#to them but you don't say no to your medic)

[wolfchanw]

I work in a specialty vet hospital. My job is to go over incoming animals' medical records and condense them down into about a one-page format for the vet to look over before we do an initial consultation with the pets. We also have a short survey that the owners fill out with basics like what they eat, what meds/supplements they are on, etc.

The most important question on that survey to me is "Does your pet have any previous illness or injury?" Yes, I'm looking at their medical record, but it's pretty common that I will have the main record and the pet is also seeing another specialist for another problem....so the owner survey might mention something like pemphigus, which they are managing at a dermatology office whose records I don't have. This is SUPER important as we may need to change up their medication protocol.

Today, I was going over a survey where the owner had answered "No" to the illness/injury question. This was puzzling as I knew we had received records from an oncologist.

As I read over the records, I can see that the dog has an aggressive cancerous tumor in his left atrium, and the cardiologist he just saw has stated that he is at risk for cardiac rupture.

YOU DIDN'T THINK THIS WAS IMPORTANT TO TELL THE VET YOU ARE ASKING TO ANESTHETIZE YOUR DOG?!

*Deep breath* If I'm being charitable, I'm going to assume that the owners were deeply distressed by this fairly recent diagnosis and weren't thinking clearly when filling out the survey. But I was confused, to say the least.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

550 words / 25 / more ghost + gaz with free use medic reader

...

"Come here, medic."

"I told you, I'm fine."

"Ain't a request." Ghost takes you firmly by the back of the neck before you can flee. He squeezes tight enough to make it clear he's not asking.

You feel his and Gaz’s eyes on you--on the bleeding laceration sliced through the outer cartilage of your ear and on the bruise forming on your cheekbone. You got tangled up briefly with an enemy tango and almost became a hostage. Or a statistic. But you're fine now.

"You're making a big deal over nothing,” you tell them.

Ghost pulls you forward and angles your face this way and that, trying to get a better look at you.

Gaz crosses his arms and stares you down. "Fine is when you burn yourself on a shell casing. You're not fine." He's barely holding back the edge in his voice. He can't pull rank on you--none of them can, technically--and he's supposed to be polite and respectful. But seeing that happen to you, and the adrenaline running through him, is making him thoughtless.

"He only grabbed me. Didn't hurt me."

Ghost hisses at you, his voice just as rough as the squeeze he has on the back of your neck. "What happened isn't important. What's important is that he thought he could touch you." His grip tightens. "You're in our squad. You're under our watch. No one messes with you."

Your gut twists. That's not fair--acting protective. It's part of their job to keep you safe, but they don't have to talk like this. You glance at Gaz for help, but the look on his face tells you he doesn’t disagree with Ghost. You swallow the protests on the tip of your tongue and close your eyes, silently letting them examine you.

Ghost finds another few nicks and fresh bruises. You’re a medic—you’re not as armored as they are because it’s a goddamn war crime to kill medical personnel. "Jesus,” he mutters. “Bastard snuck up on us.”

"Thank you," you say quietly.

"For what?" Ghost snaps back. As usual, he's not expecting gratitude from you. You're supposed to take the insults, the berating, the harshness. And the protection, because you belong to them. At least, that's how they see it.

Gaz speaks up. "No one treats you like that again, alright?"

"It's not like I asked him if he needed a hostage."

"Doesn't matter," Gaz retorts. "If someone puts a finger on you like that again--"

Soap ducks back into the room, his rifle’s muzzle on his shoulder.

"Take care of it?" Ghost asks.

"Aye," Soap says. "Bastard won't be layin' his hands on anyone anymore. Not enough fingers left, for starters." He turns to you with a look of sympathy, but you recognize the wild edge of adrenaline still present. "You alright, hen?"

"I'm fine." You use the opportunity to worm yourself out of Ghost's grasp. "We going?"

"Affirmative," Gaz says. “We should move.”

Ghost turns away, forcing his attention back on the mission even though he carries himself with cold anger. Soap looks you up and down once more, his eyes lingering on your cheekbone a little longer this time. He seems about to say something, but thinks better of it. His blue eyes soften just a bit before he turns to follow Gaz and Ghost.

