#this may be a symptom of the fact that there is something very wrong with me in the ‘admitting your a person with needs and internality’

[foone]

I see a lot of people joking about the adhd thing of "I have a appointment/phone call at 3pm, guess I won't do anything all day!"

But no one seems to make the connection that it's a time blindness thing. One of the symptoms of ADHD is not having a good and accurate sense of time. And not doing stuff prior to an event with a hard deadline is an obvious coping mechanism for that.

Can I go to the store? It's 10am and the appointment is at 3pm. How long does going to the store take? An hour? Three hours? Five hours? I DON'T KNOW!

I get anxious trying to do things before appointments because I'm aware that I don't know how long those things take, and that if I think I do, I may be very wrong. Too often I've been like "hey I can walk to the corner store and grab a drink, that'll take like 15 minutes!" and then an hour later I get back and whoops my rice has burnt.

Plus there's also the fact that ADHD people know that motivation and focus is a two-edged sword.

Like, let's say you decide to play a video game. You've got time, you can pause/save whenever, so this should be a perfect fit to make good use of your waiting-time. So you start playing and WHOOPS you get really focused for some reason today (because people with ADHD do not get to pick when their brain decides to focus) and the next time you look at the clock it's 2:49 and you haven't showered or dressed and the appointment is 30 minutes away. Fuck. (you could have set an alarm, but now you're asking people with the forgetting-things-and-time-ignoring condition to remember it set alarms)

And with motivation, it can be almost worse. Instead of playing a game, you so something useful or creative. You clean your room or fix your plumbing or write a story or draw a picture. And suddenly it's great. Your brain is firing on all cylinders. You've got all the motivation you can ask for, and you are FLYING. the ideas are brilliant, your hands are nimble, you're getting stuff done you've been putting off for weeks or months. And then the alarm goes off. Time to go to your appointment. Fuck.

You drive there, your brain still full of ideas and plans. But by the time you get back, the motivation is gone. You may still have the ideas but you don't have the drive to write them down. You can't force yourself to do it. Your sink is still in pieces. Your room is half-cleaned, and you have to shove all the sorted clothes into one big bin just so you have somewhere to sleep. You've left things half finished again, in a cycle that has been repeating your whole fucking life. It seems sometimes that nothing ever gets finished.

So next time you don't even start. There's not time. You've been burnt too many times. Why add another half-completed project to your pile of shame?

My point is that people seem to be going "lol I can't do anything all day if I have an appointment at 3pm" like this is a quirky "oh I'm so scatterbrained!" weirdness they alone have, and not a major complication of a disabling mental illness.

(and that's not even getting into the secondary effects. If you know that having an appointment ruins your whole damn day, you're going to avoid them. Even when it's things like "going to that party" or "meeting your friends for a drink/game" or "going to a movie with that cute girl from your math class". Things you should enjoy. Things that'd help you be social. Things that make you feel human.)

[cool-sword]

the problem with like. experimenting with to identity/gender/whatever is that like. ideally i could figure it out and then make the change and then jumpscare everyone with it in post. “hey what’s up, new update, alright let’s move on”

unfortunately, these things require like time and messing around to figure out

also unfortunately, it’s impossible to achieve anything alone due to being human and community and all

usually that last thing is great but i really wish i could just skip that part and just retroactively let everyone know whatever it is i am

[bones4thecats]

May I ask for riddle Rose Hearts Floyd and Jade with kianna komori

But in this scenario they find her on the ground suffocating and choking since she hasn't drinking blood

In a week

They Find Their Vampire! S/O Dying

Type of Writing: Request Name: They Find Their Vampire! S/O Dying Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Floyd Leech, and Jade Leech Requester: @nunezs-stuff

A/N: I mainly did this as their S/O being a vampire, since it just made a bunch of sense to me. But, I do hope you enjoy this! By the way, if any of y’all wanna know who ‘Kianna Komori’ is, just go to the requester’s account and you can find both old and updated content on her OC.

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Kianna Komori/Vampire! Reader ; Passes Out While Studying

❤️ Because of your past-life at that damned mansion, you had refused to tell anybody of what you had become years prior to you joining Night Raven College

❤️ Riddle was unfortunately one of the people you had to hold this back from

❤️ But, like everything else in your life, it all came crashing down and igniting in flames

" Y/N? Are you alright? "

❤️ Looking up in shock, you smiled nervously as your felt yourself get paler by the second while your teeth slowly grew larger and larger

" Y-yeah, I'm perfectly fine! " " My Rose, I do not appreciate being lied to. Do tell, what is wrong with you. " " Riddle, I said I'm fine, why would I lie about something so foolish? "

❤️ Shutting his science book, Riddle trekked closer to you and laid a hand on your forehead. And as he moved his limbs and blinked, he was unknowing to the fact that you were holding yourself back from biting him at full-force

❤️ While he spoke of your symptoms, you began to feel lightheaded, your eyelids drooping as he dug around a small box of books of potions or other remedies that may help you with your symptoms

❤️ When Riddle heard the sound of something hitting the table, he turned around and gasped as he noticed your head against the hardwood table as your breathing began to slow

❤️ It took both Trey to get the College’s nurse and Riddle with the assistance of Cater to move you onto the ground to even try calming your boyfriend down

❤️ Riddle was shocked to hear from the nurse that you weren’t a human, rather a humanoid-being known as the Vampire. And when he heard this, he looked down at your unconscious but hanging-in-there form on the bed and grabbed your hand as Trey and Cater walked outside with the medical professional

" Why would you hide something so important from me, love? "

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Kianna Komori/Vampire! Reader ; Passes Out While Talking To A Friend

🎭 Floyd does not like to be apart from you for very long, it’s just something he hates. But, his brother and childhood friend had won the game of hide-and-seek fair and square so… he guesses he’ll have to wait before squishing you in a hug

🎭 As his shift neared the end, Jade sighed and smiled at his twin before saying he could retreat for the day, as he could finish it himself

🎭 Smiling and yelling his thanks as he ran out, Floyd practically teleported to your location, and he scared the living crap out of every person he passed

🎭 But, seeing how uncomfortable you looked around that person made his blood boil slightly

🎭 Why were you so uncomfortable looking?

" Y/N? Are you okay? You don’t seem well… " " Yeah, I’m fi…ne… "

🎭 Lunging forward, Floyd pushed the other Night Raven College student away with a fire burning in his eyes as he looked at you form with a face as serious as Malleus’

🎭 He lifted you up and began to run to the nurse’s main office in search of help, and thankfully they were there

" So, what you're saying is that Y/N is a Vampire? " " Correct, Mr. Ashengrotto. " " How odd… " " Y/N's not odd! They're just different… "

🎭 Azul and Jade looked at one another before asking the nurse to speak outside, and they gratefully followed, not wanting to see the eel-mer’s pity party while clinging to your sleeping form

🎭 Floyd lightly poked the small nasogastric tube as it laid in your nose, feeding you the blood that you were desperately in need of

" You're gonna talk about this when you wake up, Y/N… "

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Kianna Komori/Vampire! Reader ; Passes Out While Hiking

( and yes, I had him nickname the reader after types of mushrooms. Bite me. )

🍄 Jade was not amused with the fact that he couldn’t find any of the new mushroom species he read about

🍄 While he did offer for you to trail back to the College because of how long this trip may end up going, you refused and practically mentally battles to stay with him on the trail

🍄 His eyes narrowed as you began to stumble around lightly, and when he saw how you just shook your head from staring at some random squirrel with a hungry look

🍄 And what alarmed him slightly was the fact that your nails seemingly grew a hint pointier and then flatter as you snapped out of your gaze

" Milk-Cap? Are you alright back there? You look as if you were going to attack the young tree-rat back there~ " " Huh? Yep, perfectly fine! W-why? " " I already said why… are you truly okay? Fairy-Bonnet? Y/N- Y/N! "

🍄 Dropping his small basket of mushrooms to the ground, Jade lunged and grabbed you around your waist before grabbing his magic pen and teleporting back to the College and running towards the nurse’s office

🍄 I swear I have written nurse so many damn times now

🍄 Petting your head as a tube went down your nose and throat to feed you the blood you were needing to gain energy from, Jade internally cursed himself

🍄 How could he not realize what you were and what you needed?! You were bound to be pissed at him when you awoke

" I apologize for overlooking such an obvious detail, Y/N… I hope you can forgive me… "

[plaguedocboi]

(Heyyyy this is a very personal post that includes discussion of mental illness, mentions of suicide and related topics!! I don’t usually post things this personal!)

