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sagan-starstuff · 15 days

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XF Meta: Scully's Medical Training Timeline

At the request of @randomfoggytiger, I wanted to do my damnedest to make Scully's education and training timeline make even a little sense. I'm a physician (specifically a specialist in adult infectious diseases), and it's fairly clear to me that CC and Co probably didn't actually talk to any doctors about how medical training works. Love my girl - I'm a Scully Effect kid, I don't think I'd be a doctor at all if it weren't for the inspiration of Dana Scully. But her timeline is...iffy at best.

Disclaimer: My medical school and post-med school training occurred from 2009-2018, Scully's occurred in the 1980's-90's. From what I can tell, the durations of many residencies and fellowships don't seem to have changed much, but I can't say that for certainty for all programs at all institutions. I am also from the US, so I cannot speak to medical training in other countries.

Our girl was born in 1964, and so unless she skipped a grade (which some schools would do if students were classified as "gifted" or otherwise exceptional, she would have graduated from high school at age 18 in 1982 and went straight to college. Let's assume she didn't skip a grade, for the sake of argument.

You have to have a Bachelor's degree to apply to medical school. These degrees typically take 4 years, though if someone arrives at college with credits from dual-enrollment high school classes or AP exam credits OR if they take summer classes some people can complete them in 3 years. I don't know what the availability of dual enrollment or AP classes was like in the early 80's (and like CC, I'm too lazy to do the research to find out), so we can assume that Scully graduated from college in 1986.

Medical school is 4 years long - no shortening this at that point in time, and even now in almost all cases. So that puts medical school graduation in 1990 IF she's following a traditional timeline and went straight from college to medical school.

Now, if someone is going to go into practice they have to do a residency in at least one of a variety of specialties (Internal Medicine, Pediatrics, Surgery, etc.) in order to be board certified and practice independently. There are very, very few job options in clinical medicine if you DON'T do a residency, so if you want to practice, you have to do it. Residencies can be anywhere from 3-5 years, depending on the specialty. You can also further subspecialize after a residency by doing one or more fellowships (typically 1-3 years depending on the fellowship) before sitting for your board certification exams and starting independent practice. For example - after medical school I did a 3-year residency in adult internal medicine, then a 2 year fellowship in adult infectious diseases to be eligible to sit for the boards and enter my specialty, so 5 years further training after medical school before I could get a job, get board certified, and practice.

Scully is a forensic pathologist. She would have had to do a 3 or 4 year pathology residency (both were options at the time) followed by a 1 year forensic pathology fellowship. You CANNOT perform autopsies right out of medical school, if you are going to be a forensic pathologist you HAVE to do this training. So, following a traditional timeline this puts her as having completed forensic pathology training in 1994 or 1995. Pilot starts March 7th, 1992, so this is loooooong after she's canonically already an FBI agent and teaching at the academy.

But our girl's a smart cookie, so let's take a little leeway with her timeline. Let's say she skipped a grade some time in K-12. This puts high school graduation in 1981. Let's say she ALSO graduates with a bunch of AP credit and does summer semesters and finishes her undergraduate degree in Physics in 3 years. This puts her as starting medical school in 1984, with graduation in 1988. She'd still need to do that pathology residency and forensic pathology fellowship - let's assume a 3 year residency, then 1 year fellowship, so she'd finish training in 1992.

Still doesn't fit.

Let's go totally off the rails here - we know Scully was recruited out of medical school to the FBI, so she didn't do a traditional residency at all - UNLESS the FBI has an internal forensic pathology residency. It would HAVE to be accelerated in some way - some programs combine residency and fellowship by giving less elective time and more focus to the fellowship content. It's not common but they exist. Let's say in theory the FBI has an accelerated forensic pathology residency that takes 3 years, in addition to the 20 weeks of the FBI academy training. This has her finishing residency AND FBI academy training some time in 1991.

This is the ONLY way she could have finished forensic pathology training AND the FBI academy with enough time to be a fully certified forensic pathologist and FBI agent with some time left to teach at the FBI academy before being assigned to the X-Files on March 7th, 1992.

I can suspend my disbelief enough to be on board with this. You'd have to be pretty damned special, which we know she is, to get recruited out of medical school by the FBI. Maybe they even developed the accelerated combined residency/fellowship just for her! She's Dana Katherine Motherf***ing Scully, people!

Now, IWTB is where things get REALLY unbelievable. (Disclaimer: I have not watched IWTB since seeing it in theaters in 2008. I'll get around to rewatching it someday soon. Probably with a bottle of wine. Not a glass. A bottle.)

Mulder and Scully go on the run in 2002. We don't know how long they were in the wind, but by 2008, she's been allowed to resume a career and is practicing at Our Lady of Sorrows. Clearly in pediatrics - but general pediatricians sure as hell don't do stem cell transplants, so she'd almost certainly have to be a pediatric oncologist. We aren't told what her specialty is specifically, but that's what she'd have to be to do a stem cell transplant.

(That scene in the OR isn't even what stem cell transplants LOOK LIKE but that's a rant for another day, back to my point.)

MEDICAL BOARDS DON'T JUST LET YOU CHANGE YOUR SPECIALTY FOR FUNSIES.

(Deep breaths. Serenity now. Ok, let's do this.)

Scully would have had to do an ENTIRELY NEW residency AND fellowship in order to practice as a pediatric oncologist. Pediatrics residency is 3 years long. Pediatric Hematology/Oncology fellowship is 3 years long. In order for this to be even remotely possible, she would have had to START residency in 2002 to finish fellowship by 2008 and start her job at Our Lady of Sorrows.

And she's a former FBI agent harboring a known felon, on the run from government officials and alien hybrids who want her and Mulder dead.

There is absolutely no way even the smallest, most hard-up pediatric residency program is going to accept her with that hanging over her head. I'm not going to get into all the details of how rigorous and stressful the post-medical school residency application and match process is, but even if she didn't apply until she KNEW it was safe to come out from underground, she'd still have to explain a multi-year gap in her resume/CV to the program directors. Multi-year gaps in career and training without a reasonable explanation like a medical issue, time off to care for an ailing family member, time off for research, time away in a different, legitimate career are NOT looked on kindly when applying for residency positions. She would have a HELL of a time getting into a totally different residency.

It could happen - if anyone could do it, she could. But there's absolutely no way there's enough time for her to complete that training by 2008.

"But sagan-starstuff, it's CC, it's X-Files, we know there was no show bible and no one but the fans gave a shit about continuity or things making sense, there's no logic just vibes"

I KNOW, OK. I KNOW. And I love this insane, beautiful masterpiece anyway. I love exploring the possibilities of how and when it all could have happened with my fellow insane Philes who work so hard to glean meaning and order from this perfect mess of a show.

But couldn't CC have talked to one (1) doctor about what medical training is like at some point between 1993 and 2018? Just one?

Anyway. Yeah. That's my meta. Scully's training timeline makes no goddamned sense. Compels me, though.

@randomfoggytiger, this is for you. Honorable mention to @precedex-files who I ranted about this with in messages a while back.

#the x files #the xfiles #x files #thexfiles #msr #txf #dana scully #xfiles #poangpals #poang pals #holy crap how did that take me 2 hours #i thought this was going to be so simple #but it's not #Scully's just the most special genius perfect human so she can be whatever she wants to be #unhinged doctor ranting #god why am i still awake i have work tomorrow

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 7 months

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Blood Ties Chapter 18

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; mention of injuries; sexual themes; illness

A/N: I know I say this almost every time but this chapter is very lackluster and not my best. I had some major writers block and I struggled to get this done to the point where I was ready to give up altogether. I knew where I wanted to go, but words just weren’t happening. Hopefully, now that I’m past this part, it will be easier. Thank you for reading. I’m so sorry for the subpar work. 😢

You were actually a good patient, following Hershel’s recommendations by staying in bed, drinking more water, and not skipping or sharing meals. Daryl, to your surprise, returned to the room just a while later with a plastic bowl of some tasteless stew Carol had made. You didn’t complain, the woman always did the best she could. They had run out of any seasonings or herbs and with the cold weather, it was unlikely you’d find anything growing.

“Ya need anything?” Daryl asked. You regarded him as he stood at the foot of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck while avoiding looking at you.

“No, I’m okay.” You took another bite, eyes following him. He retrieved his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder, heading for the door. “Where’re you going?”

“Gonna try an’ hunt. S’cold as fuck out there but maybe I can manage some rabbit.” He shrugged halfheartedly. You hummed and stirred your stew until you heard the sound of the doorknob turning.

“Daryl?” You blurted out.

“Yeah?” He still wasn’t looking at you. You could feel the difference in the atmosphere. It wasn’t hostile, just uncomfortable.

“Please don’t disappear.” You meant it in more ways than one, though you weren’t sure if he would pick up on the entirety of the request. Please don’t leave us. Please don’t hide away. Please just come back.

“I won’t.” And then he was gone. He left the door slightly ajar, in case you needed something.

Daryl didn’t lie aside from his constant use of ‘I’m fine’ when he was always so clearly not. So, you knew he’d be back. He wasn’t just going hunting. He was going to clear his head. You knew that because it’s what you would do, were you able to seek refuge in the woods safely. You missed hunting, the safety and comfort of the trees surrounding you. The stillness and quiet sounds that provided much needed calm in times of overwhelming chaos. You wanted to believe that you would feel it again, but you would have a newborn in a few weeks. A little person that would rely on your constant presence. Maybe those days were over for you.

Daryl wanted more. He had made that clear. He wasn’t going to run away from the newness of what you had both expressed you were seeking. He needed time. It was fresh and formidable. You weren’t sure of his past experiences with relationships or perhaps even lack thereof, but it was clearly overwhelming for him.

Especially since you had proclaimed to love him.

That had shaken him. You could have kicked yourself for burdening him with that information. It wasn’t the right time. He had only just accepted that you meant more to him than you could have ever hoped and you just had to go and complicate it. You could only hope that it wasn’t so much that he’d change his mind.

Rick had taken Glenn and Maggie to rummage through some nearby homes and a small town, returning with a bottle of meds for you that was about a third full. They had managed several cans of vegetables, two bags of rice, and a box of angel hair pasta. It wasn’t much but it would keep the group from starvation.

You managed most of the stew, getting out of bed to join everyone else downstairs. Hershel had been apprehensive until you immediately stretched out on the couch and wrapped up in a blanket to continue resting without being trapped in isolation. The silence upstairs had been too much, the voices of fear and doubt in your head speaking too loudly.

“How are you feeling, young lady?” The old man asked. He checked your stitches, used a stethoscope to listen to the baby’s heartbeat, and felt around on your belly, chuckling when he was continuously kicked at each disturbance. “Someone’s lively this evening.”

“Yeah, they’re tap dancing on my bladder but I don’t—” you trailed off and looked out the window. You had needed to pee since coming downstairs but didn’t feel safe going without Daryl anymore. It almost made you nauseous how dependent you’d become. Always the damsel in distress, the wimpy princess who couldn’t do anything for herself.

“Things change when you find yourself in your condition.” You slowly brought your attention back to Hershel. The veterinarian was wise, had proven to be so back at the farm. Not always reasonable—as a barn full of walkers had shown—but wise, nonetheless. “You’re accustomed to living a certain way, taking care of yourself. And then there’s suddenly this little person depending on you to keep them safe. It’s not always easy to make that transition.” He gently rolled down your shirt and pulled the blanket up over you. “I could sense from the day I met you that you were a free spirit. You didn’t always want to listen. I’ve watched you shift from a woman who took care of herself by any means necessary to a woman who would do anything to protect her child. There’s no shame in that and the rewards will be sweeter than anything you’ve ever known before.” Hershel stood, knees cracking. With a gentle smile, he patted your shoulder. “You’ll see.”

You returned the smile, rubbing a hand over the swell of your belly as the old man took his leave. “He’s right, Thumper. You’re worth it.” Glancing back out the window, Daryl was trudging tiredly toward the house with two rabbits. You smiled, resting your head on the back of the couch to watch him interact with Rick. “You’re both worth it.”

“Whatcha doin’ outta bed?” Daryl was pulling off his crossbow, watching you warily. You wiggled until you were sitting up against the couch arm.

“Don’t worry. I asked Hershel. As long as I rest, I’m okay.” He watched you for a moment longer before giving a nod, disappearing to prep the rabbits for cooking the next day. Carol smiled at him in passing. You couldn’t see his face but heard him grunt in acknowledgment. Maybe one day you’d be fluent in the complicated language of Daryl.

“How’re you feeling?” A bottle of water was handed to you. You hadn’t even realized you were thirsty until you were removing the cap and tilting it to your lips.

After several generous gulps, you lowered the water and sighed contentedly. “I didn’t know I needed that.”

“Well, you’ve been—” she turned her head toward where Daryl had walked away, looking back to you with an arched brow, “preoccupied.”

Your face warmed and you ducked your head. “Is it obvious?”

“Well, I’m not deaf.” She chuckled, patting your knee.

“You heard?” You blanched, knowing you had grown impossibly redder.

“I think everyone did.”

