#i hate seeing doctors i cannot describe my pain i cannot remember the pain ive had i cannot make notes on it

[confused-alpaca]

oh boy i ought to try and see a physiotherapist again

[queenmuzz]

Deep Blue Sea: Chapter IV

The way to a merman’s heart....

For a link to the full story on Ao3, click here

“You gotta be more specific than 'small silvery fish with spots' when describing the type you like, Vergil. That covers dozens of groups, let alone individual types.” You sat, back to the glass, while on your laptop, pulling up picture after picture of similar looking fish. Vergil floated behind your shoulder, steadily dismissing each picture.

“Well, the issue is that you humans seem to have picked a different name for it than we have” he almost seemed faintly amused at your frustration.

“What does the name 'Cordina' mean anyway?” You closed the browser window with the latest batch of rejected pictures. Well, it wasn't herring... what if it was a fish that humans just didn't eat?

“It is just a name in Old Mer. Do your names of your food staples have to mean something?”

He had a point. A cow was just that... a cow. You grumbled, this was going nowhere... You slammed the laptop shut, and spun to face him. He had been a lot closer than you expected, nearly plastered to the glass, and he quickly darted back, as if he had been caught doing something bad. Had there been no glass or water there, you would have been able to feel his breath on the back of your neck.... the thought of that made you feel warm...

“Alright wise guy, tell me something else about the fish, like how it moves, where it lives, any peculiar oddities it doesn't share with any other fish.” He cocked his head to the side, and his eyes looked upward as he recalled the information.

“It prefers cold water, and usually stays in the far south, ” He said, which was no help. Quite a few species were like that. “But...every so often, when the seasons make a full cycle, a current of cold water juts far north, and the Cordina follow it, to forage in the new territory. At the same time, the warmth of the Ringed Sea pushes against it, forcing the fish into a long narrow column, close to the coast. And since the water is shallow, the fish are easy picking for both the birds above and the predators below. And thus, the feeding begins”

Hmmm, that sounded familiar...you wracked your brain, trying to remember where you had heard of that phenomenon. A memory of a professor, showing an image of the east coast of Southern Africa...AHA! You yanked open your laptop again, and typed in words, bringing up the image of a fish that fit the description. Flipping it around, you showed him.

“BEHOLD! The Sardine! Specifically Sardinops sagax, South African Sardine ” You watched as he cautiously approached the glass, peering at the image, scrutinizing it. You felt a sudden nervousness, as if you were waiting for your exam marks to be revealed.

And then he smiled.

It was a small smile, barely visible, but it was genuine, and beautiful. Something you wanted to see all the time.

“You're very knowledgeable about such things, I hadn't thought that you, a human, would know about something so far away, and in the ocean, to boot.”

“Well, it's what I studied in university” you watched the confused look on his face, “That's where some people go to learn things so they can specialize. Some want to learn about computers,” you tapped the laptop, “Some learn to teach children, and some, like me, want to learn and explore the ocean. Migration patterns of Sardines aren't my specialty, but we did learn about them from about a lecturer who had studied it.”

“Not your specialty?” He asked.

Well, the ocean is vast and for the most part, we don't know what's down there...so a lot of us just focus on one Ocean, one particular ecosystem, hell, sometimes one type of individual fish. I prefer to study the deep ocean, it's a whole new world out there. We know more about the moon-”

“The moon?”

“The thing in the sky, usually you see it at night, cycles between getting bigger and smaller...”

“Ah, the Tidemother....”

It had a nice ring to it, you thought... very romantic, you'd have to ask him more about terms he used. “Anyways, the cutting edge of what we don't understand is the deep ocean, since we can't just... go.. there. Not to mention, it's an entire ecosystem that's not dependent on the sun...the Moon's daytime counterpart.” you clarified.

"Tidefather” he responded, “and no doubt, once you scour the sea floor, you will find a way to exploit it, as humans are wont to do. Never satisfied with their lot in life, they take, and take, and take...” His fists balled up, and even though you were separated by thick glass, you felt the urge to scoot away. The old look of hatred you had first encountered came back with a vengeance.

“What? No!” you responded. “I mean, humanity as a whole has done a lot of damage, I'll admit to that, but we're trying to get better...bit by bit.”

“Fitting words for the daughter of a murderer...” he shot back, an you winced. He had a point. Your father's company (and soon to be yours) harvested thousands and thousands of tonnes of fish each year. But something didn't make sense...

“Not that I'm accusing you or anything, but you've been going after my father's fishing vessels, but I remember that during the Sardine Run, fishermen from the villages on the coast come out in droves to harvest the fish as well, why not attack them?”

A pregnant pause, and you were afraid you had offended him “They merely harvest to feed their families, and their fellow humans, and besides, they are merely one fish in a shoal. I do not feel ill will towards them anymore then I do against any of the other predators.” he calmly explained, before returning to his anger “However, when those ships, with nets that can envelop and harvest countless fish, can scour the oceans clean to feed their hungry maws, that's what I take issue with...”