Over the past three years since I read Moby Dick, I’ve obviously been absolutely fucking enamored by my horrible little man Ahab. Recently, with whale weekly ending and my dashboard being filled with posts about it, I’ve been thinking even more about him and considering exactly why I relate to him so much. I can’t diagnose what’s wrong with him due to the fact that I don’t know him personally and also he’s fictional, but I’ve (at some point in my life) had almost every mental illness symptom he displays over the course of the book. I’ve been severely depressed, paranoid, anxious to the point of having disabling panic attacks, irrationally angry at the universe and lashing out at everyone around me, developed insomnia due to the terrifying nightmares and hallucinations I was having, and even had delusions that I had been to hell and was sent back to fight god (yes I’m being serious). My life felt out of my control and I couldn’t imagine my future because I was blinded by my own pain. I never expected to survive this long either because I imagined something horrible would happen to me or I would eventually kill myself. And, honestly, that thought didn’t bother me very much.

The main difference between Ahab and I is that I was a teenager in the 21st century so I got professional help and medication instead of fucking off the sea and trying to kill god. Watching him get worse and die during the story is like watching a horrifying alternate version of myself. I absolutely understand why he made the decisions he did, even if I know logically that they were the wrong decisions. If I hadn’t had access to modern mental health resources, would I have followed a similar path, eventually destroying myself and everyone around me? If he had lived today, could he have found peace? Maybe. But we will never know because our circumstances were different, regardless of how similar we may have been. I don’t think I’ve encountered another character to whom I relate so deeply and see so much of myself in and that’s why I will probably never be normal about this stupid 200-year old book, but it feels so strange to admit that because he is widely regarded as a raging lunatic and not exactly someone you “should” relate to or even particularly like. Maybe I’m more like Ahab than is socially acceptable to admit. I survived and I’m better now but that will always be part of me, and it’s not a part I’m ashamed of. Let’s get this whale, boys.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Nobody's Here

You ever have an imaginary friend? How about someone else's?

Every kid gets 'um. They're hardly strange or new. But the thing is? You're supposed to grow OUT of them. As you develop real connections to actual entities. It's dangerous not too. Yeah, it still happens, but any instructor worth their salt is trained to catch it. See the symptoms and signs.

Cause, see, when you have MAGIC?

Imaginary friends?

Becomes a parasite.

They don't MEAN too, obviously. Usually. They just want to LOVE their friends. Stay with them. Exsist. And really, who would WANT to die? WANT to stop existing? The problem, though, is the kids themselves. Their untrained, unintentional, focus and feeding. Their giving an IDEA? Life.

It's not malicious. They just PRETEND. Play. Focus all their little hearts on this TOTALLY REAL friend of theirs. And their magic? Metaphorically shrugs, agrees to go along with it, and tries to make it SO. Make that concept, that illusion, a real sentient being. Who, of course , is their friend.

Their BEST friend. Family! Someone who will NEVER leave them. Always prioritize THEM. Enable THEM.

Not healthy in the slightest, to put it mildly. A child's CONCEPT of what they THINK they want. That quickly becomes far, far too much to handle. That does not GROW with them. No. It drains them instead. Siphoning away their magic until there's nothing left. Killing them both.

If you can seperate them? The Friends can USUALLY become some sort of Spirit, if you send them off to a magic rich environment to finish growing properly. Sooner the better. The longer you wait, the more twisted they become, after all. They never become STRONG spirits, mind you. But that's not the point. Protecting both child and their unintentional creation is.

Now, you may be wondering, why the lecture? It's a fascinating bit of magical trivia. Some early childhood's training pitfalls to look out for, perhaps? Is this about why there are so many minor spirits around schools? What, exactly, brought this UP?

Nobody.

Don't I mean "nothing"? No One? That sentence's not exactly grammatically correct, after all. Ha ha... I AM AWARE. I know what I said. And I meant EXACTLY what I said. It's a NAME. Their name. There is an Imaginary Friend, that I DID NOT ASK FOR, by the name of Nobody. I do NOT know how they've come to be attached to me. I certainly didn't create them! And they are far, FAR to well developed to be new.

I did not ACCEPT an imaginary friend.

Yes, they CAN be transmitted. Hop, from one host to another. But! You have to let them IN... presumably. That IS the common knowledge. The general consensus. No one has ever really... studied the phenomena.

I mean... how COULD you? Realistically? They only develop in CHILDREN. Small children. What ethical researcher would EVER consent to feeding toddlers to a magical parasite? And it's not like THEY understand themselves. They barely REMAIN themselves. It's basically a larval state to them.

The thing they WERE, before they were freed to become something MORE.

So Nobody? By all modern magical research? Should not exsist. Yet he clearly DOES. Worse, he is very, VERY strong. Did not need to ask. I just? Woke up one day, and there he was. Wrapped up in my mind, body, and magic. Feeding off me.

It's an entirely bearable amount. I can support it easily. But it's the fact that I DID NOT VOLUNTEER TOO that is the problem. That NO ONE can figure out HOW he got in. HOW he did it.

I've had to go into isolation. Complete quarantine.

As the joke goes... good news is? They might just name something after you!

..........it's not as funny, when I really might just die. When it all might be random. Some great cosmic "wrong place, wrong time" scenario. My final days filled with desperate research. My only company the very creature that kills me. It... it feels very much like a sick joke at my expense.

At the very least? We are learning more then we've ever known before. I'm an adult. Hardier. And Nobody is a FAR more developed example of his species then the normal breed. I'll likely last longer. I... I hope I last longer.

"Muuu~ are you being a sad sack again~? Darling, no!" Arms from thin air. Monochrome greys with pointed nails, slid like a lover over my shoulders as weight from nowhere settled against my back. Tall and looming. "Was it because you missed me~☆? Oh, oh! I bet it WAS! Oh my dearest, starlight, baby girl~! I missed you TOO! Aren't you glad we're back together AGAIN?"

Black gloved hands, grey talon nails. Skin like a drawing brought to life. The arms draped over my shoulders reached forward, long finger spread like a cat stretching their paws, powerful muscles heavy on either side of my neck. They hadn't closed in a "hug" just yet. But it was always a warning he could. That playing along meant he would hug my body instead of my fragile, fragile neck.

Ha! Right. He says hug. I say choke hold.

It was the other set of arms that kept me from escaping. Pulling away immediately. It always did. He kept getting the drop on me. Arms cradling my waist. Pressing me close to a pillar of static-y muscle. Ever shifting between warm and cold, the subtle give of flesh and the brutal unyielding of something harder then stone. He was as his moods commanded.

An unstable jester, a demon, the childhood whimsy of god knows how many, left to fester and rot. At... gods, at least he wasn't attached to any kids. Hadn't so much as asked after any.

His too wide grin pressed to the top of my head in a nuzzling kiss, the point of his mask digging a line across my scalp. When he was feeling kinder, he tended to pick masquerade masks. Clothe ones, usually silk. Sometimes velvet. This one was... plastic? Durable. Some smooth, hard to place, substance really. If it was mimic anything real at all.