...

more Gaz / more Ghost / more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

[exchangestudentnova]

Dr. Baizhu has his eyes set on you. He's so in love with you that he's willing to make you immortal as well so that the two of you could be together till the end of time.

Just like the rest of Liyue, you also had absolute faith in his Universal Diagnosis and Holistic Revivification but you don't fall ill so offen. You accompany the little children who's parents are too busy in their pursue of earning money in the harbour. Baizhu loves your little visits to bubu pharmacy, where you'll drop the kid off, talk to Qiqi, talk to Baizhu about the children's medication and take them back. He wishes to have a proper conversation with you but you don't seem to stay around.

Your head hurts. Suddenly from 2-3 days it started hurting in waves. Yesterday the pain was too much, so much so that you couldn't keep your eyes open and had to lie down.

"Dr Baizhu I took the medicine you gave yet I don't feel better. I hope it's not something bad." Baizhu places his hands under your chin and lifts it up to meet your eyes. "Don't fret dear, you can trust my Herbal Nourishment. You'll be fine in no time." So trust you did.

He treated you with utmost love and care, both medically and personally. But you noticed one thing. The more you went to Baizhu, the more.....'bizzare' your symptoms became. Symptoms that when others experienced, Baizhu would send them home with medications, but he asked you to stay with him, 'to keep an eye on you' he says

You lay on his bed, your body's temperature as high as humanly possible. It is becoming difficult for you to breath through your nose, the sound of you panting desperately for air filling the room. " Issssn't it wrong of you to keep this human conssssently ill" you could here the snake around his neck speak up. "Ah no worries, I will make sure their condition doesn't worsen, yet they are obliged to be under my care. After all the first they'll do when they wake is go back home. Now we can't have that can't we" Your head hurt too much to focus too well on his words, yet you still managed to crack open your eyes look up at him, seeing his Attentive Observation on you, a delightful smile on his face.

What can we say? He always had his eyes set on you.

[oliversrarebooks]

Brainwashing Chair CYOA 3- The Struggle

tw: pet whump, restraints, captivity, involuntary drugging

You chose: fake a struggle against the two men to sell the act

The two handlers are flanking either side of you, taking your arms and guiding you along. They're not really using force, as though they expect you to come with them without much resistance. 

But while you, the reporter, did sign up to do this, the character you're meant to be playing did not. It doesn't make sense for you to just go quietly, does it? You should struggle a bit to sell the act, and maybe get some juicy footage sent back to your group when you inevitably get subdued.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself, and twist yourself out of the handlers' grasp just before they take you inside the double doors of the facility. "Let go of me!" you shout. "I don't want to be a pet! Let me go!"

Hopefully, that tiny microphone picked all that up. For a lot of people, this could be their first exposure to how pets are treated and trained, and --

You're caught off guard with how quickly the handlers grab you and press you against the wall. It's not forceful enough to hurt, but the cold concrete scrapes against your skin. "I told you to stay calm," says one of the handlers.

You see the needle out of the corner of your eye a split second before it pierces your skin. Shit! You just expected them to rough you up a bit, not go straight for drugs. You'd prefer to have your full faculties about you as you enter the facility, but it's too late now, with the cold fluid entering your neck.

They pull you away from the wall, your head already beginning to spin. What's in this stuff? Ugh, you should've known this would happen. After all, pets are always physically "perfect", so they had to be using means of control that... that...

The world blurs, and your thoughts slow down. You're too disoriented to put up any more of a fight, fake or otherwise, as they resume dragging you into the building. You're shaking your head in a futile effort to try and stave off the effects of the drug, but it's no use.

You blink, and you're standing in front of a desk. A hospital? It looks like a hospital desk. No... you blanked out for a moment. You're in the pet facility, you remember. It's a sterile, clinical place that really doesn't look much different from a medical building, though, and the receptionist behind the counter is a young woman in a green dress. You fight to keep focus. You have to keep yourself alert to...

...what was it you're doing here...? It's something... complicated, and whatever they put in your system is making complicated thoughts very, very difficult.

"New pet intake?" she says, tapping on her keyboard. "Name?"

You're not sure if she's asking you or one of the handlers.

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

Not putting children on blockers is licherally trans genocide!.. Unless it ends up being just a phase, then the child is an evil detranser who wasn't trans to begin with

I think this is my favorite bit of trans cult "logic".