“Point taken...but if I'm going to get you some of the fish, I'm going to have to buy it from someone who most likely participates in that sort of thing... so it's either kelp, another fish I can get locally, or... this.” He hesitated for moment, before bowing his head in defeat.

“If this is the price for keeping my sanity, so be it”

******

You sat on aquarium platform, with a plate of fresh sardines splayed out in an amateur design, as if it was a plate of hors d'oeuvres at a fancy dinner. Unfortunately, there hadn't been much choice at the market, so you were only able to procure a little over a dozen of the fresh ones (and had managed to finagle a deal with a bemused fishmonger to get a regular supply, citing that you were rehabilitating some sea mammal, it was technically true) but it would take a while to get the supply going. So, you attempted a substitute, which you stacked beside the plate. Cans, and cans, and cans of Sardines. The look the cashier gave you, and the way her eyes darted down to your stomach, to see if you were pregnant, was worth it, even if Vergil ended up hating the stuff.

“So, it doesn't look like sardines are in season, so the ones I got might not be the best condition,” you apologized as you opened one of the sardine cans, one packed in salt water. Perhaps he would like the canned ones that tasted as plain as possible, and then you could try out the more flavourful combinations.

Vergil pulled himself up onto the platform, scaring the bejeesus out of you. “Sheesh, give a gal a warning before you do something like that!”

The merman chuckled...his voice, now 'real' echoed through the room “Apologies, I take it you thought we do not surface.” (you made a mental note to attempt to make him laugh again.)

“Well, it doesn't seem very practical,” you said. “You seem to be specialized for aquatic travel, while being rather clumsy on land. The inverse is true for humans.” You realized how dry and clinical that sounded, how close you were to sounding like Doctor Griffon. Your hands covered your mouth “Oh God, that sounded so bad, I'm really... really sorry!”

Vergil chuckled again (tingles went down your spine, perhaps the tales of the merfolk's alluring voices had a kernel of truth.) “It is forgiven, you cannot help how you think. You seem to be a person who is constantly observing, eager to learn. There is nothing to be ashamed in that, as long as you realize your limitations. Something the 'Good Doctor' could take a lesson on...”

He picked up one of the sardines by his tail, and with a quick motion that surprised you, he swallowed the fish whole, bones and all. At first you thought it was because he was famished, but then one sardine turned into two, then three, then half a dozen were gulped like a baleen whale gulping an entire shoal. You were used to animals eating like that, but the image of someone so humanlike.... well, you excused yourself, and went into the kitchen to get yourself something to eat (and hopefully settle your stomach). You weren't sure what you wanted, but you wanted something quick and easy.... And as you checked your cupboards, you found it... a plastic package. Pulling out a pot and filling it with water, you began to cook.

Five minutes later, you came out with a steaming bowl of ramen in salty broth. And what you saw nearly made you laugh. Vergil had devoured the entire plate of sardines, the opened can of of sardines in salt water, and was attempting to open another can, one with sardines packed in olive oil. He wasn't having much luck with it, frowning intently as he rotated the can, attempting to find out how to open the treasure box. You stood back, allowing him to explore, until he finally figured the pull tab, and with a bit of effort, he ripped open the top. He grinned at his success, but in his attempt to grab the reward within, he gripped the can by the sharp, recently opened edge. The can was dropped onto the platform with a clatter as he hissed in pain. A stream of blood bloomed on his palm. Quickly setting your bowl down, you ran over.

“Oh no, are you alright?” and before he could protest, you grabbed his hand to inspect the damage. Vaguely, you realized this was the first time you had touched him. His hands were remarkably soft, especially considering the salt water that he spent his life in. A thin red line on his palm indicated a pretty nasty cut....Or it would have, if it was not rapidly healing in front of your eyes.

“How in the...”

“We heal fairly rapidly, especially compared to you humans, we're not sure why, but it grants us a resiliency that most creatures in the ocean lack. How you humans survive without that ability, I have no idea” He, huffed, amused as you used your ratty old shirt to wipe the blood away to reveal that, yes the cut had healed within a few moments, leaving not even a scar. “You didn't have to do that, I would have licked it off.”

“You...lick your own blood?” you asked, part appalled, part intrigued.

“The less blood we shed, the less likely predators will be attracted,” he explained, and you realized that was probably the same reason for his super-healing. Or if a shark or something did approach, the merfolk would be healed enough to fight back or flee. You were learning more and more things about these people, and just by having a conversation, and treating him as an equal. The 'Doctor' was an idiot, he could have gained so much more knowledge, but no, he was compelled to be a douchebag.

