#I'm diagnosed or medically recognized with ALL of these

[tallymarksystem]

"you can't have all of these disorders at the same time you have to be lying" if I could have less I would!!!

[bukuoshin]

Okay, it's. It's probably safe to say I'm autistic, lol

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for planning to go to a convention without my partner even though we usually go together?

My partner (21 NB) and I usually always attend different conventions around our area together. We like to dress up in costumes, get pics with celebrity guests, and go to panels and meet-ups and all the fun convention activities together. The problem is.... this past year has been really hard for them mental health wise, and it has kind of sucked the fun out of going to conventions for both of us.

They have diagnosed ADHD and anxiety/depression, as well as what we think is autism, but they are undiagnosed. If I thought they were having a good time attending conventions, I would worry less, but the crowds of people and the noise overstimulates them and they've told me that they feel unsettled with that that many strangers around. They've had a range of minor to major panic attacks at each of the conventions that we've attended for the past year or so.

I usually try to be really supportive of their mental health. They have come a long, long way from the deep depression they were in back in high school, and they have worked hard to get their ADHD recognized and properly medicated, and I'm really proud of them. I have anxiety myself, so I feel like I understand at least a little bit of what they are typically dealing with, in a small way.

However, I also absolutely adore going to conventions. I convince myself every morning to get up and go to work by telling myself that "I'm working to fund my next cosplay," or whatever. A little self-motivation, you know. Costumes and conventions are my biggest hobby. Though I attend multiple conventions, every one is different in its own way, so it feels like it only comes once a year.

And this is where I might be a bit of an AH. I know my partner can't control their mental health, but I feel like I miss out on a lot of the convention whenever they have a panic attack or get overstimulated and I have to sit with them until they feel better. And yes, I know that sounds really bad, and I should care about my partner's well-being more than seeing a panel or a celebrity guest, but conventions are my "once a year getaway" from reality and typical life and all that. I don't really take any other vacations, and I don't really get to interact with any other nerds/geeks/weebs/lovely fandom people except at conventions because my anxiety is mostly social anxiety, and talking to people is hard and social media is intimidating.

So.... I did some thinking, and there are two, maybe three conventions that I'm planning to attend this next year without my partner. I'm not planning on telling them that I'm going without them, I was just planning on not mentioning it at all. I think if I tell them outright that I'm going without them, they'll take it personally and I don't want to upset them. If they ask for a reason that we're not going, I can just say it's financial, which isn't exactly a lie, because I did take a pay cut at work not too long ago. And my partner doesn't work due to their mental health, so I always fund or costumes and tickets and hotels. But I don't want to give that reason outright either, because I don't want to lie unless I have to.

There are two or three other conventions that we go to yearly that we'll still go to together, so I feel like they'll still get to attend and we'll get to go together, but I'll also have my "alone time" at the other conventions and get to do things I don't usually get to do, like late-night events.

If it's worth anything, my therapist supports my idea, because she thinks it'll force me out of my shell a little bit, and force me to stop using my partner as a "social crutch" if I go alone, making it like exposure therapy for my social anxiety.

So tumblr... AITA for wanting to go to a couple of conventions without my partner due to their mental health and my fear of missing out?

What are these acronyms?

[k9emote]

audience test

How many disorders do you match with me

NPD

ASPD

STPD

ADHD

AUTISM

SENSORY PROCESSING DISORDER

MAN LOVING MEN (the worst one)

C-DID

C-PTSD

DYSLEXIA

LIKES PICKLES

BIPOLAR / MANIC DEPRESSION

GENERALIZED ANXIETY DISORDER

SELECTIVE MUTISM (fluctuates)

HYPER MOBILITY DISORDER

RESTLESS LEG SYNDROME

INSOMNIA

HCD (huge cock disorder. contagious so I have to be quarantined)

(all medically recognized. don't come @ me because I'm a fucked up guy) ((huge cock disorder is self diagnosed but you have to believe me))

this was actually a very vulnerable post to make but I want ableists to block me and we should not be ashamed to be disordered

[melodygatesauthor]

Not a Doctor

Jake Lockley X f!Reader (Patient X Therapist)

*skin tone of model in banner does not represent skin tone of reader. Reader is not race-coded.

Edited by: @welcometostayingawake

AO3 LINK

Summary:

You're a therapist who works at a medium security mental facility. One of your patients, diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder, has an undocumented alter that starts showing himself to you. When you learn what it is he wants, you find it difficult to resist.

Tags/Warnings:

NSFW, power imbalance, p in v creampie, cum eating, spit kink, obsession, Jake in lust, medical inaccuracies, I probably made mistakes about DID but I tried, no powers/no MK/no marvel, rough sex, inappropriate sex, semi-public sex, patient/doctor relationship, dacryphilia, mild blood, biting/marking, reader is kinda mean to Steven (I'm really sorry), mental manipulation, praise kink, refractory period? What refractory period, Marc and Steven make minor appearances. Jake-centric fic.

Word Count: 12.6k (*cough* don't look at me, I'm but a simple hor)

The first time you met Jake Lockley, he was sitting across your desk in a wheelchair. He was mildly sedated, pupils dilated, brows furrowed in confusion. You didn’t know it was Jake yet, you assumed the original, Marc, was fronting, as he normally was. The manila file rested in front of you untouched, reading Marc Spector on the label. You didn’t even need to open it anymore, unless you were adding notes, as you’d been working with him long enough by now to know the file inside and out.

You asked Marc the same thing you asked at the beginning of every session.

“How are you doing today, Marc?”

A smirk spread over his face, something wicked, a little cocky, and it sent a chill racing down your spine. He looked at you with a face you didn’t recognize.

“I’m not Marc.” He said firmly, dark eyes burning into yours.

You were surprised; the British accent that normally accompanied Marc’s only known alter, Steven Grant, wasn’t there. You opened the file quickly, scouring through, shuffling papers around and trying to stay calm, looking for any indication of a third alter. 

But you came up with nothing during your quick glance. 

You took a deep breath to steady your racing mind.

“You’re not Steven.” You said it as more of a statement than a question.

You crossed your legs and put your hands in your lap, trying to show this new and unpredictable person that you weren’t a threat. You let your facial expression soften. In cases like Marc’s, if there was an undocumented alter, there was no telling if they were friend or foe.

“You’re not a doctor.” He muttered, shaking his head slowly. He had a slight twang to his words.

You gulped uncomfortably. He wasn’t wrong, you didn’t, in fact, have your PhD. You were a licensed therapist, but that was irrelevant information, and there was no way he could really know that. You could see that he was very quickly becoming agitated by the way his breath was coming out faster and his hands were clenching the armrests of his wheelchair. You felt your own anxiety pooling in your chest.

There was training you had undergone specifically for these types of situations. You tried to recall your safety training, remembering the importance of diffusing a situation with your words first, with calling security being a final resort, reserved only for when a patient was beyond reasoning with. The man in front of you wasn’t quite there yet from what you could tell.

The two of you were at a stand still, his chest was heaving and his eyes stayed narrowed on you. After working with Marc and Steven all this time and having no documentation of this alter, you felt at a loss for words. He could be the kindest person you’d ever met, or he could be extremely violent, there really was no telling what he was capable of.

“That’s irrelevant,” you said. “I’m here to help you, Marc and Steven, that’s all that matters.” You paused to see if he would say anything else. When he didn’t, you asked, “What’s your name?” You decided to keep things simple for now.

He leaned forward. Your hand involuntarily reached for the alert button around your neck slowly.

“Don’t you push that fucking button, puta.” He warned, you watched his hand slide forward on the wheelchair arm menacingly.

Your fingers froze over the button, holding there while you determined if this was something you could handle yourself or not. The two of you were at another impasse. If you pushed that button, he was going to lunge, and if you didn’t push it in time in the event he was violent, he could really hurt you, or worse…

“I won’t push the button as long as you and I can have a civil conversation.” You spoke calmly despite the terror building within you.

The man appeared to consider this before he leaned back in his chair. You slowly dropped your arm to show compliance. If he was going to back off, then you could safely let down your guard. A thick silence split through the room, save for the ticking clock above the door.

“I’m not here to hurt you, I’m just here to help. You can call me…” You told him your name. You’d found in your time as a therapist it helped your patients immensely when they felt like you were a peer, not a superior figure. “Alright, do you want to tell me why you’re here?” You asked, trying to keep your shaking voice as light as possible.

“Well…” he let out a snicker, “hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but if I’m here, that’s a bad sign.”

You were supposed to correct patients when they called you names like that, even they were expected to act more respectfully, but you didn’t want to agitate him further. If the worst thing he did right now was call you sweetheart, you’d consider that a win.

He scoffed, “tell me something…why do you smell like nuestra madre, hm?” He was clenching his jaw as he spoke.

You inhaled sharply, realizing you’d made a huge mistake. Your birthday was yesterday, and a friend bought you a new perfume. During one of the many trainings you’d done for your position, you’d been cautioned that certain scents could trigger some patients. Marc’s mother, Wendy…she must’ve worn something with similar notes. That’s why this alter was here. He was protecting the other two from the emotional pain that he thought you might cause. He’d pegged you as a threat.

You furrowed your brow and picked your pen up off the desk. You clicked it and started writing what he said on your legal pad. 

“What are you writing? Huh? You taking little notes about how crazy I am? Telling everyone how fucked up Marc is that he’s got three psychos in the same skull?” This new alter was intense, ready for a fight at every turn. You made a mental note never to wear that perfume again, and started scribbling more about the agitated man in front of you.

“I’m just taking simple notes. All the therapists do it. We have to.” You thought of something that might help him feel safer, “would you like to see them? We don’t typically show patients their notes, but if you ask for them I’m obligated to show them to you.”

It turned out that Jake Lockley did not, in fact, want to see the notes. 

The visit ended shortly after with security intervention. His smile turned manic as he got up from his chair and grabbed a pyramid shaped paperweight from your desk. He turned it around in his hand, the pointed edge facing you and you quickly pressed your emergency button with a look of terror in your eyes. Marc had never done anything like that, especially not to you. He knew you were there to help. This alter clearly didn’t trust you, and it was going to be a struggle to get him to come around.

Security sedated and removed him from your office. You couldn’t stop thinking about him after that interaction. The way his eyes looked, so dark and different, eyebrows scrunched together in nothing but disdain. He looked feral, like a wild animal. As if given the opportunity, he might devour you whole. You’d decided to avoid making any official documentation about him. Marc was so close to moving to a less restrictive program, you didn’t want to ruin that for them until you knew more.

----

The second time you met Jake Lockley was a week later. You were in the middle of a conversation with Steven. Marc would sometimes dissociate when the conversation got too difficult, and you’d just finished talking about Marc’s time in the military. You were trying to figure out more about this other alter. You had a suspicion that he had been around for a while, and that last week wasn’t the first appearance he’d ever made.

You weren’t even sure if Marc knew about him. You cared for Marc and Steven. They’d made so much progress since first coming in, and you didn’t want to see them end up back in a maximum security mental facility. According to their chart, it took months before they finally stopped going on about the Egyptian moon god and being his ‘Moon Knight’. Not that Steven believed in it anyway, that was mostly Marc’s delusion. By the time they’d become your patient, those days were long behind them.

The purpose of Marc being there with you, in that facility, wasn’t to get rid of his dissociative identity disorder. In fact, he’d made it very clear that wasn’t something he intended to do. “Steven’s a part of me, we’re a package deal,” he’d said. He needed to learn to live with it, and function in society in order to be discharged, and that was his goal here. It was just within reach, too. If there was a third alter though, that would be a major setback for them. There was just no telling what kind of man he was.

You supposed that was why you’d broken protocol and kept the new alter out of your chart notes. It was completely unethical to do that, but you wanted to know if this was something worth keeping them in there for any longer. You saw no sense in extending his stay if this alter was just reacting violently to you out of fear.

“Steven, can you tell me something?” You asked, leaning back in your chair and grabbing your coffee between your hands.

“Sure, yeah.”

He always seemed happy to talk to you. You wondered if you were the only one there that treated him like he actually existed, and not like he was some imaginary friend of a mentally ill man. People could be so cruel, even in your field.

“I’ve been looking through your chart more recently, and one very typical symptom of DID is loss of time. Marc said he experienced it quite a bit when you would front, and you mentioned it happening during the last few weeks of you having your job while Marc had control of the body. You know…before the bathroom incident in London.” You strummed your fingers against the cup nervously, unsure if this line of questioning might help or hurt them further. “Have you or Marc…lost any time recently?”

Steven furrowed his brow, his mouth went a little slack while he tried to recall. He shook his head slowly. You could see him trying to think, to a point that his face dropped and he looked almost disappointed. A smirk curled at the side of his lip. Your blood went cold; it was him. The switch happened so fast.

“Hola, puta.” He said, looking up at you through his lashes.

You reached for the button quickly, but hesitated again. It was as if his eyes darkened, and his entire body changed. He wiped some spit from his bottom lip and tousled his hair a bit, straightening his posture.

“Marc must be sick of not having hair gel.” The unknown man commented.

You nodded, “he’s mentioned it once or twice.” You took a deep breath, “do I need this thing? Or are we going to talk like civilized human beings?”

He shrugged and crossed his arms, “that’s up to you. Last time I had a conversation with someone, they weren’t making cute little notes to share with their friends later.”

“Why do the notes bother you?” You asked softly, lowering your arm to the desk.

He looked at the floor for a moment, allowing an awkward silence to hang in the air. When he looked at you again, his eyes were nearly black, pupils dilated. His lips were pressed together tightly and he leaned forward. You shifted uncomfortably, but kept your hands from pressing the panic button.

“I don’t think those notes are particularly honest. Do you?” He tilted his head to the side. “What did you write about me after our little incident last week, huh?”