“Oh god.” Mortified was an understatement. You were suddenly trying to recall the moments they could have heard but only succeeded in encouraging a sudden wave of arousal between your thighs. Well, that’s not helping. “Don’t say anything to—they can’t tease him. He’ll never—”

Carol reached out to rub your upper arm, shaking her head. “No one is saying anything. We’re all just glad some of the tension around here has eased.” She meant Rick and Lori, that wasn’t hard to figure out.

You had barely opened your mouth to reply when Rick came in, moving quickly but quietly.

“The fire.” He whispered harshly. You sat up straight, ignoring the pull of the stitches, and looked out the window, the scene becoming clear once the reflected light from the flames was doused.

You managed to duck your head just as a walker passed by the the glass, its arm dragging across the surface with an eerie scraping. A myriad of shadows danced across the wall, your wide eyes following them until Daryl was crouched in front of you with a finger to his lips. His crossbow was by his foot while his hands held your boots and jacket.

“Be quick.” He whispered so quietly that he may have only mouthed the words. You nodded and took the items, pulling on your boots without tying them and shrugging on your jacket. “Stay low.” It was hard not to smile, even with danger lurking so closely, when he wrapped his hand around yours. You let him guide you, walking as low as you could manage.

Carol was coming down the stairs, your bag on one shoulder and her own on the other. Daryl let go of your hand to grab his bag on the way to the back door. Everyone had already gathered, Rick falling in behind Carol. The archer held up a hand to have you wait further back while he checked outside.

“Here.” Carol whispered from your right. You glanced at her only to find her looking down, your knife held out to you. “I’ve got your gun and holsters in your bag.” Nodding your thanks, your hand wrapped around the handle and you brought the weapon in close, meeting Daryl’s eyes for a fleeting moment before he cracked open the door and peered outside.

“S’clear. Go ‘round the right. Straight to the cars.” He began to wave everyone through, catching your hand as you passed. “Stay close to Carol. Be right behind ya.”

“Okay.” You agreed quickly and followed the other woman out. Only the pale moonlight illuminated the snowy ground as the lot of you bobbed and weaved your way around the herd. You couldn’t hear steps behind you but that wasn’t uncommon with Daryl. Even with the extra weight you carried, your own footfalls were light.

It was close to impossible to see the dead and with the symphony of moans and snarls echoing from all around, you barely had time to stop and take a step back before the walker crossed into your path. Knife ready, you took down the woman with ease, lowering with the body to keep the noise to a minimum.

She looked to have been a pretty lady, maybe in her thirties. Her blonde hair was missing in patches and her skin was torn and gaping in places. She was sporting a t-shirt that read No. 1 Mom.

You let that simmer after Daryl pulled you to your feet, urging you to resume the trek to the van. It was within view now, with only three walkers circling. Glenn, Maggie, and T-Dog dispatched them quickly enough, creating an open path straight to the vehicle.

Twenty minutes on the road was long enough to lose yourself in consideration of the woman you’d put down. It wasn’t hard to imagine yourself meeting a similar fate, maybe forced to bear witness to the grizzly death of your child or dying without knowing what became of them. What if she had been the one to kill her kid? What if it was an infant, a toddler? Unable to understand why this person who was meant to protect them was causing them pain?

You cried for her. You cried for the child. Silent tears that you didn’t attempt to hinder while you sought out the comforting rumble of Daryl’s bike just ahead. Even if you did fall victim to the dead, he’d never allow your baby to be hurt. You could take comfort in that. As long as one of you was breathing, your child would never know harm.

The weather only grew more unforgiving as the days wore on, chipping away at any shreds of hope that were managing to survive in your little group. Another home found and lost. Freezing nights huddled against Daryl in the backseat of the van. A great deal of the blankets had been sacrificed when fleeing the dead. Of course, you, Lori, and Carl were given the heaviest ones that remained. Daryl would wrap you snugly and then hold you tight, claiming that alone would keep him warm enough. Apparently he still thought you were stupid.

Food was dwindling. Once again, you were arguing with the archer about eating meager portions so that you could have more. If each bite wasn’t worth more than gold had been valued in the old world, you would have surely thrown many a bowl at him.

His hunting trips grew longer and longer, now gone for no less than two days at a time. Measures were in place to ensure he knew how to find the group should the need to flee become necessary in his absence. Still, you worried. He manged to bring back more, usually rabbits but had lucked out with a small doe on the last excursion. With an extra few runs, enough salt was procured for the majority of the meat to be dried into jerky. It was sorted into each of your bags so it was sure to not be left behind if you had to leave quickly. The rest of the meat was prepared into a stew that could be reheated for a couple of days.

It was nice to eat well for once, surrounded by full bellies and sleepy faces. The one face you wanted to see was absent, however. Daryl was on first watch at the small ranch style home. There were no fences but the land was open for a good distance before the treeline. Walkers would be spotted and the group could move on before the dead even made it halfway to the house.

You bundled up, pulling up your hood, meaning to sit outside with him for a while. You grabbed one of the smaller blankets on your way out. Whether he admitted it or not, the long sleeve flannel under his vest was not enough to keep the frigid temperatures at bay. He was coughing into his elbow as you passed over the threshold, noticing his stew, long cold, was hardly touched. Pointing it out would only lead to another argument and at 28 weeks pregnant in an apocalypse, you just didn’t have the energy to spare.

He was scrubbing a hand roughly over his face when you draped the fabric over his shoulders. For once, he didn’t argue, simply nodding while watching you move his bowl aside to sit down.

He cleared his throat, his voice quiet and raspy. “Weren’t that hungry.”

“I can heat it for you later if you change your mind.” Shoving your hands into your pockets, you leaned onto his shoulder and watched the gentle flurries pepper down from above.

“Ain’t gonna nag me?”

“Nope.” You smiled fondly to yourself. “You’re stubborn as ten mules and this baby has been kicking me non stop for two days. I don’t have the energy to attempt and force feed their father.” He nudged his shoulder upward, jarring a giggle out of you. “We do need to find you a coat. It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here.”

“Your tits ain’t never cold.”

Rolling your head on his shoulder, you feigned offense. “Why, Daryl Dixon. Did you just call me a witch?”

“If the broomstick fits.”

That coaxed a startled laugh out of you. “Huh.” You stared at him a moment longer and then settled back into watching the snow.

“What?” He leaned a little to angle his head in order to see your face.

“Thought you’d misplaced your sense of humor, that’s all. Maybe you found it while your head was so far up your ass.”

“Think you're funny?” He huffed, clearly not annoyed. It was refreshing to just talk like two people in a relationship on a cold, snowy night. Maybe you could pretend the world hadn’t ended for at least a moment.

“Oh, I know I am. It’s part of my irresistible charm.” You retorted cheerily. Daryl made a pfft sound and joined you in watching the snow. It was almost hypnotic; the peace of the moment drawing you in until you were sure you’d fall asleep.

When Daryl coughed again, you startled and sat up straight. He had turned away and buried his face in the crook of his elbow, muffling the sound to the best of his ability.

“Are you okay?” It was hard to keep the concern out of your tone, terrified he’d withdraw from you. He had been trying, the evidence of his efforts displayed in his own ways.

Over the last month, you’d never felt closer to him. He had found a truck, loading the bike in the back so that you would be with him anytime moving was necessary. There wasn’t much time for intimacy, not sexually, though he’d made you cum on his fingers a few times while the others laid behind him, sound asleep and none the wiser. He seemed to enjoy your company, especially while on watch. He didn’t speak much but when he did, he was soft and attentive. He would watch you in silence, tinkering with his crossbow or prepping a kill to be cooked. He still agitated easily, but he was trying. You couldn’t ask for more than that.

“M’fine. Just a cold.”

It made sense. He was out in the elements more than anyone. He wasn’t eating or sleeping nearly enough. His body could only take so much abuse.

“We have the venison, Daryl. Why don’t you stay in for a few days?” Pulling your hands from your pockets, you dragged the sleeves down to cover them. How did the man stand it without proper clothing?

“Could always use more. That jerky ain’t gonna last forever an’ the stew will keep a day or two.” The flickering glow from the lighter’s flame cast a soft hue across his face, gone too quickly for you to truly admire. Pulling the cigarette from his lips, he turned his head to blow the smoke away from you. Such a small gesture, but it made your heart flutter.

“Well, I can’t argue with that, I guess.” In truth, you couldn’t. Food was food and it was necessary. “Maybe I could go with you. You know I can hunt and—”

“Nah. No way.” He barely got the words out before coughing again. “You’re stayin’ here with ev’ryone else.”

“I can help and you know it.” You weren’t angry, but still found it difficult to keep the bitterness out of your words.

“Know ya can. Don’t mean ya should.” He took another draw from his smoke, exhaling while rubbing at his throat. Was he even aware he was doing that? “Best way ya can help me is stayin’ here an’ keepin’ the two’a ya safe.” It was dark but you could still see the pink beginning to cover his cheeks. “Get inside ‘fore ya get sick.”

You smiled slyly, crossing your arms. “I’ll go inside if you go too.” He turned his head toward you, brow drawn inward. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed, angry, or amused. Either way, you tipped up your chin defiantly. “Someone else can take watch. You’re leaving to hunt tomorrow and need to sleep.”

Those blue eyes narrowed, the flare of the cigarette giving them the illusion of burning like the hottest flame. He never looked away, exhaling from the corner of his mouth to keep the smoke away from you. “You’re a brat.”

“Yep.” You grinned.

“Fine. Jesus, go inside. Be there in a minute.” He grumbled something under his breath and continued his smoke, shaking his head after looking away from you. With a triumphant HA, you grabbed the dilapidated railing by the steps and pulled yourself to your feet, cradling your belly to bend enough for your lips to press against his cheek. “Pain in my ass.”

He made you cum twice that night but not before denying you for an agonizing amount of time.

“This baby is definitely a Dixon. Doesn’t ever stop moving.”

Carol chuckled, stirring the stew she had just removed from the fire in the other room. “You’re gonna miss it once they’re born, I promise.” Her smile faded, a morose air encasing her. As your baby moved under your hand once again, a pang of guilt came with it.

“Oh, Carol, I’m sorry.”

The silver-haired woman rarely spoke of her daughter anymore, but that wasn’t to say that the pain ever left her eyes. There was a permanent sadness etched there. Now two women she traveled with, survived alongside, were pregnant. It was a slap in the face from the universe.

But Carol? She handled it with a grace you weren’t sure you would ever possess.

“Nothing to apologize for, silly.” She reached for the hand that lay across your rounded middle and squeezed it. You smiled solemnly as she went back to stirring the day’s meal. “Daryl should be back today. He never stays out more than two days.” She chuckled quietly. “I think he only does that much out of necessity. He’d likely stay right here with you if he had a choice.”

“I think he leaves for two days cause he needs a break from me.” You mused, plucking a piece of venison right from the pot. Carol shot you a sarcastic look of disapproval but refrained from scolding you. “I’m not easy to get along with at the best of times. Forget being in a relationship with me while I’m 92 weeks pregnant.”

“So you did take that step.” When you blinked at her with wide eyes, she shrugged. “He’s not exactly forthcoming with details regarding his personal life but sightings have been noted of cheek kissing and even a little hand holding.”

“Glenn never could keep his mouth shut.”

“Don’t worry. He’s been informed that if Daryl ever hears him, he’s likely to lose a limb. He’s aware of the dangers.” While the two of you laughed, Maggie stuck her head in the door.

“Daryl’s back.” She waggled her eyebrows at you, prompting a one-fingered gesture in return. “Real classy, Y/N.”

“Hey, I am the perfect representation of a lady.” You winked at Carol and squeezed her upper arm before meeting Maggie in the doorway, bumping her with your hip. You quietly released a tense breath once out of sight. It was getting late. Try as you might, you couldn’t help but worry when it took him a little longer to get back.

Grabbing your coat, you quickly pulled it on and zipped it. There was still plenty of room for your growing belly. It should last you the remainder of the pregnancy. The snow was at least four inches deep, quite the difference from when the archer had left two days prior. Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog were out scavenging for the usual food and medicine, but you had cornered them before they left and made them promise to find a warm coat for Daryl.

The wind was frigid in the evening hours, the temperature steadily dropping. Your face stung from only seconds of exposure when you walked down the steps to meet him. At first glance, everything seemed fine. It wasn’t until he was closer that you noticed his unsteady gait, the way he was dragging the string of rabbits through the white powder behind him.

“Hey.” You called over the gusts, smiling at him when he slowly looked up. He didn’t return the expression but he wasn’t a teeth and gums smiler anyway. That much you could brush aside without concern. It was the wet, barking cough into the crook of his elbow that shifted your concern to something just short of panic. “Daryl?”

“Got some rabbits.” He croaked, walking right past you and into the house. You followed on his heels, leaning forward to relieve him of the four animals before he could object. He fixed you with a sharp glare but you only smiled and backed toward the kitchen.

“Just gonna put these in there. We can clean them together in just a bit.” There was no time for either of the other women to question your hurry. You deposited the rabbits on the counter by the old sink and exited just as quickly as you had entered.

Daryl was coughing again when you returned, a painful sounding hack that jarred his entire body. His chest seemed to rattle with each breath, his movements sluggish while he removed his crossbow from his back.

“Hey, are you okay?” You moved closer but still gave him several feet of distance.

“M’fine.” He gestured vaguely around his upper torso. “S’just this fuckin’ cold.”