As Vergil (carefully) opened another can of sardines, this time in tomato sauce, you went back to your bowl, now reasonably cooled off, and began slurping away. You watched as he swallowed the sardine, and resisted the urge to laugh at the face he made.

“Not a fan, eh? Ah well, you can't like everything.”

“Indeed, a bit too...sweet for my taste” He looked at the other cans, his brow furrowed, before he looked at you, no, he was looking at the bowl in your lap. The tip of his tongue stuck out, as if he was attempting to mentally form a sentence.

“Would you like to try some of my ramen? It's very salty, probably right up your alley”

“My alley?”

“It means I think you'll like it”

He hesitated for a second...before he nodded, and twirling your fork, you wound a small sized portion, before handing the fork to him. You'd expected (foolishly, in hindsight) that he'd take the fork from you, but instead, he shimmied a bit towards your direction, and carefully, fed off your fork. You couldn't resist giggling as he politely slurped up the noodles. “So, how is it?”

He didn't answer, his smile did more than words ever could

[maren-as-an-adult]

The 2020 Experience, Part 2

When I flew back to New York a few days later (yes, I braved the airports and a plane) I could not stop crying. What should have been a loving and heartfelt reunion between myself and Graham turned into an awkward situation for him, with me bent double in the front seat of his car sobbing inconsolably.

And suddenly I had to adjust back to life more or less on my own. I couldn’t have friends come over, my family who lived in NYC were too far for me to get to them without public transit, and Graham’s mother was immunocompromised so we couldn’t spend much time together. I was back to sitting at my computer, taking online surveys for the promise of money and sending out application after application. Jena and Julia, my other two roommates, were still not back, so it was just me and Polina.

Things started to get a little better though. I had applied for Medicaid so I had some health coverage again. I scheduled an appointment with my new doctor, I started talking to a therapist again in August, and I stopped budgeting for birth control and got it for free. The after school program was up and running again, this time remotely (only one of my schools was able to host their program though, so my work hours were still cut). I looked forward to every other weekend, where Graham would drive out and pick me up to spend a few nights at his place. Jena came back and announced she was moving out, and our new roommate Michelle moved in. Michelle and I had a lot in common, and I found it easy to talk to and connect with her.

I even got out to see my family. I braved the subway to see my family up in Astoria, and Polina told me about the ferries I could take that brought me to my family on the Upper East Side.

One day in late September, however, I woke up with abdominal pain. It was pretty mild at first, but it kept getting worse. As someone who has periods, I assumed it was just week-early cramps brought on by stress combined with a poor diet that didn’t include much fiber. I tried to assuage the feeling by eating an apple, but after a quick trip to the bathroom it made a reappearance coming back up the way it went down. I decided to do what most people do (and what doctors hate) and look up my symptoms online to try and self-diagnose. The two big contenders for what I was suffering from were IBS or an ulcer. I texted Graham and told him what was up, and he asked what I was going to do. My current plan was to try and wait it out, and if things still felt bad in the morning, I would go to the ER.

If it wasn’t for Graham’s suggestion that I go to an urgent care center (which I had completely forgot existed at this point in time) I may have died.

At 7:12pm I grabbed my bag and walked three blocks to the urgent care center closest to my apartment. Unfortunately, they were no longer taking walk-ins for the day, but told me that another urgent care center was open until 8 and would take walk-ins.

It was 17 blocks away.

I walked 17 blocks with severe abdominal pain to this urgent care center just to be seen and tell a health professional I wasn’t feeling well. I knew there wouldn’t be much they could do, but maybe they could give me a better idea of what was wrong with me. I called Graham and gave him the address of the urgent care center, asking that he come out to be with me. Whatever was happening to me, I did not want to go through it alone.

I made it to the urgent care center fifteen minutes before they closed. I was taken to an observation room where a brusque young Russian woman took down my vitals and information as we waited for the RN to come see me. When he finally did come in and I started telling him what was wrong, I barely finished explaining what happened after I ate and failed to keep down the apple that he interrupted me saying, “You need to go to the ER immediately, because what you described sounds like you have a GI bleed. You’ll need an endoscopy, where they take a camera on a long, thin tube and feed it down in through your stomach and into your intestines to see if you’re bleeding internally.”

It was getting late, I was alone, and I was TERRIFIED.

I was told where the nearest ERs were, was given a printed referral, and then dismissed for the evening. All I could do was wait for Graham and tell him what was going on... and then call my mother and tell her.

