. But something was different, not in a bad way, but something was different from the last time you saw him. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn't mad like the last time you saw him. Or maybe it was because it's been forever since the last time you saw him.

Tom seemed to be awestruck by you, he nearly dropped the bouquet of red roses in hands. He let out a shaky breath as he took you in. Even after everything, you still unknowingly looked at him with the same eyes. The same eyes when he kissed you on your wedding day, and the same eyes that would greet him everyday after work. He missed it, he missed you. He felt guilty, and he hated it. He knew you would never take him back, but he just needed closure.

Tom had found a new outlook on life on his own and he felt as if he really has changed. After you left he wholeheartedly believed that you would be back. But you never came home. You had took everything and the only thing that was left of you was the small gold framed photo of the wedding. He kept it close to him and kept the photo right on his nightstand and he would reminisce every night. He would curse himself constantly for letting you go so easily, and treating you like that.

"What are you doing here Tom," You said coldly, hoping no weakness was showing through your voice. "Who told you where I am."

"I asked around. But listen, I'm not here to convince you to get back with me," Tom said, almost cringing at the confrontation. He still wasn't used to confrontation and apologies. "I just wanted to say sorry, and that I have changed."

"Is this just another one of your manipulation antics, making me believe all that and then you snatch me up right when I'm vulnerable again," You said, your nostrils flared with rage at the thought of giving into him. "I don't know who you think I am, but I am no longer associated with you and I would like to keep it that way. I am no longer naive and I am very very conscious to the fact that you cheated one me and neglected me everyday of our marriage."

"Yes, I know that. I knew that when you didn't come back. But I swear to Merlin that I have changed and I need to apologize to you. I can't live with myself knowing that I didn't even try to make it up to you. That is why I'm here." Tom confessed, he quickly handed you the flowers and shoved his hands into his pockets so you wouldn't attempt to give it back to him. You dropped the flowers on the ground and shoved your hands into your pocket, mimicking his face.

Tom almost laughed, it reminded him so much of his days with you at Hogwarts.

"I'm in therapy now," Tom quickly confessed as you squinted at him, "I wish I had gone sooner, when you first told me to. I know you know that I had a rough childhood and I should've listened to you."

"Is that really it?" You scoffed, "Honestly, Tom, I'm really happy for you, I swear by it. I'm happy that you're not a shit stubborn bitch anymore. I'm happy that you are changing for the better and that you are finding yourself. And I know that I can't change the past, but I really wish you have done this earlier. I wish you loved me enough to change. It's the fact that the only reason why you changed was because I left, not because I was hurting while I was with you."

Tom inhales sharply, he thought that you would at least accept the apology then leave. That was the closure he wanted, and some part of him wanted you to forgive him entirely and kiss him, just like every time he fucked up during your relationship.

"I know, and I'm KNOW I am not good at apologies, but I need you to know that I have changed and I regret everything. I think about it every night, it haunts me-"

"You know what haunts me? Wasting away my life with a man who wanted nothing to do with me the moment I gave myself to him. I regret not realizing that you never loved me, I regret ignoring the red flags. I regret not seeing that you only wanted me in your possession, you didn't want me so you could love me, you never did," Tears whelmed you eyes, just like the last time you fought with him. You hated how he had this effect on you, he hated how he made you feel.

Tom noticed for the first time in your life, he noticed the effect he had on you. He noticed your furrowed brows in frustration and he noticed the tears in your eyes. He noticed your hardened jaw, and your balled up fists. He noticed how you were tense and still as you struggled to keep yourself together.

"You know what I really hate, Tom?" You asked,

"What is it, darling," he softly, you winced, hearing the name he would always call you. Memories flooded your brain as your tears flooded your face.

"I really hate how you decided to show up now. I really hate how you decided to show up when I'm doing well. You really fucking ruined my day. Tom," You cried harder with each word, you woke up Daisy. She wobbled to the door and jumped on Tom, licking his arm.

"I know, I'm sorry," Tom eyed your dog, "Um, I see you got a dog."

"Shut up, Tom you're not helping," You said as you wiping your eyes with frustration. Tom stepped closer to you and held your face with his hand.

"I know that I hurt you, I'm sorry for everything I caused. I hope one day we can make peace,"

"I've BEEN wanting to make peace with you, but you would always disappear off to Lestrange's house or something," You sobbed as your walls fell down, all the pain you've blocked out from the past year flooded your senses. "I hate how you were willing to give the better version of yourself to her. I hate how I have to hurt and I hate how I can't take you back, I hate how I want to love you again. But I can't because you've done too much to me."

Tom felt empathy for the first time in his life. He left a sharp pain in his chest, he felt genuine sadness seep through his body. He felt something in his heart, it felt heavy. And he cried for the first time in his life.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I really am sorry," Tom said with confusion printed on his face and tears fell from his eyes, his voice shook."I don't know whats happening."

"You're healing, Tom. You can feel," You whispered, you felt happy for him, you really did. "I just wish this happened sooner, I wish you had done this sooner so I could love you again."

"I still love you,"

"Don't say that, please, please, don't say that." You cried harder than you ever had before,

"But I do, I don't know what I was thinking, but I never loved Lestrange. I am more than willing to give myself to you. I want to love you now that I can. I want to love you like I should've. I want to love you, I want you. I want you so bad and I wish you could love me too," Tom confessed as he struggled to keep his composure, "I don't understand how I could give you up."

"But you did. You let me leave, Tom. You let it happen. I want you too but I don't know if I can do this again. I am hurt, I don't want to disappoint you,"

"Do you want me to leave," Tom asked,

"I don't know, I want you to stay but I don't want to love you anymore,"

Tom's heart shattered at your words, but he knew he deserved it. He smiled softly as more tears whelmed his eyes.