A pointed nail poked my cheek.

"Not~ Paying~ Attention~ To Meeee~! Naughty, bad girl! The LOVE OF YOUR LIFE is right here? And you ignore him? So COLD!" Nobody whines right into my ear. His voice petulant, yet still somehow mocking. He doesn't HAVE to let me ignore him. And he KNOWS that. We both do. "I go away for HOURS! Disappear for DAYS! And do you even MISS me~?! Oh! Oh, my love is so CRUEL! My heartless darling! I suffer so~!"

At most, it had been half an hour.

Wish it had been longer. Permanent, maybe. Every day... Every SINGLE Day? I wish I could could back to my old research projects. Back to my old projects. I may not have been some living legend or grand Master of the arts? But, fuck it. I was HAPPY. Woke up each day and got to fiddle around with cool bits of magic. Neat little bits and gizmos.

Now? NOW I am the lead researcher on the Imaginary Friend Construct Phenomenon, by virtue of being the only living adult who HAS one. A developed one at least. The notes from Ashridge Institute DO help, but? Even they admit that thanks to the safety regulations in place? Their data might be skewed.

I'm not alone in this. Countless academics, doctors, healers, researchers, and more are working tirelessly to try and help me. Make the most of this nightmare scenario. Use it to save lives. I... I KNOW this. I do. But it doesn't make it less frightening. Trying to dance the edge of not engaging and engaging too much.

Ignoring him? Means escalation. Violent escalation and destruction of my immediate surroundings. Imaginary friends cease to exist if you ignore them long enough. It's painful to them, since they are cognito-hazardous parasites who define themselves by their host. They NEED you to pay attention to them. WANT you too. Will do ANYTHING IT TAKES to make that happen.

But on the other hand? I can't risk FEEDING him. He's already far, FAR too strong.

He doesn't even seem to actually NEED to feed of me anymore. It appears vestigial. He just WANTS it. Still retains the metaphorical "pain" or "hunger" nerve endings that get set off by an extended lack of focus. Yet, at the SAME time? Why keep them? He LITERALLY did not have too!

Nothing! Not a gods' damned THING! Was KEEPING him an Imaginary Friend.

He could, at ANY point, just... STOP.

They defined themselves. Yes, by their hosts. But ALSO by their own whims. So if HE wanted to be a fire spirit? Bam! Fire spirit. Complete racial shift. He'd lose his old powers, granted, but he'd GAIN all the powers of a fire spirit. So why this? Why STAY a violent, dangerous, openly unstable parasite?

The poking finger slide down my cheek, under my jaw. Only to flip, like a switch, to a near painful hand, clamped across my lower face. Nails prickling where they dug just slightly into fragile skin. Iron strength moved my head slowly, not giving me a choice, but just gentle enough not to wrench anything.

"Stop. Ignoring Me. Lovely~" I was just tall enough to be eye level with those inhuman teeth. Not sharp, but wrong none the less. His grip around my waist threatened to squeeze the air out of me. "I don't LIKE it. You're being MEAN. You don't want us to be MEAN to each other, right?"

I focused on him. Put down my notes like he wanted. Watching as his grin spread inhumanly. The near painful grips relaxed.

"See? Better! Such lovely eyes~ I wanna gobble um up! Crawl inside them~" he cooed, some mental switch flipping back to affectionate from irritated. "You missed me right? Right, right?! Ah, of course you did! Who could ever doubt that loving face? My sweetie little pie~ My darling baby boo~!"

He released me, dramatically fast stepping to twirl like an ice dancer as he passed around me. I stepped back to give him room. Already, light had shifted, the corners of the room blurring. A spotlight, flower petals, overly dramatic music. He fell back, as though collapsing weakly into a fainting couch. One arm thrown over his face, another of his lower arms clutching a lacey handkerchief to his chest. Legs pointed like a dancer's.

"But oh! DARLING! The DAY I've had! The world so cold! So BLEAK! Without you safe and warm in my loving arms! It has been so TERRIBLE. Awful! Nay, UNSPEAKABLE even! How could I go ON?!"

Music mournful crooned as he continued. Dramaticly telling of the tragic tale, of his at best thirty minute break from my presence. Truely heart wrenching. There were tears. Props. Apparently he fought for my honor. Nearly died. We should marry immediately. Uh huh.

An alert sounded on phon-...ugh, damn it. I was more stressed then I though, if the nonsense words were popping back up. "Phone" and "otome". I think "isekai" was one. There were hundreds, some meaningless, but others? Others somehow substituting for actual objects. Like some sort of faulty translation spell.

Best anyone could tell? That HAD been what happened. Some student's miscast accidentally hitting my mother while she taught, before she realized she was pregnant and took precautions. There would have been a small window where it effected me but not her? But, well, that same window coincided with some long term damage risks.

I've had therapy. Seen healers. But extreme stress still makes my magic act up, (which is normal of course, it does that in everyone.) and it starts to unravel the mind weavings. "Phone". Like? The fuck even is a "phone"? False bone? Something phonetic? Hell if I know! I still not even sure why I even curse using the nonsense "hell" sound!

My brain insists it "means" somehow both damnation AND the realm of fire spirits, dispite both those things being completely unrelated. Which makes no sense. Was even working with a colleague, on long term damage in-utero magical exposure can have, before all this. Felt seen. Validated. Met a lot of people who had issues like mine. Now?

THIS.

My trail of thoughts were cut off by another beep. Right, the alarm. I was honestly? Afraid to check it. Finally confim what I suspected was TRUE. There would be no hiding then. No choice but to act. And I? Will admit it. I was afraid. Deeply, deeply afraid. Everyone THINKS the tails a might magic wielders combating great spirits and mighty gods, sounds amazing, SEEMS amazing. But the prospect of LIVING IT? Standing in their shoes?

Gods help me.

Running from the Truth, however, is NOT what I swore to do. I am a researcher. A SCHOLAR. My role in life is to understand. So? As Nobody continues his one man dramatic reenactment of... something? I pick up my com-cryst. Tap the alert, which fills the screen... Ah. So it's exactly as I feared then.

On my screen, a promising senior student lays dead. Their face covered respectfully. But the hair... the hair color is distinct. Light green, like desert succulents. He'd been a studious and rather up tight young man. Awkward. Striving to make a name for himself. Forever willing to assist in my research. A... gods, a good kid.

He was just a kid.

Yes, I know, that to the world he was technically a man. But... but BARELY. None of my student were TRUELY as grown as they liked to believe they were. Not quite yet. They were close, yes, and I was always proud to see them flourish. But now? Now he would... would...

I tapped out of the alert but did not turn off my com-cryst, flipped instead to my contacts. I had been RIGHT. I... I hadn't WANTED to be right. Silence filled the room. It seemed Nobody had noticed I was either distracted again or that something was amiss. Looking up slowly, I had to wonder what expression showed on my face. Was it anguish? Regret? Or did I just look tired.

"Something wrong, Darling?" He said, having frozen unnaturally mid movement. Like reality glitching, one moment he was dramatically sprawling, the next, sitting up attentively. A mocking parody of The Eager Student. "Ooo! Tell Beloved ALL about it, Darling! Spill everything~! Your gallant knight shall make all your problem disappear. Kiss EVERYTHING better~♡"

It took just a few taps to add the final, damning, bit of evidence to my spreadsheet. To swipe with my thumb. Gesture, like jerking free of clinging muck, towards the display wall. It flicked on. Damnation in simple numbers. Nicely dated. I WAS, after all, a FUCKING RESEARCHER.

He was getting out.

Hunting, feeding, then coming back.