I love my mom. I’ll likely never not love my mom for the rest of my life. But sometimes she takes a bad situation and makes me feel even worse. When I told her I had called Graham to come get me, she pointedly asked why I didn’t call any of my family who lived closer than Graham. Well, of my family who live in the greater metropolitan area of New York City, we have:

- My Aunt Barbara and Uncle Danny, currently NOT in NYC and instead staying out in Milford, PA

- My Uncle Brian, Aunt Corinne, and cousin Nikki up in Astoria. My aunt cannot drive and gets panicked easily, my cousin only has her learner’s permit, and my uncle (though I love him) would not be the most comforting presence to me at the moment, being VERY pro-Trump Republican and a FIRM anti-masker

- My Uncle Mike, Aunt Gloria, and cousins Maura (and her husband Andrew), Brendan, and Kevin. Maura, at this point in time, was nine months pregnant and due to give birth any minute, and I was not going to be responsible for pulling my aunt or uncle away from the birth of their first grandchild

With this information presented to my mother, she did concede that calling Graham had not been a terrible idea. Continuing to fret, however, she said I should at least have called them to let them know what was happening. She took it upon herself to do that, and additionally call my father and tell him (dad was on the road at that point and so missed my initial call of “Hey, jsyk, I’m going to the ER, wish me luck!”). Graham pulled up, I ended my mom’s call telling her I’d keep her posted, and headed off to the unknown.

As we were driving to the closest ER, my dad called. Thankfully, he gave advice that calmed me down. He listened to my symptoms, told me it was likely an ulcer, and told me what would happen when I went in: I’d be admitted to the ER, they’d take my vitals, I’d explain my symptoms over and over and over to multiple people, they’d probably admit me overnight, knock me out and do an endoscopy, and in the morning I’d be sent home with a prescription to help with the ulcer. I felt better.

Graham and I made it to the ER at about 8:45pm. I was admitted immediately, my vitals were taken, I was given a cup to pee in, an IV was placed in my arm, my blood was taken, and I told my story to two different doctors and a few different nurses. I went in for an ultrasound to rule out pregnancy, endometriosis, and ovarian cysts. I waited, with Graham by my side.

The doctor came back at about 11:30pm and told me my urinalysis and ultrasound came back unremarkable, but my bloodwork showed a high white blood cell count, which meant my body was fighting off an infection somewhere. This is absolutely something I did and did not want to hear in the middle of a global pandemic. On the one hand, go immune system! Keep me safe, you beautiful, hard-working bitch! On the other hand, what was it my body was fighting off?

The doctor said if I wanted to leave at that point, I could, because nothing obvious was found. “But,” she said, “I would strongly recommend we do a CT scan just to be safe.”

It was late, both Graham and I were tired, and my abdominal pain wasn’t awful to the point where I was bent double anymore. I could stand and walk around with only a slight discomfort. The thought of getting out of the ER, a frankly dangerous place to be in these COVID times, was deliciously appealing.

“What the hell, lets do the CT scan.”

I was given almost two liters of fluid to drink to prep for the scan. It didn’t taste bad, actually, kind of like a flat lemon La Croix that had been left in its aluminum can too long. At 12:30am I went in for the scan. Two hours later, Graham and I were still waiting for the results. At around 2:30am Graham turned to me and said, “Honestly, I’m ready to go. I won’t leave you here alone, but I’m exhausted and ready to get out of here.” I responded, “Honestly, I am too.”

At that moment, a doctor walked around the corner into our area and said, in a too cheery voice, “Hi there! You have appendicitis.”

I swear in that moment I could feel the cosmic force of the universe tremble with suppressed laughter at this finely crafted moment of ironic timing. My only response to the doctor and Graham was, “Well... I guess I’m staying here for the night?” Remember when I thought it was IBS? Couldn’t we go back to that?

I’ve mentioned before the idea of surgery scares me. I’d hoped I’d only have to experience anesthesia from getting my wisdom teeth removed. I fully expected to break down in hysterics then, but I guess I was just too tired and overwhelmed to react in such a big way. I called my mom and told her what was happening, and the first suggestion she made was for me to come home and heal in Chicago.

...mom, I love you, but getting on a plane immediately after major surgery in the MIDDLE OF A GLOBAL PANDEMIC FROM AN AIRBORNE VIRUS is frankly the DUMBEST IDEA EVER.

After realizing that would be a bad move, she suggested she come out to be with me while I heal. While an appealing process, it ultimately wouldn’t be of much use, because she’d have to quarantine for two weeks before seeing anyone at that point. Eventually, she offered to book a hotel room for me and Graham for a long, extended weekend to help me recover. It was extremely generous of her, and I’ll forever be grateful she did it.

I was hooked up to antibiotics to prep for surgery, and the attending surgeon explained the procedure to me. Everyone was so calm and sure of themselves that I felt okay, and the inevitable wave of panic was held off. At 4:30am, I was wheeled up to the operating room. Graham stayed by my side as long as he could and walked all the way to the doors of the OR hallway with me and the attending. I made sure he and my mom had each others’ phone numbers so he could give updates. I was wheeled through the doors, and met with my operating team.