You were surprised at his ability to recall the time. You began to wonder if he’d been hiding in plain sight and if anyone else had noticed the changes in Marc’s behavior. What you still weren’t sure about, was what seemed to trigger this new alter. You’d been sure not to wear that perfume again. How long has this alter been around? 

“I didn’t write about your incident. The psychiatrist was surprised to hear that Marc had an unusual outburst during our session.” You laced your fingers over your knee. “I’d like to know more about you before I condemn Marc and Steven to more time here.”

You watched his entire body relax at that sentence. His purpose, as it would seem, was to protect the system. When things got scary, physically or otherwise, he would come out. He was in no danger now though, so why he was there now was a mystery to you.

“No notes.” He said firmly, stating his conditions.

“Fine.” You said, pushing the notepad to the other end of the desk. “Let’s just chat then.”

The sound of the clock ticking was deafening. A smirk played over his face again as he grunted and stood from his wheelchair. Your fingers twitched, but you were going to do everything you could not to touch that damn button. Ever since they’d been transferred to this facility, you wanted to help Marc and Steven so badly, and you still meant to do that. He walked up to the desk and held his hand out to you.

Despite your attempt at bravery, your body was trembling as you went to shake his hand. His handshake was firm, and surprisingly his skin was soft. Neither Steven nor Marc had ever touched you before, they just sat in the wheelchair like patients were supposed to. Something told you that this one didn’t care much for the rules or protocol. He turned and went back to his seat.

That was when you learned his name was Jake Lockley.

“Now, what was it you wanted to know, sweetheart?” 

His New York accent was much clearer now. He wasn’t unhinged by nature, in fact, he was quite calmly mannered, however he seemed easy to trigger. It was also hard to tell when he was upset. He seemed to mask his feelings behind a sly grin, brushing off any and every word with a sense of grit. It was like the man you’d met the week before, the one who looked like he might stab you, wasn’t the same one you were talking to now.

Steven had taken a while to sort out, getting him to understand and step into his role in Marc’s life. Steven would come out when Marc was experiencing something triggering, or generally upsetting. If the topic turned to their mother, Marc could talk for a little while before Steven would take his place. Steven had also struggled with understanding his existence. What did it mean to be an alter for a man with DID? The existential questions were still a struggle for even you to comprehend.

“Jake, tell me about what you think is going on here?” You were trying to be friendly, but you could tell he was a no bullshit kind of guy. If you could match his energy, you might be able to get some answers out of him.

“Why don’t you tell me more about you, and then I’ll tell you more about me.” He leaned forward, resting an elbow against his knee.

You interlinked your fingers over the desk and sighed. It was against protocol to tell patients about your personal life. It could create a dangerous situation for you, and potentially trigger a patient. You wanted to get Jake to talk though, so you decided to play along.

“Fine…” you felt tense. No one had made you feel this way during your entire career as a therapist. “You start.”

He seemed amused. His face was cocky, as if he’d won a prize at the end of a game, and perhaps to him this was a game. You leaned back and tapped the arm of your chair anxiously, trying to keep yourself calm despite the weight crushing your chest.

“You married? No, I don’t see a ring.”

So he’s observant, you noted.

“Got a boyfriend then?” He asked, still looking smug.

“No.” You answered bluntly. The important thing with difficult patients like him was to hold your ground, and don’t give them any information they can use against you later.

“Okay, Jake, when Marc was in the Lennox maximum security facility he started some trouble with other patients. It’s also reported that he had no recollection of said events. I guess they should’ve spotted you then.” You looked at him, feeling a little cocky yourself after having done your research since your last session with Marc.

“That sounds more like a statement than a question.”

“Was that you?”

“Si.”

Another pause. Jake rested his chin on his fist. His eyes narrowed, but his brows seemed to soften. He was relaxing, easing into the space. This was good, maybe you could get him to talk more freely.

“Do you wear pretty red lipstick for all of your patients or just for me?”

The heat rose to your cheeks. You tried to keep your breathing steady, but it sounded ragged and shallow despite your best efforts to stay calm. He was being so bold. None of your patients had ever spoken to you like that, so flirtatiously. It still surprised you how different he was from Marc and Steven, despite sharing a body with them.

“That’s inappropriate.” You cleared your throat stiffly.

“Answer the question, bebita.” He demanded coldly. “Answer…or I guess we’re done here.”

“No, I wear this color often.” You answered in an equally cool tone.

“Looks good.” His eyelids lowered seductively. The heat in your cheeks was still burning.

“Uh…thanks.” Your nerves were breaking through the barrier you normally had in place with patients.

“Your turn.”

It was hard to think of another question. He’d rendered you speechless, which you supposed was probably his goal. He was sly, this one, crafty with how he played the game. Suddenly you felt like this was his office, and you were the one under the magnifying glass.

“When did you come about, at what point in Marc’s life?”

You really needed to take these notes, but you decided that it would get you nowhere with him.

“Some time when he was in the service. I don’t remember the exact year.” He cleared his throat now, he seemed to get uncomfortable at the mention of the traumatic event that led to his creation.

“You don’t like to think about that, do you?”

“You already asked your question.” His tone was no longer amused, and you sensed the game was over.

“I know you care about Marc, I do too. If you don’t cooperate with me then he’s never going to leave here.” You tried to play to his weakness, Marc, the only reason he existed. “I want to help him. Please.”

“I think we’re done here sweetheart, but I’ll see you again next time. Maybe wear something nice and we’ll see if I feel more talkative.”

You spent the rest of the day thinking about your appearance. When you got home you stood in front of your full length mirror, turning from side to side. You’d worn what you always wore to work: your white coat, with a solid colored shirt underneath, today you’d worn the blue one, and black slacks. Jewelry was something you were instructed to keep to a minimum given the nature of your profession.

What’s wrong with my outfit? I thought I looked nice enough, you thought.

You caught your own eye in the reflection and chuckled, suddenly feeling foolish. Why did you care what your patient thought of your outfit? Your appearance had nothing to do with your ability to do your job. In a frustrated huff you fell into your evening routine, showering, brushing your teeth, changing into sweats and a comfy shirt before crawling into bed.

For the following week you hardly slept. This alter, this…Jake Lockley…he had a hold on you that you couldn’t explain. You started mulling over Marc’s notes in between patients, questioning all the incident reports that appeared exceptionally violent. There weren’t many, otherwise he would’ve remained in maximum security, but there were a few notable incidents.

When you saw Marc again, he had a broken nose. You’d received word earlier that morning that he’d had an incident overnight.

Patient Name: Marc Spector

DOB: 03/09/1987

Date of incident: ———

Date of report: ———

Incident Details: Patient exhibited hostility toward staff. Staff observed as patient seemed to become severely agitated by the sound of gunshots in a movie playing in the common area.

Patient began yelling nonsensically. Staff observed patient grab a pen and attempt to use it as a weapon to stab another patient. Staff intervened and sedated patient. Patient has no recollection of the incident.

No patients or staff sustained physical injury. Patient will be kept under sedation until further evaluation. It’s recommended that patient be evaluated for potential transfer back to the Lennox Facility.

You looked up from the paper and gave Marc a kind smile. He looked a little afraid, confused, and most of all he looked tired. That’s what got him here in the first place. The DID was minor, he had that handled all on his own, well before he was institutionalized. The insomnia is what caused Steven’s hallucinations, and that’s what caused his mental break that put him in front of you.

“Marc, the sheet here says–”

“I know what the sheet says.” He was embarrassed, that much was evident by his lack of eye contact and the way his lips were pressed together.

“Can you tell me what happened?” You spoke hardly above a whisper.

“Oh, yeah sure, I’d love to talk about it.” He said sarcastically. “Problem is, I don’t remember anything, but you should already know that, right? You read the papers.”

“You know that I care a lot about you and Steven, right? I need you to work with me. I want you out of here too. You’re not…insane like some of the other people I’ve seen.” You were speaking low. You weren’t supposed to talk like that about your patients, no matter how true it may be.

“I know…I know.” Marc’s eyes started glistening. “I think there’s another one… a third.”

You gulped, unsure if you should tell him about this new alter he knew nothing about. Marc was smart, smarter than you sometimes gave him credit for. He knew without you saying anything that there was something you were hiding.

“Doc.” Marc always called you that, no matter how many times you told him to call you by your first name. “What’s going on, what do you know?”

“I need you to stay calm, okay?”

“Tell me.”

“I’ve…I’ve met another one, and I’m still figuring him out. I was waiting to learn more before I told you…or anyone else.” You realized you were squeezing your pen in your fist.

“What do you mean?” Marc was panicking, you could see his bottom lip quivering in his frustration. “There’s another one? How? When?”

He started to stand, his legs shook. You’d never seen Marc so upset before. He walked closer and pressed both hands on your desk, leaning forward.

“Who is he? Tell me.”

“I’m sorry, Marc, I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want…”

The shift in expression was subtle, but you could see it plain as day. The anger seemed to dissipate and was replaced with a suave smirk and furrowed brows.

“Hi sweetheart, nice outfit.” He said, tone much calmer than Marc’s was seconds ago.

“Jake.”

“Si, bebita.” His eyes crawled over you slowly, he even bit his bottom lip.

“Sit down.” You said firmly, pulling your white coat over your chest.

He shook his head, “no, I don’t think I will. Been a while since I’ve really been able to stretch my legs.”

He started to pace, stopping to look at some of the artwork and photos in your office. You remained silent, unsure of his next move, and not wanting to give him any fuel to add to the fire. He stopped in front of one photo. They were all generic, stock images that meant nothing, just random and placed there for decorative purposes. The photo he pointed to was of an old cab in a silver frame on the top shelf of your bookcase.

“You know I used to drive a cab. Years ago in New York.” He chuckled like he recalled something funny, “did you always do this…” he gestured around the room, “this therapy thing? Or did you have a different job before?”

“Jake, you know we need to talk about the incident, right? From yesterday?” You were trying to speak gently, hoping he would return the favor, but he was so unpredictable.

“I thought we had a deal, bebita. I ask, then you get to ask.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, letting a stray clump of curls fall over his forehead. He brushed his broken nose with his hand and winced.

“Fuck.” He touched the wound with his fingertip before looking at you, eyes cold.

“Jake, I know you care about them too, why are you hiding yourself from them?”

“No no no, I go first.”

He walked over to the wheelchair, released the brake, brought it closer to your desk, and then set it once again. You watched as he walked over and plopped down in front of you.

“You wore a nicer shirt than the last time I saw you. Did you dress up for me? I like that little skirt too.” 

A big smile spread over his face. Meanwhile, you were fidgeting with the hem of your skirt to pull it down as far as you could. Your cheeks burned, of course you didn’t wear that outfit for him…right? 

You recalled your morning. There were butterflies in your gut at the realization that it was Marc’s therapy day. That wasn’t the most unusual thing, you looked forward to working with some of the patients that you enjoyed talking to, and Marc was one of them.

What was different though, was the conscious effort to make sure your red lipstick was perfect, not one bit smeared or out of place. You’d worn a blouse that showed a tasteful bit of cleavage and in a color that complimented your skin tone. You even broke the rules a little and wore some earrings that dangled just a tiny bit…but of course you weren’t dressing up for the alter of a mentally ill man. That would be…crazy.

“I didn’t dress up for you.”

“Oh? So are you dressing up for Marc then? Does he know you–”

“My turn.” You saw his lip twitch. He seemed to like you snapping back at him. “Why are you hiding yourself from Marc and Steven?”

“They wouldn’t like me very much, sweetheart, I’m not a nice guy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“My turn.” He leaned back, spreading his legs out.

That’s when you noticed…the unmistakable shadow of arousal in his cloth pants. You gulped, eyes widening as you brought your gaze back to his quickly, trying to act like you weren’t just looking between his legs. He noticed though, without a doubt, Jake Lockley noticed you staring at his erection.

“See something you like?” His eyes were half hooded, a cocky smile spread over his soft lips.

“No.”

You crossed your arms and leaned back, angling yourself so the desk was covering his bottom half from your line of sight.

“What did you do before you were…whatever you are?” He asked.

“My turn.” You said.

It was your coy way of reminding him that he had already asked you a question in an attempt to draw the attention to what was between his legs. He was amused with this game, and if you were being honest with yourself, you were too. If this was the only way to get information out of him, then you were happy to oblige.

“You said you’re not a nice guy. What are you then?” You narrowed your eyes at him. In anticipation of his quick witted remark you added, “and don’t give me a sarcastic answer. Honest answers only.”

He waved a finger at you, “I’ll start being honest the moment you do the same, sweetheart.”

“I am being honest with you.”

“No, no you’re not.”

Jake was gone after that, leaving you with a rambling British man who, ‘didn’t know how he got there’.” Steven cried when you told him that you were going to start seeing them twice a week. It was understandable, since he and Marc had been so close to moving down to a less strict facility just a couple of weeks ago. You didn’t have the heart to bring up Jake to Steven. Your obligation wasn’t to Steven anyway, it was to Marc.

You saw him again. Marc, that is, two days later. He scowled at you for a good five minutes before he finally started speaking.

“I don’t want to hear a word out of your mouth unless it’s about what’s going on in my head, doc.” Marc was mildly sedated again. 

His nose was healing, but it still looked raw and painful. You needed to help him. You needed to keep your interest in his alter at bay in order to assist Marc through this. That was your job. It was hard to understand what it was that made you nearly forget that. You were a therapist, your job was to help Marc Spector rehabilitate into society, and you were failing him by not being honest.

“Last time I tried to talk about him with you, he made an appearance.” You clicked your pen over and over anxiously, unsure how the rest of this could possibly go.

Marc was clearly agitated, and you couldn’t say you blamed him. You often tried to put yourself in the shoes of your patients and thought about how you would feel if you’d just heard someone was taking over your body to do as they wished without your knowledge. Especially if it seemed like that person was doing nothing but harm to you.