"Everyone who says they're trans is trans unless they change their mind later then they were never trans even though they said they were trans and met the only criteria we put on what makes a trans person trans".

Do you see why, hundreds of thousands of years ago when we decided certain sounds put together in a certain order meant things, we all kind of just decided, as a species, in isolation, that these sounds should always mean the same thing? Do you see why language only works if you clearly define the words you use and then don't change those definitions every week? You can't lay out one single definition of trans, which is "anyone who says they're trans", and then say "well actually you're only trans until you say you're not trans, then you were never trans at all". Nope. Sorry. By your own definition, they were trans. And now they're not. Which means being trans is a choice and not something a person is inherently born as.

Man, if only there was some kind of criteria that medical professionals agreed on to define what makes a person transgender. Maybe even something that was in wide use until very recently. They could call it something simple and official sounding, maybe something like "gender dysphoria", or something. And you could say that trans people are people who are professionally diagnosed with gender dysphoria. That way, you can say people are born trans (and since we don't know what causes gender dysphoria, it might even be true!) and that someone who stops transitioning because physically changing their body makes them dysphoric (See? The word just keeps working!) wasn't actually trans to begin with.

If only such a term existed.

[tsams-confessions]

We're coming off anon with this one boys. It's long and I apologize but it's been weighing on my mind for quite some time.

There are three things people tend to know me for in this fandom. My art, my fanfics, or my thread on TSBS server. Said thread is a place where I talk about the psychological aspects of the show, as well as do character analyses and sometimes even analyze entire lore uploads for the kicks and giggles. I'm a psychology major, I also have ASPD. I made the thread so I could talk about Eclipse, who at the time I suspected had the same disorder I do and which was later confirmed less than a week after I made the thread. Since then Ruin has also been confirmed as an ASPD haver, which I personally deeply enjoy. It's fun for me to talk about my disorder and relate it to the show since ASPD is really hard to understand. 99% of people are inherently capable of empathy, and about 2% of that 98% lose that ability during childhood. So it's understandably not a very well-understood disorder. It's also a very scary and dark disorder, and I can say that honestly because I live with it. Due to this fact, it tends to be villainized in media, and I am very refreshed by the fact that TSAMS does a good job of not making their ASPD havers raving lunatics with a thirst for blood. 

Anyways, that's just background information. So far I haven't met very many weirdos about ASPD in this fandom. Almost everyone is very chill with the fact that I am a sociopath and I haven't received a ton of weird comments about it. It's a relief since I deal with a lot of open stigma and harassment irl because I refuse to pretend to be something I'm not. However, there was an instance in my thread when I was actively talking about ASPD, and a new member decided to. . . I don't even know. It was creepy and weird, and really uncomfortable. They basically told me that I'm 'too nice of a person to be a sociopath' and that they could tell that I wasn't a sociopath because they see the good in people. They also said that they were surprised that there are sociopathic people and inferred that sociopaths are pretending, whatever that means. They kept going to keep making weird and stigmatized comments about the disorder, as well as continuing to compliment me in a very unnerving way. I think about it a lot because it was very uncomfortable to be interrupted like that in the middle of talking about ASPD. There was the new mod online and participating in the conversation, but they didn't say anything to the person who was actively making me uncomfortable, even though I expressed such in the chat. 

I deal with a lot of stigma and ableism in my day-to-day life, where people tell me that I can't be a sociopath because of really stupid shit. Like the fact, I get along with people or want to help people in the medical field. Or the time-tried 'but you're a woman' comments. I don't understand why the mod kinda just left me to fend for myself and ignored the person causing issues, and while I don't hold it against them, I do have anxiety about this situation repeating itself in the future. It's not easy to talk about a disorder that the average person could not even dream of understanding, and it's even harder when people who don't know you are trying to tell you that your disorder is fake based on flimsy reasoning. It's really invalidating of the actual hellscape I had to survive to be able to even turn 18, and it rakes up my anxiety to a 10 just at the thought of it. There's not a lot of safe spaces for someone to talk about having a dark disorder, and even less for something as rare and misunderstood as ASPD. It's hard enough as it is being a high-functioning sociopath, and I just needed to rant, I suppose. Haha, could make it a "tl;dr even I get offended sometimes."