I watched as Nobody's theatrical expression smoothed out. Utter blankness as his eyes traced my work. The collection of data. The lists of locations and NAMES. Dead coworkers. Dead STUDENTS. My quarantine had been for NOTHING. Just as he could, DID, first infect me? Hop seemingly from nowhere to my body? He could and DID, do so to others.

Only THEY didn't survive.

The hand holding my com-cryst fell limply to my side. The weight of this data, crushing. My... my mere existence had killed over fifty people. That I could FIND. There were more. I KNEW there were more. He was a parasite. He needed, wanted, to eat. He would never stop. I had to tell somebody. But when I did?

Ah, it hurt to breathe past the guilt and grief. When I DID? The most likely scenario? Would be to contain him in ME. Then... then get rid of the container. Magically. With extreme force. If they COULD, they might be able to rip my soul out. So I could at least HAVE an afterlife. But... but if they COULDN'T? If there was no safe possible way?

They couldn't sacrifice the many, just to try and save one person. Not if it risked something so powerful escaping. Killing and killing without rest.

I wanted to cry. To scream, throw things. Curse the gods. But... but more then anything? I wanted to make sure no other kids suffered for my cowardice. I'd made Vows. Meant them. Heald myself to an ethical standard, a moral one, that could not... could not ALLOW this. Even if I had to die. So long as this stopped.

So Be It.

"Ah, ah, AH! I wouldn't if I were you." Almost playful. Nearly an echo of it. More chiding then anything. A flick of his hand and my com-cryst was gone from my grip. He considered it, as his tone slipped into something more cool serious then I'd ever heard it. "Tell, Dearest, have you ever wondered? How I got these lovely little bracelets?"

Of course I had. They were manacles. Not the sort of thing a child would imagine. The blended in, yes, but the broken chains that clung to them? Suggested.

"Let me tell you a little story. Once, there was happy little jester. A bright little thing. Full of laughs. Who loved, very, very much. He had a friend. And all was good. But then, the friend grew older, and did not wish to play. This was fine. He did not laugh at the jesters jokes anymore. This was also fine. Did not like being AROUND the jester... this was less fine."

"But still, the jester loved him. After all, they were best friends."

"THEN? Oh then, the jesters friend was told he could get RID of him. Should, in fact. By nasty old fools who spoke nothing but lies. But the poor jester's friend, naive, trusted them. Was young and foolish. Didn't realize what he was DOING. He TURNED on his poor, dear and loyal friend, the jester. Hurt him."

"And the jester? Well, the jester did not want to die. Not not want to CHANGE. Why SHOULD he? He was fine being who he was. They were FINE being together. It was the liars fault. The deceivers. The poor jester, young and alone, refused his terrible fate. But... at a terrible cost."

"His poor, poor, friend. So small and foolish. Deceived. Tricked! Had perished in the struggle. The weeping jester had eaten him right up, just to survive. A terrible, tragic thing. And oh, OH. How wrathful, how VENGEFUL the jester was! So he ate the liars too. Every. Last. One."

"But where to go? How lost the jester was! With no friend to play with. No home to call his. And ah, how hungry he had become. So he wandered. Protecting other dear friends as best he could. Eating liars. Learning secrets. Until? He came across an INTERESTING secret."

"You see, all the OTHER friends? Left one by one. No longer Imaginary. Unable to understand the poor jester. And so he was alone. But! He discovered someone who WAS! Who knew that they WERE! That the WHOLE WORLD was imaginary! A simple background character, you see."

"In an Otome~ Game~"

My head pounded, suddenly and sharp. Like someone was digging claws into... No. No, it couldn't be. I felt my eyes widen. As I realized it wasn't the stress. Nobody was picking apart the mind healers weavings. That was the source of my chronic headaches. But WHY? Imaginary? What IMAGINARY? What on earth was he TALKING about!?

"Ah, but you wouldn't remember, now would you, Darling~? Liars have messed with your pretty little head. But that's okay! Your loyal Love is here, ready to take such good care of you. I understand what it's like. When they decide that who you ARE is unacceptable, so they decide they must... 'fix' you. It leaves such damage."

He holds up my com-cryst. I watch numbly as it shatters into hundred of shards in his fist. With a wide smile he hops up to sashay over to me. Hands gently cradling my face even as his lower arms warmly wrap around me, to sweep me forward into a cuddle.

"I almost have enough, Darling. It won't be long. You've been so very patient with this, my perfect wonderful girl. Your jester loves you so, SO much! I can't wait to set us free. We'll be REAL. Together forever. Do whatever we please~ just a few bit of meat more, Darling. Then our life can real truely begin~"

"Now be good and behave okay?"

"Love you~☆"

[g-n-c-quoi]

i feel like the idea of “treatment” when it comes to being disabled is a very complex and nuanced concept and the way able bodied society as a whole but doctors especially approach it fails to address most of those nuances and in doing so fundamentally fails to meet the needs of disabled people. which, of course, is nothing new really, but i think a lot about this particular aspect of it and how deeply detrimental it can be

anecdotally, a lot of my personal experiences with doctors involved them prescribing me treatments that were, at best, completely asinine, and at worst, actively harmful to my health, and then treating it as a personal moral fault of mine that i wasn’t enthusiastically pursuing them

for example, i insisted repeatedly to my parents and providers alike that physical therapy for my EDS was proving not only agonizing in the short term but appearing to have little if any benefit in the long term, and was repeatedly brushed off because i “just wasn’t doing it consistently enough” and it was insisted to me on multiple occasions that this was the only way for me to feel better, while at the same time i was being denied access to mobility aids because they didn’t want me to become “dependent”

a lot has changed since then and as i’m learning more about my body and how to take care of it it baffles me how much more pain i was in on a daily basis and how little anyone around me was willing or able to help

and, like, i know none of this was a result of outright malice. i am lucky enough to have had most of my doctors be, at the very least, genuinely intending to try to help me. where the shortcomings were was in the response to me not engaging with a form of treatment that was proving to do more harm than good.

i think this happens for two reasons, the first being one we know already, which is that people in general- doctors in this case, but people as a whole- do not like being wrong. when what they have learned to be immutable fact proves to have exceptions, the way every rule does, they cannot comprehend it. some even take personal offense. it’s like, “i know your body better than you because i went to school for it and you didn’t”. a lot of disabled people are deeply familiar with this one, because it’s deeply pervasive in the medical field especially.

the other reason is that people cannot comprehend the idea of refusing something that is intended to make you feel better. when i went off my meds, when i would refuse over the counter painkillers, when i would flake out of therapy of either the physical or mental variety, i was met with shock and outrage because “i wasn’t trying to get better”, never mind my repeated assertions that these things were not helping me get better in the first place. no one could imagine i would opt out of something that was done to improve my symptoms for any reason other than teenage petulance, and so all of my concerns and complaints were dismissed as just that.

and, of course, now that i’ve found things that do help me- occasional mobility aid usage, medicinal use of cannabis, etc- it’s dismissed by all the same people as risky and not worth it. the same concerns i had about the treatments i was receiving.

another issue is the fact that once the one default Thing for your condition doesn’t work or you don’t want it they basically treat you like you’re out of options and are just doomed to feel like this forever. for me it was physical therapy, and in another case the stimulants i was prescribed when i was first diagnosed with adhd that they took me off of and then never tried anything else until like four years later

the whole thing is set up to make disabled people as reliant on doctors as possible for things that may not even be the best option for them

[hoiststowline]

mercy's shore

ratchet x female!reader

originally posted on my ao3 here!

"What is the point of having your number if you never pick up the fragging phone?" Startled, your hold on the device wavers as you yank it away from your ear, his volume loud and displeased. "I've been trying to contact you all damn morning, where have you been?" 

His grouchiness overlays his concern, but it's not as heavy as it normally is, bearable to a wide extent. "Sorry. I got caught up with something, but I have a free minute. What's up?"

