#world eating disorders action day

[pers1st]

when every door closes

pairing: leah williamson x reader

notes: mentions of ed, mentions of j*rge vilda (also the title will make sense with the second part)

Traveling to whichever tournament it may be with the Spanish national team had so far, for you, been a pleasant experience. You were still young, and despite the fact that you weren't granted many opportunities to prove yourself on the field, you took every camp as a chance to learn from players such as María Leon, or Alexia Putellas, or Irene Paredes.

Of course, it was a difficult environment to enjoy. The brutal coaching methods had not yet reached you, but you felt it in the atmosphere in which the team operated- the fact that most, if not all players, were negatively affected by every training session, every match, every team talk.

You had simply been lucky enough not to experience the worst of it. Not yet, anyways.

But all of this was due to change when you arrived in England in preparation for the Euros. This tournament, you had been particularly excited about. Playing an international competition in your girlfriend's home country, with both her and your parents vowing to support you, had had you buzzing from the second Spain had qualified. You had no idea things would take a turn for the worst the second you arrived for the first training session, but you were granted a first thought about it when Jorge pulled you aside just as you were about to warm up.

"Y/N, I know you haven't played much for Spain yet, but I want this tournament to be your opportunity. You've grown a lot at Arsenal, and I'm sure we can profit off of your talents, no? Don't let me down", he smiled as he raised his eyebrows expectantly. You, of course, nodded. You weren't going to let him down, you were going to do everything you could to prove yourself, to prove the world, that you were a good center back.

Only you couldn't have known that Jorge would do everything he could to keep you from doing exactly that. Or so, at least, it seemed.

The next day, you and Ona were sitting in the hotel's cafeteria for breakfast ahead of training when he slipped you a note, patting your shoulder as he breezed past you. Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you turned the paper to inspect it, and found glaringly red letters written across it.

Meal Plan, Y/N Y/L/N, updated

You swallowed thickly, scanning across the rest of the note, your stomach turning at the sight. He had decreased your caloric intake. He had added a goal weight for you to reach by the beginning of the tournament.

"What is it?", Ona asked as she chewed her food, glancing at you worriedly. You didn't notice the way the table across from you had turned towards you as well.

"Oh, just my meal plan", you smiled briefly as you folded the note and stuffed it into your back pocket, continuing to poke your food around the plate as you listened to Ona's debrief of her season with Manchester United.

You weren't really listening, though. Instead, your mind had gone into overdrive, whirring with thoughts as you failed to understand any of the reasons behind your manager's action.

Were you too heavy?

Surely not. You hadn't noticed any weight gain, and despite the fact that you were unable to put an exact number to your weight, you knew that Arsenal monitored both your eating habits and your measurements closely, ever since you'd come forward about your eating disorder. Jorge knew of it as well.

Were you too heavy?

It was those thoughts that kept you from showing off your talents in training, and that kept you from sleeping at night. Everything you did was calculated- almost forced, and to any of your older teammates, it was clear as day that you were trying so hard to be perfect, you failed to even be average.

The meal plan was soon followed by extra cardio sessions, nasty whispers in passing and an intense amount of pressure as you neared the beginning of the tournament.

You missed Leah more than ever, then. Although she wasn't far away, you felt as though worlds divided you, you felt as though you couldn't get enough of her. Every night, you spoke to her on the phone, although you never mentioned the weight of what was happening. She could sense that something was wrong, could sense that you were pressuring yourself far more than what was healthy, but she decided to keep quiet about it, instead distracting you, and having Beth yap your ear off multiple teams when the girl noticed the two of you were speaking on the phone. Every time you saw Leah appear on your screen, a smile appeared on your face. It was as if she could lift every weight off your shoulders with just a single word, even if just for the time being.

By the time your last training session started, you were close to either throwing up from nerves or collapsing due to exhaustion, but you didn't allow for either of those options, instead pushing yourself through every minute of it, until Alexia went down with an injury and the training was stopped. You watched somberly as your captain was guided off the pitch with both Mapi and Vilda by her side, and as cruel as it sounded, it finally gave you a moment to breathe. Clutching your water bottle tightly, you swayed from right to left as you walked over to a bench by the side of the pitch, dropping yourself down slightly imbalanced.

"Come on, chica. You need a break", Marta whispered as she put her hand on your shoulder, rubbing back and forth slightly.

"Is it too hot?", she asked, to which you shook your head. The heat wasn't as big of a problem as was the lack of food in your system.

"No, just need to catch my breath", you reassured her with a forced smile as you finished what was left of your electrolyte drink.

"Go back to the hotel with Ona and sleep, okay? You need some rest, sí?"

The aftermath of Alexia leaving the camp only hit you when you read the news of her ACL tear, cradled underneath the protection of your blanket, your phone tightly in your hands.

Alexia, along with María, had been the ones to slightly reassure you, without allowing for questions, with every chance they got. A soft comment here, a smile there, it was never much, but it was enough to keep you grounded, if only in the moment. Now, though, you were panicking, only grasping the magnitude of your captain's departure now that it was announced she'd be flying back to Spain to have surgery.

As if your situation couldn't worsen, the door flew open as Ona entered your shared room, her eyes immediately fixating on your slightly shaky frame in a bed that seemed far too big for you. You could tell by her face that she wasn't just confused or worried- she was hiding something.

"What is it?", you asked, your voice heavy with the events of today as Ona quietly shuffled closer.

"It's nothing, chica. Just, Jorge..."

"What? What did he say?"

You sat up straight in your bed, shifting the blanket back as your hands tightened into fists.

"He said that because training ended early, you should do another cardio session."