Anyway, not dropping names, but it wasn't a private matter. Nor am I upset with the mods, it's just a thing that happened that I think about a lot because it's a very rare thing for me to be offended. Glad that the majority of this fandom that I've interacted with has been willing to hear me out ASPD, but I just worry about having a repeat situation like this. It's a very sad thing to witness in this fandom that talks about inclusivity. We can't pick and choose our disorders, and where there are canon sociopaths in the show one would think the fans would try to be a little more educated on the disorder (not directed towards anyone and I appreciate the people who are willing to ask me things about it instead of making assumptions).

.

[green-eyedfirework]

"Hands off, Rick," someone shouted from the other end of the table, "Slade wouldn't like you sniffing around his bird."

Dick let the words wash over him.  He gripped the knife a little harder, and focused on his meal.  They were too close.  Too close, and it felt too hot, even though the fire was a little distance away.  He needed to breathe.

"Screw Slade," Rick called back, and Dick suppressed the flinch as the man's arm came around his shoulders.  The grip was inescapable.  "If he doesn't want to make a move, well, we're not going to wait for him to!"  There was a smattering of laughter.  It rang too loud in Dick's head.  "Isn't that right, Your Highness?"

It took only one blink for Dick to twist, a flare of pain traveling up his spine, the knife blade against Rick's throat.  "Let go of me," Dick said, his voice strangely level, "Or I'll slit your throat."

The laughter died awkwardly.  Rick's eyes widened in shock, and then narrowed, the smile dying to something that looked more...searching.  But he made a dramatic show of lifting his hand off, his voice still light.

"Determined for Slade after all," he said loudly, and the chuckles echoed up and down the table, though it sounded oddly flat.  "Don't worry, Your Highness, he won't mind if you've already had some fun."

This time, Dick couldn't hide the flinch, and there was something contemplative in the gazes of the men around him.

Dick turned back to his meal.  He didn't relax his grip on the knife.

~#~

The teasing stopped.  They stopped touching him, and started watching him.  It felt like a tension crackling in the air, a tension in the air, and Dick half-held his breath as he moved like nothing was wrong.

He knew they were waiting.  Turning the corner into the tent where he was supposed to sleep, it shouldn’t have surprised him to see that Slade was already inside.  But it froze him to the spot, a knee-jerk of fear, and he had nowhere to run.

Not that he could run.

Slade merely stared at him, gaze inscrutable, scanning Dick like he could lay him bare with just that one, piercing eye.  Dick, lightheaded and wavering even with the crutch, certainly felt naked under the regard.

“What do you want?” Dick forced the words out, clipped and sharp.  Some part of himself was already curling up, begging no, please, stop, but it was locked away.  He wouldn’t beg.  His dignity was the only thing they hadn’t yet managed to destroy, and Dick refused to lose it too.

“No one in this camp will touch you,” Slade said, his voice level, and Dick felt himself go rigid.  “If any of them hurt you, they know they will answer to me, and my displeasure should you be harmed.”

He knew.  They knew.  Dick had seen it across all their faces, but he didn’t—he wasn’t—he didn’t want to hear what they had to say, he didn’t want to hear what Slade had to say, and especially not when he was still a goddamn prisoner.

“I killed Bane,” Slade said slowly, and this time Dick could recognize the fury beneath the steady tone, “I should have made it slower.”

“Bane didn’t touch me,” Dick snapped back, unable to stop the bite to his tone, “So if you’re here to defend my honor—”

“He hurt you,” Slade said evenly, “Or his men hurt you.  Or someone else.  I can play a guessing game if you’d like, but it won’t change the fact that you were hurt, Dick.”

Dick stayed where he was, cold and almost-shivering, still frozen to the spot.

“It wasn’t your fault, and you—”

“You don’t know what happened.”  His voice was soft, but no less poisonous.  “I don’t need your platitudes, Slade.”  He couldn’t stop the trembling.  “You weren’t there.”

Slade’s expression spasmed for a moment, there and gone before it settled back to its stillness.  “If you require medical attention,” Slade started again, but Dick cut him off.

“I require nothing from my captor.”