"You don't have to, I hope the universe decides to let us meet again. I hope one day I can have you again. I hate myself for putting you through so much. But I promise you that if we meet again, I will love you like you deserve. You have me, but I don't have you," You shuddered at his words and put your hand on his hand, which still remained on your cheek.

"Would it be too much to ask if I could kiss you one last time?" You asked, Tom nodded eagerly,

"This time I will kiss you how I wish I kissed you before. I wish all the times before, I kissed you like it was the last time I would ever kiss you. This time it really is our last kiss, and I wish it wasn't," he whispered as he leaned in.

His lips felt different than before, they felt lighter and more cautious than before. He then suddenly kissed you hard, you gasped before reciprocating. You kissed him, channeling your pain, sadness, agony, and anger. You cried as you kissed him, your tears mixed with his. You didn't want to ever let go of him. Tom moved his hand to your waist and his other remained on your cheek. You tangled your fingers into his hair and your other caressed his chest. You wish you didn't need oxygen so you could kiss him until the sun set, and until the world ended. You felt Tom sob into your lips and you just held him closer until you couldn't.

You were the first to pull away, gasping for air as Tom held you close, so close you could barely breathe. But you wouldn't have it any other way.

"I wish I wasn't so cruel," Tom whispered into the crook of your neck, "I wish I was kind."

"I wish that too, but you are becoming kinder day by day. I hope you feel more sympathy for those that you hurt. And I hope you heal one day. When you do, come back to find me so I can love you again," You buried your face into his chest as your heart broke for him all over again. You smelled his sweet scent and tried to memorize it. You reminded yourself of every detail of him so you could search for him. You wished you could love him now, but you knew it was too early in his healing process to do so. You wanted to love him when he was better and healed. So you could love him the best, and he could love you the best.

"I will always remember your kindness for me, and I will always love you. I will be better for you, I will heal for you. I will always remember how you were there for me, and I will always remember how you stayed by my side no matter what. And I'm sorry that I betrayed your trust,"

"I know," You gripped onto his shirt as if he could disappear at any moment. "I hate how you make me feel. I hate how you can do this to me."

"I'm sorry, I hate it too. I don't like seeing you like this," Tom whispered before kissing her forehead.

"Just remember to find me again,"

And after that, after much reluctance, the two parted ways.

[firstdivisiongirl]

HELLOOO I JUST FOUND YOUR FICS DUDE IM IN LOOOVE WITH YOUR WRITING!!!! i recently got into op and your fics have been a really nice start for op fan content :]]

id like to make a request! short fic or scenarios is fine, whichever you prefer! im preparing for college, and im gonna be living on campus but one of the things im really scared of is losing my culture cause its difficult to go out of my way and cook or search for food that reminds me of my mexican background when at that point it's basically just trying to survive on anything yk??

if it wouldnt be much trouble, could I ask for a gn!reader x sanji, something along the lines of reader feeling homesick and sanji making them a comfort meal from their culture? (it doesn't have to be mexican you can really do whatever!!)

SORRY IF THIS IS A LOT I DONT REALLY REQ A LOT AND IM IN A MOOD TAKE YOUR TIME IF YOU DO DECIDE TO DO IT!!!!! HAVE A NCIE DAY/NIGHT !!!

Hi! Thank you for the compliments. I really loved this. I feel the same way as you. While I am not Mexican, I do try to stay close to my German and Irish roots, even though no one else in my family does. I did a good amount of research on food that are authentic l Mexican cuisine. I got a lot of new recipes to try! I remember college, the only thing was I lived at home and drove. I really hope you enjoy this fic and I also wish you luck at college.

How to Cure Homesickness

Everyone misses home sometimes.  You were no exception to that rule.  You recently joined the Strawhats as their cultural expert.  They need that because Luffy and Zoro had a tendency to offend people.  Sanji noticed you weren’t your happy self.  You weren’t playing with Chopper, Luffy and Usopp.  You weren’t sunbathing with Robin and Nami.  You just sat there at the railing of the Sunny, watching the sea as the waves crashed into the sides.  Sanji understood how you felt.  He got homesick all the time.  He would miss Zeff and the rest of the guys at the Baratie.  When he missed them, he would make his favorite foods from the Baratie.  The seafood risotto, the fruit parfait and his famous soup.  Then it hit him like Nami did to Luffy when he was being dumb, make the foods that remind you of home.  He walked up to Robin, who was reading on deck, “Robin darling, do you have any cookbooks in your library that I can borrow,” he asked, smiling like a fool.

A few hours later, Sanji called everyone in for dinner.  He had been in the kitchen all day, reading and cooking.  When you walked into the kitchen a familiar scent hit your nose.  It wasn’t the usual scent of tangerines, saltwater, or even meat.  It was different.  It smelt like…home?  You looked at the table and saw all of your favorites: carne asada, mole, huachinango a la veracruzana, arroz con leche, you name it.  You looked at Sanji.  He was smiling at you, “I thought you could use some cheering up dear.  I know you miss home, so I thought I’d bring home to the Sunny,” he said as he took another drag of his cigarette.  Everyone was so amazed by the food to notice you and Sanji.  “Thank you Sanji,” you told him, giving him a quick peck on his cheek.  He started to blush, before he grabbed his nose, so he didn’t bleed all over you.  “Anything for you dear,” he said, “HEY LUFFY DON’T EAT ALL OF IT!  THIS IS FOR Y/N NOT YOU!!!”  The good news was that he made extra and saved it in the locked fridge for you.  Looks like besides knowing you and your habits well, he knew his captain’s habits all too well as well.