“Right.” You answered, watching him remove his poncho and vest. He must have sensed your eyes on him, an irritated glance thrown your way.

“What?” He snapped.

“You look like shit and sound even worse.” Your feet were propelling you toward him but he somehow managed to sidestep around you. “Daryl, hang on.”

“Ain’t in the mood for your shit, Y/N.” There was a sharp retort on the tip of your tongue that you swallowed when he began to cough again and staggered to catch himself against the wall.

“Daryl?” You were at his side in an instant, your arm winding around this back to help support him. You couldn’t miss the heat you felt beneath his shirt. “Fuck, you’re hotter than a jalapeño’s ass!”

“Told ya, m’fine.” He hissed, probably attempting menacing but only managing a weak rasp.

“You’re not fine, Daryl.” You held on tighter when he tried to shrug you off, a good thing since his legs buckled a moment later and took you both down. You managed to control the fall, ending with the two of you on your knees. Daryl coughed harshly, only managing to stay upright with your support. “Maggie! Maggie, get Hershel!”

“What’s wrong?” The eldest Greene ran into the room, followed by Carol. “Shit.” One look and she disappeared, yelling for her father while Carol came around to Daryl’s other side.

“Ain’t—no reason—for all this fussin’.”

“Shut up, Daryl. Daryl?” Your eyes met his briefly, fear and panic flashing through them before they rolled up and he slumped forward against you. “Daryl!”

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renecdote · 2 years

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I and love and you

Set post In Another Life so y'know. Spoilers ahead.

[Read on AO3]

The first SOS text comes two days after Buck is released from the hospital: help they’re driving me crazy. Eddie squints at it, waiting for more, and when it doesn’t come, he skips replying and hits call.

“Hey,” Buck answers, and he’s trying so hard to sound upbeat, but Eddie knows him well enough to hear the cracks.

“Hey,” he echoes, and it comes out softer than he means it to. “Your parents?”

The snick of a door closing—the balcony, Eddie guesses—and the scrape of a chair before Buck says, “Ugh. My parents.”

Eddie pours himself a fresh cup of coffee, then pulls out his own chair, making himself comfortable at the kitchen table while they talk.

“It was nice,” Buck adds, before Eddie can prompt him. “At first, I mean. They were… concerned, I guess. I mean, I know they were.”

Eddie hums. He thinks this is the part where he’s supposed to say, “of course they were concerned, they’re your parents,” but he doesn’t. They both know he wouldn’t really mean it.

“Buying me a couch is one thing,” Buck goes on, and Eddie gets halfway to wait, what— but he’s already moving on. “But I woke up this morning and mom was rearranging my closet? She said she wanted the clothes to be easier for me to reach, but it’s a closet, Eddie, isn’t the whole point that the clothes are already in reach?”

It’s too easy to picture Buck when he has just woken up, bleary eyed and fluffy haired, squinting against the morning sunlight because he always forgets to close the blinds. Probably pillow creases on his face too, whatever hoodie he wore to bed twisted up around him, one sock lost somewhere down the end of the bed. That little scrunch between his eyebrows that Eddie used to imagine reaching across the pillow to smooth away in those long months of quarantine. That he still imagines smoothing away some mornings, when he gets up and finds Buck still asleep on the couch because he didn’t want to drive home the night before.

“Rearranging your closet does seem a little overkill,” he agrees, probably a beat too late.

“It’s not just that,” Buck complains. “It’s everything. My meds, the food I eat—even when I got up to go to the bathroom earlier, they both tried to help me, like I can’t walk across my own apartment without collapsing or something.”

It’s too easy to picture that too: Buck collapsing. Buck not breathing. Buck’s heart not beating. Eddie swallows, then swallows again, holding his coffee mug tight against a rush of cold that makes him shiver.

“Why don’t I come pick you up?” he offers, and he doesn’t care if it’s selfish. “I’m sure Chris would love to see you when he gets home from school.”

There’s a smile breaking through the tiredness in Buck’s voice when he asks, “Just Chris?”

They used to joke like this. Eddie knows what his line is supposed to be, knows how he’s supposed to carry the joke, but that was before. Before Buck got struck by lightning, before his heart stopped beating, before Eddie cried over his hospital bed while Chris begged him to wake up.

“I’d love to see you too,” he says, and it feels like too much truth and not enough at the same time. It’s I and love and you, but they’re not fit together the way he wants them to be. The way he means them but can’t bring himself to say.

He wonders if Buck hears it anyway, with the way his voice catches before he replies, “I’d love to see you too.”

They stood on top of the fire engine together once, braced against wind and speed as they tried to catch a man hanging from a plane. Eddie still remembers the way the adrenaline tasted, the way they grinned at each other, the way he knew that Buck would catch him if he fell. He could fall now, he thinks, and Buck would catch him. Buck will always catch him.

But not today. Probably not tomorrow either. They still have time.

Eddie stands and pours his mostly untouched coffee down the sink.

“I can be there in twenty,” he says. “You can tell your parents you’ve got a better offer for the afternoon.”

Buck laughs, then groans. “Ouch. Don’t make me laugh.”

“It’s not my fault you think I’m funny,” Eddie answers, and it’s easier this time, to joke the way they always have. To hear Buck breathing on the other end of the line and take his own breath to match.

“I never said you were funny,” Buck protests, but he’s still smiling. Grinning, probably.

Eddie takes a second to close his eyes and picture it—Buck grinning, Buck breathing, Buck alive—then he grabs his keys and heads for the door.

He doesn’t hang up.

Buck doesn’t hang up either, even when he gets too tired to talk.

For the twenty minutes across town, Eddie listens to the sound of his best friend breathing, and the muted sounds of LA traffic in the background, and something else. Something that might be the sound of the wind whistling four stories up, or might be nothing at all.

“I’m here,” he says when he is pulling into a parking spot.

And Buck says, “okay, see you in a minute,” but he still doesn’t hang up the phone until Eddie is knocking on the apartment door. He’s pretty sure that doesn’t mean nothing. He’s pretty sure that, if he asked, it might mean everything.

(I and love and you, fit together in all the ways he wants them to be.)

But not today. Probably not tomorrow either.

They still have time.

#Eddie Diaz #Evan Buckley #911 Fox #911 Spoilers #fic

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neonscandal · 9 months

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OK, OK. I'm doing this one more time because they deserve it and, can they really be one of my favorite ships if I haven't done this for them??? Here's the softness AshEiji deserved.

Gives nose/forehead kisses - Both. Eiji usually does so to be sweet, Ash usually does so to be mean. Probably makes fun of how short Eiji is while he's at it.

Gets jealous the most - Ash is overprotective but I don't think he's jealous and Eiji is not one to cage birds.

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive - I don't think Ash let's himself get too drunk, he's got something dear to protect but Eiji is still going to pick him up because he wants to see him home. Eiji is insufferable when he drinks and Ash, subsequently, only trusts himself to receive Drunk Eiji.

Takes care of on sick days - Eiji and Ash is neeeeedy without realizing it. You think waking him up on a normal morning is tough, try when he's running a fever and stubborn about not wanting to take any meds. But Eiji does so patiently, without complaint, and treats Ash preciously.

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day - Both. If someone had it in their mind to be reserved on a rare day out they would be sorely mistaken but, also, very quickly swept up in the others' energy. They were always carefree with one another.

Gives unprompted massages - Eiji. He's very touchy but also doesn't fully grasp the miracle of being the only person Ash allows to get so close. Like, he knows. He Gets It, but at the same time, he doesn't know how grateful Ash is for the gentle way he's always held or touched by Eiji.

Drives/rides shotgun - Eiji drives, Ash rides shotgun. Doesn't matter that they drive on the left side of the road in Japan. Skip used to drive Ash around so Eiji couldn't possibly be any worse.

Brings the other lunch at work - Eiji and, after a spat, he'll pettily make it a point to include something that'll make Ash cringe like natto. He knows, regardless, Ash will eat it and Ash, honestly, isn't that bothered by it.

Has the better parental relationship - ... Eiji but that's literally only because the bar with Ash's parents is in hell.

Tries to start role-playing in bed -

Embarrassingly drunk dancer - Eiji, the little lightweight never really got the hang of drinking since he was a fairly disciplined athlete before he got injured and now he's just a silly goofy lil guy with his hands in the air after a few drinks.

Still cries watching Titanic - If anyone? Eiji and Ash would not have any sympathy for it.

Firmly believes in couples costumes - Eiji and he will delight in decorating the house in an aggressive amount of jack-o-lanterns leading up to Halloween complete and jump scaring Ash from different rooms everyday which is cruel and unusual but also a little fun. He's a menace.

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas - Ash by a long shot.

Makes the other eat breakfast - Eiji begrudgingly but only because getting Ash out of bed is excruciating. Otherwise, he'd be happy to introduce Ash to more recipes from home.

Remembers anniversaries - Ash has spent a life remembering every grievance against him, viscerally. A soft life with Eiji hasn't changed that but slowly, the fond memories have started to overshadow the things he wished to forget. He treasures every anniversary and the time spent in the safety of Eiji's company. Eiji, of course, also remembers the anniversaries and he's an incredibly cheesy gift giver but it doesn't matter. Ash just bursts out laughing and teases him while he remains confused about what the problem is.

Brings up having kids - Neither. Life's been hard enough and things are finally getting better for them both.

#ash lynx deserved better #asheiji #aslan jade callenreese #ash lynx #okumura eiji #eiji okumura #banana fish #banana fish brainrot #anime #manga #bfish #character analysis

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julijbee · 3 months

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Id love to hear your review of the dlc and your alternate plot ideas if youre willing to share! The plot seemed. questionable

i am so glad you asked (evil smile). so i'm going to spoil the whole dlc, even irrelevant things that aren't "main story" plot that you'll probably want to experience on your own if you're still playing so proceed with caution. also this is entirely opinionated and you'll likely have a different opinion from me and that's fine. my opinions aren't objective fact they're just how i feel.

also if you are familiar with the plot of elden ring, particularly to do with miquella, as well as the plot of the dlc, you know what content to expect. if you are new to this content and have no idea- first of all what are you doing here? second of all i'll be discussing incest and sexual assault. peace and love, enjoy my 5,920 word review.

I played the dlc as a NG+, FAI/DEX build using vyke's spear, godskin peeler, and bloodhound's fang, and used my incantations for both buffs and attacks and switched them often. summoned mimic, always wore pot on my head, and favored light/med carry weight.

GAMEPLAY (not story, just scroll if you only care about story)

so i'm going to start with reviewing the gameplay first because unlike the story section this is more positive, and while less people probably care about this, I DO!! i've been playing fromsoft's games for years and its because i enjoy them and think playing them is fun, that the stories they tell have resonated with me and i liked (most of... .. .) them has been a happy bonus. my honest opinions about the gameplay difficulty is that at this point in my souls playing hobby i think i've finally become one of those really annoying people who has no real idea of how hard the game actually is. with the exception of a few bosses, i thought the dlc was easier than expected, and i sometimes found myself wishing i found some of the earlier bosses more challenging, because those were objectively more fun fights than the later ones. i think the scadutree fragments are a really interesting way to both:

a: help players control the difficulty of the dlc, collecting more if they are stuck somewhere, or abstaining from use if they want more of a challenge

b: encourage exploration of their very vertically dense dlc map

it both maintains that idea thats vital to elden ring's formula, that the open map allows for you to explore and level up before attempting a boss again, but also ensures that you can find those levels you need without having to grind too hard in a smaller dlc area, and aren't kept from the main story for too long. i really enjoyed this, and honestly the side stories were the only things keeping me playing once i realized what the main story was doing, and all the life was slowly sapped from my body.

i am pretty sure at this point in time that i have completed most of the bosses- i think i am missing one of the four mausoleum bosses and i think i skipped one of the dragons on the way to bayle because i was sick of fighting so many dragons in a row, and i'm sure i've missed some mini bosses or areas, especially in the rauh area which i am guilty of sprinting through at a certain point.

with the exception of the final boss and bayle, i enjoyed the bosses in this dlc. the thing with the difficulty of these games is that in the past a lot of the difficulty spikes between games comes down to movement speed of player and bosses, and the effects this quicker and quicker timing has on the gameplay. they've also introduced some combat enhancements or tried out some ideas like weapons arts in ds3. (in non-souls games you have a lot more variations on the formula, with bloodborne's parry mechanics and less of a reliance on the character builds and armors, sekiro's systems being something that almost felt like you had to relearn how to play their games)

elden ring complicates this formula even further by introducing an expanded and much more practical system for weapon arts, a shit ton more weapons and armors, faith and int builds that are finally viable, and consistent boss summons with the spirit ashes. i'm both impressed that the game maintains the challenge of prior titles and even has some bosses that well outdo their difficulty, and also remains fun to play. the dlc maintained this FOR THE MOST PART, but with bayle and the final boss this kind of stumbled.

the problem i was shocked elden ring didn't already have was that when you're already going as fast as seems feasible, how do you augment the difficulty to give new challenges, and how do you make something fresh within this old formula. their bosses are difficult, but for the most part they're fun, and you can get to a point where you make that call of okay, this is hard but this is possible, or no this isn't possible right now, i need to change my strategy or level up or something else. the dlc was very fun to me because i was able to utilize the full arsenal of things id acquired over the course of my two prior playthroughs of the base game. if i had trouble with a boss, i realized at some point that i had plenty of viable builds i could apply to my character that better suited the boss. i switched between weapons, swapped out miracles, did some experimentation with the talismans and armor, and it felt a lot like fun trial and error to see which build would work, and very rewarding when it finally did!

bayle and the final boss felt kind of like they knew they were obligated to be crazy difficult, but they couldn't quite iron out how to do that without it being ridiculous. bayle less so than the final boss, but i feel like the warning for the final boss was there in bayle. he was whispering to me hey, hey, watch out. you know i cant be the worst, you know that final boss will be worse. also bayle gets a bit of a pass because he was a side story boss (i appreciated that the main story was a little bit easier than the side stories, because obviously you want your players to be able to get through the main stuff, with the side stuff being the extra. i personally liked that. anyways.) i did not have fun playing the final boss and it wasnt just the psychological damage (though that made me want to stop trying way more than the difficulty did tbf.) so far as gameplay is concerned i really enjoyed the dlc and i had a lot of fun exploring and fighting my way through it, there were some beautiful areas that made me excited to look at the concept art, and the weapons and new systems they added were a lot of fun when i tested them out. if it were just this gameplay i would be happy with the dlc and would probably still be playing it now.