“I think he cares about you, that much I can tell.” You tried to give him some sense of comfort with that one thing you had figured out about Jake. “Typically in cases of DID, the alters play a role in protecting the mind of the original in some way. Typically.”

“How is starting fights and nearly getting us sent back to max supposed to help? Huh?” You could see his chest heaving the more upset he got.

“You need to stay calm, you becoming agitated seems to be a trigger for him.” You warned, holding up your hand and lowering it slowly, as though that was supposed to help Marc in any way. “Remember? We talked about this. Deep breaths.”

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, in through his nose, and out through his mouth. Then again.

“There you go.”

“C-can you, can you help me with this damn…” Marc reached behind his back, “my tag is just…it’s itching and…”

“Yeah, of course.” You agreed, standing up and walking over to him.

You leaned over him, reaching behind his neck and gently tucking in his tag. Marc, being one of the more hygienic patients you worked with, smelled nice, like fresh linen. You caught yourself with your face a little too close to his dark curls before you broke yourself from your trance. By the time you leaned back, you weren’t looking at Marc anymore. Jake.

For your own safety, you should’ve run back to your desk immediately, but you didn’t. He reached out quickly, grabbing the badge and security button around your neck. Jake tugged quickly. The straps had safety-release buckles on them, in case a patient tried to choke you, and the lanyard was pulled from your neck. He tossed it to the side carelessly.

“Jake, be careful, if you hurt me-”

“Bebita, I don’t want to hurt you.” Jake said, grabbing your jacket collar.

He pulled you close, leaning up to kiss your crimson painted lips. For a split second, you rested there, enjoying the feeling of his exceptionally soft lips against yours, but only for a split second. You pushed him back and gasped.

“What the hell are you doing?” You hissed through gritted teeth. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

You were flustered, scrambling to go grab the items Jake had thrown, but you made the grave mistake of turning your back to a patient. Another thing you’d seemed to forget about your safety training in your flustered state. He was behind you faster than you could think, right hand snaking down to pull up your skirt and feel around for your cunt, the other was wrapped around your throat, pulling you against him tightly. You stiffened, but you were ashamed to say that you didn’t struggle very hard.

“Got you right where I want you, sweetheart.” He said between heavy breaths.

“L-let me go.” You said, feeling terror, mixed with excitement, trickling down your spine. “If you do something stupid, you’re only going to hurt Marc and you know that.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to take you until you want me…and you will want me.”

His middle finger grazed over your pussy lips through your cloth panties. You were wet, you could feel it when he pressed them against your skin further. You gulped against his thick fingers, still wrapped around your throat, before wriggling against his chest, a feeble attempt to get away.

“You sure you don’t want me already?” He kissed your neck softly, and a single damned moan escaped from you before you could stop it. He chuckled, “course you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

Jake dropped his hand out from under your skirt. A sigh of relief left you, but he kept his other hand firmly against your throat. He reached into his pocket and held out on his fingertips a single paper flower. You furrowed your brow in confusion. Finally he released you, to which you reached your own hand up to rub where he’d held pressure over your neck. You turned to him, but you never took your eyes off the little flower. 

“What is this?” You asked.

“Can’t exactly run out to the store and buy you flowers now, can I?”

Now you looked at him, face full of surprise and uncertainty. Was he…was he seriously trying to court you? Your breath caught in your throat. He had looked at you with clear attraction on several occasions. Him acting this way shouldn’t be overly surprising, and yet you were left speechless.

“You…I don’t understand.” You were scrambling to find the words to say.

“I think you do, you’re a smart girl.” He flicked the flower. You watched as it landed perfectly on the corner of your desk. “When you’ve changed your mind…you just say the word. I know how to keep a secret, bet you can too.”

He was close to you again. This time you didn’t even try to stop him when he pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Were you leaning in or was he? You were close, ready to taste him again.

“Erm, what the…”

Steven. Oh shit, STEVEN.

“Steven!” You jumped back in a panic, feeling your cheeks light on fire.

“Sorry! I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to put my hands on you. I’m still gettin’ used to this whole thing of me not being…well…me all the time. I still lose time and I don’t know what’s happenin’. Oh god, was it Marc? Did Marc touch you?” Steven was panicking, his eyes were blown wide and his hands were balled into nervous fists at his sides.

“No, Steven, it’s alright, I’m fine. I just…I dropped something and…um…today’s session is over you can go.” You started walking over to grab the lanyard Jake had thrown earlier from your neck.

“Are you sure? It’s only half past I don’t want to-”

“Go!” You yelled, leaning over to grab the lanyard from the floor.

----

By the time you saw Marc again, you felt like you were the one that needed to be mildly sedated and institutionalized. You couldn’t get Jake out of your head. Was it the kiss? You could still feel his phantom lips on yours. Was it the way he brushed his fingers against your soaking panties? The moment Steven left after your meeting with them last week, you plunged your fingers two knuckles deep into your drenched cunt until you achieved release.

You still didn’t even know who the fuck he was.

Your license was on the line. The responsible thing to do would be to insist that Marc start seeing a new therapist for his condition. You clearly were unfit to help him at that point, far too affected by his alter’s presence. The thought upset you though, that you might never see this mystery man again. You had to at least try to get through one more session, to prove to yourself that you could handle it…to prove that you were a good therapist.

Marc was wheeled in and put in front of you by security. He looked upset, like he had last week when you finally told him the truth about the gaps in his and Steven’s memories. You supposed you owed him some sort of explanation now. You only hoped you could get through it this time without interruption. If you could get through this one last appointment with Marc, you’d follow through with getting him to another therapist.

“I expect that you and Steven understand why I had to keep him from you…right?” You asked softly.

Looking at him was difficult. When you looked into his eyes, you had a hard time not thinking about Jake, and the way he made you feel. It didn’t make sense how he captivated you that way. He was interesting, mysterious, and dangerous. Was that it? Was he a reprieve from your otherwise boring and mundane life? Was it the way he clearly wanted you? He was so cocky, so confident. He quite literally took your breath away.

“Yeah, I know.” Marc said finally. You watched his shoulders slump. “I don’t know what to do.”

He was crying. Marc didn’t cry often, and usually when he did, Steven would take over immediately, but the alter didn’t seem like he was working his way out. You wondered if Steven was still upset at you for yelling at him the other day.

“I can help you, but…we need to keep this a secret.” You were speaking in a hushed tone. “If your psychiatrist finds out about him…you’ll never get out of…”

You trailed off, unable to finish your sentence. A dark thought crossed your mind.

“Doc?”

You froze in thought. A smirk crept over your lips. If Marc’s psychiatrist thought he had another alter…then they’d be there…well…forever. There was no reason you couldn’t get yourself transferred to maximum and do your work there if worst came to worst, but you suspected Jake was crafty enough to keep them right here. He could keep them insane enough to still need your care, but too sane for a place like Lennox.

If you managed to keep them there, you and Jake could see each other whenever you decided Marc needed an extra session. It would be so easy for you to make sure Jake could take you whenever he wanted, fucking you until you screamed his name while he filled you over and over. It was too much, the need overcoming you with every second that ticked by.

“I’m ready.” You looked deep into Marc’s eyes. “Jake.”

Marc’s brow furrowed, he shook his head in confusion, “what the hell is wrong with you? Is that his name? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You caught your reflection in the desk, you looked fucking crazed. Your eyes were widened, hungry, and full of need. Who was this woman staring back at you? You hardly recognized her. You touched your cheek, feeling the heat at your fingertips. When you shifted in your seat you could feel the slick permeating your panties.

Clammy sweat stuck to your fingers, and your mouth felt dry. You were breathing heavily. Was it hot in there? Taking off your jacket didn’t help. Marc was talking to you, checking in on you so kindly, but you didn’t care. You felt feral, like you were reverting back several steps in evolution and you only wanted one thing, to fu–

“Doc?!” He yelled, breaking you free from your plaguing thoughts.

Your insanity riddled eyes shot up to look at him. He looked afraid. Not afraid of you, but for you. You gulped and took in a deep breath before finding the words to say.

“I-I’m sorry Marc, I haven’t been feeling like myself.” You took another deep breath, trying to shake the crazed thoughts out of your mind. “I think I’m going to be sick, we have to reschedule.”

----

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask for a new therapist. You know you have that right.” You sighed, “I’m also surprised you didn’t report me for keeping things from you.”

It had been two weeks since you saw Marc last. After your episode, you canceled all appointments for the next couple of weeks so you could reset. It had taken the first couple days of your break for you to recenter yourself and feel more like…you. After that you’d started to feel better, but you needed to keep yourself separated from them for just a little while longer.

“You stuck your neck out for Steven and myself more times than I can count. Figured I could do the same for you.” He gave you a comforting smirk. “I know you want to help…but I can tell that this…Jake guy…he’s got you riled up.”

You breathed deeply, “yeah, he really…really got into my head. He seems to be triggered by things like certain smells, colors, and sounds. He says his first memories come from your time in the marines.”

Marc clenched his jaw and looked down. You wondered how hard that must’ve been for him, being discharged from the marines and never really knowing why until now, many years later. He looked back up at you. He really was handsome, despite your best efforts not to look at them that way, but he would never compare to Jake, even if they shared the same face.

“Tell me more about him.” Marc demanded.

“He’s…” you thought for a moment, “he’s harsh, rough around the edges, you know? Doesn’t like your hair gel.” You had to stop yourself from smiling like a fool at the thought. “He knows how to make origami flowers.”

You gestured to the flower that still sat on your desk, right where you’d left it before your break. Marc leaned forward on his elbows.

“What else? Steven said he was very…very close to you when he started fronting a couple of weeks ago.” Marc was pressing.

“He…he kissed me.” You hadn’t wanted to admit that to anyone, especially not Marc. “I think he was going to kiss me again but then Steven came in.”

He stood and walked over to your desk. He was looking at you with such intensity. His brows were turned up and drawn in together. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“What else did he do?” Marc’s voice was low, and that was when you realized that something was off.

You were being played with.

Your lips parted, and you stood up suddenly. It was like the entire mental health break you took meant nothing the moment you saw that face. You had a one track mind around him. You could only think about one thing. You took your lanyard off slowly and placed it on the desk softly. Your heels clacked as you stepped around the corner and stopped at the edge, keeping a respectable distance between you and your patient. Every nerve ending in your body was coming alive.

“He touched me.” You said just over a whisper.

Jake stepped closer to you, just one step.

“Where?” You both stepped closer to each other. “Show me.”

You paused, feeling that weight on your chest once again. You were shaking with anticipation. He was terrible, taunting you like this, but you couldn’t stop yourself from feeding into it. Despite taking the time off to reset, and move on from this mental dilemma, the second you realized you were talking to him, and not Marc, you were excited beyond words. He had such a strong hold on you, and you were quickly realizing that there was nothing you could do to stop it.

You reached out and grabbed Jake’s wrist. His skin was so soft. You lifted your skirt up over your hips, never letting your eyes leave his, and then you pulled his hand to your already soaked panties. Jake’s face finally broke, a smirk lifted the corner of his lips. He lowered his lids to gaze at you.

“Why didn’t you come to me when I told you I was ready?” You looked between his eyes rapidly. “I thought, maybe I’d made you up or…that you’d forgotten about me.”

Jake grabbed the back of your neck quickly and pulled you in tight. His fingers slid under the waistband of your panties and slipped over your clit. When you gasped at the sensation, Jake closed his mouth on yours. There wasn’t a single thought other than Jake occupying every bit of your mind while he melted himself into you and started swirling his finger around your swollen nub.

“I couldn’t forget you, sweetheart, not when watching you get all flustered over me has been so entertaining.”

“I’m not…not flustered.” You sounded like you had no air left in your lungs. Your hips slid forward over his fingers involuntarily.

“You’re not?” He leaned closer, lips brushing yours just barely.

Something inside you broke through the fog of your arousal, reminding you how wrong this was. As if you’d been awoken from a deep trance, your eyes shot open, glaring at his.

“No…no!” You pulled back, the waistband of your underwear snapped against your skin as you stepped away from him. “I could lose my license…I could go to prison.”

Jake kept his eyes on you while he stuck the two fingers he’d slipped into your panties into his mouth, sucking on them.

“Tan buena, bebita.”

You ran your hands down your face while looking him over. There was a prominent peak formed in his pants, testing the strength of the seam. You felt your core flutter at the sight. You’d never struggled with shortness of breath, but he had you pressing a hand to your chest, desperate for more oxygen.

“Thought you said you were ready.” Jake still held a sly smirk on his face. “That’s alright, I can be patient, you’ll change your mind eventually.”

“No, I won’t, no. Stop doing this to me.” You walked back around and sat at your desk, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Do you get that wet for all your patients?”

You picked a spot on the white-washed wall and stared at it. Your jaw was clenched, and you started tapping your finger against your arm nervously. You couldn’t ignore him, he wasn’t just going to leave, and you still needed to find a way to help Marc and Steven.

“Do you at least want to know what I think about when I’m fronting at night when Steven and Marc think we’re asleep?” You saw him shift in his seat out of your peripheral, but you kept your eyes on the wall.

“No.”

He chuckled. Jake certainly loved to toy with you. He also didn’t seem interested in the fact that you declined to hear his thoughts.

“I think about how good those delicious red lips will look when I stretch them out. I don’t even know if you could fit all of this in your mouth, what do you think?” He adjusted the waist of his pants, pulling them down under his balls.

Your eyes shifted, for only a second, and you found yourself staring wide. He had his cock caged in his fingers. It was big, bigger than any you’d seen before. You gulped. This was the point that you were instructed by your training to call for security to get him out of there, but instead you just kept your arms crossed firmly and watched.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” He repeated a question he’d asked you once before.