The room was quiet for a second, neither of you daring to move. Then, you nodded.

"Okay, I'll-"

"You really don't need to, chica. It's bullshit- what he's forcing you to do, I don't get what he-"

"No, no. It's fine. Thanks for letting me know", you forced yourself to smile, gripping your phone even tighter before slipping on your shoes and exiting the hotel room, still in your pajamas, tears dwelling in your eyes.

Were you really that bad?

Before you could think more about where your mind was leading you, you dialed the only number that made sense, pressing the phone to your ear as you opened the door to the gym, sliding down against one of the walls.

"Hey, love. How are you?", Leah asked. "I wanna see you." You could hear the smile on her face as you reluctantly accepted her FaceTime request, grateful that the lights were off as Leah wasn't able to make out your tearstained cheeks.

"Chicaaa", you could hear Beth in the background, laughing softly.

"Is that the girlfriend?!", another person asked as you realized Leah was most likely surrounded by her teammates, having a good time. How could the same tournament be so different for the two of you?

"Sorry, Lee, I can call back", you mumbled, your breath hitching as your girlfriend's eyebrows furrowed, and the other end of the line suddenly fell silent.

"No, let me just go somewhere more private", she mumbled before exiting whatever room she had occupied before.

"What's going on?"

Leah had, so far, been updated regularly about your own camp, and although you had mentioned your meal plan to her, you had kept silent about all of the brutal comments, the pressure, all of it. Now, however, you didn't know how to hide it anymore.

"He's so horrible, Lee. Everything he does, it's just- I can't ever do it right", you cried, your words a mumbled mess under the tears that were washing down your face. There was a pain spreading throughout your body that was glooming from more than just the extremely difficult training session today, it was more than just the exhaustion of the preparation for the Euros, it was indescribable. You choked on a sob as your girlfriend's worry-filled eyes narrowed in anger.

"Hey, baby, it's okay. I mean, it's not okay, and I wish I could kill him, but you're okay, love."

You could tell she didn't really believe herself and was merely attempting to calm you down, but she succeeded, anyways. Usually, you craved her presence, craved her arms around you, pressing your body tightly, whenever you felt even the slightest dip in your mood. Now, after spending multiple weeks apart from her, under such impossible conditions, her soft voice was enough to lower your heart rate, to silence the thoughts in your head, to make everything even the slightest bit better.

"He's just- This is the only chance to prove myself, you know? He's finally given me a chance, but it's like he doesn't want me to be good, you know? He's doing everything to tear me down", you mumbled, wiping the remaining tears out of your eyes.

"So, do it out of spite. He wants you to fail, wants you to crumble under the pressure. Don't prove him right. Show him what you can do in spite of everything he's doing, prove him that you're better than he could ever understand. Love, you are such an incredible player, and this is your chance to prove it to the world. You're gonna be insane on that pitch, I know it. Honestly, I'm scared we'll have to play against you, there's no coming through your backline", she chuckled softly, smiling at you reassuringly. You nodded, ever so slightly.

"Yeah, don't speak it into existence", you mumbled back.

But your girlfriend had, of course, spoke it into existence. Not just the fact that you finally seemed to find your footing, with the support of all of the senior players stepping in to protect you in the best way they could, but also the fact that after breezing through the group stage, you were coming up against England for the quarter finals.

Despite the fact that Esther managed to put your team ahead relatively early on, England put up an exceptional front, and you and Mapi were working relentlessly to keep a clean sheet. For quite some time, it worked well, and your team seemed to progress onto the semi-final. When Ella Toone scored in the eighty-fourth minute, a bitter taste washed through your mouth as you bit your tongue hard enough to draw blood.

Every single one of Jorge's comments rang right through you, even through the loud crowd that had formed to cheer on the English. Mapi noticed as well, and patted your shoulder comfortingly after you first conceded, but it was no use.

During the added time, you conceded again, and the dream of winning the Euros slipped away with every failed attempt of your offense.

When the whistle finally rang, you were unable to hold your body up anymore, and although tears glistened on your cheeks as you sat on the grass, watching as your girlfriend's team celebrated, you couldn't help but feel another emotion with that of disappointment- relief. It was over. The team would leave, likely tomorrow or the day after, and you would watch Jorge Vilda fly back to Spain and finally be free of his judgement.

Still, your shoulders shook with sobs. You had failed. Not only to prove yourself, but to prove him wrong. Leah had told you to play your best football out of spite, but you hadn't. You had allowed for England to score twice. You had not only let yourself, but the whole team down.

Before you could dwell on your thoughts any longer, you felt two hands land on your shoulders, softly rubbing the fabric as you hid your face behind your own hands.

"Love, look at me", Leah asked of you, and you slowly complied, pulling your shirt up instead to wipe over your wet cheeks.

"You did so well, Y/N. I'm so proud of you", she smiled softly, but when another sob shook your body, she gently pressed your face into the crook of her neck, allowing for you to let your emotions out for the time being.

"I'm proud of you. You did so, so well. You made everyone proud, today", she kept reminding you as you sobbed into her skin, finally feeling her arms around your body, finally breathing in her scent, finally feeling her presence again.

This time, it took a while for you to calm down. Pain ran through you deeply, but you allowed yourself to move on slowly, knowing that crying now wasn't going to help your case, not at all. The Euros were over for you, and all that was left to do was support your girlfriend and Arsenal teammates as they progressed through the semifinals. The thoughts of wearing your girlfriend's jersey, while being seated between her and your own parents, cheering her on from the sidelines as she captained her team through the rest of the tournament filled you with pride.