THE STORY REVIEW. (hell.)

what makes me mad is that to some extent they gave me what i wanted. if you look back through my old posts or have the displeasure of knowing me in real life and heard me gushing about this, you already know some of my dlc wishes came true!

some of my dlc wishes:

i wanted new flowers to pick (small fish all things considered)

i wanted a boss with a large spear to skewer me in the air like a kebab

i wanted more frenzy content

i wanted some kind of resolution or at least some mention of godwyn's situation

i wanted miquella's gender to be unambiguously weird

i wanted miquella to be evil

i wanted more explanation for marika's whole "deal"

i wanted dumb melodramatic dlc npcs that are doomed to die horrible dlc deaths but one of them must be unspeakably snatched while doing so.

let sword freak (denoted by a line i heard from one of the dlc trailers) be a woman

please let the bewitching branch item description not imply what i think it implies about miquella and mohg

so. if you know the story you will already notice some red flags. i'll start with some positives

i really enjoyed my little dlc npcs, hornsent was the only thing carrying me through the middle-end section of the main story as i was buffeted on all sides with the terrible realization that they were going the exact direction that i begged and pleaded they would not go. i loved the heightened role the npcs played in the story, how frequently i was able to check in with them and have new little dialogues or tidbits, and i love that there are absolutely batshit unhinged women in this dlc and i am so happy there are more than one. in no particular order, things i really liked about the npcs:

hornsent is my sweet cheese he is my guy. i was really rooting for him and as someone who went into this dlc as an attached weepy miquella fan, i was on his side before the dlc killed my hopes and dreams and dashed them against the rocks. character who abandons all sense of self and personhood to become the embodiment of their hurt and rage? faceless formless gnarled twig of a character with desiccated bugs all over his face? character who i can feed soup to? character who somewhat hates me? character who made me laugh following the messmer fight by calling him "your ugliness"?? his death was inevitable and i accepted it, because i agree with him. miquella should not take his revenge from him, there will be no forced absolution nor "gentle kindness" imposed upon him. this was the evil miquella i wanted, the god so compassionate that no discord nor hate could exist under his rule, and all will be enveloped in kindness. it is horrifying to discard the self when the self is entirely made of hurt, and it is horrifying to be robbed of personal agency. anyways i love hornsent.

freyja is so gleefully ready to commit unspeakable acts of violence and so genuinely happy and excited about it that it makes me squeal. i love a character that is so excited to punch things that they cant keep it to themselves. they are happy and thrilled to be in the dimension of violence and strife. and she's so nice! usually you see these people falling into the edgelord stereotype which i am not particularly fond of unless they're especially pathetic and camp about it, but she was just a joy to interact with. when she told me not to worry if we were to fight on opposing sides, she would gleefully meet my blade and it would be an honor to do so, i wasnt even sad! yeah! it will be fun freyja, thank you. little bit soured to her towards the end there where she learned about the incest plot and had no other reaction to that other than to be excited radahn would be back, but to be fair to her why would she give a shit about this. sure, freyja. i'm happy for you, glad you're enjoying this dlc.

speaking of unhinged women, leda is despicable. i love her. the point that she sees nothing wrong with herself or her actions is integrated into even the most inane little dialogues, the one that stuck with me was her explanation of the war with the hornsent- she said they were the losing side of a war, and it was a terrible shame what happened to them, but they were no victims. (they had it coming. further than that, it was right that they were the ones to lose, winning holds significance in terms of showing divine favor and justice. its a terrible shame what "happened" to them (passive word), but they were not victims, the actions of marika and messmer's army were somehow vindicated in their actions). she's another look at what i had hoped for with my evil miquella point. i will expand on this when i start ranting about miquella so put a pin in this for now.

moore. another point into the miquella as a refuge category, or miquella as the water that washes away, and provides absolution. outside of that though i'm always somewhat on my guard with a character who has a speech impediment and seems to have some kind of cognitive disability, but he made me happy to talk to. i don't know if what i'm feeling is unsure about how he's written, or just wishing for more from him, but the exchanges you have with him where its clear his motivations are intensely people-pleasing, and that he is honestly very sad as a person made me sad :( hes a big guy, and dangerous in a fight (as i figured out pretty fast after he downed me with scarlet rot) so its difficult to minimize this outward appearance to keep oneself a: safe and b: friendly or pitiable enough to others that they offer the sort of protection necessary in numbers in the situation he finds himself in. i think he makes sense as a character, and i think hes very concerned with the opinions of others and his helpfulness to them and his perception. and while i think the kindness and generosity is learned and a necessity, i also think he's just genuinely a kind person, which is why he's relying on his strengths like this. anyways, sorry moore. :(

igon is way too much and i'm so glad he's real. i genuinely cracked up when i summoned him for the bayle fight and cackling at him got me killed. i wasn't expecting him to scream his little heart out and then keep going. and then keep going again. he won't stop it's spectacular. another thing of note is that he didn't get a single hit off that entire fight for me, drawing his bow took too long, and he spent most of that fight flat on his back with the damage counter going up. it just made his shouting even funnier, i wasn't even mad he was awful as a summon, he was so funny i was just glad he was there as a morale boost. also appreciate that dragon priestess seemed pretty done with him. i hope everyone else can appreciate his autistic charm with me.

WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT MIQUELLA NOW.

so i want to set the context for my dlc experience properly so everyone can understand where i'm coming from, because miquella was already a delicate character to like, and how they're a radioactive trash fire that's trying to kill me.

(also dlc confirms he/them miquella alongside he/him base game and she/her trina so you'll note the pronouns shift around. it's a little complicated given the whole trina splicing and diverging of identities thing so it'll be inconsistent, but hopefully everyone can tell who i'm talking about as i'm talking about them.)

having a character who is unspeakably old, but also has the physical appearance of an 8 year old is a red flag so large that anyone could see it, and i knew this from the moment i started picking up their lore in earnest. IN THEORY this could be a very compelling character, it has been done a couple times before well, and countless times before very poorly. i was not optimistic, and already in the base game his character was not treated as well as i would have preferred, but i was coping.

having someone who is trapped by their own body, or confined by both the perceptions of- and the realities of their body can be a compelling character. having someone who's life is impacted by perceptions of, judgements upon, limitations thereof of their body tends to be a character that i gravitate towards because surprise, this can be relatable for a lot of people- and a lot of different types of people. whatever allegory you're applying to this narrative of the disconnect between the body's presence in the world and the world's treatment and expectation of the body, i'm sure you can tell there's a broad scope of applications there. and then you add on this element where they're present in the realm of dreams. the implications of a god who walks dreams, the realm of the subconscious free of expectation and limitation, and then also is trapped by both a cursed body and the weight of duty, faith, and expectation, i enjoy these dynamics, i really do. it only helped that their gender was weird, and he walked dreams as a girl.

and the thing is, i've wanted him to be evil, i wanted him to be evil so bad you have no idea. not just because (by base game assumptions...) evil had been done to them, and theevil was a reaction to this, no! there was always something wrong with them, he was always scheming, they didn't turn evil.

the haligtree and their actions in going against the golden order are calculated- do i think their aspirations are better than his mother's? maybe? i think it's more the order he instates has the possibility of being better as a side-effect of his actions and they would have gone forward with their own ambitions with or without this possibility of things being measurably better. taking in a class of people subjugated by the current order to build their armies feels a bit cynical and calculated, no?

the second huge red flag was the bewitching branch item description. at first i was a bit thrilled, there! i said, there is the canon justification for my somewhat unfounded hopes for evil miquella! the suggestion that he is able to meddle with emotions and perceptions is a pretty troubling trait to have! especially by a character who is spoken of with both love and to a smaller degree hatred and fear! and then i spent longer than a few seconds thinking about this and was immediately worried about the implications that had on the mohg issue.

THE MOHG ISSUE.

so first things first, the existence of the dlc does not mean that suddenly mohg isn't bad gay rep anymore. like let me be clear here, for two years we had a gay pedophile in our triple a title who kidnapped his little brother for pretty unambiguously sexually charged reasons, the fact that the dlc seems to tack on an addendum of "oh by the way its actually not his fault and he didn't choose to do that" doesn't suddenly erase those two years, and the initial judgements a new player or someone who is unfamiliar with the lore might make. like that's bad, guys, that's pretty bad. i was really disappointed at the time that they had included this character archetype- moreso because i was a fan of their previous games that had their little nuggets of queer representation, and i made the mistake of expecting better from the developers and writers.

i was also mad because they didn't have to write it this way, this was a choice they made to include this, and it's my preference to not enjoy it, but it wasn't necessary at all. if the plot necessitated that something go wrong with miquella's cocoon and initial schemes for god pupation, it didn't have to be that his half brother kidnapped him.

(my borderline au content writing no one asked for: an alternative that i was fond of at the time (B.D., before dlc) was that proximity to malenia's rot could have caused him issues. you still have the issue of something has gone wrong, miquella remains asleep and rots in his cocoon, but you also have this element of the potential guilt on malenia's end- that would be incredible guilt to know she was at fault for the failure of all they had been working towards, and the added grim irony that (as we figured at the time) in shedding his curse in order to help her shed hers, she unintentionally sabotaged him by staying so close to "guard" him. it also involves malenia more in the game story, which was something i had hoped for a bit more of from the base game anyways.)

my concern over the bewitching branch lore can be summed up by saying this. having someone the story paints as the victim suddenly revealed to have wanted it all along, and been the instigator behind the assumed assault is shitty. it's just shitty. and i'll admit i might be more sensitive to this topic than the average elden ring player, so this is all colored by my opinions and biases, but it's bad taste. it's not a fun surprising revelation, it's not a plot twist you feel particularly excited about, you feel bad, and then you feel confused. I like the lore of elden ring, i've spent a lot of time reading it and speculating on it, and it is confusing why miquella would be the one to instigate their own kidnapping and assault.

you would assume that their intended plan would be the plan A he was going with, stay in the cocoon, do his thing, remain in the haligtree so it is sustained and they are safe within it, let malenia handle the defense and conquest while he naps, wake up at some undetermined date with his goals achieved (whatever those mysterious goals may be) and continue on with later stages of their plans. and you would assume that being ripped from the haligtree and doused in blood in a basement somewhere was not within the bounds of his plan A. part of why i dared to hope that i was reading too much into the potential mind-control thing was because it didn't seem like mohg's actions were benefiting miquella's plan in any way- it seemed pretty bad. the haligtree was dying, malenia was rotting, their body looked to be in pretty awful shape, and even their allies did not know where he was.