“Stop this.” You said with little conviction.

“You’ll have to call security if you want me to do that.” He dragged his fist upward over his length, “so if you want Marc to get in even more hot water, go for it.”

He exhaled slowly, looking down while he worked on himself and biting his bottom lip with another firm stroke. He looked up at you, smiling when his eyes locked on to yours. You averted your gaze to your spot on the wall once again. 

“Thought a lot about how wet you get, bebita.” He groaned while he stroked. “How wet you are right now.”

You clenched your thighs together tightly to ease the ache between your legs. All you could feel was the wet slick of your panties sliding around. You wanted him, you wanted him so bad, but you couldn’t bring yourself to openly admit it, or to act on it. Your career, and perhaps your life, would be over. 

“Could be our little secret.”

You looked at him again. He moaned, letting his jaw go slack. His head fell back and his eyes fluttered closed. You watched, shamefully, entranced by the way his hand would glide lazily over his thick cock. His free hand grabbed the arm of the wheelchair tightly, knuckles turning white. You were shocked to feel a trickle of drool crawling down your chin. You quickly wiped it away.

What’s happening to me, you thought, you’re his therapist, this is unethical, you should call security right-

“You know sweetheart…” Jake dropped his gaze back on you, and you stared back, “my favorite thing to think about is how good that tight little pussy will look around me, swallowing me whole.”

The lightest exhale left your mouth, and of course he heard it.

“I’m only tolerating this for Marc’s sake.” You reminded him.

“Is that what you’re going to say when I’ve got you bent over that desk?”

He stood and walked over to the desk, dropping his cock with a thud on the smooth white surface. You looked away quickly, but through your peripheral you could see him place his palm firmly over his length and start rutting against the desk.

“Just think about…fuck….how hard I’m gonna fuck you.” The desk scraped over the floor with the thrust of his hips. You braced your hands against it and looked up at him again. “Still not too late, I can take you right now. Just come around here and bend over for me. Lift up that pretty little skirt. It’ll be quick.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head slowly. This was against everything you thought you knew. No patient ever had this effect on you. Why him? Sure, Marc was attractive, but you’d never felt like this. You were staring again, looking up at the harsh faced man and then tracing your eyes down to his cock while he fucked his palm against the desk.

“There you go, bebita, you thinking about how good it’s gonna feel too?”

You were thinking about how good it would feel, to have him bending you over the desk. You hoped he could fuck you so hard your hips bruised. He was so big, he was sure to stretch you beyond your limit. He’d fill you so full his cum would be dripping out of you for days. The thought alone was enough to make the arousal pool in your core.

You looked away from him again, focusing on the wall, but that didn’t stop the breathy and hardly audible moan that left you. This was out of control, you were out of control. He groaned again, forcing your gaze to return to him. He started moving faster. You noticed precum leaking from the head, glistening over the desk.

“M’bout to come, you sure you don’t want this load? Worked it up just-for-you.” He grunted with each thrust. “Fuck.”

He stopped moving, but his cock throbbed, gushing ropes of cum all over the surface of your desk. A small glob dropped right in front of you. Your jaw dropped, and you rolled back in your chair, staring down at the mess he’d made. He tucked his cock back into his pants once he was sufficiently spent. When you looked up at him you noticed the proud expression on his face.

“Better clean that up before anyone sees it and thinks Marc’s gone insane, jerking off in front of his therapist.” You scowled at him before grabbing some tissues out of the box on your desk and starting to clean up the mess with a clear air of aggravation around you.

“You’re disgusting.” You muttered.

Your body was betraying you though. No matter how disgusting you insisted he was, you wanted him more than you ever recalled wanting anything before. It made no sense. You cleaned up the mess, trying to keep your fingers from touching the sticky cum spread all over. You felt the heat in your cheeks burning you alive, knowing he was watching you. When you finally cleaned up the last bit, under his watchful gaze, you looked back up at him, tossing the last tissue in the waste bin.

He leaned forward slowly, bringing his face close to yours. You thought he might try and kiss you, his lips were right there. You even saw his eyes dip to look at your mouth before going back up to look at you. You leaned in a little too.

“That’s a good girl.”

----

You were a mess.

He’d left your mind in complete disarray and he hadn’t even really touched you. After telling you that you were a good girl, he vanished, leaving Steven standing there in a state of confusion. You craved those words again…

Good girl.

I’m a good girl, you told yourself in the mirror before you left on the day you’d be seeing Marc again. You were wearing everything Jake ever said he liked on you. The striking red lipstick, the shirt that had a little cleavage, and a short skirt. The panties were unnecessary, and would only serve to get in the way. You were ready for him…truly ready this time.

You tried to give all of your patients the attention they deserved leading up to your appointment with Marc, but you didn’t care to hear anything they had to say. When you finally saw Marc again, you weren’t sure how you would react. Normally only Jake made you feel like you wanted to crawl out of your clothes and spread yourself on the desk like a buffet for his pleasure, but the line between him, Marc and Steven was getting blurrier by the minute. Even when it was sweet and innocent Steven fronting, you were struggling to keep yourself from soaking through your skirt.

“Are you alright? You seem a bit…out of sorts.” Steven mentioned, looking at you with a concerned and furrowed brow.

“M-me?” You gave him a reassuring grin, “yes Steven, I’m fine. This isn’t about me, it’s about you. You were saying you and Marc have been feeling down lately?”

Steven shrugged, “yeah, been trying to figure out what’s going on. Marc says there’s another one…he’s like me but scarier. He’s mean.”

You nodded gently, “he’s terrible, yeah…” You had to catch yourself before you bit your lip. “You know he came up during Marc’s time in the marines?”

You stood up and started pacing, noticing the slick way your thighs slid against each other with each step. Nothing could be heard except for the clicking of your heels across the floor as you got closer to Steven. Normally a filter would stop you from antagonizing Steven and trying to mentally cripple him so the protective alter would come out, but your care for their safety had left with Jake the last time you saw him.

“I think I remember Marc mentioning that, yeah.” Steven looked nervous as you got closer to him. “S’not like you to get up and start roaming about, you feelin’ alright today?”

“I feel fine.”

You walked to Steven’s right, touching his shoulder and looking down at him. His eyes peered into yours. He still looked too soft and sweet to be the man you craved. You needed to push a little harder. You needed to scare Jake out, because it was clear that he wasn’t coming out on his own.

“It was probably scary, wasn’t it? Finding out that you were responsible for killing so many people?” Your voice was low while you spoke. “I’m sure you don’t remember a lot of it, but just think about it.”

“What are you–”

“Come on Steven, that’s gotta be scary, right? Thinking about how scared those people must’ve been?”

“That wasn’t me though, that was Marc, I didn’t do that I didn–”

“But you did.” You were smiling like you were enjoying this. You weren’t, but you were excited for Jake, you needed him. “What about your mother? Hm? Remember how sad you were when you realized you were talking to no one for months?”

“Why are you saying these things? What’s gotten into you?” There were the tears you wanted, starting to glisten in Steven’s eyes.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt, peering deep into his eyes. If Jake was there, he’d see you. Surely, he’d come out. You wondered why he was still hiding from you.

“Jake, I’m ready, please, I mean it this time.” You felt your own eyes starting to water with desperation. “Don’t make me fucking beg.”

Steven looked at you, confusion splayed over his face, “have you gone completely mad?”

“Shut up, Steven.” You shook him, “bring out Jake, now!”

Steven grabbed your arms, “what are you doing?”

You shocked yourself when you pulled your hand back and struck him across the cheek. There was silence after that, Steven just stared at you incredulously. Something so out of character for you should’ve snapped you from your Jake induced trance but it didn’t. You were in too deep. Mentally torturing and striking a patient was grounds for, at a minimum, being fired.

When his eyes darkened and his lips curled up into a confident smirk, you knew you’d succeeded. There was no time to waste, you couldn’t risk him leaving you again. You grabbed his face on either side and desperately pressed your lips to his. Jake moaned into you, standing up and wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you in close and entangled his tongue with yours. He tasted so delicious you could hardly stand it.

“You sure you’re ready, bebita?” He said while you both separated for a second to catch your breath.

“Yeah, yes please, can’t get you out of my head.” You tasted something salty when you went back in for more kisses. You were crying, tears of a needy desperation you thought you were above…until you’d met Jake.

“Good, gonna give you exactly what you need sweetheart, bend over for me.”

You looked at him. He was so fucking handsome, looking back at you with those inexplicably dilated eyes that were akin to the hungry eyes of a predator looking at his prey.

“Anything for you, Jake, I’ll do anything. I need you so bad.” An audibly shameful sob left your throat.

“I know, cause you’re a good girl, si?” He had that cocky smirk splayed over his face.

Your mind stopped working when he said that. A slow nod of affirmation was all you could afford him in response. Jake spun you around and placed a firm hand over your back to slam you onto the desk. He teased you first, trekking a single finger up your skirt and gently tugging it up over your bare ass. You heard a dark snicker leave his lips.

“You are ready, aren’t you sweetheart? Look at that.” His finger touched between your pussy lips, rubbing over your folds and brushing against your clit.

“Oh fuck, been ready for a long time, please don’t tease me, fuck me please.” You begged. Any bit of dignity you had left went out the window when Jake had taken Steven’s place.

“Not yet…” He groaned as he continued to play with you.

Everything seemed to be a game to Jake, even this incessant teasing that drove you closer and closer to insanity. You shifted your hips, desperate for him to touch that burning bundle of nerves that he somehow managed to keep ignoring. It was right there. Maybe he didn’t know where it was.

“Right there!” You shouted when he brushed over it again.

“I know exactly where it is, sweetheart, but I need you to be a good girl for me and let me have my fun, okay? Been waiting a long time. Can you be good for me?” He asked in that suave tone that you couldn’t resist.

“Yes, yes I can be good for you.” You grabbed the other side of the desk and held on tight. When you squeezed your eyes shut you felt even more tears falling down your cheeks. You were such a pathetic mess for him.

“You’re so wet, been thinking about me all day?”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I met you.” You admitted, pressing your lips together tightly to ease the ache in your cunt. Your body was so hot, all you needed was a release that only he could give you.

“Been a while since I’ve felt a nice warm cunt, but I’ve never seen someone so needy like you before.” His voice was gravelly.

You heard him fumbling with the waist of his pants followed by the prodding of his warm cock against your slick thighs. His finger was still toying with your crevices, teasing you to tears. You didn’t dare beg again, you didn’t want to make the torture last longer just for the sake of his own amusement. Jake slipped his finger inside of you. An aroused exhale left his lips at the feeling of your soft walls fluttering around his digit.

“You’re tight, sweetheart, not sure you can handle what I’ve got for you.” He churned his hip forward, brushing his cock against the back of your leg.

“I can, I promise I can handle it.” Your voice was shaking, you were so distressed. “Please, I can do it.”

“Might hurt a little, I don’t know…” His tone was still teasing.

“I’ll do anything for it, please, Jake.”

He took out his finger, leaving you empty. The air was cool against the slick of your cunt. You felt as he grabbed his cock in his fist and dragged the fat tip between your pussy lips. You gasped, so close to getting the thing you’d been begging him for all this time. It was right fucking there.

“P-please.” You sobbed. Your knuckles ached from how hard you gripped the other side of the desk in anticipation.

Jake thrust forward suddenly, and you were full, stretched out over his cock beyond your threshold. You gasped followed by an agonizing whine. Jake moaned loudly behind you while he started thrusting slowly, resizing your walls to fit his wide girth. Both of his hands landed on your hips in a bruising grip.

“This what you wanted, bebita? Fuck, it’s good…tell me. Tell me how good it is.”

“It’s good, Jake, better than…mmmJake-”

You couldn’t speak properly, even to tell him that the way his cock felt splitting you open was better than any of the daydreams you’d had over the last several weeks. Jake’s hand was heavily pressing against your back, pushing you harder into the desk. Your cries grew until they were filling the office. You were thankful for the white-noise machine outside of the door that muffled them.

“Tell-me-how-good,” he demanded between thrusts.

“Best…best I’ve ever–Jake I can’t.”

“Come on, I know you can do it. You’re a good girl, right?”

“It feels so good,” you said in a primal growl. Drool slipped out of your mouth and onto the desk. “It’s so…so good I can’t…fuck…I can’t stand it!”

Jake pulled out of you, and for a moment you felt disappointed. You turned around to see why he’d do that, but he just looked at you, scanning your body with his lust ridden eyes.

“Get that shirt off, take it all off.” He demanded.

You were too quick to comply, moving so fast that under normal circumstances it would’ve been embarrassing. This wasn’t normal though. The way you felt wasn’t normal. Jake watched you every step of the way while you undressed, ripping off your clothes like they’d wronged you and throwing them aside quickly. 

He pulled you in once you were done and told you, once again, that you were such a good girl. Your body tingled with his words. He lifted you, setting your bare ass on the cold surface of your desk. He used a firm hand to force you onto your back. Jake put one leg up on either shoulder while he lined himself up with you.

He thrust into you again, and immediately both of your hands gripped the edge of the desk for stability. One of Jake’s hands, the one that wasn’t squeezing your hip for leverage, reached around your leg and he started rubbing the pad of his thumb against your clit. Your cunt squeezed around him in response and you tossed your head back.

“Open your eyes and look at me, sweetheart, love seeing the way you look at me.” He urged, smirking at you when your eyes met with his once more.

You bit your lip so tight you thought it might bleed. Tears ran down your cheeks in streams that you weren’t even trying to control anymore.

“So pretty when you cry.” He commented.

Jake continued to circle his thumb over your clit while he fucked you faster. You felt your body trembling with your impending orgasm. You were so close to feeling that sweet release you craved at his hands. You’d been so good trying to resist him all this time, you deserved this moment. At least that’s the delusion that had overcome you.