There was no flicker in Slade’s expression this time.  “Very well,” he said, still level, “You’re free to change your mind at any point.”

“I don’t—”

“You were raped,” Slade said, and the bluntness of his words shocked the air from Dick’s chest.  He was really lightheaded now, and he had to grab the edge of the stool to slow his collapse when his balance failed him.  Slade didn’t move forward to catch him, nor did he offer any support, but he crouched after Dick, sitting cross-legged as Dick clung to the stool in a painful kneel.

“There are physical wounds in addition to the mental ones,” Slade continued, and Dick didn’t know how he could keep his face so blank.  “I doubt Bane gave you any treatment.  Villain can give you something for the tears, and ensure that infection doesn’t—”

“Stop,” Dick rasped, unable to hear that steady voice, unable to—the memories of pain overlapped, and he ached, inside and out, and he just—couldn’t.

Surprisingly, Slade stopped.

“What do you want?” Dick asked quietly, raw and wounded.  He barely had the strength to keep his pain locked away, and Slade had a way of breaking the locks.

“For you to feel better,” Slade answered, “For you to feel safe.”

“As a hostage in a bandit camp,” Dick almost laughed.

“No one here will hurt you, Dick, ransom or not,” Slade said quietly, and Dick squeezed his eyes shut.  He could feel something inside him begin to splinter.

“And I’m just supposed to—believe you?” Dick’s voice was hoarse and cracking, “Trust the word of an outlaw?”

There was a soft silence.

“Have I ever lied to you, little bird?”

The first sound was too agonized and harsh to be called a sob, but they kept coming, tearing themselves from his chest as his cheeks grew wet, and Dick clutched the stool just to have something for his fingers to grip.

They shuddered through him, all the tears he hadn’t spilled in front of Bane, the sobs he’d refused to surrender to, and yet here he was, crying in front of Slade, in front of the man who held him prisoner, in front of the man who’d promised him safety.

He could hear Slade move, but Dick stayed where he was, kneeling on the ground, letting his anguish carve out of him.  The movements came closer, and before Dick could brace himself—a slap, a punch, a kick—something heavy and dry was draped across his back and wrapped around him.

Slade was careful not to touch.  Not even an accidental brush of fingers.  Dick lifted his head, everything still blurry around him, and saw Slade retreat.  “Do you require anything?” Slade asked when Dick met his gaze, his voice still carefully distant.  “Food?  Water?  Medicine?  More blankets?”

Dick shook his head numbly.  He felt exhausted and drained, as though once the emotions burst through, there was no stopping them until he was washed out.

“Okay.  Just call if you need anything,” Slade said evenly, and straightened, heading for the entrance.

Dick didn’t know what had possessed him.  Why he did it.  But there was a small corner of his mind that screamed at the thought that Slade was leaving, and Dick reached out and grabbed Slade’s leg.

It was stupid.  Slade was keeping him prisoner.  He was just as dangerous as Bane.  He wasn’t a man that could be trusted.

“Dick?”  Slade could rip his leg free from Dick’s grip as easy as breathing, no matter how hard Dick tightened his fingers into the material of his pants.  Dick didn’t answer him.  Couldn’t answer him.

Slade tugged his leg free, and Dick let his hand fall.  The hollows inside him stretched.  Everything was a wash of tears, and his heart felt like it was fracturing into pieces.

Slade took a seat next to him, close enough to brush the edge of the blanket, but facing away.  Dick was thankful for that, he didn’t think he could handle the pressure of Slade’s searing gaze, and that all-seeing blue eye, and something swelled in his throat as he tried to swallow.

No.  No more tears.  He had to—had to stop crying, and regain his composure and just—he had to stop.  He couldn’t afford weakness.  It had already cost him too much.

Slade didn’t say a word.  Just stayed in place, his breathing low and steady, hands crossed in his lap, looking away from Dick.  Didn’t make a single sound as Dick shifted in place to take the weight off his knees, and leaned farther than he had to—to rest his forehead against Slade’s shoulder.