BACK TO THE DLC.

the dlc did not really expand the context in a way that made this make sense to me. context that he was discarding his body entirely made sense for miquella's character, and if they didn't care about the state of their body, i guess he wouldn't care that his body was taken from where it was abandoned- but it didn't seem like that was their intention to abandon his flesh from the start? or if it was, that they placed his flesh within the haligtree for a reason, and i'd assume he'd have wanted it to stay there. if they were concerned that his flesh was no longer safe in the haligtree and wanted it spirited away by any means necessary (i.e. "kidnapping"), first off i'm unsure of the danger that would cause that, but second off if he didn't care about their flesh- see earlier point- why would they care if it was endangered within the haligtree enough to have it kidnapped? so, this already doesn't make sense to me, and the added justification of oh, he just has the hots for their brother, this isn't satisfying to me. sure i don't enjoy it as a story element in general, but past that it just doesn't feel like a satisfying justification in context. he's ambitious and he's seeing his ambitions through by any means possible, why would they act in this selfish manner that seems to be detrimental to their own ambitions?

issues with the sense of the mohg situation aside, why radahn? the justification given in item descriptions and dialogue states that miquella found him sure and kind and worthy of being a lord in contrast to the conflict, fragmentation, and personal afflictions they were facing, but. why radahn? i liked radahn, i'll gladly point out that yes, he does seem to satisfy all of these character traits, but there isn't any established context between them. miquella doesn't interact with radahn in the base game, malenia dooms him to walk the battlefield addled by scarlet rot and reduced to an empty husk, and if it was miquella's intent to have him be their consort from the start, this paints malenia in a pretty negative light, no? we were led to believe they were a united front, her and miquella, that many of his actions were for her benefit, and they worked so hard in part because of his desire to cure them BOTH of their afflictions, especially and explicitly her affliction. so she's sabotaged miquella's plans? for what reason, did she not agree with it, did she hate radahn? there's no explanation given for this, like how there is no further explanation as to why it is radahn miquella is so hell bent on bringing back to life.

which is odd when you consider that there is another demigod who meets miquella's criteria, was definitely loved by miquella, seemed to be loved by malenia, seems to be depicted in the haligtree, and miquella was previously confirmed to have been trying to bring back to life. where the hell is godwyn?

let me clarify here, i do not like this plotline they have created where miquella apparently has the hots for every other brother in his family, i don't tend to appreciate incest as it occurs in stories, and if it were my choice i would just choose not to include it. i also understand that plenty of people don't care about that, and that media like game of thrones that features incest pretty prominently within the story is beloved by mainstream audiences. i am also aware of the historical trend of royalty being inbred and incest existing on a sliding scale of taboo through the millennia. the greek gods are all siblings, i still enjoy greek myths, etc. etc.. so if i were the sole writer for elden ring and was beholden to no one the story i would write would diverge from the current canon and i would not write myself into a position where miquella is marrying their brother because personally i do not enjoy this. this is not the reality we live in, and this is not the story we got.

within the framework of their story, it should have been godwyn, and i have no idea why it wasn't. i can speculate all i want, was it misplaced fanservice because people liked radahn? was it a plot twist executed poorly, is there some other reason im missing but someone else has pieced together and they'll call me an idiot over? i don't know, and i also sort of don't care, it doesn't make sense, and it also disregards a lot about radahn's character than i and others liked to get him to fit into this weird situation.

where is his horse? if miquella cared for him, and they were able to bring back a whole demigod, was it so impossible to resurrect his beloved horse? if miquella didn't care about him enough to bring back his horse, wouldn't radahn put up a fuss about that? if miquella was controlling him to agree to being his consort, and didn't allow for him to be concerned about his horse, this raises a few more questions about malenia fighting radahn and destroying all of caelid- and likely everywhere else if the fires at the borders of caelid ever go out. was he always controlling radahn, were they ever controlling radahn? what are the limits of this control, what are the rules, if any? there are too many frustrating elements that make very little sense about radahn.

conversely, these elements make a lot more sense when applied to godwyn, and it pisses me off that it seems like, to my speculative eyes, they pivoted away from him. it would make sense why they would need a body to resurrect him when he is just a deceased soul, and his body is busy being a tumor. you could argue radahn's body was not in great shape and was eaten by alexander, and that's a completely fair point, but to me godwyn makes much more sense. not to mention, again, miquella had been explicitly trying to bring godwyn back in the base game.

(and this is a smaller gripe, but radahn's previous boss model had no feet. in his lore they discuss him riding his horse, and then learning the gravity magic to lessen the load on his horse so he could keep riding it. like yes the missing feet could be chalked up to rot, but he also just could have not had feet and was using his beloved mobility horse and the gravity magic to get around the challenge of not being able to walk. i thought that was cool if true, and it was a little speculative thing about his character i really loved, and that just kind of got thrown out with the dlc too so i guess i'll have to die mad.)

was it really necessary to have the assumed sa victim with the body of a child secretly be the instigator and assaulter all along? and then to add insult to injury not even have their actions make any sense within the existing plot? like was that all entirely necessary.

OTHER DLC LORE OPINIONS

you might be surprised to learn that i did not hate most of the other dlc lore.

miquella using mohg's body as fuel to resurrect their consort, while fucked up, i think could work with character motivations. especially if he was holding a grudge towards mohg, or mohg's actions were in fact antithetical to their plans, or he wasn't the one in control of mohg's actions. it could make sense that he would want to humiliate him (as ansbach mentions a few times...). and as i've said before i think miquella is fucked up, i think they do bad things, i think their moral compass is skewed, i think he's a creature of ambition and spite. i could see a world in which he does this out of hatred and spite, but in the situation they've set up where miquella was the one potentially compelling mohg? it lessens that spite, why would they be so hateful or willing to humiliate him if they were the one to compel his actions? you could just say oh, miquella is cruel and messed up like that and he's doing it for the hell of it, but it's not that compelling and doesn't make it as interesting. it just kind of feels gross. so yeah, in the current story i'm not a huge fan, but i see the potential here.

marika's character development was genuinely cool to me- and i understand i'm speculating and i've been speculating this whole time, but that's my business and and i acknowledge it's speculative. marika as a hornsent is a really cool concept to me, and it makes pieces of the main game make more sense. it makes her motivations make more sense, adds color to her character (and she was already interesting to me) and even though this dlc is like a lot of their other dlcs where it adds characters and backstory for no reason and does the ds3 thing of surprise! more secret children! i enjoyed it. it gives her more of a why past judgements of her personal moral character, it grounds her more, i like it. i also enjoyed the tidbits with the pots and sages, further (if not vague) developments with the outer gods. like this is speculative lore than i enjoy, and it's the kind of stuff i was excited for in the dlc.

as i said before elden ring kind of did the ds3 thing where they just added a secret child that was suddenly plot relevant and added a bunch of unnecessary lore, but i didn't really care too much in ds3 and i don't care here. messmer's voice actor is funny and messmer himself is compelling enough that i'm fine with not taking things too seriously. it helps that without messmer there is not hornsent, and a dlc without hornsent is a dlc i wouldn't have finished. (genuinely, i was so discouraged by the main story plot revelations i didn't feel like it was worth it to finish the dlc, but i felt bad leaving hornsent unresolved so i killed messmer. and then just finished the dlc anyways, so thanks hornsent.)

truly and genuinely i was happy with st. trina. i was so excited she was included in this, i've been a st. trina truther for too long and i don't even know what that means because there were like two sentences about her in the whole game, but she's great. i could take or leave thiollier, on the one hand having a creep as a character is fine and hes written in a way that feels believably creepy while also like hes enough of a 3 dimensional character that he has his own personality and motivations, but him included with miquella being elected the president of incest for no reason was a bit of a sour note.

the idea that miquella is discarding his body, and every piece he discards is a piece that they may hate, but they also have to discard those pieces that he doesn't hate, and their power, and all that he is, that's a real sacrifice and i think it speaks to the depth their character COULD HAVE HAD. that and their very clear conflict with their own gender, and conflict with himself over his actions. they discarded the girl sleeping within them and locked her in a pit in the ground so that none would find her. and he discarded with her their love, and the "treacherous" parts of himself that doubted, and disagreed, and with this he was able to become more resolute on their path. trina disagrees entirely with miquella's path to godhood and begs you to kill him, pities him, says their path is destroying him, and those are all doubts he has discarded with her. it is genuinely sad to me that this is not the side of miquella that we get to enjoy as a character because of all of the rest of the mess that's thrown on top in the dlc.

and of course i'm mad because he's acting like marika, they're shaving off pieces of themself and sacrificing for ambition, and they're becoming her while he's intent on being the opposite of everything she stood for, and we were so close to having this. we were so close.

CLOSING THOUGHTS

so far as gameplay goes, i enjoyed this dlc and it did a good job of replicating that feeling of playing elden ring and exploring again in its condensed and familiar setting. i like a lot of their new mechanics and ideas they introduced, though some of the later bosses fumbled it for me balancing the difficulty with actually enjoyable boss fights that feel fun to play.

the main story pissed me off so bad i almost put down the dlc, and erased all excitement i had to play it (even keeping in mind the reservations i already had going in). the side stories were frustratingly fun and compelling when compared to the main story being such a trash fire. i wish things were different but they are not, and i am very disappointed.

if you actually read all of this bless you, i hope you have a beautiful day.

#elden ring dlc #shadow of the erdtree #elden ring dlc spoilers #shadow of the erdtree spoilers #sote spoilers #im tagging all the variations of those because this is spoilers taken to the extreme #also im being negative and i dont want people to feel bad abt enjoying something i feel negatively about #like im just a person and my opinion shouldnt matter to you like that.#also i genuinely enjoyed parts of this dlc which is why im so passionately mad about it.#but also thank you for asking for my opinions. ( ◡‿◡ *)#i didnt talk as much about my re-writing because the review itself was way too long but i threw in snippets here and there #peace and love

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feelingpoorly · 8 months

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Life lesson: avoid expired egg noodles

So I usually post whiny attention seeking shit like this on my insta bc even tho my kink does not apply to me at all, in some weird way complaining about how ill and knowing people would see it still kinda turns me on a little

But I figured what better place to whine about it here instead since, idk this is kinda what this blog is for

So we went to the shop last night and got a bunch of food from the reduced section. We do this fairly regularly cuz the expired food is so cheap and it’s usually fine if you eat it same day

Well I learnt my lesson lol. Amongst one of the things we got a couple packs of fresh egg noodles in some sauce. I didn’t really like them, but store bought is never gonna be as good as the real thing anyway right?

I was snacking on some cereal at like midnight, having eaten these noodles at like 7. I noticed that I was getting pretty severe stomach pain in the top of my stomach. It was weird and I didn’t really understand why. However I had taken some prescription painkillers earlier that day and although I take a different medication with them to try and stop this happening, they can have a habit of wrecking my stomach and giving me a tummy ache. I thought it was weird, since I definitely HAD remembered to take them with the other med this time, but whatever

Anyway I woke up this morning, we were going out to meet up with some of my partners friends for coffee. I immediately realised I felt bloated as hell, like painfully so. I figured it would pass once I was up and moving around.

It did not.

It pretty quickly progressed into pretty severe stomach cramps, to the point where every time I stood up, it would cramp so hard I couldn’t stop myself from kinda curling over and wincing. At that point I was starting to worry something was actually wrong and I wasn’t just a bit bloated.

I quite quickly started feeling pretty sick, and that’s panic territory for me, being emetophobic. I took a dissolvable anti sickness tablet, but the nausea combined with the horrible cramping made me feel very unwell. I really felt awful and sick and at that point I had to say to my partner, if I say I don’t feel well please can you just take me home. I didn’t know how I was gonna cope sitting in a coffee shop feeling like this. When the cramps hit I was in a lot of pain. Bearing in mind I live with chronic pain, I’m not a baby about pain, but this was the kind of pain that you just wince voluntarily and I couldn’t hide it.

Thankfully the anti sickness meds kicked in, and after sitting down for a while the nausea and the cramps settled down a bit to the point where I was no longer freaking out about being ill in public. I should probably add here that on the way there in the car, my stomach was making some really upset sounding deep rumbling gurgles. Like it didn’t sound good. The kinda gurgles that only come with being sick. I didn’t feel well enough to have a drink or anything to eat which probably looked a little suss. Later on a got just a bottle of lemonade hoping it would settle my stomach but when I sipped it, it just make it worse and my stomach started cramping again.

Skip to being home this evening, I’d thought the worse was over and I’d been feeling kinda ok. I had some light dinner, and what a fucking bad idea that was lol.

Im not having the intermittent intense cramps anymore but like, now my whole stomach feels bloated af again and I have like this sharp cramping pain kinda all over, both upper and lower stomach with just no relief. I’m so bloated my stomach is sticking out but there’s no relief from it at all. Holding my stomach helps but I feel so embarrassed so I’ve tried to hide it and only rub my tummy when my partner went to sleep.

What makes it worse, is that up until this point I had no idea what caused any of this. But when we got home, there was an absolutely rancid smell in the kitchen that smelt like off, rotting food. It was absolutely foul. It almost even smelt like vomit, and just smelling it made my nausea kick off all over again.

It was the leftover noodles. And let me tell you, they smelt pungent as FUCK. I literally ate those last night, and they smell that bad today? No wonder I’ve felt ill. I have that shit in my stomach. Even after my partner bagged up the leftovers, sealed it and put it in the bin, just the PLATE they were on is still emitting this foul smell, it’s just awful

Eating dinner was a bad choice, because now I just feel worse again. I don’t feel that sick anymore, probably because of the meds, but my stomach feels horrible again. I’m in so much pain, I can’t suck my tummy in at all with how sore and bloated and painful it is. I feel like an absolutely pathetic self indulgent lil bitch but I literally just went to make myself a hot water bottle to hold to my tummy as I try and sleep, because it hurts and this is not fun. I just want some relief, and currently nothing else is helping. As I’m lying here holding my tummy with one hand and holding the hot water bottle on it with the other, it’s gurgling and glugging really loudly sickly again and it just feels awful. I can literally feel it in my insides, and with the way it feels I just really hope it doesn’t all come back up again, probably still along with the undigested noodles from last night if the way I’m feeling is anything to go by 🥺

Anyway, I just came here to complain about it in way too much detail lmao. Hopefully someone enjoys my misery. As I said, although it’s embarrassing as hell, somehow the thought of other people knowing or being sympathetic etc is also kinda hot

If anyone wants to use my sorry ass as fic inspo then ofc you have my blessing lmao. In fact, if you do, PLEASE let me know as I’d love to read it haha

Anyway, off to moan quietly to myself and hold the hot water bottle on my aching tummy now x

#sickfic #emeto #emetophilia #emeto kink #sickfic ideas #sickfic prompt #emeto blog #sick #irl sickfic #food poisoning #irl tummy ache #tummy ache #irl emeto #emeto storytime

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itsclydebitches · 1 year

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I’m screaming Clyde, what WAS that epilogue?! Also since semblances were just a discussion did you notice the moment when the guy tripped and Qrow caught him THEN we see the pin? Which is probably calling back to the mine incident where he tripped and Clover caught him? But now he’s kinda in the unique position of causing both. Looks like Qrow did indeed get a semblance upgrade without explanation. Maybe that’s why he’s so dang happy lol

Oh man you're right! That callback didn't occur to me, but it seems too big a coincidence to not be a callback. Yeah, I'm wondering now if we're meant to take this as further evidence that Qrow's semblance has evolved into a kind of...equalizer? The man near him still trips (bad luck) but now Qrow, in a mirror of Clover and his own good luck semblance, is able to catch him with a smile. I mean yeah, we could simply chalk that up to Huntsmen reflexes, but it seems a little too on-the-nose to not be meaningful, particularly after the miraculous save on the airship. That begs the question though of what this actually means for Qrow moving forward. I mean, if he has good luck and bad luck now, don't they just cancel each other out? That's just normal luck. Congrats, your semblance makes you like everyone else where some good things and some bad things happen in your vicinity.