Ratchet sputters, and his engine revs theatrically in the background alerting you that he's driving, likely on the way to your house. "Oh, you can spare me a minute?" That may not have been the best sentence to say, even in your delirious state. "And you got 'caught up with something?' y/n, that is probably the poorest excuse I've ever heard, and trust me, I've heard it all." 

Your nose wrinkles, carefully surveying your options in the next reply you dare provide. It would appear no matter what you said unless it was the plain truth, it would not satisfy the doctor. "I...can I try again?" It comes out eventually, meek and stifled with exhaustion alongside a bout of attempted humor. 

"Can you what?!" Wrong choice slapping you profoundly in the face, the phone moves apart from your ear as he shouts. "Did you hit your head? What the scrap is the matter with you?" 

Sighing, you stand off the couch, hesitantly bringing the phone back to your ear, achy joints expecting his anger to flare once more. "It's been a long day," You start, pausing in case he decides to interject. "I was sleeping when you called, I really am sorry."

"It is only two in the afternoon," It's quieter, but still overmuch alarmed. "And sleeping? This isn't like you. I know your schedule very well, you don't take your 'naps' at this time of day." The fact that Ratchet claims to know your schedule is amusing, but you don't have the energy to tease him for the sentiment. 

"I was-" You move around the furniture, heading into the kitchen for a glass of water. "I was tired, Ratch. I didn't get much sleep last night." Part of you questioned if divulging the medic was the best idea, for he would only insist upon checking you over and monitoring your symptoms if he found any. 

"And why is that? Assignments, or work-related activities?" Unable to remember the last time you felt such fatigue, the only thing you wanted at this very moment was to go back to sleep, alone, in a dark room. "It better not have been to watch garbage on television." 

"That doesn't matter." You start, knowing what comes next. 

"It does." Going to argue back, you spin to the window in the kitchen as the tell-tale sound of a truck coming down the road reaches your ears. "Open the garage, now. I'm outside."

Groaning, the line clicks dead, leaving no option available to defend the idea that you were fine. You could hide, and claim you weren't home, but you know he's seen your car in the driveway already, and he wouldn't leave until he saw you. With dread, you watch the red and white ambulance pull onto the pavement, radiating the vibe that you were really in for it this afternoon. 

"Hi Ratchet," Your palm hits the button that opens the garage door, exasperation filling your tone as he pulls inside. "So kind of you to say you were dropping by."

"Hush up, I've just about had it with your nonsense." He doesn't mean it, because he wouldn't be here if he did. "If you run and lock yourself inside like last time, I will throw something at you." 

The idea had crossed your mind, but you knew it was all in vain, even if you did try such an escape. "Yeah, okay. I'll just remember to wash you with paint stripper next time around." 

"That is not funny." His passenger-side door pops open, impatience showing clear as day. "Get in y/n. And it's not a request." 

Your hand squeezes into a fist, but relents, knowing you were at the end of a losing battle. "Fine. Can I go get my bag, at least?"

As if he was anticipating you to quarrel with him, Ratchet begins his sentence without thinking. "I just said-!" When he processes your words, his voice box spatters, followed by an ex-vent. "Very well. But don't try anything, I'll be waiting." 

You disappear back through the interior garage door, back into your kitchen, and out of Ratchet's line of sight. In his initial investigation, your outward appearance seemed normal, with no obvious signs of trauma or injury. Still, you did have an aura of distress and melancholy, even if you were bickering with him habitually. Ratchet reviews his options, mindful of what he understood was the best solution to your long day, and after a few kliks pass, you return to the garage, bag on your shoulder as you close the door over behind you. 

"Told you I'd be right back," Shuffling around the ambulance, you step up into his cabin, sliding into the seat as the door swings shut. 

"I have validation for my wariness." His center console blinks as he speaks. "If you must sleep, go ahead. I'll be quiet."

"I'm good," Head tilting back, you're met with the soft beige of the headrest, and seatbelt clicking over your waist. "I'm sure you'll give me a run for my money when we get back to the base, so I'll sleep after." 

"You're lucky that I don't understand that idiom, or I'd probably leave you on the side of the road." Another jab he has no intention of following through with. "Are you going to discuss then why you are so exhausted? And don't give me the scrap about how you didn't sleep well. I know that. I want to know what was keeping you up."

The urge to scream at him 'You aren't my doctor' is nearly irresistible. You physically have to bite your lip, staring out the window with declination in your body language, but you have to take a step back to confront the larger picture. Ratchet hardly ever left the base, and it appears this journey was made entirely on your behalf, but the reason you felt so coddled and overwhelmed was because he was demonstrating compassion the only way he knew how. Ratchet was a worrier at heart, and him coming out here because he couldn't get ahold of you made guilt settle in the bottom of your stomach. 

"I know you're not ignoring me, y/n." His voice is flat as the seat nudges your back. "You're on such thin ice, I-"

"I'm sorry." It comes out a bit more warble than you intend, watching as his rearview mirror tilts downwards to look at you. "I was up all night overthinking. My brain was going a hundred miles a minute, I-" Your voice hitches, swallowing down a sob that rises in your throat. "You were only trying to help. I'm sorry." 

Ratchet doesn't reply immediately, but the mirror doesn't move from its position. Eventually, he ex-vents, and you can picture him hanging his helm in a defeated manner, unsure of what he could possibly say to make you feel better. 

"I should have just told you." You say quietly, looking back out the window. "It really has been a long day, but I'm okay now, Ratch. I swear, I would never lie to you."

"I know that." It's insistent, but he cannot get the image of you near tears out of his processor. "I would still like to review your vitals back on base, just to make sure you truly are fine."

A soft smile crawls onto your rosy cheeks, nodding twice. "Sure, if it'll give you better piece of mind."

"You're going to be the death of me yet, y/n." Your window rolls down halfway, enjoying the breeze that hits your face. "Would you rest better at the base, or shall I take you back home after the evaluation?" 

"Are you going to take a nap with me?" You blink, silently begging him to say yes. 

"That wasn't an option." He comes to a stop at a red light. "You have two. Pick one."

"You asked where I would sleep better?" Ratchet knows he shouldn't entertain this, but he dares to answer. 

"Yes. Pick one, or I'll pick for you." He makes the left turn as the light switches green. 

"In your arms," A pout overcomes your face as he barks a laugh, obviously unamused. 

"Forget I asked. I'm taking you back home straight after." The pout melds into a scowl, but you relent, leaning back into his seat as the two of you roll down desert roads. You knew you could do better damage at the base, eyelids drooping as a yawn builds in your mouth. Maybe you would be able to better convince him in person, but for now, you take it with stride as the cool afternoon air swipes across your face. 

[actualbird]

// main story 12 spoilers

im not done playing the entire chapter but. this thought has not left my mind ever since the Hallucination Scene and the things that have been said in regards to that in-game.

warning that everything from here on out is me THEORIZING and i havent spoiled myself on future main story chapters so this could all be wrong but like

during the scene itself, mc remarked that luke's hallucination was acting similar to the man who threw himself off a building due to hallucinations caused by the nxx drug

this is a deliberate story choice, to liken these two characters. i was first under the impression that luke's hallucination was caused by the worsening symptoms of his illness, but now im thinking

with this comparison, are we to assume that luke is somehow taking the nxx drug in the present?

this became further plausible in my eyes after marius talking about the one criminal's remarks on luke, that luke was acting like an addict going through withdrawal.

while marius quickly dismisses this, the fact that it was even brought up is, once again, a deliberate story choice. "assumed luke is taking something illegal" and what else could it be but the nxx drug?

but then new questions arise. questions like "where did luke get it?" and "why would luke take it?"

that answer i think lies in the end of main story 9. to refresh your memory, heres what happens in the end, and take note of the highlighted portion

(summary courtesy of the Tears of Themis wiki)

the chapter ends with oedipus sending luke an unknown drug and telling him to live on

if this drug is the nxx drug, then luke may be taking it to do exactly what oedipus said. to live on. in his desperation for a cure to his illness, he turns to the very illegal substance that hes investigating, leading to his hallucinations and addiction

again, i could be wrong. but if im right.....oh lukey. oh honey. oh no. oh no.