Please do not copy, modify, translate, or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated!

[rivetgoth]

Over on Twitter there was a meme that was like “Post 10 bands you've obsessed about at some point in your life,” so I decided to list the first 10 that came to mind 🤔🤔 Note that this isn’t my current or all-time top 10 bands ever, but 10 that I can remember being obsessed with at some significant point in my life.

1. Skinny Puppy — Duh.

2. Culture Club — A landmark band for me, Culture Club was my entry into 80s pop which would evolve into developing my adoration for the New Romantics, 80s alternative, and eventually industrial and goth music. Also the second band I ever actively went to see live!

3. IAMX — One of my favorite bands of all time since around 9th grade, over a decade now!! One of the only bands I have a tattoo for. I could fill an entire post (or two, or three, or…) on just my adoration for IAMX alone, but I’ll leave it at that for now.

4. Ministry — Inescapable, isn’t it? Regardless of the eternal love-hate relationship I have with this band there’s no denying the incredibly significant effect they’ve had on my life unfortunately. The first industrial band I got into post-Skinny Puppy.

5. The Velvet Underground — TVU (along with TBP, below) was arguably the band that got me into music. Period. I’ll never forget hearing “Venus In Furs” and “The Black Angel’s Death Song” for the first time and just thinking it was like nothing else I’d ever heard before. It was everything to me as a teen.

6. Severed Heads — Another one of my favorites to this day, though I’ve had obsessive periods in phases. They kinda baffle and excite me like literally no other band. Like a puzzle I’m always trying to solve. Love love love them.

7. The Birthday Party — Ditto with TVU. “Mutiny In Heaven” shaped me into the music lover I am today, it gave me a taste for something that was like nothing I’d ever heard before and “like nothing else” has been a significant staple of the most evocative songs/bands for me ever since.

8. Joy Division — Community college circa 2017 I had Joy Division on constant rotation, they really got me through it lol. One of the first GOTH bands that I dove really deep into. I was already listening to goth music at that point but at that point in time Joy Division really resonated. I wore my Unknown Pleasures shirt everywhere seconds before it was cool. I still voted for The Cure on the recent “best goth band” poll tho LMAO.

9. Magazine — A more recent addition, Magazine fucking saved my life when I got COVID in 2021 and subsequent relatively severe psychotic symptoms shortly after. Literally just spent every quiet moment listening to ‘em to fight off some of the worst thought patterns I’ve ever had in my life, for months.

10. Steam Powered Giraffe — My middle school heartthrobs 🖤🖤🖤 A bit dated now but man, SPG was everythinggggg to me for a short moment and I think this secret part of my past explains some of my music taste to this day tbh lol 😭 They were thee FIRST band I ever actively saw live, and the most significant connection is that Bunny Bennett’s coming out was genuinely the thing that spurred me to soul search and realize I was trans within the same year :’)

What are yours??

[flashlight-smallknife]

Realizing I just finished a quest I started in March 2022 in November 2023 holy shit I am sobbing in bed at 8 AM on a Saturday

When The Wonder Years announced they were touring Suburbia and The Upsides last spring, I bought tickets to see the show three times: twice over grad school spring break and a third time two weeks later on a weekend in Philly. I have regularly cited both albums for saving my life when I was a teenager, I saw them play songs off both albums at my first ever GA concert when I was 14, and they remain two of my favorite albums of all time. I had never seen a tour more than once like that before, but I revisited both albums heavily throughout the pandemic and was desperate to see the show as many times as possible.

I was determined going in that by seeing these albums live again, I would fully self-actualize and magically heal my inner child. I ran into a few problems. First, I attended these shows under a lot of stress because I was about to flunk out of grad school the semester I was supposed to graduate. Second, things didn’t always go smoothly (an incorrect hotel booking, a speeding ticket, annoying guys around me, friends getting hurt, etc). Third, I was barely in physical shape to withstand the crowds at these shows. Finally, I realized by the second show that I had evolved a little since I was fourteen and actually preferred the songs openers Spanish Love Songs and Origami Angel were playing. All of this triggered a series of existential crises that sort of clouded the whole “healing my inner child” thing.

Anyway, I went to another thirty or so shows in the twenty or so months after that, with about 25% of said shows being TWY headliners. Somewhere along the way I became the best version of myself: the kind of person who brings the energy I wish to see in the mosh pit, the kind of person who gives the opener and headliner the same respect, the kind of person who throws crowd surfers over the heads of teenagers, the kind of person who has no problem having someone thrown out for making the people around them feel unsafe, and the kind of person who will spend my last spare $30 for the week making sure touring bands have gas money. I got into the best physical shape of my life and made friends with strangers in every major city in a 7 hour radius.

All of this was finally self-actualized during the Spanish Love Songs set in Charlotte when I formed an entire hype squad of strangers after being the most impassioned SLS fan in the pit and deciding to bring my own joy, thus literally living out the message of their most recent album No Joy.

I realize now that the person I am and the person I’ve always wanted to be are the same person, and also that the person I wanted to be was inside of me all along. I am in the trenches, holding space for myself and others, screaming, nervous, and deliberately choosing to have a good time amidst the chaos. The only difference now is that I know I don’t have to change who I am to be liked or accepted by others, and that I am perhaps most likable when I am being true to my authentic self.

I’ll probably always be healing from a childhood of rejection and neglect from my mother, but in a lot of ways, I feel like I finally accomplished what I set out to do during the Suburbia/Upsides tour. I’m not sad anymore, for real this time.

(PS - my love of all things emo was pretty aggressively used against me as a kid, and I think it’s fucking hilarious that becoming actively more emo is what ultimately cured my depression)

[prettyprincessluna]

INFECTIONS GALORE.