“No holding back now, gonna fill you up sweetheart. Is that what you wanted? Me to fuck you full of my cum?”

You nodded eagerly, eyes glistening while you gripped the desk with all your strength. His thumb kept rotating over you, drawing whining gasps from your lips with every pass. You felt your cunt flutter around him as you got closer. Your mind started to go white, no thoughts other than Jake’s cock fucking you relentlessly.

“Fuck…hope you’re on the pill, sweetheart, cause I’m gonna…gonna-fill-you-right-up…ahhh!”

Jake’s cock gushed inside of you, stretching you further with every strong throb. You lost it, becoming a drooling and crying mess while your thoughts ceased. You came in crushing waves over his length, draining him of every last drop you could. He noisily kept fucking you through your orgasm until his pace slowed to a stop. The room became quiet again, except for your heavy breathing and the clock ticking.

“I need…tissues.” You could hardly speak but you managed to get that out.

“Oh, we’re not done yet.” Jake pulled out of you and quickly dropped to his knees.

You gasped when his mouth closed over your cunt. He was slurping, collecting both your juices and his own in his mouth. When he stood back up, you didn’t know what he had planned. He hadn’t swallowed yet. He leaned over, dropping the mess on your chest. You thought he was done, but he knelt back down for more. Your clit was swollen and sensitive, but he went in again. You felt his finger slip into your hole, hooking and dragging along your walls to bring anything in there into his mouth. Again, he stood up and deposited the mixture onto your breasts.

“Ready for more, bebita?” He pressed a hand to your chest, smearing the combined liquids over your skin.

You stared at him wide-eyed as you nodded slowly. It would seem he had an unusually short refractory period. Jake was pressing his cock against your hole once again. He thrust himself into you, stretching you out once more. It felt just as good, if not better, the second time.

“Gonna cover you in my cum, sweetheart, make you all mine.” He said hungrily, spreading the mixture over your tits one at a time.

He gave extra attention to your nipples, brushing them with his thumb. He continued fucking you while he did, commenting on your sweet whines and how much he adored them. Jake never stopped surprising you with the way his mind worked. Your entire torso was coated in his cum, your cum, and copious amounts of spit. He never slowed his pace, but he leaned forward and dragged his tongue from as low down on your stomach as he could reach, all the way up to your mouth.

The combination tasted sweet, salty, and like something that only you and Jake could make. His tongue tangled with yours in desperate sloppy kisses. When the taste was gone, you craved more, you begged for it.

“More Jake…give-me-more,” you said between breaths.

He gave you a borderline evil smirk when he looked down at you.

“Anything for you, bebita.”

Jake went back down to your side with his tongue, dragging it up your torso and stopping over your cum coated nipple. He got stuck there, sucking deeply and moaning. Drool trickled down the side of your breast. You arched into his mouth, biting your bottom lip to stifle the loud scream that nearly left you. You looked down, Jake peered at you from under his lashes while he slammed into you harder.

“Feed me, Jake.” You begged, wanting to feel his lips on you again. “Give me more.” Your eyes were still watering.

He complied, bringing what was left in his mouth to yours in a flurry of passionate kisses. That sweet taste was there again, making your mind go blank with a feeling of ecstasy and comfort all blended into one. You felt like you belonged to him, like he was your everything, and the connection had been sealed in your combined body fluids and a kiss.

“Jake.” You said softly as he pulled back from you, “bite me. I want everyone to know that I’m yours. I want Marc and Steven to know that I’m yours.”

“That’s twisted, bebita. You want to scare them that bad?” He kissed down your jawline, working his way to your neck.

“I can’t let you go anywhere now, I can’t let them leave.” You explained, letting go of the desk to entangle your fingers in his dark locks.

“Wouldn’t leave you, even if they took me away.”

A sharp pain seared through your shoulder as you felt Jake’s teeth break through your skin. You winced and hissed, trying not to let your body shy away involuntarily. Even if your body did try to move against your will, Jake kept you close. You were still amazed at his ability to keep his hips rolling into you no matter what the top half of his body was doing.

You whined at the agonizing burn of his bite while he continued clamping his teeth into you harder. When he finally stopped, you looked at his face. His lips were glossy with spit and blood. You leaned up, kissing him, letting him make a mess of you even further. All you could taste was Jake and the metallic taste of iron. He pressed his forehead against yours and increased the pace of his hips.

“Gonna fill you up again. I don’t want you to be able to walk right.”

With a firm hand against your chest, he pushed you back onto the desk with a thud. You gasped as he fucked you harder than before. He reached his fingers up to your mouth, sticking two of them in there.

“Suck.”

You made Jake whine when your tongue started dancing over his digits. He tossed his head back for a second before looking back into your eyes with a dark and hooded gaze. His brow furrowed and his moaning changed to something more animalistic, less controlled. You looked up at him from under your lashes while making your muffled moans over his fingers.

“Hold-on-tight,” he said with each thrust.

You grabbed the edge of the desk with everything you could, feeling the white hot ropes filling you again with every throb of his thick cock inside of you. Once again, your eyes were rolling back, obscuring your vision while your body trembled from your orgasm over him. Your screams were still loud, though stifled by his fingers against your tongue. You were both a mess of heavy breathing while his thrusting slowed to a halt.

When he pulled himself out of you this time, you felt empty. You peered at the clock, it was nearly the end of Marc’s session. Jake stepped back, holding out a hand to you. He helped you off the desk before leaning his face into yours. He kissed you softly and then looked at you with a gentle expression.

“Will you come back?” You asked, feeling suddenly terrified that you may never see him again. You were sure you’d rather die than live in that reality.

“You keep me a secret and out of your little notes, and I’ll keep the boys crazy enough to stick around.” He winked at you, “I’ll be back in a couple days, try not to miss me too much.”

You were dressed before Steven was fronting again. He was sitting in the chair and grabbed his head the moment Jake went to the headspace. The last thing he must’ve remembered was you grabbing his shirt and slapping him. You’d fixed yourself up in the mirror as best as you could. You wiped the smeared makeup from your face, and what was left of Jake’s cum from your torso.

Steven touched his cheek, “you…you hit me.”

“Steven, bring Marc out. Things are going to be changing around here, and we need to have a chat.”

----

Moon Knight Masterlist

Jake Lockley Masterlist

Taglist (Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!):

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @my-secret-shame, @thatmomwitchfriend, @alexxavicry, @ryebreadsworld, @welcometostayingawake, @jake-g-lockley, @campingwiththecharmings, @steven-grants-world, @bloodredwolfsbane, @minigirl87, @ahookedheroespureheart, @romanarose, @360iris, @grumpyahjumma, @ninebluehearts, @burnincrown

[cryoux]

Wanderer x reader - Dream Invasion

(Sorry for using The Wanderer Picture of all time)

The Wanderer was a little exasperated now.

It seemed you couldn't go a few minutes without wandering off out of sight - which was ironic, considering who was named 'the Wanderer'.

"Where the hell did you-" he stopped short once he rounded the large tree, seeing his traveling companion laying on the ground. This wasn't the time for a nap, for Celestia's sake! He approached you, ready to give you a rude awakening, but quickly realized that something was horribly wrong.

Shivers wracked your body, and he could hear your body fighting for air with every breath. The Wanderer found himself kneeling next to you, scanning your form with wide eyes to locate the culprit of these symptoms.

The most frustrating part was that he couldn't find anything. With you unconscious and no visible wounds, the Wanderer had no hope of diagnosing the problem. His mind raced with possibilities, but none of them made any sense, and nothing fit. What should he even do? It had been 5 minutes ago that he last saw you, fit and healthy, and now you were struggling to keep yourself alive.

"You are not going to betray me like this." He growled, directing his panic into anger, but that didn't give him any more of a solution.

Then he heard footsteps. Two sets of footsteps. Oh, great. The very last thing he needed was strangers stumbling upon them - he didn't want to take his attention off of you for even a moment. Nevertheless, when a bush rustled and produced two individuals, the Wanderer brought his violet eyes up to examine them closely.

Wait a minute.

He recognized these two.

That one, with the green hair and magenta eyes - she'd been another one of Dottore's wretched experiments, hadn't she? He could have sworn he'd seen her somewhere, whether in person or in a file he could not seem to recall.

And the other, with the massive ears and bushy tail, well, that was the one he had happened to strike with lightning in a show of power. Awkward.

Of course, neither of these people had any way of knowing exactly who he was. In fact, the one-sided recognition was finally working in his favor.

Upon seeing your state, the man -Wanderer had never bothered to learn his name- ordered his subordinate to stay behind him, and he approached with cautious purpose.

"Hey, my name is Tighnari. I'm a forest ranger from Gandharva Ville, and your friend isn't looking too good. If you'd just allow me to-"

"No!" The Wanderer shouted as he saw the forest watcher reach for you. Of course he didn't trust this guy, he'd just walked out of a bush and apparently felt chivalrous enough to help a stranger. It was too kind to be true.

The forest ranger stopped with a frown. "If I may, they really need some help, and quickly-"

"No, we don't need your help! Get lost!" The Wanderer snapped, his hand protectively curled around your wrist.

"Sir, I don't care what you need, I'm more concerned about the fact that your friend here had a run-in with that cherry laurel over there," the scholar retorted with unexpected sass, then gesturing to an unassuming bush, "and they need medical attention!"

A tense staredown took place between them, both parties equally as stubborn in getting their way. The green-haired girl was the one who managed to break the silence, though she sounded laughably timid.

"Please trust Master Tighnari!" She squeaked, trying her hardest to alleviate the tension. While she failed, the Wanderer still managed to look at her, then at Tighnari, then down to you - who was noticeably worse than just a minute ago. His brow furrowed. He did not trust these people at all, and he hated having to back down from any sort of confrontation, but… you really weren't looking good. And if you left him, the wandering puppet felt that he would finally shatter for good.

So, after scowling to himself and convincing his head and (metaphorical) heart to compromise, he brought his gaze back up to this 'Tighnari'.

"...fine." the Wanderer conceded, allowing his worry pricking through his defenses and helping dictate his actions. "What do we do."

"At this stage, I need to give her an intravenous antidote. I can take her back to Gandharva Ville," the forest watcher reached for your shuddering body, and the Wanderer narrowed his eyes at him as he pulled you even closer. Tighnari backed off, though irritation sparked in his eyes. "Or you can. Just keep up, got it? She's running out of time."

With a nod, the Wanderer scooped you into his arms, holding you as he rose to his feet. He absolutely hated needing help from anyone, but you somehow meant more to him than his stupid pride.

Tighnari led the way, and the green-haired girl attempted to take up the rear - after a withering glare from the Wanderer, though, she popped back up to her colleague. The group rushed through the forest, and by the time they reached the little village in the canopy, your shuddering had increased considerably.

The moment they stepped into one of the huts, Tighnari sprung into action. Orders were given, supplies were retrieved, but none of that really mattered to the Wanderer. He set you down on the one bed in the little hut, and gently brushed some dirt off of your cheek. He didn't care where he was, who he was with, or what situation he'd gotten himself into, all he cared about was the one in front of him.

"Please," he murmured, as if you would wake up with his willpower alone. But he had learned that no matter how hard he wished, the world was cruel, and existed only to laugh at him.

"Please, don't leave me. I'll rewrite Irminsul itself to get you back. I swear it." The Wanderer allowed himself this moment of weakness, though he buried it once more the second Tighnari approached.

It was difficult for the watcher to work around the Wanderer's possessive behavior, but he managed to insert the IV anyways, then breathing a sigh of relief and giving the Wanderer a small jar and spoon.

"I've given them the antidote, and I'll take out the IV in twenty minutes. In that jar is activated charcoal, it'll help flush the poison from their system. Just have them swallow some, whenever you can." Tighnari instructed, standing from his stool and gesturing for the Wanderer to take a seat instead. "Do you need anything for your stress? I have several herbal teas that can help calm you."

The Wanderer opened his mouth to retort with a no, how dare you assume he's stressed, he's perfectly fine without your stupid tea! But ultimately thought better of it. This guy had just saved you, after all, and he was due for some appreciativeness. Just maybe not so much from the Wanderer.

"...I suppose." He kept his eyes trained on his companion, even as he heard the forest watcher leave and close the leaf shade door behind him.

Silence overtook the room. Much to his relief, your breathing had slowed down significantly, and your horrible quivering had reduced to a minimal amount. The Wanderer recalled the instructions he'd been given, and he let out a sigh. What a nuisance this all was.

The Wanderer opted to pull the blanket up to your chin, then froze. You looked almost... peaceful, in this state. It was strange for him to nurse you like this, he realized, a second before he realized that he was now just staring at you. With a huff, he turned around and buried his flushed face in his hands.

"Damn you." He muttered to you in his moment of weakness, fighting to control the blush on his face. Caring for you was the priority - he needed to curb his personal feelings for now.

After several minutes of silence filled only by his own rush of thoughts, a knock sounded at the door. Wanderer looked up, only to see that grassy-haired girl yet again. She looked so nervous, he suspected she may just pass out on the spot.

"H-hi there! I'm Collei, a trainee forest ranger… I brought some clothes for them and, uh, tea for you. I-I'll just set it here, see you!" For being on her own territory, she was ridiculously skittish. As she ducked back out the door, he failed to find any good reason why his ex-ally had bothered experimenting on such a weak-willed individual.

The sugar and honey presented on the platter made the Wanderer scrunch his nose in disdain, rolling his eyes before picking up the piping hot cup and sniffing it. The tea was an aromatic green, with hints of mint reaching past the stark scent of the tea leaves. It was, decidedly, not tampered with, not that it would matter; the Wanderer took a sip and was pleased to confirm that it was, in fact, just tea.