[obeymeimaginesandasks]

Obey Me Brothers Masterlist

This has been a long time coming, figured I should do one that encompasses all characters rather than just the Lucifer masterlist

Masterlist to Dateables

Masterlist to Incorrect Quotes

Brothers:

MC getting her period for the first time

Nicknames to MC in and out of bed

MC is famous idol in human world

First time showering with MC

How they celebrate their birthday

Are they a top, bottom or switch?

MC snuggling up to them

MC having no prior relationship experience

MC transformed into a child

Having a bad hair day

MC gushing over their younger siblings

Embarrassing things MC has caught them doing

MC attempts to have a date with a classmate

Horns sensitivity NSFW

MC creating the opening music video of the brothers

ADHD modes of food

NSFW headcanons

Appearance vs Reality

Accidentally scaring MC due to MC’s action

About to fight

MC transformed into a toddler

Comforting MC who’s had abusive relationships before

Watching Lucifer and MC dance

How they’re listed in MC’s phone

Should you fight them?

Hiding behind them due to creeper

Getting turned into toddlers

MC has past eating disorder

Past MC being a wild child

As pickup lines

As cats with gifs

Lucifer:

As a poem

Being a sub nsfw

MC stalked by a demon

MC in virgin killer sweater

His diamond being sensitive

MC being ticklish

MC genuinely laughing for the first time

Pleasuring himself to MC NSFW

MC has their wings tattooed on them

Drabble: Disney Duet

Nipple piercing NSFW

Drabble: Different Drunk

Drabble: Hold my damn hand

Mammon:

Meeting your Family

Being a dom nsfw

MC being ticklish

MC stalked by a demon

MC in virgin killer sweater

MC punching someone in fright

Drabble: You’re a fucking child fluff

MC genuinely laughing for the first time

Pleasuring himself to MC NSFW

Drabble: Drunk and Duet

MC gets their wings tattooed on them

Drabble: I don’t deserve you

Drabble: You make me nervous

Missed pickup line

Drabble: Defend

Drabble: Mine SFW and NSFW undercut

Drabble: I’m not clingy

Drabble: Let me concentrate

Leviathan:

MC with cutesy clothing

Pleasuring himself to you NSFW

MC being ticklish

Cosplaying TSL together

Drabble: I ship us

Drabble: Am I annoying? angst

Drabble: Disney Duet

Drabble: Tell me you need me

Drabble: You make me nervous

Drabble: Protector

Asmodeus:

MC being ticklish

MC in virgin killer sweater

MC punching someone in fright

MC stimming

Soft times

MC gets their wings tattooed on them

Drabble: Cheesy pickup lines

Satan:

MC being ticklish

Having the same birthday as MC

MC punching someone in fright

MC stimming

Pleasuring himself to MC NSFW

Drabble: Nervous and Drunk

Drabble: Mine

Drabble: You don’t say I love you angst

Drabble: Your dad doesn’t like me

Beelzebub:

MC stalked by a demon

MC punching someone in fright

MC being ticklish

MC stimming

MC genuinely laughing for the first time

Pleasuring himself to MC NSFW

MC gets their wings tattooed on them

Drabble: With salad

Drabble: Protector

Drabble: Make you happy

Belphegor:

Helping MC unwind sfw and nsfw

MC stalked by a demon

Pleasuring himself to you NSFW

MC punching someone in fright

MC being ticklish

Drabble: Deadly gorgeous

Breaking up and seeing them with Lucifer angst

Drabble: Come home angst

Drabble: Hold my damn hand

[cabotwife]

i need a comfort fic and I never see any of this topic🥹

if you could please write a Olivia/daughter reader or Olivia/reader!!! Preferably Olivia catching on to them restricting/failing into an Rd and comforts them about it!!!

City of Angels

Olivia Benson x Foster Daughter!Teen!Reader

warnings: ooc liv? kinda mention of an eating disorder, not proofread

word count: 1788

a/n: this is actually so bad i wanna rip my hair out.

--

living an easy life wasn't something you were entirely familiar with. for the last two years your life had been a chaotic whirlwind, being shuffled from one home to another.

the idea of an easy life becomes complicated when your existence has been laced with a constant stream of pain and the need to run from everything good. it's challenging to imagine such a life when your reality has always been like this.

even before you found yourself lost among the countless faceless children within the foster system, all you had known was a life filled with fear and adversity.

but now, you have your Olivia.

your Olivia who tells you she loves you, but who’re you to believe her? how could she possibly love a child that’s not hers?

this is the question that haunts your thoughts during your countless long, sleepless nights. the painful realization that you're just a charity case to the brunette detective, a lost delinquent she's taken under her wing to "fix" is something you can't shake. she’s never said it outright, but you can see it. it's there, hiding in the depths of her eyes.

—

you've been living with Olivia for almost half a year now. during this time, you and her had been growing closer, your defensive walls have started to crumble, allowing the other woman to step into your world and take you into her arms.

everything seemed to be going well, or at least that's what you thought. but one day, everything took a turn when Olivia brought home Noah.

Noah, an undeniably adorable little boy.

the moment he was brought into the apartment, you could sense a shift in the atmosphere. at first, you managed to adapt to the change. but then, you found yourself being pushed to the side, overlooked for Noah.

the moment you found yourself sidelined, your defensive walls shot back up, leaving Olivia and now Noah on the outside.

and once again, you were alone.

the love you can see in Olivia’s eyes when she looks at the little toddler is a kind of love you've never experienced for yourself. it's a stark reminder of the unfair differences between your experiences and his.

it didn't even take a month for Olivia to officially adopt Noah.

things took a turn for the worse rather quickly.

it began with you avoiding shared meals with the two brunettes. you started eating later or earlier, making sure to finish before Olivia got home. but recently, you found yourself skipping meals altogether.