Chapter 1- Introduction

Characters- Applejack; Twilight Sparkle

WARNING. This series might contain-

Gore

Swearing

Bad writing

Descriptions of unsettling topics

Non friendship things.

Probably non canon attitudes.

You have been warned.

Twilight Sparkle - Stats

Healthy.

Sanity- 96%

Mood- Calm , slightly worried.

Hunger- 20%

Thirst- 3%

Injuries? - sprained leg .

Description/Background-

Twilight Sparkle was in her castle ; with Applejack . They were discussing something , something that was a bit strange .

“Apple jack… has any pony told you about the crazy myth going around among ponies?”

“No. . .? Has it been recent?”

“Not just recent, it’s been all over the place. . . ! I just might know what they’re talking about, too.”

Twilight walked over to the books that sat among the walls, hooves clinking against the tile floors. Her horn glowed as she looked up, a certain book coming down towards her. Applejack walked beside her, examining the book. It was a bit dusty, it hasn’t been open for ages. . . The actual book cover was grey and bumpy, like a boulders’ touch. Twilight’s magic flipped to a certain page ; page 63. The words were descriptive, an image at the bottom of the page.

“Legend says there was an infection. . . The said infection spread by just one slight bite. It started with a pony called ‘snowdrop’ , the filly in love with the sky and the snowflakes that came once a year. It was a snowy night where she flew among Ponyville, reason unknown. It was then when she noticed a green goo in Sweet Spot, the original Sugar Cube Corner. She went inside, curious of the tall jar that held it. She opened it, although she spilt it on the wood floors below her. She held the jar tight, stopping the spill. She was still curious although, not bothering to clean up. She put her hoof into the jar, scooping some out and putting it on the tip of her tongue. It tasted sweet, like green apple. She searched for more, eventually finding another jar of it, full to the brim. It took a while for her to get the lid off, but when she did she ate at it. All of it. Morning came, some of the ponies going about their day, although it was only about 5 am. A pegasus pony that owned the bakery was named Sharptane. She opened the bakery doors, immediately greeted with a sticky substance on her hooves. . .”

“Aw plum berries. . .”

Sharptane lifted up her hoof, observing the liquid.

“I don’t recognize this…?”

Sharptane was puzzled. She closed the bakery doors behind her, flying above the green goo, opening the door to her supply closet, flipping the light switch, jolting when she looked around. Weird. Snowdrop was sat in the corner of the room, mumbling nonsense. Goo puddled around her, the same kind Sharptane saw at the entrance.

“Ah. . . Its just you, Snowdrop! You worried me. . . By the way, I loved your speech! You did a wonderful job, you little filly. Say, would you mind helping me clean up? If it’s not a bother. . . Of course.”

. . .

“Snow…drop?”

Sharptane tilted her head when Snowdrop said nothing. She slowly walked to her, hearing better of Snowdrops words.

“Are you feeling alright..?”

Sharptane was startled when Snowdrop turned around, a crazed look on the filly. Goo surrounded her unhinged mouth, her head twitching from time to time. All Sharptane could do was scream, before she was bitten right at the chest.

.

Ponies walked around Ponyville, the sky now sunny with unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies chatting up and about. That was, until two ponies exited Sweet Spot. Every pony stopped. No one knows exactly what happened, it all being a blur after that. All they know of is that Princess Celestia found a cure.

. . .

“Wow, Twilight. . . That was. . . Something.”

“Yes. And we need to find out what’s going on.”

——————————————————————————————————

Here Twilight and Applejack are, fighting for their lives friends.

——————————————————————————————————

Tags - @n1ud1u

[kspl200]

Memory Number 9 Thoughts of Lost Minds

Mc: (Ever since Lawrence went to the safe zone I've felt lonely, but to think that Lawrence... Recently when I was looking out the second-floor window I saw Ethan or well what's left of him, I couldn't help it relieved to see him alive. i knew he was nothing more than a zombie, a being that is neither alive nor dead, but he still had faith that there would be a cure to save him soon. Still, he knew that if Lawrence saw him he would kill him, So I decided to do nothing. I mean what could I do? If somehow get close to him, will he kill me or turn me into a zombie like him, I just prayed that Lawrence would never see him.

Every day was the same, I barely managed in the most discouraging way and with less desire to live every second, get out of bed, and eat whatever I didn't have to cook, eating ramen noodles, raw, had become a habit. Once every two days I went up to the roof to take care of the plants, I knew that even if I managed to make them grow well I would never taste them, or at least I hoped that I only did it so as not to go crazy without doing anything or talking to anyone.

I didn't want to accept it under any circumstances, but deep down I knew, that if Lawrence didn't come back, I would die, not because I can't take care of myself, but because I could bear to lose the only person I have left in this world. Without Lawrence I won't live, these thoughts would kill me, they run through my mind" what do I do if he doesn't come back "I just denied it, but I knew the answer, I knew the answer immediately the moment crossed the schoolyard.

A month passed and Lawrence did not come back, I was worried, I thought he had died, I considered running away from school to look for him, but he told me not to go out unless 2 months had passed. I still got out of school, it wasn't easy, I made it, I had no intention of dropping out, I think I just wanted to avoid going crazy, doing nothing but watering plants. It was difficult not to go into despair, I was already bored, I just went out to look for something to do or feel deep down, I just wanted to feel that I could die at any moment.

There was nothing around the school anymore, it wasn't worth looking any further.

I only went out and maybe I just did it to feel that I was alive, even when the zombies approached me and I realized that I was hiding, that I was doing everything possible to survive. I realized that I wanted to live deep inside of me, even unconsciously, would I be able to kill myself even knowing that this was my fault, that the death of all my companions was nothing but my fault?