He savored the tea over some time, allowing the bitter green to ground him as he watched your form intently. There was noticeably more life in your skin, and your shaking had reduced almost entirely. Now he just needed you to wake up, damnit!

The Wanderer set down his empty cup with a massive sigh. How could he have let something like this happen? Truly pathetic - he couldn't even keep an eye on the one person he held dearest, and the sense that this was all his fault clung to him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, as if you would wake up by the power of his rare remorse. Hah, yeah right. The world would never be so kind as to do what he wanted it to. He found himself leaning down towards you, reaching out to rest a hand against yours - only to tear it away like your radiance had burned him. How dare he attempt to sully you with his cursed touch? The very notion of having direct contact with you made him ill, though only towards himself, not at all directed to you.

The Wanderer hated that he felt this way. He hated the fuzzy feeling that took hold of him when you were near, practically stupefying him. Oh, how pathetic he felt, gone from being a feared Fatui Harbinger to a clueless, lovesick wanderer. While his Fatui days were retired for good, he still wished he didn't feel quite so… airheaded. Maybe he even wished he couldn't feel at all.

Rays of sun shattered through his melancholy as the door opened, and the Wanderer practically leapt back into his stool near the bed. Tighnari was back now, sighing to himself like he had more work to do than even the most studious scholar. "Well, let's see how they are," he approached the IV drip first, then followed the line to the person it was connected to. Following a short physical assessment, Tighnari nodded to himself.

"You're in luck! They're doing very well. But I would advise staying put for at least a few days. Those plants can really mess with someone. Ask for me if you need anything, I'll be back later." The forest watcher said, removing the IV from you and quickly exiting the little hut.

Whether he left quickly out of consideration or antisociality, Wanderer wasn't sure. But it didn't much matter when he turned back around to you. Maybe he could hold your hand, and explain that he was just checking your temperature. Or stilling your tremors. It could have been an accident! So much consideration put into an act that he doubted he was even brave enough to pull off.

A soft muttering shocked him back into the present, and he looked to you with owlish eyes. You were still asleep, he found, but you were growing restless, a deep frown over your features that he loathed to see. Were you relapsing? No, this was a different disturbance. Maybe you were having a nightmare? He couldn't quite confirm, but it sure seemed like it. The way your eyes darted back and forth under your eyelids was the biggest indicator, until he heard your increasingly distressed whimpers and witnessed your now panicked twitching. But what could he do? He was no stranger to nightmares, but it wasn't like anybody had ever comforted him through them. Normally he'd just reason through it, but he couldn't exactly reason with someone who was unconscious. Could he still enter your consciousness with the remnants of his divine power? Shit… he could try. All it would take...

Was physical contact. Unbelievable.

Taking a deep breath in and situating himself comfortably, the Wanderer reached out to grasp your hand in his own before he could second guess himself any more. Your hand was warm, he couldn't help but think as he closed his eyes, and even as he took his consciousness and sought after yours. After connecting with it, he opened his eyes, only to see darkness. No, did he fail? Was that feat beyond his power now?

A sob halted all trains of thought and motion throughout him. Slowly, he turned around, only to see you, knelt on the ground as crystalline tears fell from your eyes. No.

Ignoring your thoughts now voiced in the back of his own mind, he blinked - this time, there was grass under his feet, and a glittering starry sky as far as he could see. The scenery was quite beautiful, all things considered. But the only beauty he concerned himself with was the one crying in front of him.

Tentatively, the Wanderer reached out a hand to rest on your head. He was never good at comforting people, and he wasn't going to pretend he could be, but he could at least mimic the actions he'd seen others do when faced with similar situations.

He didn't dare speak, only allowing the weight of his hand on your head to communicate his presence. Eventually, you wiped away a set of those tears and looked up to see just who had joined you.

"Oh. It's you." You said, though whether you thought it a good or bad thing he couldn't quite tell. You sniffled pathetically, in a way that hurt his soul itself, and a wave of memories flooded his mind. Sorrow, anger, betrayal… your past grievances were not unlike his own, he discovered.

"Why are you…" he trailed off, not sure whether to acknowledge the situation or not. You only sighed, focusing on controlling your voice.

You shook your head. "It doesn't matter." A lie. It did matter, your thoughts inadvertently told him. "You can stop pretending to comfort me." The Wanderer frowned.

"I'm not pretending."

Your eyes went wide, only for you to return to normal just as quickly. "Right. You're the version my brain conjured to cheer myself up, of course you would be different."

He yearned to tell you it was real, that he was here, but that felt like far too much explanation. Besides, if you only saw him as a figment of your imagination, then…

He could do things he'd never dare entertain otherwise.

Finally, he chose to ignore the comment, pulling your body up to stand with ease. As much as the tears pained him, he still found them so, so pretty. Just like every other bit of your existence. How pathetic he sounded.

Reaching his hands up to your head was a tentative motion, and slowly, he cupped his hands around your face, allowing his thumbs to brush away any straggling teardrops. If it were anyone else, he would have drawn away in disgust, washing his hands raw to rid himself of the germs. But you weren't anyone else. You were yourself, and that was truly all he needed you to be.

His uncharacteristic actions no longer confused you, now that you had remembered your dream state. Instead, you figured this was what you wished for every waking hour, manifesting in your dreams yet again.

The Wanderer raised an eyebrow. Again? Had you dreamed of him before? That would explain why you'd greeted him so comfortably, but it felt a little too conceited for himself to assume.

You seemed to be deeply considering something. Desperately, more than anything else in the imaginary world right now, you wanted to touch your Wanderer. To feel his porcelain unmarred skin underneath your fingertips, to gaze into the violet depths of his eyes, to run your hands through his silky hair, knock his hat off, and pull him in close-

Wait, what? You wanted to do what?!

Quickly, to avoid letting you see his rapidly forming blush, the Wanderer pulled you into his chest in a hug. His head rested on your shoulder, arms encircling your body, and now he couldn't tell if the fluttering in his chest was his own or merely a transmission from you.

He was practically gaping in his shock. No way, there was no way he'd just seen that in your thoughts. It couldn't have been from his own mind, could it? While it was unlikely, he couldn't dismiss the possibility, so he attempted to calm his -or your- racing 'heart'.

After a long while, the equilibrium was broken, and you pulled away from the embrace. The Wanderer, though, held you tight, unwilling to let you go.

It appeared you wanted to stay close as much as he did, because you once again rested your head on his chest, reaching out to fidget with the anemo vision he'd so oddly received. While it was just a hunk of metal and glass, he found it akin to you toying with his very own heart, tantalizing him with your warm perfection.

"Forgive me, dream-wanderer. I don't think I can hold myself back anymore."

Your words confused him, and he looked at you with a purely puzzled expression until you straightened up, looked him in the eyes, and-

His own eyes went impossibly wide. Through sheer shock, he felt his chest explode with feelings he'd known before, and others he would never hope to identify. It scared him, it exhilarated him, and most of all it pleased him, far too much. Tears threatened to fall from his own eyes, so he squeezed them shut and redirected his mind to the situation at hand. However fake you thought this was, he didn't care as your lips pressed against his own.

You pulled away all too soon for his liking, and he jolted from his daze to bring you back, this time with fervor. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve you. You were everything, all the things he could never be and all the things he wanted, placed into one individual at one point in time. How dare he allow himself this moment of happiness, after no less than three betrayals? As lovely as your touch, your scent, you were, he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve you.

These thoughts plagued his mind even as you pulled away for air, manifesting themselves as tears welling up along his eyes. Damnit, he was really going to cry over something like this?

Yes. Yes he was. But hopefully not right now, if he could help it.

"You need to wake up." The Wanderer prompted, trying to get himself under control.

You sighed, seeming forlorn. "I know. But I just want a little longer with you."

He wanted to reassure you that he'd have you as long as you'd have him, that he would always welcome you into his life - but that would be giving too much away. You could never find out what had truly happened here in your dream.

But oh, would he treasure the memory. The feeling of being so close to you, the elation that took hold of him when you'd kissed him - you had kissed him!

The Wanderer let his arms remain around you as he nuzzled into your neck, unable or unwilling to care about his rather expensive hat tumbling to the ground. Well, it was still technically a dreamscape. Any damage done wouldn't be permanent. So many less than pure thoughts entered his mind the moment he realized this, but he wouldn't allow anything to taint this moment between you two.

Sighing into your neck, he whispered into your ear: "Wake up. Don't be so afraid to lose me; you'll find I'm much closer than you might think." The shiver his proximity pulled from you was satisfying, but he did need you to wake up soon. Any longer in this dream would result in him possibly losing his mind entirely, devoting himself to your affections in a way he long since swore he'd never do for another.

Finally, he allowed himself to slip out of your consciousness, returning to his own body and straightening out his appearance. His body had practically used you as his pillow during his time in your mind, and he was so grateful nobody had come barging in to witness such a thing.

A slight change in breathing patterns alerted him to your awareness as you awoke, eyelids heavy as you tried to take in your surroundings. The Wanderer waited patiently as your eyes traced the patterns in the ceiling, the panes of the window, and eventually came to rest on him. He wanted to brag to the sun and moon themselves that he was the one getting your undivided attention, and wanted to make even the heavens above jealous.

I don't deserve this.

"Hm...?" You made a small, dreary sound, adjusting yourself to the completely unfamiliar surroundings. Almost completely; you would recognize your dear Wanderer anywhere.

"Took you long enough." The Wanderer scoffed, crossing his arms and relaxing his muscles, as if he hadn't been on the edge of his seat and the verge of panic since you'd been afflicted. "Get enough beauty sleep, your highness?"

Though it was meant with sarcastic and snide intentions, the 'pet name' made your breath catch as your stomach was invaded by butterflies. Or was it the toxins? You couldn't be too sure.

"What-" upon hearing your scratchy voice, you paused and cleared your throat, though it didn't solve the problem. The Wanderer was already holding out some water to you, and you took it gratefully. "What happened?"

Well, he supposed he should start at the beginning. "I lost sight of you, and the next time I saw you, you were unconscious on the ground. Do you mind explaining that?" He fused some irritation to his tone, hopefully disguising the genuine worry he'd felt.

"I…" You reached desperately for any strands of remembrance, only to be blocked by a heavy fog over your mind. Frustrated, you let out a groan. "I don't remember! Damnit, I can't remember any of it."

Now that was almost comical. All of that, and you couldn't even remember how it had started? The world really could be a dangerous place, apparently.

With a sigh, the Wanderer took it upon himself to fill in the empty space between then and now. He relayed how he'd found you, how the infamous Tighnari assisted you, and how your treatment had been administered. You remained quiet throughout the story, whether from respect or weariness he wasn't sure.

"He removed the IV and left, saying if we needed further assistance we could ask." He snorted at this. "As if!"

Now you rolled your eyes. "Don't be such an ass. He saved my life, the least you could do is be civil."

"I have been civil, thank you very much." He huffed, offended that you'd even assume he would be anything less than cordial. "Good to see your lack of faith in me is still intact."

Your lack of faith was not unwarranted, though. The story as he told it had been incomplete. Fearing your reaction, fearing your perception of him, he had omitted his exploration of your consciousness entirely. As far as you knew, it was merely a conjured scene from your own imagination, and your feelings remained unrequited and unacknowledged. But that didn't feel fair, did it?

Since when did he care about fairness? Did you really like him, or did you like the version of him you'd constructed in your mind? Not that he'd ever change himself for somebody, he was merely curious.

Good grief. Nobody had advertised just how difficult these cursed things called 'emotions' could be.

[dragonagitator]

House MD fans: You wake up in the PPTH ER in summer 2004. What you doing?

Scenario parameters:

All your memories of the show and the past 20 years are intact.

You are stuck there/then and cannot return to our universe/year.

You have nothing but the hospital gown on your back.

Questions:

So, what do you do?

How much would you tell House?

How would you get him to believe you?

Who else would you tell?

How much would you tell them?

Inspiration:

The author self-insert isekai fanfic "Intervention" by VivatRex (aka @acrownforaking). They've been writing it for the past 11+ years and are still updating. It's already nearly 300k words long despite only being up to the events of S02E15. I AM IN AWE.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about this scenario ever since I read that fanfic a month ago. I'd love to discuss it with other House MD fans and hear what you would do.

(Apologies to the mutuals for the abrupt blog topic change. A new brainrot has taken hold.)

My short answer:

My long answers are below the cut.

So, what do you do?

My primary objective would be to enlist House in averting the pandemic.

My reasoning: If anyone can nip it in the bud before it gets out of Wuhan, I figure that a world-renowned genius doctor who is an infectious diseases specialist, speaks Mandarin, and now has a 15-year head start would have the best chance.

Difficulty level: Babysitting a narcissistic manchild with the self-preservation instincts of a toddler until the year 2020 so that he makes it there then alive, out of prison, and with his sanity, medical license, and professional reputation intact. To quote Quantum Leap, "Ohhhhhh boooooooy."

Strategy: I'm in the "I could fix him, but whatever's wrong with him is way funnier" camp, so I wouldn't try to change him (that always backfires anyway). Instead, I'd try to change his circumstances:

A stable romantic relationship would help, so I'd seduce him if I can (I'm not his type but a gal's gotta shoot her shot), try to get him together with Dominika earlier if I can't, and tell him how horribly his relationship with Cuddy ended so he knows better than to even start it.

Avert the shooting. Moriaty was a patient so his info is in the PPTH files. I AM THE ONE WHO KNOCKS. Or for a less murdery approach, try to get him arrested in April 2006 for violating New Jersey's strict gun laws.

Warn House about Tritter so he can switch patients with another clinic doctor.

Warn House to never get on a bus with Amber.

Tell Kutner I'm from the future and he's the only one who can prevent something horrible from happening (he's a Trekkie so he'll want to believe), then unfurl my big timeline poster and point at the "Kutner suicide early 2009" stickynote and ask him "so what's up with that, dude?"