The anesthesiologist and practicing surgeon assured me that they felt fine, well-rested, and at the top of their game, and I was able to relax some as I moved off of my gurney onto the operating table. Once I was on the table, clad only in a thin hospital gown and gripper socks, my body started to shake. Whether it was from the cold or the panic had finally set in I wasn’t sure, but I calmly told the doctors that I thought my fight or flight response was kicking in, and they might need to consider restraining my shaking limbs.

They did, and they also put a heated (and somewhat weighted) blanket over me which relaxed me so my limbs weren’t shaking so violently. An oxygen mask was placed on my face, sealing my nose and mouth into a thick plastic chamber. I tried to breathe deeply and evenly, forcing myself to think of pleasant thoughts and not spiral into a headspace of worst case scenarios. I think what helped most was actually an attending nurse reading out loud my patient chart for posterity and recording’s sake, and he said, “Patient is a twenty-seven year old female named Maureen Ford.”

The annoyance I felt at being misnamed (again as Maureen) cut through the second wave of panic buildup, and my only goal was to correct him. The oxygen mask muffled my voice, but I like to think if you were to listen to the audio recording of my surgery, you would hear, very faintly in the background, me indignantly stating, “It’s pronounced MAREN!”

My last thought before I went under was that I need to make sure that nurse was corrected.

When I woke up, I felt more comfortable than I had in a very long time. The only thing that kept me from being in a total state of comfortable bliss was the slowly incoming knowledge that my mouth was drier than the Sahara desert at noon in July. Despite this, and the residual effects of the anesthesia still in effect, I was pleased to find that not only could I clearly hear and understand the conversations happening around me, I could also coherently speak and communicate with people. I asked for water as soon as I could, and the nurse told me that they’d have to work me up to water. We’d start with a lemon swab in my mouth, followed by ice chips, and then I could get water. The attending surgeon came in to tell me the surgery went smoothly without complications, and I asked her if she could make sure whoever called me Maureen was corrected on my name pronunciation.

I really hope it wasn’t written off as a sleepy patient’s delirious request, because I was absolutely serious about it.

After eating some very powdery eggs and drinking an apple juice, I was discharged and told to get my medications, rest up, avoid lifting anything over 15 pounds, stay away from submerging my sutures in water, and to schedule a one week post-op follow up with my primary care provider and a two week post-op follow up with the attending surgeon.

Graham drove us back to Bay Ridge, and I gave him my keys to go grab some essentials from my apartment. I gave Michelle and Polina a heads up that he was coming up (and I had let them know what was happening before I went into surgery) and that I’d be gone recovering through the weekend and partway into the week. They both wished me a speedy recovery, Graham grabbed a few essentials for me, and we drove up the street to pick up my meds from Rite Aid.

For some reason, they had only filled two of the four prescriptions. One they didn’t fill because it was a controlled substance and the hospital hadn’t submitted the proper authorization for it, and the other prescription (one of two laxatives) I have no idea why it wasn’t filled. Eventually, I got both my pain medications and one of the laxatives, with the other laxative to be filled and picked up at a different Rite Aid, closer to Graham’s work.

Exhausted, sore, hungry, and (in my case) in desperate need of a shower, we made it back to Graham’s to spend one more day there before going off to the hotel my mom had booked us. Graham had been scheduled to work that day, but after calling into the office was told he should only come in if he thought it was absolutely necessary. He ended up catching a few hours of sleep before going in for the late shift at work. I managed to take a shower and fell asleep on his couch as his bed was too soft and sent my abdomen into absolute agony. I blinked in and out of consciousness for the next few hours, waiting for Graham to come home with my last bit of medication. In that time, my dad called to check on me and ask how I felt, what I was prescribed, and what was expected of me. As we were talking Graham called, and I excused myself so I could answer the call. Nothing could have prepared me for what Graham was going to say to me.

“I was just hit by a truck.”

*click*

[brinesystem]

list, tw

I saw this on someone else’s blog (im not saying names cause idk if its okay to share that info? it was public but still) and it uh

It looked like a good way to kinda, like, have a bit less doubt? or a way to remind myself of whats happening and why i think i have this? idk

Might be triggering so like probs scroll past or something

‘the moods’ existed before i knew about did/osdd

I used to describe them as “it feels like half me, but also half somebody else”

I argue and talk with my own thoughts

Sometimes I talk/argue /aloud/ with my own thoughts

I have to actively fight to /convince/ Fae to talk to people, else he wont. and even when he does, its not how i want it to sound

I cant remember most of my childhood

The /bad/ middle school was when i was either 9 or 10

I knew too much about sex when i was much too young (7, 8)

I get ages wrong (i was 6 in cali, not 8. why do i think it was 8?)

I had a dream about getting raped when I was in elementary school. I didnt fight back. I didnt feel anything at all

I used to hide under desks

I hated my therapist. Its now fear. I dont remember what it was back then

I forget memories I recall, and if I force them back, everything hurts, even if theyre not traumatic

I often forget that I used to forget bad things that happened to me.