Olivia had noticed you pulling away from her, but she chose not to do anything in fear of worsening the situation. despite your growing distance, she continued to reach out, hoping to assure you that you're welcome in her life. but your actions have been making it increasingly difficult for her.

—

in the midst of a typical day at work, Olivia sifts through the details of her most recent case, surrounded by the familiar hum of activity in the precinct. the sudden ring of her phone disrupts the rhythmic tapping of her fingers on the keyboard.

answering the phone in a questioning voice, she says, “hello?” the unknown number on the screen does nothing to prepare her for the conversation ahead.

a professional, yet strained voice responds from the other end, “hi, is this Olivia Benson?” the question hangs in the air, causing Olivia to furrow her eyebrows in confusion. she straightens up in her chair, her police instincts kick in.

the change in her demeanor catches the attention of Fin, who is now visibly alert. “yes, it is. who’s asking?” Olivia responds, her tone guarded yet curious.

the voice on the other side of the line calmly explains, “you’re listed as y/n l/n’s emergency contact. i’m calling to inform you that she is currently with us at Mercy General Hospital.” the words are delivered with an air of professional detachment.

the brunette springs up from her desk, grabbing her jacket hurriedly. her mind is a whirlwind of questions. “what? why? what happened?” in her panic, she barely notices Fin rising from his desk, his eyes locked with hers in shared concern.

briefly pulling the phone away from her mouth, she manages to choke out to Fin, “y/n’s in the hospital, i have to go.”

the severity of the situation is evident in her voice, “i’ll drive,” the older detective quickly offers, swiftly grabbing his keys and ushering Olivia out of the precinct, the hum of activity fades as they rush out to his car.

by the end of the call, Olivia is left with a sinking feeling of dread. despite the explanations given, she can't fully comprehend what is happening. her mind is filled with concern for her little girl.

before she knows it, Fin's car screeches to a halt in front of Mercy General Hospital and without a moment’s hesitation, Olivia jumps out, her heart pounding as she practically sprints through the entrance. once the brunette reaches the front desk she slaps her hands down on the counter, “y/n l/n, what room is she in?” she demands, her voice strained with urgency.

the desk attendant looks up, her gaze questioning as she scrolls through the records on her computer. “I’m sorry, who’re you?” she inquires, her head tilted slightly in confusion.

taking a moment to collect herself, Olivia responds, “oh, Olivia Benson. i’m her foster mother, her emergency contact." she leans over the desk, trying to catch a glimpse of the room number on the screen.

the woman hums in response, scrolling for a few more seconds before finally speaking, “y/n l/n is in room 281.” she looks up, meeting Olivia’s desperate gaze.

mumbling a quick ‘thank you’, Olivia speeds off towards the room, her heart pounding in her chest. when she finally reaches the room, she is met with the sight of you, lying in the hospital bed with an IV drip in your arm and a small, untouched cup of red jello on the bedside table.

“y/n.” Olivia manages to breathe out, making her way over to the bed. her voice is soft and filled with concern, “what happened? are you okay, baby?” she gently takes your hand in hers, her touch as soft as her voice.

you simply hum in response and pull your hand away from hers, settling it back in your lap. “yeah, ‘m fine.”

Olivia’s eyebrows furrow as she looks down at you, her maternal instincts kick in. “you are not fine. you’re in the hospital. now, are you going to tell me what happened or do i have to go ask a doctor because i can’t trust my own daughter?”

for the first time, your eyes snap to Olivia, finally meeting hers. “i’m not your daughter, Olivia,” you retort, rolling your eyes.

the sharpness of your words takes Olivia by surprise. her frown deepens and her eyes soften. “what’re you talking about, y/n/n? of course you’re my daughter.” her voice is gentle, filled with warmth as she squats down beside the bed to be at eye level with you. “what’s been going on, sweet girl? you haven’t been yourself.” she takes your hand again, her thumb soothingly rubbing the back of your hand.

you just mumble in response, avoiding Olivia's gaze and instead focusing on the wall, which has suddenly become very interesting. “nothin’..”

sighing, Olivia stares at you for a moment before standing back up. she leans down and presses a tender kiss to your hairline before heading towards the door. “i’ll be back. i’m going to go find your doctor since you won’t tell me anything.”

as she reaches the door, your voice stops her in her tracks. “wait, Olivia,” your voice is louder than you intended. you look up at Olivia, your eyes teary and pleading. “i’ll tell you, please, i’m sorry.”

the older woman turns around, her arms crossed as she waits for you to speak. “okay. i’m listening.”

"you know, i've just been... i don't know how to say it..." you mumble, searching for the right words, the right way to phrase what happened.

Olivia sits on the edge of the hospital bed, by your knees. her gaze, full of concern and empathy, watches you as you struggle to articulate your thoughts.

"i've been struggling with eating recently.." you admit in a whisper, your words barely audible in the sterile silence of the hospital room. heat rushes to your cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and shame. "i passed out while i was with Luka. he brought me here after i woke up.. i'm sorry, Liv, i know how expensive it is and i know you’re mad-"

"oh, my sweet girl," Olivia interrupts, her voice filled with love. she surges forward, wrapping you in a comforting embrace. when she pulls away, her hands cup your cheeks, her words a soothing balm. "my sweet, sweet girl... no, i’m not mad. I'm just happy you're okay," she whispers, her eyes locked onto yours.

and in that moment, you see it — the same love you've always seen in her eyes when she looks at Noah. but now, it's directed at you.

a silence descends on the two of you, heavy but not uncomfortable. Olivia leans forward to hug you again, and you find yourself lost in your thoughts.

after a few minutes of quiet reflection, you break the silence. "hey, Liv?" you whisper, your voice barely audible.