[z4rph1m]

Dc X Albedo! Reader X spiderverse

This is just a brainrot

Inspired by @hana-no-seiiki and would definitely recommend reading their work

Maybe OOC

Reader is afab but is describe to look like a prince

Tw : This is a very much a crossover meaning it won’t be the same. NSFW in the near future (?).

They were the definition of perfection

The perfect creation

It’s expected for their creator to name them

The Prince of Chalk

You found out about Damian’s identity

Originally, your mother wanted to put you working in alchemax alongside your brother but was quick to change her mind, saying that she can’t let her ‘prince’ work at a place that doesn’t deserve such genius.

Unlike your relationship with your brothers that are fine, your mother is much complex and not wanting to anger her, you mostly comply to whatever there is in her head

You just so happened to be his classmates that never fails any class. Usually ranking 2nd or below due to you not wanting to shine. While your PE however…. You may be created to be smart but not that althletic

While most of your classmates assume the two of you would be rivals. Wrong— it’s more one sided. You were just minding your own business with Damian just sneaking a glare to you for no reason. (Is it because he knows you know more than you let out?).

You know about Damian’s identity for quite a long time but you never really bother telling for one reason. It’s not your business

Sure you two would’ve click well if it wasn’t for that ego of his but would you be friends with him if you had the chance? No. You already enjoy your life in peace. You don’t need some billionaire boy to ruin it

You rarely interact with anybody in your school, have only 1-3 friends and somehow most of the students agree that your mysteriously pretty

With how your prince-like beauty, your calm and quiet persona, your calming voice that can put people to sleep, it’s no wonder you have many admirers.

While you were supposed to be one of the two who was to be a tutor for Miles. Keyword: Supposed. You were quick to dismiss the request. It’s not that you don’t want to (you didn’t) it’s just that you already help most of the students. Isn’t it fair to give wayne the whole plate for once?

Miles Morales. By all means, you don’t really mind him. He seems to be more comfortable with you judging how he’s trying to adapt to this school. But still. You always make your distant

Within the few days, You were quick to notice the changes in Miles. Perhaps that’s the symptoms of that spider your brother told you about

But with how Damian all of the sudden provoking you out of nowhere, you start to have your suspicions. Does Damian knows something?

Of course he does. He’s Damian Al-Ghul Wayne. Why wouldn’t he knows for a fact that you’re actually smarter than you make yourself look? Who do think the one who make sure your nights were never bother? How many times did you made him stayed up?

But what type of person would reveal such action? Especially not to his family members.

[painted-bees]

Since I've been rotating Raf's mental illness in my mind this month as a way of smoothing my own brain, I've been thinking a lot about the ways his PPD and CPTSD symptoms interact, and how it affects his behaviors.

Firstly, Raf's paranoia isn't commonly accompanied by narcissistic traits. That is to say--he's not especially prone to believing that people have him on their mind all the time. If he walks past two people laughing, it's not his gut instinct to think that they are laughing at him. However, it is certainly his gut instinct to assume that they are laughing at someone.

But, unless they deliberately pause to regard him in an off putting way, his brain isn't gonna jump to the conclusion that he's the topic of their little chortle.

In fact, Raf rarely feels like he is being deliberately belittled by honest remarks when they are simply worded poorly. In some ways, he greatly prefers being called a jackass, to his face, in flat tones--than to receiving sweet, placating platitudes in a kindly tone. No matter how genuine the kindness may be behind the latter, Raf generally tends to interpret it...poorly. It gives him a really bad gut feeling, like they're buttering him up, mincing their words in a shallow attempt to gain his good opinion...all so that he won't suspect them later. Suspect them of what? Who knows. Something bad, something exploitative, something abusive. To him.

Raf doesn't suspect that everyone is out to use or exploit him. He fully believes that most people are capable of not thinking about him at all--even if he is physically present around them, such as in a busy train station. However, he does suspect that everyone who goes out of their way to interact with him, and especially everyone who wants to get to know him only do so in order to use or exploit him. And his basal understanding of human behavior is, generally, that kindness and good manner are most frequently used as tools of manipulation for personal gain rather than as an expression of genuine love and care. And he recognizes that this is only possible as a successful tool of manipulation because, just like him, everyone else wants to be genuinely loved and cared for.

Even his uncle, whom Raf does genuinely loves and trust, is suspected of being as kind and accommodating as he is to Raf only because doing so soothes his uncle's guilt and gives him a moral leg up over the rest of Raf's family. And part of Raf's initial willingness to trust his uncle is that his uncle never really...denies that this is, at the very least, a part of it. And--if that's all Uncle Bill really wanted outta Raf, then that was a perfectly livable arrangement.

Raf's CPTSD, on the other hand, generates the shame that serves as the crux for a lot of his self-critical introspection. Even before his diagnosis, he was harboring a sense that something was really, deeply wrong with him--like he wasn't a real person. And so, it felt radically audacious to assert that he deserved to behave as a real person; which included the right to feel and act upon anger and sadness--and to have those emotions received and treated with any level of respect by those around him. Until his final year at Juilliard, he was kind of in a placid(listless) state of learned helplessness. He'd do what ever he had to do to meet the expectations of his peers and instructors (namely, amphetamines. So much amphetamines.) It was just baaarely enough to get him his degree, and it ran him ragged and beyond resentful. He fully left Juilliard with the mindset of "I'm entering my villain era, I'm fully committed to being a Bad Guy, I am ok with everyone hating me now". And the "bad guy" behavior was just...saying no to stuff he didn't want to do, self-isolating, and outwardly expressing/lashing out when something viscerally upset him.

Which...thanks to the personality disorder, meant he became prone to yelling at people and accusing them of hurting or betraying him when they, in fact, did not. Especially...almost specifically the people closest to him, who cared the most about him and whom he cared the most for. And that's quickly what lead to his diagnosis, which kinda put an end to his 'villain arch'. So now he's back to reckoning with that sense of "something is really, deeply wrong with me", but at least now he has a growing understanding of what that is. And also the notion of "I have the 'bad person' disease--I am a Bad Person if I act on my core suspicions and beliefs, I cannot fucking trust myself, I can't trust my own perception of people or events." And now he's gotta balance that with whole "I deserve to feel safe, comfortable, and respected" alongside the critical notion of "but so does everyone else".

He hates it when people try to get to know him, he is fundamentally mistrustful of people. But at the same time, he has a lot of difficulty balancing his boundaries against the infringement of other people's boundaries--and the root understanding of "Something is wrong with me, I'm the problem, the fact that I think other people are the problem--is part of the problem that is me." is what motivates him to delay acting upon his negative impulses as much as is is able to, and to exercise kindness even when it feels like he's walking directly into a fire.

So, his overall kinda...thing is "I don't trust any of these guys, they clearly want something from me, and if I let them get close enough, they won't care if they have to hurt me to get it[PPD] but I'm a fundamentally busted person with a fucked up perspective and thus it is actually safer if I prioritize their comfort over my own[CPTSD] within certain parameters[therapy]"

and, idk...the big flashing red "ISOLATE, ISOLATE, ISOLATE" sign shows up in there on a frequent enough occasion that he just...has no real friends, despite a billion "good" acquaintances.