Slade just adjusted to bear Dick’s weight better, and didn’t say anything as Dick’s tears soaked his shirt, constant and unending.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Do you know what can cause a vagina to be unable to have anything inserted into it? I can't insert anything, no matter how thin, into my vagina deeper than a centimeter or so. Most stimulation (external with fingers or anything other than a vibrator, including oral sex) is also extremely unpleasant and feels so overwhelming almost to the point of pain. It's not that I dislike sex, I still have it very regularly, so I don't think it's anything psychological. I've always been this way.

I also have extremely irregular periods, going months without one. Back when I had medical insurance, I tried to get tested for it, but due to them being unable to insert anything vaginally they couldn't find conclusive results. I no longer have insurance, and testing sounds expensive and I am unsure if this is something I need to be hugely concerned about.

hi anon,

there are a lot of reasons that penetration can be complicated, painful, or even downright impossible. polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS) and endometriosis can both cause irregular menstrual cycles and pain during penetrative sex, as can a tilted uterus, a harmless and fairly common condition.

the degree of concern necessary here is largely up to you. I think it's definitely fair to say that there are some irregularities going on re: your missed periods and the painful sex, but in the absence of any symptoms indicating a larger health problem - genital swelling or itching, painful urination, bloody or discolored discharge, general abdominal or pelvic cramping/pain - it sounds like the main way this impacts your life is by limiting your sexual options. per your own report you enjoy and have a lot of sex anyway, so whether or not not being able to have penetrative sex is a problem worth seeking medical attention for is your call.

[loriannbowman]

Honkai Star Rail X Arknights | Yandere!Sunday X Sankta!Reader | Part Two

You have always been a sensitive sleeper, not necessarily light, but very aware of what was happening to your body when unconscious. You could feel every poke, prod, and needle that touched your skin, no matter how deep your sleep was. And right now, you can feel someone touching you, probably trying their best to wake up you.

You shiver and twitch at the sudden touches. The cold touch was definitely The Doctor's gloved hands.

Sunday, who has been leading you away from the bright and colourful lights of the city seems to notice this agitation. The feathers on one of his wings twitches slightly, not so dissimilar to a cat's ear hearing a sound behind them.

"Are you alright?"

You rub your arm across the goosebumps that now liter your skin, hair prickling against the fabric of your glove.

"Fine," you say through gritted teeth.

Sunday, in one swift motion, turns directly around to face you, his seemingly imposing presence staring down at you. His heels snap together, hands pressed against his back in a professional manner. He leans in towards you, a light seemingly emitting from his halo.

"Lying is a bad habit."

You don't get why, but chills and anxiety flood through your blood system. You can feel your heart beating faster, so fast, in fact, you wonder if Doctor Loriann noticed the spike. You can almost feel their fingers pressing against your neck.

"I'm not lying," you bite back.

You're a combat specialist, along side being a medical researcher. You're not going to back down to some man in a suit. This man probably has never had a physical fight in his life.

His eyes suddenly feel like they're burning, searing, into the calloused flesh of my body. You can't help but feel itchy, like thousands of spindly spiders are crawling underneath the surface of your skin.

You'd almost rather deal with your Oripathy pains than this uncomfortable feeling. You can't help but swallow a sharp pain in your throat.

After agonizing seconds, Sunday looks away. He straightens his spine, his eyes closed with contemplation. It looks as though his wings extend a little, a similar tactic as a bird to increases their size.

"May The Harmony forgive your words," he mutters under his breath.

Sunday turns back around in a sharp and crisp movement before raising his hand, a sign to continue to follow him.

You can't argue, he's apparently an authority in this place... Then it dawns on you...

"U-Um... I know that this is a little late to ask, b-but what is your name?"

Sunday casually looks over his shoulder, the lights of the city in front of him giving him a glow.

"Hmm? Did I never introduce myself? I deeply apologize. My name is Sunday Oak, head of the Oak Family. And you are?"

You bite both of your lips, feeling the plush between your teeth.

"Um... I-I'm (Y/n)... but you can call me Lamplight... It's my codename."

"Lamplight? Codename? Why would you need a codename?"

"... It's not important."

Sunday hums lightly before cooing.

"You'll tell me eventually. You are going to be questioned after all. Don't forget, you're under suspicion as a stowaway into the Dreamscape."

You can't help but grumble, kicking the ground slightly in annoyance.