"yes, y/n/n?" she replies after a moment, pulling away to look into your eyes.

"why... um, why did you adopt Noah and not me? are you going to send me back?" you ask, the words tumbling out in a rush, a slight rasp in your voice revealing your fear and uncertainty.

Olivia's eyes widen in surprise before they soften. "oh, honey... i'm not sending you back. you're my daughter, you understand? it's just... it's a little more complicated when your biological mother is still alive," she explains gently. "i've been trying so hard, you have to believe me. it's just that these things... they take time."

you stare at her, tears welling in your eyes. after a moment, you lean forward, hugging her gently and burying your face against her shoulder as you try to hold back the tears. "i'm sorry, Liv."

"you have nothing to apologize for, okay? we're going to get you the help you need. we're going to sort everything out, and we'll be a family," she promises, her voice soft and reassuring. she kisses your hair as she wraps her arms around you in a comforting embrace. "how does that sound?"

"good... sounds good," you whisper back, a sense of peace settling over you.

[ghooostbaby]

on ghosts & desire, and why i think the reason he xuan became a ghost was not to have revenge on shi wudu...

hearing he xuan's actual backstory again surprised me, after i'd gotten used to how he's generally characterized in fandom. The way the misfortunes of his life transpire isn’t really this story of this person with mounting misfortunes that eventually broke him down into despair and resentment so intense he clung on after to death in pursuit of a revenge that would finally vindicate himself and his family…

what actually happens is he grew up very loved, and was respected for his great promise as a scholar, but those dreams are ruined by corrupt/jealous officials, and then ... he seems to just move on. and gets engaged to his childhood sweetheart. Then she and his sister are kidnapped and forced to be bed attendants, and when he tries to fight the kidnappers is framed for adultery and taken to jail. While in jail he is starved and given a permanent eating disorder that is still with him till his ghost king days (according to hua cheng), during this time his sister and fiancé die, as his mother does too, and by the time he gets out of jail his father was almost dead, and then - he … starts a successful business?! A business so successful his competitors conspire to sabotage him?? And THEN he goes on a killing spree to the delight and unwavering support of the entire town, and dies not of despair at all, but exhaustion. more than anything in life he seems to exude confidence and resolve to succeed, and live. He didn’t even seem to want to die by his final actions, more like he was trying to get this frustrating impediment out of his way so he could carry on in life to do the things he wants to do.

also i believe hua cheng tells xie lian that when he xuan dies, he didn’t know all the misfortunes of his life had been caused by shi wudu, or who shi wudu was. So he xuan couldn’t have become a ghost out of resentment of shi wudu or a desire for revenge against him. If intense feelings and longings at the time of someone's death attach their soul to the world and make them take the form of a ghost … for he xuan I think that feelings he is immersed in at the moment of death is an intense desire to kill, vent his rage, and make himself free…

Also it is very interesting that he xuan’s method of cultivation is eating and (maybe??) sleeping, acts that sustain life. It makes me think that the fundemental thing he xuan can't let go of that makes him a ghost is just life itself and the desire to live. In comparison, hua cheng’s "resentment" is his love and devotion to xie lian, and he seems to cultivate by acts of devotion and love to xie lian (all the statues in the cave on mount tong'lu during the time he most needed to raise his power to survive the kiln?).

The common fanon I see of he xuan is someone very very tired, who barely wants to be existing, as if he is just hanging on to get his revenge for the family he mourns, he finds no joy in anything, he is always externally miserable eating food and with the person he is commonly shipped with. (really i just think bb hates heavenly officials.) but his life story shows someone who is full of desire, who never stops trying to keep living, changing course each time his progress in one direction is denied, and always finds respect, love, prosperity in each area he pursues, and is only stopped by others purposefully sabotaging him.

He xuan is unlike the other victims of the Reverend of Empty Words, who would always be defeated “by the fear of loss in their own hearts” and die by suicide after breakdowns. although he xuan did die, he is described as becoming a steel plate in the Reverend's mouth that it broke its teeth on. The reverend never really got to feed on he xuan's negative emotions, which us the whole point of the curses. He never became overwhelmed by fear of loss, and he didn't want to die.

It’s especially interesting the different ways xie lian and he xuan deal with having a jinx monster attach to them. Xie lian wins against it by being impossible to feed on without really having any hopes for himself, and all the misfortunes the jinx monster comes up with are more like aspirations for xie lian compared to the expectations xie lian has for himself. In contrast, it’s like he xuan has such an abundance of hope and optimism he never stops trying to find a way to move past his suffering or fight back.

I've been thinking how much xie lian is told to suppress his desires and not do what he wants to do, from mu qing nagging him, to his guoshi cautioning against fighting the laws of fate ... and when he resists he is punished harshly. Until he meets hua cheng, who tells him to "just keep doing what you want to do." Part of their task as gods seems to be to suppress their desires, abide by customs and restrictions in order to not risk their position or even their lives. Mu Qing was often frustrated at Xie Lian ignoring all the social codes they have to follow and doing what he wants to do. If Mu Qing had done the same he wouldn’t have survived – and he ends up being proved right when Xie Lian almost doesn’t survive. Everything that Xie Lian feels genuinely called to do seems to end up condemning him and when Xie Lian resurfaces 800 years later he second guesses everything he wants to do, agonizes in his internal thoughts about all the things he says and does, and he seems to simultaneously be unable to stop himself from holding these unacceptable desires, but also completely at odds with his desires. I think that ghosts on the other hand are entirely about desire, and the ghost kings' superpower is desire. Once xie lian has hua cheng, its like hua cheng's power for desire is a shield that allows xie lian to do what he wants.