I didn't want to die, you could call me a coward and maybe you'd be right, I shouldn't be alive or trying to stay alive, still, I can't help wanting to be alive. Even if I'm going to have to have death breathing down my neck for the rest of my life, I'm going to survive.

At this point I just want to survive, the only thing waiting for me to do is stay in this Castle that he built, for me, I will stay here waiting, like the princess who only hopes that her prince will rescue her. I'm not useless either, I try to do things, but every day that passes I feel more alone, I feel that madness irremediably takes over my being.)

2 months passed slowly and quickly slow for MC and fast for Lawrence

He was working with the army trying to develop strategies against the zombies, so the entire infected population near the safe zone was eliminated without major complications, earning the respect of the general and several ministers. Due to his age, they did not formally give him very important positions, but if he carried out actions that would correspond to a high command without complaining, getting a small apartment in just 2 months in the only area that was habitable in the city.

Lawrence: (no matter where I am, people are the same everywhere, idiots, sometimes I wonder what makes others so different from me? Why do they seem such idiots in comparison? They get so carried away by her emotions, I didn't understand it until I met her, from my reaction you could say that from the view of others I am much more impulsive and sentimental than others, most of the time it's like I don't have emotions, but when I did I protested in the most violent way possible.

Considering that I can understand that my love can be dangerous, what can I do if I love more intensely than others? It's also not like I wanted to kill them from the beginning, it's just that they were a constant obstacle to being with her, stealing her attention, kindness, and love from her.

I remember how I look at idiot Ethan with a different affection and worst of all, much more intense than the one you had for me. The others were just brats that would waste the air around you, he had to eliminate them.

I don't regret what I did, but I would like to know if I hadn't done everything I did.

Would you love me more? Your actions show me submission to me, not love, I want her love from her, I want her to love me like I do, that she wants me as I wanted her. She that she dreams of me like she does every night, I want her to be her dreams, not her nightmares. I would do whatever it takes to make you forget them and only remember me, if I could turn back time I would have killed them before you knew them and I would go for you, so he would love me the same way if he had known you were alive...

Time is cruel and does not stop or go back for a second, I can only move forward and pave our way. To prevent others from getting in the way again, I will make our future so bright that it overshadows what you consider to be bad memories.

Getting a high position with my intelligence was easy, but it took time me now I'll just go for you, it's not long before our bright future begins)

[queertemporality]

in the same way that i find “adhd” somewhat useful as shorthand for a particular set of behaviors/symptoms and the struggles that accompany them (although it’s fallen out of my vocabulary lately as the term has grown… less useful), I’ve found myself returning to “asexual” as shorthand for my relationship to sexuality because it gets the gist across in a manner that doesn’t make me want to tear my hair out take 15+ minutes and a great deal of emotional turmoil to explain.

i’ve agonized over the root cause of it, as if by pinpointing a “cause” I might overcome it. because, for me, it was always about overcoming, as if it was a wound in need of healing and not a grain of dust I’ve pearled around—a neutral part of whatever else I also am. over time I realized I had the same relationship to sexuality as I did to dysphoria: a weed to be grasped by the roots and pulled. but when it comes to the self, the weeds are the garden.

for a long time, I tried out a narrative in which my dysphoria was the product of trauma, and I used its presumed cause as proof that I could conquer it. more: i felt obligated to conquer it. saw it (as i saw everything else) as a problem in need of a cure: address the root trauma, and the rest will fall away. but that approach didn’t work; no prize for guessing as to why.

(a note on this: if you find yourself addressing aspects of your lived experience with the same rhetoric used in conversion therapy... perhaps don't?)

so recently I've decided not to do the same with sexuality. or I suppose I could say I've already done my poking and prodding and listening and pleading and wailing. I’ve put it through all the right interrogations and conducted all the right experiments (and plenty of the wrong ones! hot new trauma!), but the more questions I ask, the more obvious it becomes that whatever "cause" there might be (if there indeed is one!) is irrelevant to my lived experiences in the here and now, and identifying said potential cause would no more change the way I experience sexuality than understanding the source of my dysphoria could “cure” me of my desire to make changes to my body and move through the world in a manner i find more comfortable. there was a problem, but it wasn't what i thought it was. these particular qualities didn't need to change; i needed to change the way i approach them. give them some room to just be what they are, spend less time interrogating and more time vibing i guess.

so this is a long way of saying that I’ve more or less given up on labels, but if you have to ask…

[muddiestpath]

Vent about the last post (my health, not about OP)

I remember being so ill from that random stomach bug that I saw everything the same value & could recognise shapes. I barely kept down water & these nairn's fruit/out biscuits(gluten-free bc I'm also coeliac).

My room used to be next to the living room & I could hear my family laugh at the tv as I stared at the picture on my wall, thinking I was dying. I couldn't speak to ask for help. If I messaged on my phone, it'd not be seen or be met with "in a minute" responses that 60٪ would be forgotten.

It took them 3 months to take me to the Dr.

I remember once I started being able to walk to the living room, my mum (in perhaps her attempt of being positive or cheering me up) said how much slimmer I was. I had lost my muscle mass & only ate the above single pack of 4 biscuits in a day.

That was the moment I lost faith in her. The nail in the coffin of my trust in her. She was doing what most ppl do when they see an ill relative: find something to compliment. But after the year I had been through of complete isolation, where she forgot me on the otherside of that living room wall. All she saw was I was thinner & that was positive to her.

Sorry, didn't mean to zero in on my mum. They all did similar things, she just was more often overpromising support.