"Sack of dirt-- Feather Faced-- Stupid freaking--"

❥ Sunday wishes so badly he could read your thoughts. He wants to know anything and everything, wanting to pick your brain apart.

❥ Sunday who has to restrain himself from immediately using the power of The Harmony that was so graciously gifted upon him.

❥ Sunday who wishes to punish you as the sinner you are.

[official-locke-writing]

Hey guys, I know I've been serious-posting quite a bit more than usual lately, I just wanted to talk a bit more about how (and why) I write my characters the way I do in terms of realistic portrayal and my take on mental health issues in fiction, mainly Creepypasta and Slenderverse.

It seems like some people take me for an able-bodied, mentally stable human being "looking in" on mental health who assumes that I know everything because I Googled some stuff. I can see where this view can arise, as I have never truly spoken about my disabilities or personal life much at all. It occurred to me that you don't know much about me, or why I am so passionate about things like this.

So, let me be transparent.

Yes, I have studied abnormal psychology as a focus in college, but that is not the source of my interest in exploring mental health in the fashion that I do. I have a literal shopping list of physical and mental health obstacles that I deal with daily, and being able to understand it better and connect with characters who share a more accurate depiction of the struggle feels more personal to me than a more standard "fanon" depiction of Creepypasta characters. It's how I like to write things.

I have Marfanoid Habitus Syndrome, Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, childhood-onset Rheumatoid Arthritis that is in later stages now that I'm an adult, along with heart conditions like Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS), heart valve abnormalities, and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I deal with Borderline Personality Disorder and autism which can cause episodic confusion, emotional distress and panic attacks. I am not asking for sympathy by saying this. I just have these things, and it's a part of my life.

Needless to say, I know what it's like. I really do, which is why I have such passionate interest in rewriting Creepypasta characters to be the way that they are. I just thought you guys would like to know that my differing views on how I would like the characters to be should not, in any way, feel like an affront to your depictions. I may not agree with them, but whatever, y'know? It's the internet. Differing depictions should not equate to waging war about who is right.

I will address this specifically to the people who want to "call me out" on being ableist because I changed some mental health depictions regarding my Toby rewrite to be less noticeable: Mental health issues are not always the forefront of someone's personality nor behavior. I can promise you that people think I'm normal on first look because all of my medical conditions are "invisible." It comes with the package, and I think anyone with an invisible disability can agree with me that the original stories in the fandom are... incredibly strange and even a little offensive. I'm not a fan.

And I will state, I know this character is outdated and I am not bashing the creator, and I am well aware of their need to be detached from this character due to the poor writing, but Ticci Toby does truly belong to the fandom now, and the fandom has held up these pretty wild design choices. I'm looking to change that in my personal depictions and hopefully foster a healthier way of using these characters to cope.

I love you guys; I hope I'm making sense here and am trying to touch base with you all in hopes of clearing up some misunderstandings. I'm not participating in the erasure of disabilities; I'm participating in realistic writing.

[inactivewattpadauthor]

Kabal x Reader: Usual Visit

~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Pleasure doing business with ya as always, Flash." The red eyed Aussie grins wickedly at Kabal after handing him today's cut. The fast man smirks beneath the mask, counting through his pay like a child in triumph after doing such simple allowance.

Simple tasks such as terrorizing and killing a few people for Kano due to late fees they never paid back. How unfortunate for them, but to Kabal - and definitely Kano - a job is a job.

"Don't spend it all on hooks and hookers." Kano joked before dismissing Kabal off.

"Right," Kabal scoffed with amusement. "I have better things to spend it on." Without giving Kano the chance to pretend to be interested enough to ask, Kabal dashed off in his usual abnormal speed. Far outside the clan, he runs to a big house on a hill. Thank the gods, no cars were outside, and he's willing to bet there isn't one inside the garage.

Carefully, he walks around the house to the back and knocks on a specific window.

...

You peered at the window, putting down your brush and walking to see who it was. Pushing the blinds away, you smile happily to see your masked friend. Opening the window with a little struggle, you greet him. "Kabal!" You lean over to kiss his cheek affectionately. If only you see the goofy, flustered smirk beneath his mask.

"Hey, Y/n! Doing well today?" He asks charmingly.