In this world resources are limited and you cannot create something out of nothing. When desires come into conflict with the laws of the universe, no matter what the characters try they can’t transgress it, but ghosts can. The rain that Xie Lian struggled so hard to conjure and sacrificed so much to maintain the balance for, Hua Cheng can make come down out of the sky as blood. He xuan feeds his hunger by devouring ghosts, while so often in the novel people cannot find food that isn't poisonous to nourish them. (And the meal at the end FINALLY where the beggars get their soup is COOKED BY GHOSTS OK!!!!!!!)

[weirdassartist]

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This may not be 100% correct but this is created to help clear up some things about systems, also trigger warnings as there is some sensitive content covered in this.

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Dissociative identity disorders

Dissociative disorders are a range of conditions that can cause physical and psychological problems.

Some dissociative disorders are very short-lived, perhaps following a traumatic life event, and resolve on their own over a matter of weeks or months. Others can last much longer.

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Causes of dissociative disorder

There are many possible causes of dissociative disorders, including previous traumatic experience.

Someone with a dissociative disorder may have experienced physical, sexual or emotional abuse during childhood.

Some people dissociate after experiencing war, kidnapping or even an invasive medical procedure.

Switching off from reality is a normal defence mechanism that helps the person cope during a traumatic time.

It's a form of denial, as if "this is not happening to me".

It becomes a problem when the environment is no longer traumatic but the person still acts and lives as if it is, and has not dealt with or processed the event.

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Associated conditions

Someone with a dissociative disorder may also have other mental health conditions, such as:

medically unexplained symptoms

post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)

depression

mood swings

anxiety and panic attacks

suicidal tendencies or self-harm

an eating disorder

obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD)

They may also have problems sleeping (insomnia).

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Symptoms of a dissociative disorder

Symptoms of dissociative disorder can vary but may include:

feeling disconnected from yourself and the world around you

forgetting about certain time periods, events and personal information

feeling uncertain about who you are

having multiple distinct identities

feeling little or no physical pain

Some people with dissociative disorders have seizures. These can vary from fainting to something more like an epileptic seizure.

Dissociation is a way the mind copes with too much stress.

Periods of dissociation can last for a relatively short time (hours or days) or for much longer (weeks or months).

Many people with a dissociative disorder have had a traumatic event during childhood. Dissociation can happen as a way of coping with it.

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Types of dissociative disorder

depersonalisation-derealisation disorder

dissociative amnesia

dissociative identity disorder

OSDD type 1

OSDD type 1a

OSDD type 1b

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Depersonalisation-derealisation disorder

Depersonalisation is where you have the feeling of being outside yourself and observing your actions, feelings or thoughts from a distance.

Derealisation is where you feel the world is unreal. People and things around you may seem "lifeless" or "foggy".

You can have depersonalisation or derealisation, or both together. It may last only a few moments or come and go over many years.

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Dissociative amnesia

Someone with dissociative amnesia will have periods where they cannot remember information about themselves or events in their past life.

They may also forget a learned talent or skill.

These gaps in memory are much more severe than normal forgetfulness and are not the result of another medical condition.

Some people with dissociative amnesia find themselves in a strange place without knowing how they got there.

They may have travelled there on purpose, or wandered in a confused state.

These blank episodes may last minutes, hours or days. In rare cases, they can last months or years.

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Dissociative identity disorder

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) used to be called multiple personality disorder.

Someone diagnosed with DID may feel uncertain about their identity and who they are.

They may feel the presence of other identities, each with their own names, voices, personal histories and mannerisms.

The main symptoms of DID are:

memory gaps about everyday events and personal information

having several distinct identities

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OSDD type 1

OSDD-1 systems lack some criterion of Dissociative Identity Disorder while still exhibiting alters. The most common types of this are OSDD-1a and OSDD-1b, missing the distinct alters and amnesic barriers respectively. However, OSDD-1 can include lacking both distinct alters and amnesia barriers, or other presentations of dissociative and disordered pluralit.

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OSDD-1a

OSDD-1a is missing the distinct alters found in DID, preventing a diagnosis. Alters are more blurry between one another and often have a core or shell identity. The identities with an OSDD-1a system may be very similar or diverse; one common presentation is one individual within different "modes" or ages, like an angry self, a 12-year-old self, etc. OSDD-1a is different than typical mood changes due to the amnesiac barriers between headmates.

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OSDD-1b

OSDD-1b is missing the amnesia found in DID, preventing a diagnosis. There is no full amnesia ("blackouts") related to switching, but emotional amnesia may be present, as well as "grey-outs" in some cases. There may still be memory loss relating to trauma, but not between alters.

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Types of alters

Core: Also known as the original or the original child, the core is considered by some to be the part first born to the body. Some see the core as the owner of the system, the part that has the most power and influence over other parts, and the most important part which the other parts were created to protect. Others see the core as nothing more than the self state that began to integrate sooner than other self states did. There is currently a debate over the existence of cores because it does not easily fit with the theory of structural dissociation. Not all systems have a part that could be identified as a core.