Other sex dreams from elementary school

The csa I /do/ remember (freshman). Why did i seek that out. Why did it seem like a good plan

I used to forget conversations daily

I drew myself (sebastian, older brother, nicer) before I knew i was trans. I dont have many memories from before I came out/knew i was trans. (am i an alter?)

Used to daydream for hours due to nerves. Disocciating?

The bathroom incident (middle school. 9 - 10)

How old are you? “16″ i reply this randomly when i am 23. when i was 21. Even when I know I am not

The HS trauma that happened right

I don’t have triggers for my trauma, except sometimes i /do/

Hypersexual, but only /sometimes/

I’m an adult! Except sometimes when my body is much too big and I am much too tall and I only want to curl up and be left /alone/. Except when i am small and fragile and want to have stuffed animals around me and play animal crossing. Except then.

Opinions keep changing, but to set differing ones. (Fashion sense, humor, hobbies, aesthetics)

Scared of dad! Not scared of dad. Pity dad. Could kill dad. Scared of dad! Not s-

Handwriting/Art/Writing style changes a lot (fluctuates between set stops)

Randomly gains accents and loses them. Only happens with two accents even though I know many

Stims change depending on Mood

Cant recognize myself in the mirror, but ideal keeps changing in set patterns (soft lumberjack, fae prince, cutesy, fashionable andro, suited devil)

Fave colors, songs, movies change in set patterns

Numb sensations to VERY INTENSE sensations. Cannot predict

Edible food changes depending on mood, even including safe foods (mac n cheese vs mussels vs ramen, etc)

What is this emotion? idk

Who am i? idk

I know I was bullied. Don’t remember why I know

Trying to think about my childhood makes me panic or get a headache

Super depressed after mental break ; Suddenly snapped out of it emotionally

That one time I slept for 3 days straight

Posture and walk cycle keeps changing

Gets songs stuck in my head that I’m not thinking about

Gets songs stuck in my head that i can’t even hear

Remembers things with no context given (the movie. “which movie” i dont know. “what was it about? who was in it? what was the title? what did it look like?” i dont know)

Bad sense of time, but like, days/hours can = months/years

“so mature for my age”

The Moods can be triggered into appearing, but not always by things I relate to them (ie; Kos and Fae)

Personality test results keep changing. All of them

False memories (the cliff, talking to the old woman about marriage, who knows what else)

Caught off guard by my own thoughts and even words I say (”sehb is gonna be mad at me for this, lol” “ACRRRRRYLICS”)

Most of my childhood memories are actually photos or stories ive heard

That dissociative test where I scored in the middle, but closer to DID than OSDD

Opinion on myself and my own looks varies

Opinion on my past varies

I dont recognize my own voice sometimes (is it changing? or is it my perception?)

Numb regarding pain, but then hypersensitive to it later

Numb regarding loss, skips straight to acceptance

Cant shiver normally, but sometimes can even when its not cold

Cant feel hunger normally, but sometimes can?

Favorite season and holidays change (summer, beach! autumn, cool air! halloween! no, valentines day!)

I dont feel connected to my family except my mum and maybe my youngest sister. These were /choices/ I made

Empathy? Dont know her. Except when I randomly start crying when others are sad, which always comes at different times but similar Moods

Cares about appearance one day, couldnt care less the next

Fave jacket: Green denim! Nope, today fave jacket: Grey hoodie! Nope, today f-

Headaches. So many headaches

More headaches when dealing with trauma

I doubt myself and worry I’m lying. Liars wouldnt do that, right?

Known to dissociate

Forget things mid sentence

Used ‘we’ when talking about myself at random before considering OSDD

Cant dream, except when I can and they dont feel like /mine/

Used to speak aloud with myself practicing words. Was I alone? idk

Loves animals. One of the Moods doesnt care at all about animals, even Wander

Loves video games. One of the moods detests video games

Loves horror games. Randomly feels intense fear from horror games

I know i was bullied, i know dad didnt come home on xmas, i know i moved a lot, i know i was in dc during 9/11, the ocean incident, the doctor incidents, I vaguely recall M(on base friend with older brother) and how she treated me (broke my glasses), i know i had a horrible time during that one year of middle school even though I only remember Two Moments (bathrooms, trailer) but I don’t necessarily have the memories of all of the things I know I dealt with

Memories are like snapshots or still moments, and dont continue

Memories I know effected me emotionally, I feel detached from now, except when i’m randomly Not (the koi, the caterpillar, not punching dad, etc)

Didn’t have friends until second year of middle school, those friends were bad, so were the hs friends

Ignored most things that happened but would randomly become enraged at smaller things that happened to me

The time on base I thought all adults driving by were pedophiles (i was 7. 8. why did i think that. why did i want to goad them? what was wrong with me??)