Ngl, after RWBY semi-canonically introduced the concept of some semblances severely impacting mental heath via Ironwood, my mind immediately jumped to the possibility of Qrow's upgrade coloring his reaction to everything. Not that I think this is actually happening in the story (and not that I'd want RT to attempt such a story-line), but from a fun AU possibility my brain went, "Qrow is acting all content and optimistic after everything in his life has gone to shit. Salem won back in Atlas, she's two steps closer to destroying the world, a whole Kingdom is dead/displaced, his nieces are presumably dead and at some point he's going to have to tell Tai that... and yet he's smiling. Not even in a 'I'm holding it together through extreme denial' way, but acknowledging that yes, he's actually, surprisingly happy. That doesn't make sense! I wonder if this spontaneous upgrade that presumably revolves around generically Good Things is fucking with his head somehow." In more nuanced and respectful hands, it might be interesting to explore what it means for a magic-based power to influence someone's mood. Can it be equated to medication? Is it seen as an "unnatural" version of who they are (something that, again like meds, could be a bias the show works to unpack)? As events unfold, is it revealed that his semblance simply gives him a stronger, more optimistic will for shouldering such tragedy, or does it become clear that he's not reacting appropriately to what everyone recognizes as—formerly for him—crippling emotional blows? There's a difference between, "My semblance keeps me from sinking back into my self-destructive depression. No, I'm not like who I was before and that's a good thing" vs. "Ruby? Yang? Uh... sure. I guess I miss them? I recognize that I'm supposed to miss them... but I'm fine! Why wouldn't I be? They did a good thing, those girls, trying to save the world and all, but now it's time to move on. Chins up, everyone! :)"

In my attempts to work through Qrow's everything from the epilogue, I'm also dying to know how long has passed. This is one of those times when a firmer timeline makes a huge difference because it can make or break our acceptance of these characterizations. How long did it take for them to accept that Team RWBY aren't coming back? How long passed after that when Qrow goes to wipe dust off the grave? If it's, say, a few days or weeks then I'm like hey wtf they should still be DEVASTATED. If, however, we've jumped forward six months, a year... that at least makes a little more sense. I don't like that we've skipped over all the cliffhanger conflicts of Volume 8 as well as a long-term grieving arc for every character that would fundamentally change who they are and their approach to this war... but I find that slightly easier to swallow then Qrow strutting around the new slums with a smile on his face, happily telling the ghosts of his dead family that he's doing surprisingly good during the end of the world.

Also, in the realm of skipped-over character growth, I saw someone point out that Oscar's tiny smile at the group's arrival... might not be Oscar's. Or might not be Ozpin's. God knows the writers have proven that they don't know how to write the merge on screen—they just keep insisting it's happening without either of them changing in any meaningful way—so this would be the perfect opportunity for them to just skip over all the important bits and land on the final product, a la Oscar getting over his crisis in Volume 6. If we hypothesize based on what RWBY has shown us before (ha) we should expect for Ozpin to be gone for good and Oscar is now in control, but with mannerisms and knowledge that he's never displayed before; a fundamental shift in his personality. After all, we never got to hear Ozpin the host. The show acts like Ozma existed on his own after a certain point, a body without a voice in his head anymore, but living as a, you know, merged version of himself and whoever was last with him. Which I hate! And Oscar hated it too, as evidence by him understandably freaking out about it, but the story never bothered to let him work through that. (Or just solve it with the magical aura machine + android bodies that have already been introduced.) As a favorite of mine, I'm not looking forward to being told that they've merged now. It's not Oscar. It's not Ozpin. It's someone who sounds like both at times, but really the characters you enjoyed are gone... without fully being gone. Combined with worry that Ironwood might come back—someone commented that the "Don't come back" was directed at Weiss, though that doesn't make any sense to me?—if we do get Volume 10 I can't help but think that, like Penny, the writers aren't going to leave these characters alone, despite them supposedly having left the story.

#rwde #rwby #mymetas

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bipolarmango · 3 months

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I hate how bad medical doctors are with eating disorders, how limited their understanding of EDs is, and how much it circles around one's BMI.

I have suffered from anorexia (both restrictive and binge-purge) and orthorexia since I was fourteen years old in 2004. While I have sometimes gotten better, even for years sometimes, I have never since had a healthy relationship with food, and I have been sick for years at a time. However, I have never been sick enough to end up in a hospital. At lowest, my BMI was 17 (178cm/55kg or 5'10/121lbs) which, for me, meant that you could count every single one of my ribs and my tighs were the same size than many people's arms because I had no body fat left. When I tell this to doctors, though, they just say I was a "bit slim" but still "normal".

Because doctors don't consider me never having been skinny enough being a real anorexic and because orthorexia is not a real diagnosis (many doctors have even suggested to me that it's an ideal way of living because they have no idea what kind of a hell it is to live with, really), they don't take it seriously when I say things like "I don't want a medication that causes weight gain because of my ED history" or "I can't go on a super restricted diet because of my ED history" or "I think like this because of my ED history". I have even been told, multiple times, that I don't have an ED history. That I don't have an ED, even when I have starved myself for days, weeks, and months, counted calories, purged everything I've eaten, starved myself to the point of passing out when I've had to do things like walking, cut everything out of my diet, done nothing but exercised and thought about my diet and exercise plan, hated myself for eating, defined my entire self-worth by my weight, been so afraid of food that the thought of if has made me sick, been so obsessed with exercise that I've cried when I've been hurting and it's been time to exercise and I just couldn't skip it.

What I try to say, I guess, is that I would appreciate if doctors would educate themselves in different body types and in how EDs (even anorexia) are not defined in just being super skinny but being fucking preoccupied and obsessed with food. It's not normal. And thanks to my team of insensitive doctors who put me, a recovering ED sufferer, on meds that made me gain 25kgs (55lbs) and fuck up my metabolism despite me begging for them not to, and then telling me that I just need to eat less and exercise more to drop the weight, I'm now back in the point where I don't eat, or where I want to binge-purge, or where I run and look my reflection in every reflecting surface and tell myself I'm a disgusting pig who doesn't deserve anything good in life, and who literally cries everytime there's a need to put on clothes that are not oversized sweats or look myself in the mirror, and yet my medical team just keeps reminding me that I need to drop the weight and eat less.

I had somehow pulled myself out of this (mostly) and found a balance (somewhat) where I exercised and ate and was (mostly) happy with myself and then a fucking MEDICAL TEAM pushed me back into a full-blown eating disorder because they didn't believe I had an eating disorder in the first place. What a fucking time to be alive.

(I'm not even joking. I'm being told to take weight loss meds. I'm being told to do a restrictive diet. I'm being told to count all calories. I'm being told to do exercise I hate. I'm being told to cut out whole food groups and all treats. I'm being told to avoid eating out. All the things that are super bad for someone with an ED are being recommended to me by my medical team.)

#tw eating issues #tw ed but not sheeran #tw ed #eating disoder trigger warning #disordered eating mention #eating disoder recovery #disordered eating cw #eating disorder #ed #actually mentally ill

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hummerous · 3 months

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you can skip this post. it's just personal nonsense dw bout it

cw: transphobia (disc), homophobia (disc), childhood trauma (ment.)

y'know when something unsurprising happens but you feel the moment sorta calcify in your brain. like oh wow yeah no I can't be normal about this ever again

well. a few years ago, after a sudden stroke and subsequent surgery - my father went off the rails. in a way that, in retrospect, was inevitable. he raised me as an atheist, as a humanist, almost by mistake — a byproduct of rage, not compassion for his fellow man or conscious effort of any kind.

he started talking about alternative medicine.

which was fair, at first. you gotta give people room to cope and a stroke isn't something you can just walk away from

but it got .. worse.

he went all in. stopped taking his pressure meds (until it became clear his marriage wouldn't survive that), started buying herbal remedies in bulk, started buying books that ranged from Ayurvedic Remedies to Can You Think Cancer Away?

and I.... did not react well.

My father's son, bitchiest little shit on the block — I got him a book for his birthday. (as is family tradition)

The Demon Haunted Mind by Carl Sagan.

for reference,

which was. received.. in complete silence.

it sat on the unused dining table for months until I put it up in my bookshelf. which is.. again, pretty much what you'd expect.

fast forward a few years and I'm trying to patch things up with him. it's clear my mother's taste in men is about as good as mine and after a certain point that's her decision. I ought to respect it, best I can

so a few weeks ago the two of us were discussing one of my sister's close friends. he's a bright, passionate young man who happens to also have had a traumatic background — and be trans

and my parents have up until that point, been very (surprisingly) supportive of him. they're homophobic, racist, misogynists — so I'll take what I can get

but in our discussion. dad thought it was a good time to explain, carefully, that he didn't want my sister to consort with broken people.

his word

I.. stared. blankly. for a few seconds.

he thought this was his cue to elaborate.

friends, romans, countrymen - this did not make things better.

and I........ just kinda. tucked the memory away.

because what do you say to that. if I opened my mouth I might've come out then and there. if I followed my first, second or third impulses - he'd be dead. so I didn't do that. because, and I cannot stress this enough, murder would not solve this stupid fucking family

so I just tucked it away. and stewed. didn't tell my sister anything. she's about the last friend my dad's got and I would rather not break her heart like that.

but then again, two days ago, he brought up again how he wasn't homophobic - but broken people made him uncomfortable. and they were unnatural degenerates anyhow. he had sympathy for their plight - from a safe distance.

(both his children are queer. make of that what you will)

my sister was there for that, and she flew off the handle. as she should have. and kinda screamed (her logically sound arguments) at him - I don't think he heard a single word.

she went to bed early

after that, I sat down and explained things to him as best I could - in the calmest manner I could.

it could've been a cultural disconnect. maybe he was looking for a different word?

he told me he hated how I always tried to teach people things, him especially, that I was patient and this was a virtue - but I shouldn't waste it on things like this.

(both my parents were teachers. make of that what you will.)

anyways. I'm thinking about getting him the first present I've gotten him since my first passive aggressive hissyfit,

before we move out.

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thecreaturecabin · 4 months

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How did you go from art school to vet tech? Was there just like a 💡 moment? Or did it take a lot of thinking? Or maybe it was an accident?

Ah I realize I never gave much context! This is quite a long post, and covers some heavy subject matter like substance abuse and mental health struggles, so be warned <3 I tried to make it more digestible but truthfully, there is no easy way for me to describe what this was like to experience.

—

It was a long journey- I never had any goals outside of animation so when that didn’t work out I was pretty crushed. College was pretty traumatic for me, and it had a huge impact on how long it took me to move forward in life.

I sustained a wrist injury in autumn of 2021 when I started school for animation and it only got worse until i finished year 1 in April of 2022. It never got better during that time and I was in constant pain. By the end of the year, it was excruciating. I couldn’t even hold a plate.

Along with the pain, I was also very unhappy. I didn’t like animation nearly as much as I thought I would. I was failing most of my classes, and I was SO homesick. All I wanted to do was crawl into my mom’s arms and cry my heart out, but I was a five hour drive away- so I couldn’t. We were still in the midst of a pandemic too, so all my classes were online, which left me working, eating, and sleeping in the same room every single day. I barely left my dorm and almost every time I did, the only “friends” I had wanted to get drunk- So I did too.

They weren’t good friends, and encouraged me and each other to continue this behaviour. The only good friend that I still talk to was the first person I met on the day I moved in, and I’m so grateful for her. If it weren’t for her, I’m not sure what that point in my life would have looked like.

I can genuinely say I have never been so unhealthy in all my life. I was extremely depressed, i stopped caring about my health and stopped taking my meds, i was getting drunk or high every weekend, and would go hours and hours without eating anything. I started skipping class and sleeping all day only to stay up all night to try and catch up on work that was extremely overdue.

I just didn’t care anymore, and that was unlike me. It really scared me. I was alone on my birthday, and the first decision I had to make as a 20 year old was whether or not I was going to stay in school. I decided to drop out.