Host: The host is the alter that most commonly uses the body. Host alters collectively fall under the category of fronters, or alters who frequently “front” by taking control of the body and the front, conscious part of the mind. Host alters are responsible for most aspects of daily life, though teams of fronter alters might divide up daily life into more manageable and specialized units such as socialization, academia, work, and taking care of the body. If the host has spent years unaware of the existence of other alters and the trauma that created them, the host might have an extremely hard time coming to accept their DID. This alter might be used to viewing themselves as the only entity in their body and will likely at least at first view themselves as the core. This may or may not be correct.

Protector: Protectors are alters that protect the body, system, host, core, or other specific alters or groups of alters. Physical protectors might take or try to prevent physical abuse or become aggressive in an attempt to defend against physical abuse. Verbal protectors might take verbal abuse or lash back verbally in order to counter verbal abuse. Emotional protectors might take emotional abuse or comfort other alters to soften the effects of emotional abuse. Sexual protectors might take sexual abuse or attempt to instigate sexual abuse in an attempt to feel more in control of the situation. Caretaker alters are a unique type of protector that is focused specifically on taking care of younger, weaker, or more vulnerable alters or external children. Persecutors are another specific type of protector that are often not seen as such but that protect by harming the system themselves in order to avoid outside harm.

Persecutor: Persecutors are alters that purposefully harm the body, system, host, core, or other alters, sabotage the system’s goals or healing, or work to assist the system’s abuser(s). Persecutors might hold self hatred or provide an outlet for internalized abusive and negative messages. They might believe that hurting the system or other alters is the only way to control them or teach them how to behave and so prevent further and more extreme abuse from outside abusers. They might be reenacting abuse or trying to ensure that future abuse isn’t more harmful due to being preceded by a period of relatively little abuse. Some persecutor alters are introjects of abusers and may or may not understand that they are not actually the abuser themselves.

Introject: Introjects are alters that are based off of an outside person or figure. Introjects may or may not see themselves as the individual that they represent. Introjects can be based off a family member or adult caretaker who supported the dissociative child and provided a positive influence on their life, serving as a source of potential positive messages for the child to internalize. Unfortunately, introjects can also be of abusers. Abusive introjects, unlike more positive introjects, provide no comfort or moral compass for the system. Instead, they reenact trauma and abuse, sometimes reinforcing abusers’ lessons to prevent further abuse and sometimes serving as a permanent component of an internal flashback. Although less common, introjects can also be based off of historical or fictional figures that the dissociative child found strong, courageous, heroic, or otherwise worthy of being emulated and internalized.

Memory Holder: Memory holders are alters that hold memories that are usually traumatic in nature so that other alters do not have to be confronted by the memories. In some cases, memory holders might hold memories of childhood innocence or of being loved by the system’s otherwise abusive or neglectful family. In these latter cases, the memory holder might serve to preserve these memories untainted by memories of trauma or to avoid confronting the system with the pain of what the abuse has cost them. Memory holders are highly associated with abuse takers, alters that experience trauma so that other alters do not have to. Memories holders are the prototypical emotional part in structural dissociation.

Gatekeeper: A gatekeeper is an alter that controls switching or access to front, access to an internal world or certain areas within it, or access to certain alters or memories. The existence of a gatekeeper is highly stabilizing for a system because gatekeepers can to some extent prevent unwanted switching, failure to switch when necessary, or failure to switch to the correct alter. They can help to prevent traumatic memories from bleeding from the alters who hold them to alters who could not yet handle them. Gatekeepers might police the boundaries between subsystems. Because gatekeepers have control over which alters have access to front, they themselves are often or always near front and so witness everything that happens to the system. They might experience vast amounts of abuse and might present as ageless, emotionless, and nonhuman as a way to process this and cope. Gatekeepers may or may not also serve as an internal self helper.

Internal Self Helper: An internal self helper is an alter that holds vast amounts of knowledge about the system, alters, trauma, and/or internal workings. For those who believe in cores, internal self helpers are often viewed as the first alter to be created or as the normally pseudo-separate internal voice of logic and reason that all people possess. Within the theory of structural dissociation, internal self helpers are often viewed as observing parts or hidden observers, both less than distinct states. Internal self helpers may or may not also serve as a gatekeeper.

Fragment: A fragment is an alter that is not fully differentiated or developed. Fragments may exist to carry out a single function or job, to hold a single memory or emotion, or to represent a single idea. Depending on the way that individual systems use the term, a fragment might be any alter that could not survive if left on its own or that could not pass for a fully developed individual without the help of other alters. Fragments usually have not been exposed to enough complex, different, or interactive experiences to incorporate more into their sense of self and so become more developed and differentiated. It is possible for fragments to develop into more elaborate alters if the need arises or with further use.

It is important to remember that different systems have different needs, and systems may or may not have one or more alters for each of the above jobs. In smaller systems particularly, alters might hold multiple roles, some of which may even at first seem contradictory. For example, an alter might be persecutory to the system yet strive to protect it from outsiders. Other alters might hold roles that are specific to the system and would be difficult to define or generalize. Alters may hold unexpected roles, such as a child part handling finances or presenting in a persecutory manner. While fragments may be defined by their roles, other parts may be able to act in more complex and less reactive ways. The most well developed alters may be able to handle a wide variety of roles if this becomes necessary for the system's continued functioning. Finally, it should be remembered that an alter's roles can change over time.