Keep forgetting memories like 81, but when I remember them theyre hard to get out of my head

“you acted so differently as a kid, what happened”

The Tics in response to stress

Was good at the doctors and then suddenly wasnt at all. Now am afraid

Was fine with bugs and then suddenly wasnt. Now am afraid

The fact that I dont remember typing ‘at all’ on 85

Lost old friend. Didnt mourn, still get a queasy feeling when I think about her/am reminded of her, but not upset or sad usually

Can connect most of the Moods to triggers, traumas, or coping methods, including myself

Reaction to trauma changed literally overnight

Used to love being tickled, now makes me panic (fight/flight)

Can feel when the Moods take something they see into themselves (was told this is normal. i am not faking this, at the very least)

I dont like lying. Fae doesnt/cant lie. Luci /enjoys/ lying.

Used to think solely in images. Now think solely in words.

Can sometimes hear thoughts before i think them, but only my own

Randomly gets worse coordination in turns with moods, and then gains it back after

Too trusting, but then gets in a mood and doubts even my closest friends

People keep telling me what im describing sounds like osdd, even friends who have met some of the Moods

I have an easier time remembering some things when I’m in different Moods

Used to have more amnesia before I started recognizing the Moods (was that me switching out?)

[jwnchstr]

What if you go hunting without knowing you’re pregnant with Dean’s child?

CHARACTERS: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Collins!Reader, [mentioned] Jo, Ellen, Bobby.

PAIRINGS: Dean x Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,726 (based on Wattpad)

SUMMARY: What if you go hunting without knowing you’re pregnant with Dean’s child?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hate writing (y/n) so I name you.

Cannibals. This time, you and the brothers are hunting cannibals. You think vampires are nasty enough to eat humans’ blood, but cannibals are lot more worst. They eat every inch of your limb including your heart and eyes and intestines like a cow. But being a hunter, you’re not afraid of them because it is easier to kill those bad people who are already bad. It takes only a shot.

But without tricks, is not your hunting game. One of the cannibals you’re hunting had tricked you, of course, when you thought you killed him. In turns out, you missed him. And when you are running away from the location to meet up with Sam and your boyfriend Dean, the cannibal man gets in your way.

“Dammit!” you curse under your breath. You can feel your heart exploding inside your chest when you add up with the shock when that man appears in front of you. You almost knocked yourself onto him, who had a knife in his hand.

“Hello, sweetheart.“ He smiles at you. You don’t know if it was because of the human flesh he has been eating, but his teeth are yellow and rusty like zinc. In the moonlight you see how filthy he looks. Again, you didn’t know if eating human flesh makes him like that.

You back away slowly as he approaches you like a predator hunting its prey. A knife is tight in his grip and you hate that smirk that appears on his face. At some time here, you wish you weren’t the one hunting him.

“Got nowhere to go, do you?” He chuckles enthusiastically looking at your panic face. “How about you come here and let me butcher you down? I’m hungry.”

You grimace at his sentence. You cannot imagine how someone could kill innocence, cut down every limb and get rid of every hair and skin to eat. Even if you hunt down every thing that causes disturbances to the world, but you never chop someone’s hands off and cook it for dinner.

With the thought, you gag. You can even smell the rotten flesh when they toast you and grill you in the oven; or cook you in the pan. The smell of blood makes you throw back everything you ate.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you try to stall the time. “Look, look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kill you back there. I was nervous. I didn’t know it was you, really. I thought it was-”

“Really?” He tilts his head to the right, as if reading you in such angle when the truth is, he is imagining the point of your neck to be cut down. “Why do I feel that you’re lying?”

“It’s because I am!”

As soon as that, you pick up a thick stick -- thick enough to fight with his knife -- with your leg. You have practiced this so many times before and each of them failed, but tonight, you succeed, but do not have the time to celebrate. When you pick the trunk up, you quickly swing it in front of you. Somehow, you are too slow that he manages to dodge his head.

The cannibal man turns angry seeing how you had fooled him. When you are taking your time with the trunk, he sprints towards you, swinging his knife but you dodge it pretty fast and punch his face. He falls backwards as he groans, pinching his nose that starts to bleed. Seeing the chance of killing him, you lift up the trunk to throw it onto the cannibal man’s face, but much to your disappointment, his reflexes are too quick. Or is it because you are too slow?

He kicks your stomach hard. Is it because of him eating human’s flesh that he gets their energy or you’re just too weak or it really hurts? You don’t have time to process which one is the answer when you feel another punch that causes you to fall on the ground, curling.

“Please,” you beg, like seriously beg. You don’t know why you feel so damn tired tonight when usually it’s not hard for you to kill one person. With a punch or a kick, you’d knock someone’s out. “Please, don’t kill me.”

The cannibal man laughs sarcastically. “But I’m hungry darling,” he says. “I promise you it won’t hurt. The next time you wake up, you don’t even know you’re dead.”