My injury was due to overuse of my hands, as I was drawing every day, five to seven hours a day. I spent a good while trying to recover both physically and mentally. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, and trying to think about it sent me to very dark places. I was in physiotherapy for a year and it worked wonders for me.

In 2023 I tried going to school for film, but discovered while that IS an interest of mine, it’s not something I want to do long term. It was a lot of self reflection and self care- my family was more than amazing in their support of me trying to find my way in life.

Eventually I realized I wanted to do something to help. I wanted to take care of things- but I realized I didn’t want to take care of people.

I’ve always had a soft spot for animals, and the more I let myself indulge in this untapped interest, the more passionate I got about not only animal life; but also nature in general. I started getting out more, hiking, taking in the little details- and then I signed up for academic upgrading for chemistry, biology, and math so I could qualify for the vet tech program at the school I wanted to go to :)

I got a 96% in math 11 and an 81% in chem! And now I’m in bio and math 12 and I’m loving it a lot.

Now I only draw for me, I’m pain free, and rediscovering my love for science!

#asks #long post #cw substance use #cw substance abuse #cw depression

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staycalmandhugaclone · 2 years

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If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved - Echo! You can read this little chunk as a standalone, or head back to the beginning for the full experience!

Apparently, I felt like Crosshair didn’t get quite enough whump in that first one… So sorry my beloved… Continuation to Muzzled.

Febuwhump Day 3 Ch 2

Muzzled – Crosshair

Warnings: This one's gone some proper medical procedures - gore/blood/injections. Adult language. Good bit of guilt and angst.

WC: 4,079

We were aboard The Dominator for mere minutes, just long enough to drop Rex and his men off before being ushered to the far side of the galaxy. I’d have argued – insisted on a few days med-leave for Crosshair’s jaw to heal, but we’d be traveling for nearly a week. Not accounting for some unforeseen complication, that would be ample time for the bacta to help knit the fracture closed.

Halfway through that first day of our journey, I noticed the extra meal bar in the small kitchenette. After learning of how they’d starved from insufficient rations for most of their lives, I’d begun tracking inventory more closely, both to record how much food Wrecker actually needed as well as ensure no one fell back into the habit of rationing their meals for fear of not having enough. At least to that point, there’d seemed no cause to worry over the latter, but it didn’t take much thought to understand who’d skipped their morning meal and why.

I found Crosshair dozing in one of the crash seats in the cabin. Echo and Wrecker chatted quietly nearby while the taller man used the overhead racks as pull-up bars, speech intimidatingly even despite the tempo of his movement. Treading lightly across the room, I nestled into the seat beside the resting sniper and lightly tapped my knee against his to wake him.

“Hey, I want you to drink this.” I said quietly, undeterred by how quickly his lips pulled into a frown as he turned to face me.

“No.” The simple brusqueness of his response drew a soft chuckle from me before, with a pointedly deep breath, preparing for the coming fight.

“Cross, you skipped breakfast. You can’t do that while using bacta.” His frown deepened into an unimpressed glare. “Would you rather I shove a tube down your nose to force-feed you?” I asked blankly and had to fight to ignore the stifled snickers behind us. Crosshair held my gaze a moment longer, debating how far he wanted to push me.

“What is it?” It wasn’t cooperation, but it was a start as his eyes dropped down to study the cup.

“It’s a meal replacement shake – all the calories and nutrients of a ration bar without needing to chew.” I couldn’t help the quiet laugh that bubbled past my lips at his skeptical grimace. “Don’t worry – it’s not GAR-regulation chalk flavored. I keep a few different ones on hand – let me know if you don’t care for how this one tastes.” I shifted forward in a gentle offer, smile growing as he reluctantly took it.

“Oooh, can I try one?” Wrecker asked eagerly, abandoning his workout to trot toward us, and I immediately shot him a toothy grin.

“Of course, big guy.” I answered warmly, pushing myself back to my feet. “Why don’t you come choose which one you’d like?” The brilliance of his joy was a thing I’d never weary of, unabashed glee lightening his movements as he eagerly agreed. “How about you, Echo? They’re really gentle on the stomach.” I added at that first whisper of doubt on his face.

“Sure.” He sighed with a shrug. Stealing a final glance to see Crosshair still merely studying the cup, I reached out to let my hand just brush softly over his shoulder before starting back toward the kitchenette.

He didn’t fight me when I presented him with another one that night, thoughtlessly bringing the straw up to his lips after I’d handed it to him. I tried not to show the pleased smirk. It was such a simple, little thing, but just knowing I’d managed to offer even that tiny bit of comfort made my heart dance.

“The other one was better.” He muttered before walking out, ripping a bark of laughter from me.

My attention kept wandering to that tall grump, mind churning over the certainty that I was overlooking something. He’d been more quiet than normal, but given the trauma of being tortured, that was hardly unexpected. It wasn’t until he leaned absently against a wall, body instantly flinching for barely a fraction of a second before shifting to stand upright that it clicked.

“Hey… Crosshair…” I called hesitantly, unbothered by the way his frown deepened, tongue shifting a toothpick across his lips as he stared me down. “Are you still having pain in your back?” Caught. That tiny flicker of tension that flashed over him told me everything. “What’s wrong? Did I not give you enough bacta?” I pressed, stepping closer to him. His arms folded across his chest stubbornly, and I didn’t try to silence the loud sigh. “Would you just show me?” I asked, words fleeing on an exasperated breath, but he didn’t move.

“You’re going to make me say it?” His cold expression remained pointedly unfazed. “You really just want to hear me say it, don’t you?” Still nothing. Movements overly exaggerated, I clasped my hands together, head tilting in a flirtatious sway, “Oh, Crosshair, it would mean so much to me if you would please take your kriffing shirt off so I can make sure whatever’s wrong with back doesn’t cause lasting tissue damage.” The sickly-sweet tone carried through each word, bringing an initial flash of confusion to his face before it fell back into that familiar snarl for the split second it took the sharp pain to shoot through his jaw and force him back into a violent glare. Brows raised expectantly, I waited mere seconds before motioning my hands impatiently toward him.

The begrudging movement of his limbs was more than enough to send tendrils of worry through my chest. He was letting me help. With so little argument, he was submitting to my request. Something was wrong. My worry overrode the whisper of appreciation I couldn’t help but feel at the reveal of that muscular torso, abs dancing beneath caramel skin in a display of raw power that I’d never get used to as he slipped the skin-tight suit over his head.

Without waiting for him to turn, I immediately moved to see his back, and that worry turned to ice in my veins. Several dark bruises still covered that gorgeous skin, but the one that I couldn’t rip my eyes away from lay just between the top ridges of his shoulder blades, skin stretched taut over a massive ball of nearly black swelling. I could see a starkly defined line of healed and unhealed damage, and I didn’t need to ask.

“Your shoulders,” I sighed, heart rending beneath the realization I should have made days ago. “They were hurt from how you’d been restrained… you couldn’t reach your back until they healed.” He purposefully avoided even glancing at the desperate regret tearing through my eyes, shifting to stare blindly through the far wall. Drawing a carefully slowed breath, I dragged my hand over my face, fingers clawing into my hair in a frenzy of guilt and frustration. If he’d just said something, anything, given me some tiny hint, he’d be almost free of pain, but now, the dark mass lying dangerous near his spine was an very real concern.

“Listen, I really need you to be honest with me right now.” I prompted, voice abandoning any teasing lilt or sarcastic drawl. His frown deepened, hesitating at the shift in my tone, but then he moved just enough to glance over his shoulder, eyes finding mine with that unsettling stillness. “Are you having any numbness or tingling in your fingers? Or have you noticed any limited mobility?” He watched me for a long moment, and I could see how carefully he thought over my question before his head dipped in a small nod. My chest sank, body deflating in a slow, tense sigh.

“Okay.” Maker, he wasn’t going to like this. My hand reached for the painful ball of swollen tissue, pausing barely an inch away as I gathered my thoughts. “Crosshair, I need to drain this. And I need to do it now.” His expression didn’t change, but I saw how the air stilled in his lungs. “I can numb it – like I did your jaw, but the longer we wait, the more likely that nerve damage becomes permanent.” The resignation that slowly settled over him was a thing I hoped never to see again, and I hated myself for the relief I felt as he nodded once more.

“Come on.” I breathed, hand automatically slipping around his arm in an instinctive need to offer some measure of reassurance. I nearly pulled back the instant I realized what I’d done, but he didn’t shy away from my touch. I didn’t know how to feel about that. Was he in so much pain that he didn’t notice? Had he decided the annoyance of my absent caresses weren’t worth fighting? Or was he so distraught over the possible disability, that even he found himself needing that tiny measure of comfort?

“Lay down on your side. Do you want me to explain what I’m going to do?” There was a gentle quiet in the hum of my voice.

“No. Just do it.” He said blankly, movements stiff as he forced himself onto the cot I usually called mine. I wasted no time in gathering my supplies, careful not to let him see. He didn’t want to know what I needed to do, and I was too eager not to tell him, not to grant him any indication of the coming hurt beyond the numbing medication. After slipping a drip cloth beneath him, I took a final breath.

“Quick burn.” I warned but didn’t wait for him to tense before resting the injector against the center of that mass. The muscles curled along his spine, back threatening to arch as he let out a nearly growled exhale, and my heart ached for him. The last whisper of that strained breath faded into a quick huff, tension fleeing him in a rush.

“Alright, a lot of pressure, then a big release.” Again, I didn’t wait before slipping the blade through skin and muscle. His breath hitched, arms wrenching back, and I had to quickly lock my hand around his shoulder to keep him still enough to slip the drainage tube in. I quickly set a catch beneath the incision as the pooled blood and fluids poured from wound and tube alike, and he let out a huff of relief through still clenched teeth.

“The kriff was the damn shot even for?!” He snarled, and I wanted to sob at the tremor in his voice.

“I know – I know; I’m sorry, but it would have been a lot worse without it.” I murmured, thumb absently sweeping over suddenly chilled skin. “The hard part’s over, though.” I offered gently, and his head fell heavily to the thin pillow, eyes clenched as his torso rocked with too-quick breaths. “I want you to try to keep still.” I instructed, reaching out to drag my blanket over his lightly shaking form. “We need to leave that in for a while – make sure it doesn’t swell back up again.” He shifted only slightly before abandoning the attempt.

“Leave… what in?” He demanded despite the weakness trying to drag his voice into a hoarse whisper. “What did you do?” Those words wanted to be a snarl, but the heaviness of his breaths robbed them of any force.

“I had to place a drainage tube. I’m going to secure it so it doesn’t fall out, and then I want you to try to rest.” The way he rolled his eyes granted me some measure of relief – that, at least, had lost none of its strength. Movements meticulous to avoid even the slightest jostle around that painful injury, I applied a few strips of adhesive, pleased to see the flow of liquid slow to only an occasional drip.

“I can give you something to help you sleep.” I offered quietly, hand returning to rest gently atop his shoulder. He answered with that signature glare. “Okay, how about some water? Either say yes, or I’m sticking an IV in you.” I threatened, and I knew how eager he was to twist that aching jaw into a scowl.

“Fine.” He relented, gaze returning to some distant point well beyond the Marauder’s walls.

“Okay. I’ll be right back – no moving.” I added before starting toward the door.

Hunter said nothing as he caught my eyes the instant I was in the hallway, arms crossed over his chest, jaw taut with concern; waiting, and that guilt struck me anew, tears balling in my throat.

“I’ll know more tomorrow.” I told him, “I should have noticed sooner-I… Maker, I’m so sorry.” I hated the way my voice broke, hated the tears that slipped down my cheeks.

“There’s not much you can do when he gets it in his head that things should go a certain way.” He sighed, and I could hear an exhaustion in his voice that spoke of a lifetime of trying to save his brother from himself in far too similar situations. “It’s not your fault, Doc.” His shoulders sank as he stepped toward me, arms falling heavily to his sides before bringing a warm hand to my shoulder. Teeth grinding behind tight lips, I shook my head.

“Of course, it’s my fault.” I nearly growled, “I saw what kind of state he was in when we found him. I knew there was still something wrong. I…” Letting out a breath that threatened to cave into a sob, I forced myself to focus. I still had a job to do. “I need to get him some water.” Without meeting Hunter’s eyes, I pushed passed him to the supply room.

“Why don’t you take a minute? I’ll stay with him.” I was shaking my head before he’d finished speaking.

“I need to monitor that drain tonight – make sure he doesn’t jostle it in his sleep.” Without waiting for him to find some other excuse or futile attempt to lessen my strife, I quickly tread around him to return to the medbay. Crosshair hadn’t moved, but I was please to see his breathing had calmed.

“Is it any better?” I barely whispered the words as I tread lightly to the front of the cot.

“Great.” The rumbled word snapped from still tight lips, but I was certain ridding him of that massive buildup of fluid had to grant some reprieve.

Crouching down slightly, I brought the straw to his mouth, with a quiet, “here,” but he immediately pulled back in disgust, arm tensing to take it himself. I quickly reached out to stop him, hand clasping firmly around his forearm.