Now is better. I'm in a bigger room in the attic with my own bathroom & space for my rabbit to run around. I can walk around the house & garden. I can eat 2 meals some days. I am larger than I was before. Still get motion sick near instantly at shakey cameras/first person perspective games & barely manage 10min car ride. Still don't wear my glasses bc my prescription keeps changing & glasses make me nauseous (as you can imagine I now am deathly afraid of nausea & am on situational anxiety/antinausea meds). I'm short-sighted with astigmatism, not too bad most days but sometimes I get a bloodshot eye or eyestrain, I know it's not healthy but being told I have to power through the nausea to readjust to glasses... isn't going to happen.

I'm on financial support but it's not built for chronic conditions & I don't have the energy(haha) to fight the gov to pass the long promised system reform for disability aid. This support also means I am legally unable to earn any money unless I cancel my support all together. We were promised in 2018 a new disability category for cfs/me & long covid that would allow me to work when I am able. It is now buried as a "rolling issue".

I'm trying every day to do the stretches & exercises to build muscle strength back. But CFS/ME has no treatment or cure, so again it's a "tough it out" situation where most days I can't even do those stretches.

Recently a new Dr has me on thyroid supplements & I can only "hope" it helps.

But over everything. I am actually lonely! I've never felt this before. I'm a severe introvert, I have a tiny social battery. But now I'm years out of university, have about 5 ppl I talk to online even semi regularly, & I haven't seen anyone outside my family or medical professionals in those years.

I am now 30 & have no footing in meeting new people irl or online.

I want to have more friends. I want to experience what dating is like. But I have so little energy or social skills that it's it seems like I'm brushing them off. Added to the fact I'm asleep when everyone I know is online? It bites.

I want a new body with better hardware. This one is faulty. But I'm stuck in it & doing my best. Don't pity me. My family already does that.

[hasfeelings]

Yes, even in Canada folks need to turn to Gofundme to get necessary medical care. Please consider helping Andrew out. Every little bit helps.

My name is Andrew Jantzen and I’m reaching out for help with a life-changing surgery that I NEED to get within a year.

I’ve been diagnosed with Tethered cord by a neurosurgeon in the US and told I need a $65,000 surgery within a year.

If done within that time frame, it could allow me to walk again without a wheelchair, pee without a catheter, and have my bowels work properly for the first time in years.

If I don’t have the surgery soon enough, these symptoms will become permanent and continue to get worse.

I am a 35-year-old, queer, trans, Mennonite, low-income disabled person. I have Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, use a power wheelchair, and have a feeding tube. I have been involved in community in Nova Scotia for 17 years. From XPride at StFX to the Social Justice Youth Camp at the Tatamagouche Centre, from running youth programs in Halifax to volunteering to develop accessibility standards for the province. I now do most of my work and volunteering from home, due to disability and health issues. I have worked for the Tetra Society of North America since 2019, a National charity that collaborates with people with disabilities to build custom assistive devices for people when nothing else exists. I also recently started working part-time for the Nova Scotia Accessibility Directorate where I build capacity to do accessibility work across the province. Despite having two jobs, my income is limited. This is because the Disability Support Program, which I rely on to pay for my support workers and medical needs, claws back nearly 75% of people's income and caps out well below the poverty line.

Where the other condition I live with, Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, has no cure, tethered cord can be treated with surgery. I will still have medical issues, but imagine what I would be capable of if this serious condition was treated!

The healthcare system here in Nova Scotia will only cover the cost of out-of-country surgery if I get a diagnosis and referral from a NS neurosurgeon.

Unfortunately, the neurosurgeon I saw in NS, Dr. McNeely, does not support the expert diagnosis of Dr. Klinge, who diagnosed me in the US. Dr McNeely doesn't see anything on my MRI and therefore has concluded that it is simply mechanical back pain. Dr. Klinge is an expert in reading MRIs for people with Tethered cord and EDS, where the signs of tethered cord can be more subtle. She has unequivocally diagnosed me with Tethered cord and has recommended surgery within a year.

Sadly, this experience of being dismissed is the same as the others I know with Tethered cord in Nova Scotia. These other people went on to have surgery with Dr. Klinge, who confirmed during surgery that they did have tethered cord.

Our healthcare system has failed me drastically already. The MRI that the specialist in the US used to diagnose me in March 2023 was from 2017, before I even needed a wheelchair. No one in NS, out of all the specialists I’ve seen, identified the issue back when it could have prevented so much pain, damage, and costs. Everyone said nothing was there. They are still saying there is nothing there.

The only way it seems I will receive this life-altering treatment is if I can raise the funds. That’s why I’m asking for your help today.

[radiesthesia]

HERRINCKX’S DIAMOND

REMOTE ACTIONS thanks to the diamond Answers to some questions

In the manual Introduction to medical dowsing, our collaborator W. HERRINCKX had indicated a convenient way to act remotely by placing the necessary remedy, color or metal with the witness of the person on the simple drawing of a diamond.

This process, tested by many operators, has already gave exceptional results. But it happens that we ask ourselves certain questions in the use of this astonishing means. This is how we will respond here briefly, by way of the magazine, to the questions asked by a reader from NEW ZEALAND.

Here is his letter: “There are several questions that we would be very happy to have the answer : “Can you explain how and why the diamond works, and what proof do you have? Can we demonstrate that it is not a question coincidence or that the improvement observed is not due to the action of another factor?