You whine and cry silently, clutching your stomach wishing that someone is already coming to rescue you. Even though the man hasn’t cut you open yet, but you already feel like it. You also feel like someone is washing your bones with ice. You cannot describe how awful it feels, but the pain makes you go sweaty and cold at the same time. You are shaking from top to bottom and your vision goes blur.

“Please, don’t kill me,” you hear yourself whisper to the man when you still feel his rough hands on your skin. But just when you see him raising his knife, someone else is already there to help you. With one shot, the man dies.

“Collins? Collins, hey, hey, stay with me.” You feel lightheaded when the man above your eyes taps your cheek to wake you up. It’s Dean, your boyfriend. Through your blur vision, you see how worry he looks and how panic he is.

The pang on your stomach strikes you again when you are about to call him. You choke and cry, curling on the ground as you shut your eyes like it helps you to reduce the pain.

Your boyfriend has a very deep frown as he stares you down without knowing what is happening to you. He tries to ask you what happened, but with you keep on curling and choking and crying, it did not help him. He watches you from up to down, looking for any injuries the previous man got you. Looking for any fractured bones because he doesn’t want to hurt you he picks you up. However, there’s no injury he sees, but the darkness on your jeans near your private part.

“No.”

Dean was shaky. He does not know what that blood on your jeans near your private part means, but he kind of knew. You might not tell him that you’re late for your period because it happens to you many times that you never take it seriously, but Dean personally keeps track on you. And when this is happening, Dean might not be able to forgive himself if...

Dean quickly scoops you up, running towards his car calling for Sam over the loud bangs of Sam’s shotgun. The hunt may not be finished, but they have to leave. You are sick. They cannot wait another minute to kill the cannibals. The hunt can continue next time.

Seeing his brother carrying you, Sam knows something not right is happening. And without a second thought, Sam follows.

The first thing that you hear as soon as you get your senses back is the beeping sound coming from the heart monitor. Instantly, you know where you are at. As you slowly open your eyes, you see that familiar white walls of the hospital, the heart monitor on your left and an IV. You lift your hand to wipe your eyes, but hiss when you forget that they hydrate you using the left hand.

You look around, seeing Sam and Dean talking while they are standing at the door. They are facing each other, but seeing you getting up, Sam jerks his head towards you, a cue to his brother that you woke up and he leaves.

“Collins, hey.” Dean smiles. “You wake up.” Dean rushes towards you. His hand quickly found yours as the other played with your hair.

“What happened?” You straight away ask, knowing that this is not an unfamiliar place to you and you haven’t lost your memory yet, only energy.

“Nothing. You just- fainted.”

Even though you are curious because Dean’s face says it all, but you are too weak to question more. So you just nod your head and ignore the lingering questions around your head and let Dean kisses your knuckles. You close your eyes a moment because that warms your heart.

“Collins,” Dean calls you softly. You hum as reply, and turn to him. “Did you know that you’re pregnant?”

You frown as you look at him. “I am not- Oh!” You stop yourself when you remember what happened to you during the hunt. Feeling so drained that you never felt before, not even on your period. Feeling of puking most of the times. Normal smelly things making you gag and puke. And the hurt at the bottom of your stomach when the man kicked you.

Your eyes turn big like a ping pong ball and your mouth form an ‘o’ as you stare at Dean. Your free hand spontaneously reach your stomach. But instead of feeling happy, you feel sorrow.

“Oh my God, Dean,” you start. You eyes water as you look at Dean who is giving you a look of confusion. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that I- that I-”

Dean chuckles. “Hey, hey, calm down.” Dean wipes your tears with his thumb. “Our bean is safe.” He smiles.

You stop crying immediately, blinking at him and sniffling. “Sorry?”

“Our baby is safe,” Dean repeats, “don’t need to be sad about it, but you need to take care of yourself, okay?”

“Are you serious?”

“Why would I not?” Dean gives you an assuring smile. “We just talked to the doctor. Yes, you and him barely survived, but you both miraculously did. So, promise me you’d take care of yourself.”

You wipe your tears as you nod your head. “Okay.” You feel a smile play on your lips, happy to hear the news. Even though you did know that you’re pregnant, but knowing that you lose one still hurt you, especially when both you and Dean planned about this.

“No more hunting for you,” Dean says, though soft, but he sounds stern.

You raise your eyebrows at this. “At least, allow me to go to work.? I’d get bored at home.”

“We’ll see,” Dean answers; you pull your face. “Because based on our experience, when you’re on your period and such, you can barely move.”

“Fine.” You pout, in which it’s like giving Dean an excuse to kiss you.

“I love you,” he says. “I’ll go get Sam and the rest.”

“And the rest?”

“Bobby, Ellen, Jo. Everybody’s excited to hear the news, baby.”

You can’t help, but to laugh. “Okay.”