Tell Wilson everything I can remember about his cancer -- he's an oncologist and thus can work backwards from there to figure out when to start checking for it so he can cut the tumor out while it's still just a tiny baby.

I would take a harm reduction approach to House's drug use, e.g., suggest that he try microdosing psilocybin and extend his liver's lifespan by substituting cannabis for some of his Vicodin and alcohol consumption.

Methods: Even though he doesn't have one for most of the show, House mentions a few times that he's entitled to hire an assistant, and I happen to be excellent at administrative work.

I think he'd be willing to hire me because working as his executive assistant / department secretary would position me to recognize patients as they come in so that I can discreetly pass along anything I remember, e.g., the kindergarten teacher has pork worms in her brain, ask the scientist in Antarctica to show you her feet, etc.

Meanwhile, I could lurk around the hospital preventing miscellaneous shit, e.g., get the gift shop volunteer from S01E04 to go home sick, ensure that the gunman from S05E09 is promptly admitted, diagnosed, and treated before he snaps and takes hostages, etc.

Possible sidequests:

Use my foreknowlege to get rich by milking online poker bonuses until the passage of the UIGEA in 2006, use my poker money to start flipping houses until 2007, get in on the "Big Short" in 2008, and set a Google Alert for "Bitcoin" so I can start mining/buying it from day one. Unfortunately, I haven't paid enough attention to individual stocks to play the market other than knowing that Amazon would be a good long-term buy & hold.

Use my riches to change the outcome of the 2016 election and try to steer the development of the internet and society in general in a slightly less stupid direction.

Send Pete Carroll a letter postdated just before the 2013 Superbowl telling him the outcome, then suggest for the final play of the 2014 Superbowl that the Seahawks try handing the ball off to Marshawn Lynch instead of throwing it because that throw will be intercepted. PRIORITIES.

How much would you tell House? How would you get him to believe you?

Your story about being from the future of an alternate universe in which House and everyone he knows are characters on a fictional TV show is already too batshit crazy to believe even without his kneejerk "everybody lies" skepticism. How would you differentiate yourself from all the patients who pull crazy stunts to try to get him to take their case?

My answer: For the "from the future" part, I'm hoping there's some sort of test that House could run to confirm that I was indeed vaccinated with a mRNA vaccine against the COVID-19/SARS-COV-2 virus. Given that neither of those things existed in 2004, that would be physical evidence that I'm not from around here now.

If producing physical evidence isn't possible, then I know that Vegetative State Guy from S03E15 is already a patient at PPTH because he'd been there for 10 years, so I'd find him and tell House about his son. I could also tell House enough about the cases from the first few episodes that I'm pretty sure he'd believe me by Christmas. I want in on Chinese food with Wilson.

I would wait until House accepted the "from the future" part before broaching the "fictional TV show" issue. Until then, "I watched a TV show about your life and cases" is a 100% true statement and it's not my fault if he assumes that show was a documentary. :)

Once he believed me, I'd tell him everything.

Who else would you tell? How much would you tell them?

There are people out there who would literally kill for your knowledge of the future, so going public or being too open about it seems highly risky.

My answer: I'd tell House, Wilson, and Chase right away. Kutner but not before Jan 2009. Maybe eventually Cuddy and the rest of the Diagnostics team if keeping my foreknowledge of the future from them proves too difficult.

House is the only one who gets to know everything. Everyone else is on a "need to know" basis.

I might also bring Bill Arnello (the brother/lawyer of the mob informant in S01E15 "Mob Rules") into the circle of trust because he could be a very useful resource for some of my sidequests, e.g., changing the outcome of the 2016 election far far far in advance and in the most direct way possible. (Hi, Secret Service! This is a purely hypothetical discussion about time travel and not at all indicative of any real criminal intent, pls do not pay me a visit, kthxbai.)

I think the only people I would tell the "fictional TV show" part to would be House, Wilson, and Chase, because there are things I need to warn them about that definitely wouldn't have been in a documentary. Like Chase needs to know that killing Diballa is 100% the right thing to do but he seriously needs to work on his OpSec. Everyone else gets the implied documentary lie of omission.

If I get caught knowing too much by random patients, I'll just claim to be psychic. Way more people believe in that than would believe in time travel.

What would you do?

[thebibliosphere]

Hey Joy, this isn't a question so much as a way for me to convince myself I'm not a hypochondriac, lol. Lately, I've been experiencing symptoms of fatigue, brain fog or memory issues, light-headedness, etc, that are uncommon for my age (30). I have related disorders such as anemia, anxiety, & ADHD that may be contributing to these symptoms, although they seem to have gotten worse or appear more frequently now than when I was initially diagnosed with those disorders. My work allows me to read & interact with disabled people with rare diseases, so I often find similarities with their medical issues. At first, I thought this was all just burnout or something related to the lockdown during COVID. I just saw my doctor and had blood work done to check my levels, and I may have a heart condition (tachycardia, mitral valve prolapse). I've fallen asleep at work before because I can't keep my eyes open, even after a full 8 hours of sleep. I can get dizzy from standing up too fast & can't seem to be on my feet for very long without discomfort & pain (I used to work retail, how did I ever do it?). I've researched some of my symptoms and found ME/CFS and POTS as possible conditions. Do you think it's a possibility I have these, or is it just my anxiety? Thank you! (P.s. Hunger Pangs is on my tbr!)

I obviously cannot tell you with any certainty what is wrong--and I am glad you are seeing doctors about it already and may have possible answers wrt tachycardia and the mitral valve.

What I will say is that there are many types of dysautonomia, of which POTS is one, and that what you are describing sounds very familiar to me as someone with two known types of dysautonomia.

The fact that this is hampering your quality of life to the point where you fall asleep at work, are unable to stand without getting dizzy, and are experiencing chronic pain, is enough of a reason to pursue further testing for things like dysautonomia and, yes, possibly even ME/CFS though given your history of anemia, I'm inclined more toward dysautonomia because the two often go hand in hand.

Also, it is normal to feel anxiety experiencing these types of symptoms. Even if it turns out to be a symptom of your anxiety, doesn't make the experiences any less real and debilitating, and you deserve treatment that will help improve your quality and comfort of life. And there is treatment and things you can do that will make you feel better. Getting your anemia under control should be a top priority if it isn't already. Mines was allowed to go untreated for years until we found out my iron anemia was being caused by pernicious anemia (b12 deficiency), and the iron anemia I'd been plagued with since birth suddenly cleared up.

Years and years of blood transfusions and infusion treatments, and the whole time I needed b12. Who knew? Certainly not my old doctors.

Anyway. If your symptoms are at the point where you are recognizing yourself in things like POTS? It's time to pursue that with your doctor. Don't put it off because you think it's not that bad or others have it worse. Everyone deserves to feel well.

Good luck.

[copperbadge]

If you could buy Tumblr, would you?

Hm, an interesting thought!

If I were capable of buying Tumblr this would imply one of two things: either Tumblr is so devalued and has become so cheap to maintain that a single man living in downtown Chicago with two cats to feed could afford to buy it and keep it, or I have somehow come into enough wealth that I am capable of squandering millions on the Hellsite.

(Or I'm running the most incredible con, which is actually the most flattering option.)

If we're talking a situation where Tumblr would cost me roughly the price of a third cat to purchase and maintain, sure. Buy it, keep it like a pet. This is a bit of an unrealistic vision of things, because under what circumstances would this possibly happen, but as long as we're in unreality, let's pretend I could also simply add and remove features at will. That's some fun shit. Sure, I would.

The more realistic option (for a given value) is that I have mysteriously come into a massive sum of money and could afford to purchase Tumblr. In this scenario, I could likely afford to operate it at a loss only for so long, but I don't actually know how much Tumblr costs on a yearly basis to keep it operational. Most of the problems with most social media, however, come from the fact that they don't just have to break even, they have to turn a profit to continue to function, or they have to have regular infusions of venture capital. A thorny issue.

Ideally what I would do once Tumblr was purchased, and presuming all the other share/stakeholders and investors were paid off, was immediately convert it to a nonprofit. What you can do with nonprofit cash is a lot smaller than what you can do with for-profit levels of investment, but turning Tumblr into a nonprofit has the immediate advantage of no longer having to make money. Tumblr can actually run at a "loss" if it's a public service, because it's all donation-supported anyway. I could think of half a dozen immediate easy targets for major gift fundraising for "Tumblr 503", and I would immediately begin planning both an annual campaign (that's what you see Wikipedia and AO3 doing each year) and a capital campaign to create an endowment to protect the org from future depredation.

Depending on funding I would also be willing to create an arm of the Tumblr Foundation that could start separate initiatives like legal protection for activists on the platform, AI that is better at recognizing illegal content so we don't have huge buildings of poor traumatized motherfuckers doing that moderation work, and such things. This isn't at all uncommon -- the nonprofit I work for now is a medical nonprofit, but even as small as we are, we have numerous different initiatives, from political lobbying to pharma outreach to a helpline for the newly diagnosed to a yearly conference for doctors in the field to funding for young researchers.

Would it work? Dunno. Possibly not, I'm not experienced in backend management of a massive website. But I know people who are, and if the money was there I'd take a stab at it. Worst case scenario, we just take it private again and sucker a couple of billionaires out of their money a second time. Promise if the nonprofit doesn't work and we sell Tumblr to the highest bidder, everyone on the site when we do gets a cut.

[chas3supremacist]

father figure.

Pairing/s: James Wilson x Platonic!Doctor!Reader

Summary: Wilson's favourite oncologist struggles with POTS.

Request:  Anonymous asked

hi omg i love that you're writing platonic house fanfic! if you're taking requests can i rq like platonic greg house and/or james wilson with a reader who has a chronic illness/pain

Word Count: 612 Words

CW: none I think! Let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Okay. Here goes nothing - also here goes my first house pic! I don't love or hate this, my biggest apologies to the anon who requested this pic - A lot went down from the time I started writing this until now. Please let me know what you think - Likes, reblogs and feedback is always appreciated!

"Y/N"

You hummed and then groaned in discomfort as you opened your eyes, the harsh white light from the ceiling of the doctor's lounge burning your eyes. You recognized the concern written on the blurry face hovering above you - Wilson, the head of the department you worked in. You sighed, a bit embarrassed that your boss had found you passed out because you had been standing up for too long.

"I'm up," You assured him, trying to wave him and his concern off. Fainting was nothing new for you, especially if you'd gone too long without resting - you were diagnosed with POTS when you were 15 and had tried everything that your doctors had suggested to try and treat it, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that this was going to be something you would need to live with since your diagnosis had been 10 years prior. 

"Are you okay?" Wilson helped you up onto your feet, making sure not to rush you, just in case you fainted again. If you were being honest, Wilson was kind of the closest thing you had to a dad, considering your family put you up for adoption when you were six - citing that you were too much for them to look after anymore. You ended up in the foster care system until you turned 18 and got yourself into a good medical school, powering your way through school despite the struggles that came with your illness. 

"Yes, dad, I'm fine," You joked with him, shooting Wilson a tired, weak smile. He chuckled and shook his head at you, you were certainly...something. But you were one of the best oncologists he'd met, specialising in pediatric oncology, your gentle nature made you extremely likeable among your colleagues. "Don't you have better things to be doing? I'm fine now Wilson," You assured him.

"I know, I'm just making sure. I don't want you fainting again, here, have some water," He handed you a bottle of water, since you were told you had to keep your fluids up and try and avoid sugary foods or drinks all you really drank was water. You took the bottle from him and glared at him jokingly - Wilson knew that you could be defensive about him "looking after you" sometimes, but he guessed that was part of the package of growing up without a real family, you never had one set person care about, if even at all.

But no matter how defensive you were - Wilson would never judge you for it. You had your reasons for it; but you would never admit to him, or even yourself that part of you found comfort in your head of department looking out for you in the same manner you wished a father had when you were growing up. You knew that he cared about you - Maybe even more so than some of the other doctors on your ward, you weren't sure why, you just know that he did.

[yrfemmehusband]

I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow and I'm thinking a lot about my own role in my medical treatment and how I've definitely aided in my own prolonged diagnosis. Yes, lots of doctors gaslight, and lots of doctors are starkly rude and unhelpful. But it's hard to deny I've also played a role in not getting what I need from appointments and Drs.

My severe medical trauma makes it really difficult to explain what exactly I want to say. It makes it hard to say anything. And while that's hard to overcome when you keep getting traumatized, it's something I really need to do. Not being able to fully articulate to my doctors what's going on with me has severely negatively impacted my care.

It is also up to the patient to redirect their care if it isn't going in the direction they feel it needs to go. I have known this whole time I need to go up a neurologist but on some level I have allowed myself to be yanked from specialist to specialist to not find anything wrong. Investigating issues that might be a problem but don't fit all my symptoms, especially the most important ones. I should have emphasized which symptoms were affecting me most and I should have displayed more of my knowledge about where I think their origin could be.

All of this was hard to do for multiple reasons. These things have been more or less out of my control, it was hard to recognize what I needed to do. Part of the issue is fear of doctors and the medical system as a whole. Listing off all of my symptoms is difficult because they are so widespread. Ive had so many gaslight me that it's easier to pick a few most impactful symptoms and leave out the rest.

Another reason is because of my illness itself. Doing anything has been extremely difficult for two years now. It's hard to make art, to post, to organize my symptoms let alone keep track of them. Ive wanted to make a folder of my symptoms, diagnoses, a timeline and pictures. I want to, just feel like it's not within my grasp to do it at all. It's difficult to pick up new habits or learn new things at home and at work. Everything is difficult for me. Add medical trauma on top of this and I was nearly mute in so many of my doctors appointments. Even now it's simply hard to articulate everything and remember everything I want to say.