“Don’t.” I kept my voice soft, but left no room for argument as I met the obstinate look in his eyes. “I don’t want you do to anything that’s even going to tense your shoulders right now.” Again, I watched that moment of debate war within him, but, when his eyes darted away from mine beneath that wretched flush of shame, he reluctantly shifted just enough to catch the straw between his lips. I said nothing as he drank, gaze carefully lowered to avoid even accidentally glancing at him, nor did I breathe a word of rebuttal at the amount of water still in the pouch when he pulled away.

“Are you alright with me replacing that patch,” I asked, motioning toward jaw, “and getting some bacta on the rest of your back?” I didn’t have to grant him that choice – I could have merely told him I was doing it, and he would have had no valid grounds to refuse me, but I knew he needed it – needed some whisper of autonomy to sooth how violently I’d stripped it from him already. So, I waited patiently until he gave the faintest shift of a nod. He didn’t look at me as I reached for the day-old bacta-patch, but he tilted his neck slightly for me to reach the edge easier, and I didn’t realize how much I’d needed even that tiny show of acceptance until feeling the stiffness lock around my throat.

The quiet that settled around us was a kind one. I let myself melt into it as I carefully tended his jaw before turning my attention to treating each blotch of abused skin covering his back, and I wondered if he was able to find some solace in it, too.

“I’ll check on it a couple times tonight – make sure it doesn’t shift, but I really want you to try to sleep.” My voice whispered softly into that quiet, and I watched him pointedly close his eyes without so much as looking toward me. Moving lightly, I tread to the nearby wall panel and, with a thoughtless tap, plunged the room into near darkness.

I spent the night curled atop a chair, legs tucked against me with my ankles crossed over the armrest, aimlessly browsing my datapad with little interest for anything beyond some distraction to keep me awake. Nearly every hour, I crept to the bed, lifting the blanket just enough to confirm everything was still in place before returning to my perch, pleased that he seemed to sleep through my inspections.

Finally, I heard the others begin to move about the ship. Crosshair was still asleep, and I let myself take full advantage as I returned to his bedside once more. Praying the earlier dose would only just be starting to wear off, I touched another injector to the skin just beside the tube, flooding the tissue with a fresh bout of the numbing agent. His shoulders tensed, but only slightly, a soft grunt catching in his throat as the sensation roused him from the light sleep.

“Sorry,” I murmured, “I was hoping it was still numb enough to dull that.” He glanced wearily back at me before letting his head rock drowsily back to the pillow.

“It’s fine.” The absent dismissal rumbled in that subtle slur of near-sleep, and I felt my lips pull into the first earnest smile I’d managed since seeing that bruising.

“Good,” I sighed, “I’m going to check for residual swelling first, but then that tube should be fine to come out – I promise: they come out much easier than they go in.” I added at the way he tensed. He left out an impatient grunt but offered no further response.

The mass was barely noticeable now beyond a lingering discoloration, tissue carrying only a fraction of that excess fluid. With gentle, sweeping palpations, I guided a bit more of that swelling toward the incision. He barely noticed; sensation almost completely dulled from the injection even as I began easing the adhesive strips away from his skin. I granted him no warning before slipping the tube free, knowing the anticipation would be far worse, and he barely flinched.

“All done.” I said with a gentle smile after easing a bacta-patch over the cut. He started to glance back, surprise just twitching over his face before catching himself. Hesitantly, his arm tensed, as though waiting to see if I’d try to stop him, but, reassured by my silence, he pressed his hand against the mattress and pushed himself up, legs swinging over the edge. I watched the tentative roll of his shoulders precede a more confident series of shifting muscles to further test the motion.

“Okay, give me your hand.” I said after granting him a moment. He looked at me with narrowed eyes but held his hand toward me without further complaint. I slowly worked over each long digit with gentle squeezes between my thumb and forefinger. “Any numbness or tingling?” He shook his head, idly watching me as I continued meticulously over his palm, careful not to miss a single inch of flesh before moving to his other hand, and the relief starting to bubble through me was palpable.

“Perfect. Now, try to match my movements.” I continued, hand raising to illustrate touching each fingertip to my thumb, but he showed no intent to follow me. Gaze shifting to his, I readily let my expression fall into the same deadpan glare he sent me. “Fingers. Moving. Now.” I ordered. He let out a loud scoff, attention shifting past me, but, albeit reluctantly, matched my motions without difficulty.

In a flood of relief, my head sank in into my hands with a loud, shuttered exhale, fingers dragging thoughtlessly though my hair as that massive weight finally began to slip away. Body slowly straightening with a deep breath, I looked up to find him watching me, expression carefully blank.

“Crosshair, I really,” Hands falling wearily into the scant distance between us, I struggled for a moment to convince my lips to work, to steady my breath long enough to remember how to speak, “Really need you to understand this: I am here for one reason. That’s it. I’m not here to judge you or report you or belittle you for getting hurt. I’m here… to help you.” His lips tightened into a thin line, but he offered no further response, pulling an exasperated huff from me, but I tried to let it go, focus shifting back to what did matter to him.

“I want to look at your back again tonight, but it should heal up fine now.” I could hear the exhaustion clear in my own voice as I stepped back for him to push himself off the cot.

“Great. Wouldn’t want our effectiveness falling on your watch.”

It would have been less painful if he’d struck me. Breath caught in my throat, I was so taken aback by the venom in those words that I could only stare at him, eyes wide, lips slightly ajar. Part of me saw the flash of regret that instantly stole over him, but I couldn’t focus on that. I thought I was used to his crass remarks. I didn’t expect one to hurt like that. Without a word, I quickly turned and walked away, gaze dropping pointedly to the metallic paneling beneath me.

I don’t know why I went to the storage room, but once there I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Not yet. My hands shook slightly as I aimlessly organized even the slightest disarray of gear, mindlessly grabbing a few packages of shakes to restock what I’d used the previous day. When the door hissed open behind me, I didn’t turn toward them; didn’t want whoever it was to see the still raw hurt in my eyes because, if they did, if they offered even a fleeting look of understanding or sympathy or apology, I knew I’d break, and I wasn’t ready for that.

After several seconds passed without them saying anything, however, curiosity finally drew my gaze back just enough to glimpse them. Crosshair. His arms were locked tightly across his chest, body leaning stiffly against the wall as a sharp glare burned into the shelving beside him. He was waiting, and my heart broke the instant I understood why. He couldn’t quite bring himself to apologize, so he forced himself, instead, to allow me whatever retribution I wanted. Letting out a shaky breath, I set the prepackaged shake mix back down and walked lightly toward him, loathing the way his brows drew even further together.

“You have never… never been just a number to me.” I didn’t shy from the desperation in my voice begging him to believe me, and, as the tension abandoned him beneath something just threatening to become remorse, I felt my chest sink with a sharp sigh.

“I know.” He still wouldn’t look at me as the quiet words breathed over his lips, eyes falling to the flooring beneath us, and hearing him say that was worth every ounce of hurt his harsh words had caused. I didn’t fight the few tears that trailed down my cheeks despite how they seemed to make the normally detached man before me squirm, fingers shifting uncomfortably about his arms as he quickly turned his gaze further away.

Without a word, I leaned forward, pressing my forehead gently to his shoulder, and he went so perfectly still even the air caught in his throat. He didn’t move either to push me away or draw me closer, merely stood there as I stole that quiet moment with him; felt the tension slowly fade from his taut frame.

Chest swelling with a deep inhale, I finally stepped back, grabbed the handful of supplies I’d gathered, and left.

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thesmollestsnek · 1 year

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I’ve seen a lot of fics n headcanons where Dick Grayson has adhd, and I see you. But also. Consider: Tim Drake having (undiagnosed) adhd. As a certified adhd bitch myself, I have A Lot to say about this, so more under the cut.

Before we get into it, just a quick disclaimer: pretty much all of my dc knowledge is from fandom osmosis, so. If you see something that’s ooc or contradicts canon no you didn’t. Now with that out of the way, on to the main event!

Okay, so! First of all, let’s start at the very beginning. That’s right, I’m talking about Tim Drake’s “night photography”! Now I’m not gonna say neurotypical kids don’t get up to some dumb ass shit when left unsupervised for long periods of time, because they absolutely do. But. The complete disregard for the many, many dangers a young child alone in Gotham at night would face is still notable. And he doesn’t just ignore danger - he runs straight at it. That shows an impressive lack of impulse control, and inability to factor future consequences into current decisions, both of which are hallmarks of adhd. Plus, hyperfixation kinda… changes? How you perceive things. So if Tim was hyperfixated on getting the perfect shot whenever a major crime/fight happened near him, he may not have processed that he was danger at all during the part most likely to scare a neurotypical child away.

Next, we have the coffee. Yes, I know the coffee thing is super overblown by the fandom and not really supported by canon but ssshshhhhhh my world my rules Tim drinks lots of coffee. Now, this one’s kinda obvious, but caffeine is a stimulant and surprise surprise so are most adhd meds. I have seen firsthand how ppl with undiagnosed adhd will mainline caffeine as a form of self medication, whether they’re aware of it or not. Some people use soda or energy drinks, but coffee’s also a really popular choice for this kinda thing. So not only is it completely plausible for someone with undiagnosed adhd to self medicate by drinking a shitton of coffee, it’s extremely common.

Next up! We have the insomnia. Which, again, I think might be played up a lot in fic? But this is my world and you’re reading in it, so. Tim’s an insomniac. This is one of the less well known symptoms of adhd, but again I speak from firsthand experience when I say it’s a big one. Insomnia is extremely common among ppl with adhd, for a couple reasons. One is time blindness, which I’ll come back to in the next point. But also? It’s just really hard to turn your brain off. And if a large portion of Tim’s brain space is being devoted to casework, guess what. That inability to turn one’s brain off will manifest as late night case solving blitzes. Not to mention that hyperfixation, again, changes the way you perceive things. When I hyperfixate on something I often lose hours at a time, and bodily needs like hunger, tiredness, the bathroom, etc aren’t just unimportant they straight up don’t register. With the number of times I’ve come out of a hyperfocus to realize that I have a dehydration headache that’s been brewing for at least an hour, or have completely skipped a major meal, or desperately need to pee, I can 100% believe Tim not noticing any sleep deprivation symptoms until he’s finished whatever he was working on. And I, again, speak from experience when I say that if you happen to hyperfixate at something at the wrong time of night you will be staying up way later than is reasonable. Which brings me to my next point of…

Time blindness! My most favoritist thing in the whole wide world! (/sarcasm) This shit can and absolutely will fuck up your ability to be a functioning human if you let it. Having no internal clock causes more problems than the obvious losing track of time. It means your appetite is sporadic at best and you could very easily forget to eat. It means your sleep schedule has a tendency to just disintegrate if you don’t keep on it. It means being completely dependent on external clocks to know how long things are/should be taking, even for stupid shit like cooking food or brushing your teeth. It means that if you don’t set an alarm for something there is a very real possibility that something isn’t happening no matter how much you want or need it to. In short, it completely fucks up your ability to care for yourself without a lot of external regimented support. Now, who does that remind you of? Which member of the batfamily is known for neglecting his own health? I may not read many comics but the sheer number of “Tim Drake subsists solely on coffee and spite” jokes on ao3 and tumblr is very telling.

His brains. Tim is very, very smart. Have you ever heard the phrase “twice exceptional?” It describes Tim Drake to a t. Plus, I’m living proof of how you can be both smart of brain and dumb of ass. This may be more of a “my family who just so happens to consist entirely of twice exceptional adhd dumbasses” thing than something most ppl with adhd experience, but. You can be really smart and incredible at putting together complex plans, both ahead of time and on the fly, and still have. No common sense whatsoever. Which seems to be a lot of Tim’s characterization: incredibly smart while simultaneously being a complete dumbass. So make of that what you will.

And most compellingly? I think it’s funny. This kid is brothers with Dick Grayson and best friends with Bart Allen and especially next to those two people would never expect Tim to be the one with the quote unquote “cant sit still disorder”. Yknow what? Let’s take this a step further. Let’s make Bart autistic. (I don’t know enough about the flash family to say how accurate this is but for the sake of the joke let’s say he is). People see Impulse standing next to Red Robin and they think they know which one is adhd and which is autistic and they are Wrong. Tim n Bart are Completely unaware of this but the rest of their team finds it hilarious. There’s probably at least one running joke about it.

#tim drake has adhd (you can’t) change my mind #btw I don’t mention it here but my version of batman is 1000000% autistic #I’d offer to give headcanons on which batfamily members I think are which flavors of neurodivergent but.#I’m not NEARLY as familiar with any of the other things I headcanon them as #also none of the other headcanons are quite as solid as this one #I think Bruce n maybe Jason are autistic. Damian’s def got Something going on but idk if I care to put a name to it #dick most definitely has some cptsd but also? I think there’s a portion of ‘weird’ things he does that aren’t from anything specific #he’s just Like That #there’s most definitely some more stuff floating around in the family I highly doubt any of them is 100% neurotypical #I just can’t be bothered to figure out who’s most likely to have what and why lol #maybe some of my other nerdy neurodivergent peeps can chime in with their thoughts?#and just to reiterate:#all of my dc knowledge is from fandom osmosis and that’s how i like it #headcanons #dc headcanons #tim drake #tim drake headcanon #red robin #dc red robin #red robin headcanon #adhd #adhd tim drake #adhd red robin #neurodivergent tim drake

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