“Does it matter if there are several diamonds on the same table? Doesn’t their action interfere? We find that a beam is directed towards the patient even if the patient is at a distance kilometers away. What is the maximum distance you think that the device can act? I'm trying to help someone who is in Australia, which is 1200 miles from here. “The colors seem to work, but need to be changed after a few days, or even during a single day. Does this not does not demonstrate that any influence is at play? In my case, I'm trying to help ten people and, as you can imagine, there are among them cases considered hopeless, by the doctors. My own husband, after x-ray examination, was supposed to have a duodenal ulcer. It was treated with colors by means of a solenoid and was apparently cured. Then after approximately one year he had a relapse. I treated it for a few months with a diamond and now he is a completely different man. He is 75 years old and he works very hard outside to cultivate and cut down trees. He regains weight gradually. Another case of healing is that of a friend dowser. Since I have been treating him, he has improved and he declares even though he feels much better. I think he will live one more quite a while. His wife is a bad case of cerebral arteriosclerosis. We noted improvements in several reports.

“The doctors say they can no longer do anything and we give carte blanche. If the patient allows it, the treatment by the solenoid could activate the cure. I recently treated a young cat who suffered from bovine tuberculosis and it became a beautiful big cat. Most of the treatment was done through diamond, but in the end I used a solenoid. Another case that I am trying to cure is that of psoriasis, considered desperate.

“A problem that we cannot elucidate is that of know if colors have an action at night. A member of our club uses complementary colors for the night. I think that a color is a part of light and that, without light, it there is no radiation. Do you have a scientific explanation for this subject ? I think it is better to remove the colors and the witnesses of the diamond when the sun sets. “I saw in the instructions that it is recommended to use only one color at a time. But a mixture of colors ends all the same to give an overall color. He uses all the colors needed and they seem to work very well immediately. I take them off when they look worn out. “Facial eczema in sheep seems to be invading our country. It disappears quickly when an animal witness is placed with a color on the diamond. But the sheep relapses if it returns to the same rich pasture.” MRS M. V. GOLDSBURY-WANGANUI – NEW ZEALAND

[sandman-vo]

I think I’ve hit a point in my life where I’m able to put a lot of the fucked up shit that’s been going on from 2015-2022 behind me.

And since that’s a long stretch of time til now, I should mention the “fucked up” has varying degrees:

Can’t get employed after college? Fucked up

Some friends turned out to be kinda shitty? Fucked up

The fun and unique culture of the city you like is slowly dying because tech and real estate bros like to gentrify and ruin everything they touch? Fucked up

Worldwide pandemic and finding out the US has always had a fascism problem. And the best you can really do is just buck up and survive this shit? Fucked up

Your State continues to decide to do jack and shit about any of their problems concerning electricity and water and you have had 2-3 winters where you had to go 4-5 DAYS without either water or power? Fucked up (fuck February in Austin)

Existential dread paired with depression, aging to my 30s with seemingly nothing much to show for it, being broke AF while your rent was suddenly raised by 50%, realizing you probably had ADHD this whole goddamn time, and thinking every part of you is broken in some way? Fucked up

Things that are more fucked up than that that I’d still rather keep to myself than write about here? Fucked up

You finish a day at work and go straight to Home Depot to cut through 80 feet worth of 1 1/2” pvc piping into 2 and 2.5 feet segments with a hand saw to finish building your new vocal booth that you have been waiting and planning for months to make, and there’s no heckin way you’re going to cook dinner after doing all that so you go pick up some Wendy’s on the way back. And you said no mayonnaise on your double cheeseburger to the guy at the speaker TWICE and they kept you waiting at the drive through for 15 minutes just for them to finally figure out that what that really meant was to SLATHER THAT SHIT ALL OVER IT, but at the same time you understand and support the concept of acting your wage and goddamn do fast food workers get paid dogshit so you don’t think it’s all that productive to file a complaint? Fucked up

But anyways, I’m gradually making it to the other side of these things.

I’m in a place where rent isn’t trying to starve me. I’m saving LOTS of money after paychecks. I’m at least in a career-adjacent job even though I’m not mega thrilled about it (could be worse, could be fucking up someone’s goddamn double cheeseburger). I’m definitely getting together a “bucket list” for Austin while I’m still in the mindset that I’ll try to give this place at least 1 or 2 more good years before I think it will be a good time to try and move elsewhere. I’m taking shit tons of classes to refine my skills, now that I have both time and money to do so. I’m genuinely building so much better of a foundation than I had 6 years ago, which I will use as a jumping off point and give my my work from home freelance careers in Voice Acting and Video Editing new leases on life. And I recently discovered yoga nidra in a class and while it’s no cure for ADHD it’s a treatment for sure!

One of the big takeaways that I’m keeping in mind lately (thanks to the yoga) is this:

“I am whole. I’m living a full life. And while it’s not how I wanted things to be, and while there’s some fucked up shit, and while it looks nothing like how a typical life would go, none of that shit makes me a lesser/broken/incomplete person.”

This was not a part of the class. This wasn’t taught. This is just what I ended up finding after I tried to figure out the deep seeded beliefs where all of my issues stemmed from. This realization has brought such a stillness to me in the past 48 hours that I can barely describe how I feel right now. But it feels good. There are only a few other places where I could have felt this, and coincidentally, it was not during the fucked up dark timeline that was my 2015-2022.

[ichang22]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ :𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔮𝔲𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔭𝔢𝔯 2: :;

Title: The Yellow Wallpaper

Author: Charlotte Perkins Gilman

Characters: Narrator (the woman in the story with a mental illness), John, Mary, Jennie

Theme: Miscommunication, Mistreated, and Self-Expression

It is simply about a woman who is unable to express her true thoughts or feelings and also unable to find someone who will listen and understand her.