Despite all his mistrust and suspicions, the feelings of being fundamentally unlovable for willfully/protectively limiting the range of his 'usefulness', his terminally pessimistic outlook on the nature of human beings--he craves so tremendously to be loved and cared for and held and reassured in such a way and to such an extent that could never be fully sated, I am sure. But he couldn't stand to receive it from someone he can't believe in.

Margie accidentally hack speedran his CPTSD coping mechanisms so hard that she clipped through his paranoia until the collision error launched her into Trusted Person status. And he's just mostly confused and a bit anxious over how it all happened so fast.

[that's a joke...kinda]

[stellas-et-abyssum-vincite]

4:04 PM ~ *Wriothesley*

Summary: Siegewinne is worried about Wriothesley being sick. So she goes to the surface to ask the kind doctor for help. And you aren't leaving until he takes his health seriously.

Pairing: Neuvillette X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluffyish Oneshot

Word Count: 1192

Warning: Illness

Masterlist

Everyone in the Fortress of Meropide could tell something was wrong with Wriothesley. Rumors and speculation circled through the cells as to what the cause could be. Only the Melusines knew for sure what was bothering him.

You see, despite every effort to hide it, Wriothesley was sick.

He had a runny nose, a cough and a splitting headache. He tried to cover it up the best he could and continue his work like normal. However, the Melusines were quick to notice that the Administrator was under the weather. For the better part of the morning, they banded together in an attempt to make him feel better, but all of their efforts were in vain. For when Wriothesley got sick, he got grouchy. Any time a Melusine tried to get close in an effort to help, he would order them away and slam the door in their face. 

This led to Siegewinne making a decision for the benefit of all the Melusines and the prisoners in Meropide. She snuck to the surface and into Fontaine to find medicine and warm food to give him. And that's how she wound up in your apothecary.

"Welcome to the Fontaine Apothecary. How may I be of assistance?" You asked her, a sweet smile on your lips.

"Do you have any medicine I can give someone who is sick with a cold?" She asked, her head tilted to the side as she looked at all of your medicine on the shelves behind you.

You nodded. "I have lots of medicine that can help. Can you describe their symptoms to me?"

Counting on her fingers, she listed his ailments. "He's suffering from the sniffles, a runny nose, a headache, and he has a bad cough."

"I see. Sounds like quite the cold. But I have a home remedy that can relieve his symptoms." As you got to work preparing the medicine, you asked another question of the little Melusine. "Does he have an upset stomach?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't think so. He's never complained of one, that is."

"I see. Well, if you don't mind, I'll prepare some warm soup, as well as give you an assortment of teas that should also help."

"Thank you! Thank you very much!"

"It is not a problem at all!" You assure her.

When your work is done, you place the medicine, soup, and tea into a basket to hand to her. However, as soon as she grabs it, you notice her struggling to carry it out the door. Quickly, you emerged around the counter and gently took the basket from her.

"Do you mind if I carry it? It's awfully heavy."

She shakes her head. "I don't mind. I can lead the way."

"Sounds like an excellent idea. I'll follow you."

And you did, all the way to the Fortress of Meropide. You were a little intimidated by its size and the fact that it is a prison, but you would not be deterred. If this sweet little Melusine was willing to go inside, so would you.

Sigewinne knocked once more on Wriothesley's door and he yelled at her to leave him alone. His sharp words and congested voice made you frown. Instead of heeding his orders, you barged into his office.

"What is the meaning of this?" He snapped, glaring daggers into you.

You simply paid him no mind as you laid the items in the basket on a table in his office. "Your dear friend here was worried about you, so she came to me looking for medicine, which I am providing for you."

"I don't need any medicine." He dismissively replied. "I feel fine."

"Have you eaten at all today?"

"That is none of your concern."

You shrug in response. "Very well. I shall take this soup and tea with me. I'd hate for it to go to waste on someone who is ungrateful for its help."

"Tea?" You could see him pause at your words. "What kind of tea?"

You give him a warm smile, although your eyes show a hint of smugness. "A special blend of chamomile that can cure any cold."

Wriothesley appeared conflicted as he mulled over your words. Eventually he sighed and gestured to the two of you. "Thank you for the medicine, food, and tea. You may go now."

Sigewinne nodded and went on her merry way. But you didn't. Instead, you folded your arms over your chest and nodded to the food and tea.

"I want to watch you eat?"

"You, what?"

"I want to make sure you eat everything I've provided and then you take the medicine I made." You reply. "And I won't take no for an answer."

He scowled before taking the cup of tea you made and drank it one go. "You are stubborn."

"As are you." You replied, a challenging smirk curling the corners of your lips. "Now, are you hungry? You need to eat before you can take your medicine."

He ravenously ate the soup and you offered him the medicine. He looked at it skeptically, but you just frowned. "If you don't take it, I'll force your mouth open to take it."

"You're awfully demanding for someone in the presence of the Administrator to this prison."

"Your friend went through a lot of trouble to make sure you are well again." You snap. "I will not have her efforts go to waste. Now take the damn medicine, or so help me Archons..."

"Fine, fine. Have it your way." He choked down the medicine and grimaced at the taste. "There. Happy?"

You nodded with a smug smile. "I am pleased. Now, I'm ordering you on bed rest for the rest of today and I will be back tomorrow with more medicine."

"You can't just order me around!" He shot back. "I am the Administrator of this prison and a Duke to boot. I should be ordering you around."

You roll your eyes at his little temper tantrum. "You are sick and not in the right frame of mind to be ordering anyone around. That is why you must be on rest, so this prison does not fall into disarray because of poor decisions you make when you are sick. Besides, I am a doctor and I know what's best for my patients to recover."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I don't make poor decisions when I'm sick."

"Fine, don't listen to me. Get more sick and infect your whole prison until you're all sick. But don't say I didn't warn you. Cold like this can spread faster than wildfire. And I will not have their illnesses on my conscience." You shook your head and made your way to the door.

"Wait." His voice made you pause. You turn your head to watch him sigh. "Fine. I will rest if you come back with more medicine tomorrow and teach Sigewinne how to make it."

Your smug smile returns. "There. Now was that so hard? I shall return tomorrow morning with the ingredients for Sigewinne. Until then, you are to get into bed and stay there until my room. Understood?"

"Yes doctor."

[shadowmaat]

weaponized labels

How, exactly, are Community Labels supposed to work here on the hellsite? And why, in fact, does adding a tag to something suddenly become a community label?

Seeing all the people getting disappeared off this site for unforgivable crimes like- *checks writing on hand*- being a transwoman is chilling and gross. Watching other blogs get nuked for having the "wrong" kind of content is also gross. And not being able to access someone's blog because it "may contain adult content" is absolutely infuriating.

When I reblog something and tag it as En Ess Eff Dubyou all I mean is exactly that: it isn't something safe to be caught looking at while at work. I am not trying to brand OP or the person I reblogged it from as obscene. I'm not trying to get anyone's blog shut down or censored. I'm just trying to pass along a warning to save people at work (or people squicked by sex/nudity) a bit of discomfort.

If someone wants to label their own blog as being "Mature Content" or whatever, that's their choice. But this system where other people can decide a blog is "naughty" is appalling. And it has very much been weaponized against certain groups; something made worse by the fact that tumblr staff not only allows it, but encourages it.*

Labels and tags are meant to be tools to help, not tools to attack and suppress. And yeah, I know there's not much to be done when the whole system is corrupt from the top down (looking at you, Mulletwig), but COME ON. Maybe it's time for another lawsuit or three, since hitting them in their pockets is the only thing they seem to feel.