"Fine as usual. I don't take my medication until about an hour, so I'm not drowsy yet." You shrug with an aloof hint. But you didn't want to bring down the mood. "What did you do today? Beat any bad guys?!" Your eyes sparkled, hoping he has a cool story on how great of a hero he is.

"Ehh, just a few." Kabal says, tilting his hand side to side. "No one too powerful, but I still got a good amount of money from it." The boasting continues. You were slightly disappointed, not because there wasn't much of a story today, but-

"I thought heroes don't get paid." You murmur with furrowed brows. You folded your arms on the window frame and rested your chin, looking at him, downed.

"Well, yeah- but I need to eat too, you know?"

"I guess." You agree with the easy excuse, much to his relief.

"I've actually forgot something for you! I'll be back in not even three seconds." Kabal promises. You lifted your head up and raised an eyebrow at him. It feels like a dare.

"Really? One-"

A gust of wind flew through your hair as Kabal rushes off, your heart skipping a beat or two before he suddenly appears back with a small bouquet of flowers. He makes sure to rip the price tag off before you notice. "Sorry, a few of the petals came off on the way back." He hands his gift to you.

The flowers were still pretty nevertheless. They brought a warm smile to your face, the joy radiating from you to Kabal. "They're beautiful! Thanks!"

"No problem. Is there something else I can do for you?"

Setting your gift gently aside, you thought for a moment. "Well, father doesn't let me order food online. For awhile, I've been wanting to try that bakery from down-" You weren't given the chance to finish your sentence before he rushes off again.

Briefly he returns with a fancy bag for you. Inside was a fancy plastic box of macarons - and you knew those were pricy - along with fresh strawberries, covered in chocolate. One of your favorite treats that made you disregard sadness. "Ohh, thank you so much, Kabal. I'll go get my-"

"No need, princess." Kabal 'humbly' raises his hand. "It's my treat to treat you."

You softly coo at him before you hear the garage open. Readjusting your gown you stood up, alerted. "My dad's back. You should probably go now." You warn him. He nods and steps back.

"I'll visit you again soon, okay?"

"Okay." You smile once more. "Thank you for stopping by."

Kabal takes off before he gets caught. As for you, you hid the flowers somewhere. Before you hid your treats, you took one out to eat it before hiding it.

What an admirable hero Kabal is. ~~~~~~~~~~~~

[uncanny-tranny]

Doctors/surgeons should come before a panel of medical experts who are trans before being allowed to administer trans-specific care

[grippysockassbitch]

Saw someone who followed me simping so hard for antipsychotic medication that they went as far as to say that questioning or doubting whether you want to be on them counts as a delusion, and so I blocked them lol

We support non-medicated schizophrenics here, Sir

Everybody gets to choose their own paths of treatment and recovery, just bc you have a psychotic disorder instead of depression or anxiety doesn't mean you have less autonomy or choice in how you want to manage your symptoms. We can make our own medical decisions, idc if everyone in the world has been preprogrammed to think a schizophrenic person off their meds is the worst thing in the world and they must not be thinking reasonably - we are capable of making our own medical decisions and yes we do have rational concerns and valid justifications.

[niishi]

when it comes to mental illness, you can never please anyone. you're either mentally ill and do your best to not be a victim and to cope and grow, and then ppl act like you're not mentally ill and dismiss your genuine issues, or you make a big deal of it and harm ppl and yourself with it and then you're too much to handle. like what's gonna make ppl happy? what will make them validate your position in life? literally nothing.

[actualaster]

Deeply inconvenient truth many people really, really, really do not ever want to ever acknowledge much less discuss to find solutions for:

Cars are an accessibility tool.

Public transport is not safe for a variety of people and “just adding more buses and trains and making cities revolve around PT” will not actually address that.

(But nobody likes hearing about how tiny % of the population cannot reliably and safely use PT because they don’t want to actually envision what trying to accommodate that looks like)

[bibannana]

Coy *leans against the wall casually*: What an outstanding coincidence this is Captain.

Fives *falls out of the airvent behind him*: Ooofft!!

Coy *ignores him, completely monotonous*: Truely baffling!

Echo *falls out and lands ontop of Fives*: Aaaaahhh!

Rex *raises an eyebrow*: I don't want to know.