Honestly I don't blame myself, this isn't my fault. The medical system and doctors should put in more effort and safeguards for people who have issues articulating their issues, and a patient advocate did not help me either, it wasn't even his fault to be honest.

This time I'm setting aside time to write everything down. I already have a chart and timeline of my symptoms and diagnoses I made with my therapist and now I'm going to draft a script for my appointment tomorrow. Pls wish me luck and if anyone has any advice that is welcomed thanks if u read my rant lol

[ghost-of-a-system]

Hey, could I ask for some pointers on how to identify if one is a system? I know it's not a one size fits all thing, but I'm just trying to figure things out, no pressure tho ^^ <33

every process is different, but this is how we went about it! we are personally self-diagnosed but we have had conversations with a few therapists regarding our suspicions (but they weren't the best therapists, and we weren't able to continue working with them) this post is from our lens/a traumagenic lens

the main thing people always say is research, research, and, more research, but it honestly is the best first step. we personally used websites like did-research.org, although it wasn't as useful for us, as someone with OSDD1b :') but that site did introduce us to the various different types of "dissociative identity" disorders, such as DID, OSDD1a and OSDD1b (particularly this page https://did-research.org/comorbid/dd/osdd_udd/did_osdd which was helpful in comparing each of them in an understandable way. this was the first time we read something and really had it "click" with our experience.)

i feel like sites like that are a good place to start/try to figure out what "type" resonates with you the most, and i feel that sometimes makes it easier to research from there! but it can always be helpful to do further research into the other types just to get different ways of explaining it/perspectives from those that have it.

one of, if not the most helpful thing, for us, was talking to other systems. we specifically spoke one-on-one with diagnosed & medically recognized systems who also had our suspected type (OSDD1b) (not to discredit self-diagnosed systems, coming from one, but we wanted to get a "for sure" concrete opinion). our conversations usually involved lots of question-asking and trying to lay out what we were experiencing, our concerns, etc. and comparing some of our basic experiences to their's.

it is also very very important to research disorders that could be misunderstood as DID/OSDD or have overlapping symptoms. i feel this is an extremely vital step in any self-diagnosis. things like personality disorders such as BPD, autism, even schizophrenia, etc. it's been a while since we have personally researched this so i can't name many off of the top of my head lol. but i feel this is very important. of course, it is always possible that there is a presence of several of these alongside DID/OSDD. personally we are diagnosed with autism and have an extreme suspicion that we have BPD as well.

all of these are not something that can be easily done overnight, or even in a few days, or even weeks, in our experience. it's very thorough and i believe it helps to leave a lot of time for you to just first research, have the knowledge of what to look out for in your head, and start making observations or notes about what you experience over time. that may help things become more clear.

as always having the support and assistance of a therapist/someone qualified in these disorders is the best option, but we know that it isn't that easy for everyone. not everyone is able to have access to these things for a variety of reasons, such as money or location, for starters.

[clairaworlds]

Advocates for Youth is doing an HIV awareness campaign, they're encouraging people to share information through social media, and I wanted to share some of their information. The pre-written posts are all for other social media platforms, but I wanted to share it here. a lot of this information is taken directly from their 'social media toolkit' (I will mention when I'm quoting directly from them)

Advocates for Youth Website

HIV/AIDS awareness is very important to me personally, it is an intersectional issue. While a lot of information about HIV/AIDS is focused on the queer community, especially gay men. It is important for everyone to be aware and to learn about STDs and sex ed. It's also important to remember the history. According to the World Health Organization 40.4 million have died of HIV. The condition was associated with queerness, and the queer community was not considered worth saving. As the WHO says "fear stigma and ignorance" it is important to remember that HIV is still an issue, and while there are treatments now not everyone has access to them. Minorities and young people are often at a higher risk for HIV, the idea that certain communities aren't considered worth saving is one that echoes throughout the medical industry. medical abuse, gaslighting, denial of treatment, and malpractice often target disadvantaged groups, increasing the rate of health issues, and leading to medical mistrust.

In the USA, only 38 states require sexual or HIV education (also the district of columbia). 25 states (+DC) require both sexual and hiv education. 18 states require sex ed content to be medically accurate. 4 states prevent religion from being a part of sex ed.

40 states require schools to involve parents in sex ed. 35 let parents remove their kids from sex education programs, and 6 require a consent form to be signed.

(where I got the statistics above + more information on the topic)

all that aside, here's the information from Advocates for Youth.

"National Youth HIV & AIDS Awareness Day (NYHAAD), annually on April 10th, is a day to educate the public about the impact of HIV and AIDS on young people. The day also highlights the HIV prevention, treatment, and care campaigns of young people in the U.S. Today’s young people are the first generation who have never known a world without HIV and AIDS. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) reports that in 2020, young people aged 13–24 accounted for 20% of all new HIV diagnoses in the United States. Young people living with HIV are the least likely of any age group to be retained in care and have a suppressed viral load. Addressing the impact of HIV on young people requires they have access to affirming, culturally competent, and medically accurate resources and tools." (direct quote from Advocates for Youth social media toolkit)

the goal of the this campaign is to share HIV information via social media, they have a bunch of pretty looking graphics for different statistics, but I'm going to put the stats they provide here, because I personally find it easier to consume in plane-text.

"The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) reports that in 2020, young people aged 13–24 accounted for 20% of all new HIV diagnoses in the United States.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) reports that more than half of the nearly 20 million new STDs reported in 2020 were among young people aged 15–24.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) reports that in 2021, only 6% of high school students were ever tested for HIV.

The CDC reports that young people living with HIV are the least likely of any age group to be retained in care and have a suppressed viral load. Advocates for Youth recognizes that addressing HIV in youth requires that young people have access to honest and inclusive information and tools they need to make informed decisions.

The CDC reports that in many cases, young people are unable to access pre-exposure prophylaxis, a daily pill to prevent HIV, without parental consent.

The CDC reports that 35 states have laws that criminalize HIV exposure.

In the United States (US), more than 50% of those accused in reported HIV criminalization cases in 2020 were people of color, a larger proportion than people of color estimated to be living with HIV in the US. Advocates for Youth calls for an end to HIV criminalization for the sake of young people’s sexual health and rights. We also nod the CDC’s call for “the reforming, rescinding, and revising the application of [HIV criminalization] laws for the sake of people with HIV and for the public’s health.”

Guttmacher reports that while 39 states and the District of Columbia mandate sex education and/or HIV education, few require program content to be medically accurate."

(above statistics and attached links were directly copied from Advocates for Youth social media toolkit)

They also have a program with activities that is directed at medical professionals, in regards for HIV prevention

Here's some of their resources, including a tool to 'find HIV prevention services' they are USA focused so I apologize if this isn't helpful.

I know that most of this post was just me quoting directly, but I wanted to share the statistics and information they provided. This is more of an overview, but if you want all the information they shared, Here's the toolkit, and here's the resource targeted more towards healthcare providers. It has all the above information and more.

[bigmammallama5]

mammallama if you have energy how did you find your adhd dr? I know I could use one but I'm trying to fight the inertia of getting a dr because of all the experiences of previous medical professionals not listening to me. thank you for reading!

Hey, I've got a little energy! You get my one level seven spell slot for the day lol

I am very fortunate that I have a primary care doctor that takes my concerns seriously and pointed me in the direction of my current specialist. I also have two very wonderful best friends with ADHD who gently slid my wig back and told me "go get tested, you sound like me". I recognize not everyone is lucky to have doctors that listen to them so this answer will be based off of my limited experience and local healthcare in my state in America, so please keep these as general suggestions! And I know it's hard to advocate for your own health, trust me I get it lol, but please stick with it. It's worth it to get the answers at the very least so you can start adjusting.

So if you have a PCP try asking them for places that are in your insurance network that could help you get tested/write you a referral letter if needed. I would suggest first looking for a behavioral therapist that specializes in diagnosing ADHD (like mine does) and treatment. I can't get actual cognitive behavioral therapy from them but they help me keep track of my ADHD and navigate my medication stuff. The extra special thing about my doctor is she was also diagnosed as an adult, so she truly understands to a certain degree of what I'm dealing with. Looking at her during my first visit was like looking into the future of the person I can be with the right help. Having a doctor that has what you have is incredibly valuable.

If you can't find a specialist, I would suggest looking for a psychiatrist that specializes in diagnosing and treating ADHD. You can also get diagnosed by a psychologist but I don't think they can actually prescribe medications? But either of those professionals will be able to test and diagnose you!

If you have trouble networking, my therapist suggested looking on Facebook (I know I know) for local/state groups that can help you connect with doctors in your area. You'd be surprised at how ready people are to help others find the care providers they need! You may not even have to ask, there may be a list of medical professionals that you can look over.

I will warn you that depending on where you go it's going to probably cost a fair amount. Even with my therapist's office taking my insurance my testing was still over 400 bucks, but in the end it was worth it for me. I will also warn you that some testing can be quite lengthy from what I hear, taking multiple sessions depending on the professional you're seeing. My testing and diagnoses took a little less than three hours and that's why I'd suggest looking for an ADHD behavioral therapist first. They know exactly what they're looking for and know you're there specifically for that test.

Another tip I can give you is frame your reason for testing as simply needing answers to improve your quality of life. Have that in writing. Don't even mention medication other than "I would explore that if you deem it a viable option for treatment." Getting medication right now is difficult if not downright impossible for some of us, so I would frame your needs on getting yourself picked up and put together. That's really what you need first anyways. Answers.

Be warned ADHD may also come with a side of fries (other general disabilities like OCD/OCD tendencies, anxiety, depression, ect ect that are often the result of untreated ADHD).

ADHD is legally considered a developmental disability and protected under the Americans with Disabilities Act. Know your rights!

In the meantime I always suggest taking a look through https://www.additudemag.com/ for information about symptoms and research and all that stuff. This is a trusted source that my therapist's office shares with all of their patients! The articles are kept up to date as new research is made available and is laid out in such a way that it's easy for people with ADHD to read and navigate. It's also a great source for parents that have kiddos with ADHD, so pass that around if you know someone who's struggling!

I do hope that your past experiences with poor doctors won't keep you from seeking testing. I can promise you not all of them are like that, and I hope you can find someone who will listen to you and take your concerns seriously!

[sysboxes]

Hiii! We're this anon https://www.tumblr.com/sysboxes/737632077899595776/can-syscourse-unaligned-mixed-origins-systems-use here and we wanted to thank you so much for clarifying and answering and being kind to us! We just figured we'd ask first because we don't want to accidentally step on people's toes! I'm really sorry about all the people breaking your boundaries in your inbox, regardless of wherever you (/nay ofc) fall on the spectrum that's absolutely never okay, I promise you can learn to make your own userboxes! Omg are people actually saying their CDDs aren't caused by trauma... OOF. As a mixed origins system who is both medically recognized and professionally diagnosed who I suppose fits into the former of what you described and.. obviously trauma formed my CDD because there's. no other way of how a CDD can form, it's so vital that we correct misinformation whenever we see it which is what we at least try to do, even if we're not necessarily involved in syscourse or any specific community. Hopefully we fit the criteria to use your boxes! With that said, we wish you and every system reading this a safe and happy holidays!!

thank you very much! and it seems you do fit into the criteria to use our boxes. we appreciate your kindness too. kindness is so important, and it helps drown the hate from people breaking our boundaries when we’ve blocked them or requested they dni. and asking if ur unsure if you fall into our dni is totally fine with us!

[funnierasafictive]

hi, this is the only place i feel like i can talk to about this even though i just discovered it, but i think i have DID, or some similar disorder. the majority of my alters, from what i know of them, are fictives. i've talked to my mom about this, which she does think is a possibility, but she still doesn't really know what's wrong with me. i tried to talk to my therapist as well, but she doubts i have it (i am a minor, and i feel like it's harder to tell if someone has a disorder when they're young. i got diagnosed with combined ADHD last year.) and we did watch a video about DID together, but i ended up having a breakdown around the middle of it (can't remember why). i'm so sorry for wasting your time.

Hello, Anon. I am sorry we have not gotten back to you. You were never wasting our time.

After reading all this, and understanding this ask is from September 8, I only hope that you are well.

I remember when we first found out about being a system. We were 16, and thought we just never grew out of having imaginary friends. We did not even know that DID existed! Haha.

I hope you have found some answers. If not, it is alright not to know. When it comes to systems, a lot of the time we do not know about it at first (especially if trauma is involved) because our mind wants to keep us safe.

We went through a similar thing; our doctor/s did not believe we had DID when we were a child, when we started bringing up the medical term for the disordered bits (Dissociative Identity Disorder). It took around maybe 4 years to finally get recognized as having it, and it funny enough took seeing a completely new doctor for ADHD. Long story.

For your last paragraph, there is indeed a pattern where when suddenly being given information about DID, the person tends to have a breakdown.

I remember when we talked about being a system to someone we were making friends with. On the same day of meeting them, they had a mental breakdown later in the conversation because they realized all the symptoms we talked about fit them. (Insert "discussion reminding people not to randomly tell an oblivious possible-system that they are a system. It will shock them and it is unhealthy." here.)

It is usually a shock for systems coming to terms with possibly having alters. Usually it is because their system did not want to reveal themselves yet, or it is simply just because your brain no longer feels safe. When systems have breakdowns during their system discovery, it is usually in response to how.. DID is your brain's coping mechanism, and the symptoms were meant to hide itself from you (or the host at the time), not just the world. Of course your brain feels wracked, exposed, scared.

System, or not, I hope you have found some coping mechanisms to deal with your symptoms in the present. We can never say if someone is a system--not because of some rule, but because we can not say for sure-- but what matters is you take care of yourself no matter what. Doing the research and exploring yourself is fine; just be safe.