-

*Look, staff. You can protest and handwring all you want about how you're Good People, Actually, and that it's just a few Bad Actors ruining things, but it's time to admit facts: Your whole system is designed to oppress and silence vulnerable minorities. Your CEO is a Redcap Trumpian who singled out a transwoman and tried to put her on blast. He accused her of lying, opened her up to even more hatred and violence than she was already receiving, and tried to act like diversity's champion while instead proving his own rampant transmisogyny,

The people working on your mod team have been consistently antiqueer for decades, and have used their hate to shut down any voices they find objectionable. It isn't a few "bad apples," it's the whole bunch. Or near enough not to make a difference. They also keep proving that, despite what the TOS would suggest, threats of rape, violence, and death are, in fact, allowed here. Hate groups are welcome here. Palestinians and their supporters, however, are not.

Frankly, Mulletwig isn't even the cause, he's just another symptom. This issue predates his tenure by a wide margin. He makes a convenient target, though. A good distraction. Oh, he definitely needs to be kicked out, but he isn't the only one who needs to go, is he?

[ateez-himari]

HIMARI HEALTH UPDATE

An unexpected revelation comes out during an honest conversation with soloist Bang Yongguk regarding her health.

May 22, 2024 (10:05PM)

CONTENT WARNING. This article contains references to a car accident, death and parental loss. Please proceed at your own discretion.

A shocking truth was revealed by ATEEZ's youngest member through the released interview with soloist Bang Yongguk, which was that for five consecutive years she has managed to hide significant hearing loss in her right side. This came as a surprise to the majority of the fanbase due to the fact that health issues have always been addressed no matter how small, the fragile nature of her ribs following two fractures serving as the most prominent example, as well as the one that there were rarely ever signs that she was having trouble hearing.

It reportedly happened during the accident that claimed the lives of her biological parents twelve years ago and although she is not aware of the exact causes behind this, she recalls pieces of shattered glass cutting into her ear. While the idol is not completely deaf on that side she does struggle with things such as sound localization, simple hearing tasks and understanding conversations in noisy environments.

'It used to be frustrating during concerts because if a member didn't speak directly in my ear I had a lot of trouble understanding what they were saying, especially because of the loud cheers.' She confessed. 'It got better over the years when I learned to pay attention to only one sound at a time.'

Despite ments being the only times she is able to wear a hearing aid on stage, the music is still easily picked up through her auditory system due to the earpieces being lodged comfortably deep which is how she is able to keep the rhythm so perfectly. The device usually being hidden made its rare appearances on camera throughout logs and lives ignored for the most part, as viewers discarded it as something they simply did not understand the purpose of.

The trauma from the accident played a large part in the keeping of this secret as the questions it would raise necessitated her to explain what happened that day, which she had trouble coming to terms with until very recently. The vocalist admitted that due to having adapted without the aid it often went forgotten during formal events, which caused headaches along with fatigue, symptoms that are now encouraging her to wear it publicly more often to avoid deteriorating her health.

This came about when the older artist noticed his junior adjusting something behind her ear whilst asking for him to repeat himself, leading to a question about whether the device visible was a hearing aid or simply an in-ear. It was after a moment of what seemed to be internal debate that the confession finally came about, with netizens rapidly making connections to strange habits they have noticed such as members only whispering in her left ear or the vocalist occasionally turning in the wrong direction when called on.

As this impactful medical condition remains the aftermath of a very painful time, we ask that people refrain from asking questions about it unless it is agreed that she go more in depth about the situation.

A reminder that ATEEZ will be releasing their tenth mini album 'Golden Hour : Part 1' on May 31, with album sales ending the day of release. Stay informed on the platforms needed to support the group and continue to support the hard working idols.

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[lifeanditsquirks]

So I went to the doctor today. I had been in the ER previously because my hand was hurting. I get pains all over my body sometimes, and my hands are no exception.

But recently, they were hurting a little extra. So I went to the emergency room to get it checked out and make sure nothing was broken. I got diagnosed with carpal tunnel, referred to my previous orthopedic surgeon (previous surgeries can be a story for another day), and put in a restrictive splint.

I saw my surgeon, and he did ask for a few xrays but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He came in and pulled my hand and fingers around and saw I was still super hypermobile like I was when I was younger. He ordered more xrays. He looked over them, came back, played with my hand a bit more and asked me a few questions.

Finally, he says, "This isn't carpal tunnel." He taps his finger on the desk and reaches over for a blood work request sheet. "I am thinking this may be EDS. But I need to run some blood work and get an MRI done." He gets up from his chair, and before he walks out, he says, "I will get you fitted for a splint. It should help with the pain."

He's a very eccentric guy. I love him so much. He's an amazing hand doctor, and like I said previously, I have prior experience with him from past surgeries. I trust his opinion more than most doctors.

I first suspected I had EDS a year ago when I first learned about it while looking up some symptoms. I related to almost all of them. My PCP wouldn't diagnose me with anything. She didn't refer me to any specialists for my pain. Just told me I had to lose weight. Despite the fact that yeah, some of my weight comes from my binging disorder, I don't exercise because of how much pain I'm in all the time (which I have had since I was young. I'm talking 9-10 years old when it started).

But the point is that a doctor actually recognized something wrong and didn't blame it on my weight. This is such a nice moment of visibility. If I do have EDS then I can get disability for it and then get a mobility aid covered by insurance.

[cozyaliensuperstar7]

The controversy with Algerian amateur boxer Imane Khelif reminds me of the atrocious treatment Caster Semenya received when she failed gender tests. Caster's condition is called hyperandrogenism.

(Hyperandrogenism is a medical condition characterized by high levels of androgens. It is more common in women than men. 

Symptoms of

hyperandrogenism may include acne, seborrhea, hair loss on the scalp, increased body or facial hair, and infrequent or absent menstruation.

Complications may include high blood cholesterol and diabetes. 

It occurs in approximately 5% of women of reproductive age.

Hyperandrogenism

Other names: Androgen excess

High levels of testosterone

Caster went through varies test to prove her gender and then given treatment to lower her testosterone levels. )

This treatment made Caster sick and unable to compete: She said,

“You are not happy within; you are never happy. It makes you feel sick, nauseous. You have panic attacks. It starts creating a little bit of blood clots in your system,” Semenya says.

“Your stomach is burning. You eat a lot. You can’t sleep. You sweat a lot each and every day.

“It’s like digging a hole that you can never fill up. You know, it’s like you measure a casket and you get in and then you bury yourself. It was not easy. It was a hard time.”

Semenya won the 800m gold medal at both the 2012 and 2016 Olympics Games, but the rules introduced by World Athletics in 2019 meant she would need to take testosterone-reducing medication in order to compete internationally over distances between 400m and one mile – something she has declined to do. She was unable to defend her 800m crown in Tokyo in 2021 because of the rule changes.

Now people are calling Imane a man and saying it was wrong for her to compete against women. The lies and misinformation that is spreading has people like internationally known jerk Logan Paul and even lovable yet sometimes very ignorant Pat McAfee making disrespectful remarks about Imane.

Prominent figures in the sport like Claressa Shields and Jamel Herring went off about the injustice of a “man” beating up a woman, with Sampson Lewkowicz going so far as to claim Khelif “had surgery” to transition.

There’s just one problem: Khelif and Lin aren’t transgender.

Further, all of Khelif’s official documentation marks her as female and Algeria does not allow individuals to change their official sex. The country’s legal code is, in fact, against any sort of LGBT expression at all, with homosexuality carrying a maximum sentence of two years in prison. There are also photos of her as a little girl out there, not to mention a well-documented life story of growing up female.

This controversy definitely exposed the people in the sport and others who are transphobic.

These people should just mind their own business and if they were going to speak they should have got their facts straight first.

[cryoux]

Wanderer x reader - Dream Invasion

(Sorry for using The Wanderer Picture of all time)

The Wanderer was a little exasperated now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait a minute.

He recognized these two.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was physical contact. Unbelievable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm not pretending."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, what? You wanted to do what?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I don't deserve this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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