Summary:

In the beginning of this story, the author explained that the readers have met an unnamed narrator that exists back in the late 1800s. How? Because of her journal that tells all the things that you ever need to know about her experiences from her isolation in the country estate. You see, she has recently given birth and the doctors have diagnosed her with a nervous condition. You could simply that she is suffering from a "nervous depression" as well as her marriage. They prescribed her with a rest cure so that is the main reason why she's isolated in the country estate like I mentioned earlier and that is where she and her husband John (who's also her doctor) are living for their summer vacation. The narrator is experiencing some hard time with her husband because of how he belittles her feelings, concerns and overall her illness. Because of her mental illness, John forbade her from interacting with people, reading, working, writing and even seeing her baby. Basically, her treatment involves not doing anything active. Two other women named Mary and Jennie (John's sister) have offered their service to help with child care and other domestic tasks.

The narrator felt that doing an activity would relieve her mind and escape her from her troubles so she began writing a journal in secret. The narrator explains how her room has a tattered yellow wallpaper with an intricate pattern that she finds disturbing and irritating. Many weeks have passed and the narrator's depression and anxiety grew even bigger so she asks John if they could leave the house but he didn't allow it and so, her obsession over the wallpaper continues. She spends her hours just looking at it and trying to follow the pattern all the way to its end. She becomes more paranoid about the color and even its smell. She would start hallucinating that there's woman trapped inside the wallpaper trying to get out. Somehow, the narrator feels different and starts being more active as she becomes more interested about the woman behind the wallpaper and even began seeing more women inside of it. As summer is about to end, the narrator felt like she needed to free those trapped women for some reason before she leaves the house. She peels the wallpaper little by little until but it soon got worse when she locks herself in the room tearing all the paper down. She begins to consider herself as a woman in the wallpaper and she would just creep around the room and when John saw all of this madness, he faints. The narrator still keeps on crawling and creeping along the wall.

Moral lesson: There's a lot things we can actually learn from this story. From what I am able to comprehend, the moral lesson of the story tells us that mistreating or belittling those who are suffering from mental illness is never okay or acceptable. Going through Anxiety, Depression, or any other types of mental illness is not a joke and it shouldn't ever be ignored or shrugged off. What John did is not right and he is certainly the worst husband any women could have. His way of "recovering" his wife by taking away her freedom is something that we shouldn't tolerate. In life, let's always choose to understand those who are suffering and help them recover from it in a right way by talking and at the same time, listening to them. Because if we don't then things can turn much worse than ever. Many women should have the right to say something in their recovery instead of being dismissed.

[whatsonmedia]

Why Bruce Willis's Diagnosis Can Help

How The Hollywood Actor's Recent Dementia Diagnosis Helps All of Us Now we may not like talking about it, but for great many others it's the elephant in the room. But just recently, Hollywood actor Bruce Willis's actor recent diagnosis has once again helped get the conversation in going.  Yes, I am talking about dementia. The cruel disease which affects the brain and to which there is no cure. A cognitive illness which, unlike Alzheimers which only affects the memory, Dementia affects a great deal more. Aspects that of brain functions that can be affected range from a variety of things such as eating and drinking to speech and understanding to behavior and memory loss.  Bruce's diagnosis is Frontotemporal Dementia which in his case affects both his ability to understand verbal communication and to actually communicate as well. Sadly, and for those who have studied the illness and/or supported those who live with it, will know that unfortunately there is just no happy ending. Once the disease begins affecting the brain and visually manifesting itself it only gets worse. How long this takes to happen can never be predicted as not all cases are the same. Basically, it's like many other lives affecting illnesses that sooner or later lead to horrific outcomes. You know you have a sickness that you will never beat and that it's only going to get worse as time goes on but you just don't know how long it'll take or how much of a grip it'll take when it actually does  But first and foremost, what is it? What does it mean to have this illness? And how does it affect the sufferer? Well, it's when the nerve endings on the brain die off and because it's one of the areas of the body that cannot self-repair the damage is irreversible. The illness affects neurological abilities, and in this case, communication and the ability to understand it. Now as I have already mentioned in previous columns I have done when speaking about this issue I have never shied away from speaking about how devastating it can be. But it's something that we're all going to have to talk about more often. Since the start of 2018 I have worked as a Support Worker helping support vulnerable adults with various disabilities, mental health issues and complex needs. Here's a little crash in what I know though; for the first year and a half I was based in a supported living house and one of the individuals I helped had a form of Dementia. In their case it was Vascular Dementia, and this type can be brought on by previous illnesses like a Stroke.  Now when I first started supporting this individual, I was taken aback by the way they behaved. They were in their mid-70's yet their behavior was as though they were at Pre-School. As days passed and I got to know more about this individual I learnt about how they used to be before the illness took grip. Apparently, you could converse with them and was able to tell you about their past. For me, because I had only known them when they were in the full throw of Dementia, I found it somewhat difficult to imagine this individual as they were before. After a couple of years, I found myself back at the place helping out for a few hours, I'd been at another location for a few months. When I was there, I quickly noticed that their Dementia had gotten much worse and it was absolutely clear that they needed more help than they would've done over a year ago previously.  Overall, it was a very cruel disease that has zero concept of pain, misery or loss that it inflicts upon people, from those who suffer it to those who know people suffering from it. Even a late relative of mine had a form of it in their final months, I never saw much of them in that period of time. In some ways I would view it as a form of relief as this was someone who'd been a constant regular in my life and had many memories of. And sooner or later we'd reach that stage where they'd struggle to remember who I was or how I was.  According to a report people who are diagnosed with Frontotemporal Dementia can live for around 8 - 10 years, and there are some who actually live much longer. What we should do well to remember is that it's not actually a death sentence either, even though the final outcome isn't going to be a nice one. But what I will say is that more support will always be required as it gets worse  https://www.nbcnews.com/news/amp/rcna22261 Read the full article