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[eclaire-went-bam]

for npd day i've decided to post some of my npd/npd traits headcanons (don't take these too seriously if u don't like them. but if u do like them, then take em as gospel <222) just a fun post for the occasion

bcs this is an npd day post i'm not rlly gonna post comorbidities but if anyone wants to know feel free to ask ! i'm willing to talk abt all of these lmao

FUCK U hatsune miku can be anything & i say she's a narc. she knows the world is hers

tsukasa tenma. literally what more must i say.

franziska von karma my beloved. she totally eated this one. miles edgeworth honourable mention, he at least has traits w/ whatever else is going on. their bitchass father too. manfred von karma honourable mention. narc siblings on their healing journey & i love to see it

just about every riddler AUGH. he is THE narc. & every new rendition of him is basically a different spot on the npd spectrum. he's awesome. strangely enough (considering how big dc is) he even has a lotta positive narc rep, like the harley quinn show & justice league action. good job eddie, you're one clever s.o.b.

some versions of poison ivy. if plants are better than humans and you have full control over plants, you can talk to plants, and you're basically a plant, who wouldn't honestly. i feel like her in arkhamverse can fit.

anakin. maybe raising a kid with the idea in mind that he's literally the chosen one is not always the best idea . i've seen a lot of people assign him bpd but this kinda eats too. trust.

newton pud. yeah that's right. you know that one joke like ;; special interests never go away, they just go dormant for awhile? littlebigplanet is MY special interest and i get to talk about it whenever i want to.

saeru from the kagerou project 🤩 +bros got actually the craziest god complex but tbf despite all the crimes it's kinda earned let's be real. in general he's extremely coded for Multiple personality disorders but i guess that's what's. Certainly possible to happen when your existence is Literally trauma

omg old pfp mention. alastor. it feels like cheating to include hazbin hotel on the list. also the three vees are npd4npd4npd, honourable mention. lucifer has traits methinks.

dutch van der linde is sooooo coded & i hate it but he is. me when i narc crash (into the side of a cliff)

tried to include mostly better rep for the occasion. may make another part idk. desperately need more npd-coded femme characters but to no one's surprise, writers tend to give male characters those traits. anyways, happy npd day 🤩

for the sake of image space, i didnt put multiple sections for characters in the same fandom, just made honourable mentions instead

[librarycards]

please don’t feel pressured at all to answer this because i know it’s a complicated + sensitive question, but i’m very new to all this and have learned a lot from your antipsych resources etc and thought you’d be a good person to ask. how are you able to internally reconcile anti-fatphobia and it’s values with having an eating disorder that centers around weight, and wanting to lose/maintain a lower weight? i’ve found this to be incredibly hard to reconcile, knowing that i want to be thinner for a variety of reasons including my own internalized fatphobia, beliefs i haven’t unlearned about body, beauty, etc, as well as my own knowledge of how i will materially exist in the world if i am not a thin person? i do not want to be fatphobic yet to fully embody a liberationist view would also require giving up my ed, which is opposite to my own internal views but also is something that is very entrenched in my life. it feels very hard and impossible, especially because i’m just not ready for recovery yet. sorry if this isn’t a message you want to post/discuss :(

Firstly - I have a piece in @trans-axolotl's antipsychiatry zine that discusses thin anorexic/ed accompliceship in fat liberation politics - as soon as that's up I can add it to this message/send it to whoever wants it!

-

oh anon, i feel this so hard. you're not alone - i think pretty much everyone with a restrictive ed/bdd who has a radical left/body liberationist politic ends up feeling this way, and, of course, feeling an immense degree of shame and frustration that our most visceral lived experiences are at odds with our political commitments. i think about it every day. i will likely continue to, because the desire to be thin at all costs is irreconcilable with liberation for all people, including fat people. so, let's sit with the irreconcilability for a moment.

here is the reality: there is no good, "innocent," or morally "pure" answer here. we cannot and should not be obligated to "fix" our Mad relationships with food/embodiment for the sake of others. neither are fat people obligated to tolerate individual / collective / structural manifestations of antifatness, including those enacted by people whose food/body relationships are psychiatrized (that is to say, if i start talking about how i as an anorexic person "feel fat" around an actual fat person, they'd have every right to smack me upside the head). but part of being in community with other imperfect people under conditions of genocidal violence (against fat / Mad people and intersections therein) is learning about which allowances we can make, which actions we can take, in order to mitigate the harm we do to the people we care about. to employ a tired recovery cliche, the point is progress, not perfection.

here is another truth: every single person mired in a culture of fatphobia has shit to unlearn. for people who are not fat, the stakes of unlearning are even higher, given the structural rewards we reap from antifatness. this is true for any system of oppression. having an antipsych orientation to the idea of "disordered/disorderly eating", i think, has the potential to aid in that unlearning process, not because it means you'll magically "get better" in terms of your own relationship with food, but because it's a bit easier to notice the discourses of disorder that also violently impact fat people. the violence we face in the name of "restoration" and "recovery" increasingly impacts fat people as so-called "ob*sity" is framed as a biopsychological medical condition that must be "cured" via eugenics. shared disorderliness, even allowing for differences in privilege and access, can serve as a site of solidarity - even when our own experiences of disorder are fueled by an erroneous fear of "fat". there is also the important corollary that fat people with restrictive eating disorders, fat people who are terrified of fatness, also exist, and that a radical commitment to imperfection and partiality also benefits people who live in these seemingly-contradictory positions.

to sum, you/i/we don't ever have to recover. however, we can, should, and must fight for a world in which we and others could repair their relationship to food and embodiment if and when we so choose, on our own terms, in our own time, without medical paternalism. this world - a world in which we can eat or not eat what and when we want - is only possible under a paradigm of body/fat liberation. after all, the same systems that seek to eliminate fat people are the ones that seek to eliminate body Madness, to "fix" restrictive eaters through governing how we eat/move our bodies. on the days that it's difficult to imagine yourself as a direct beneficiary of fat liberation (as a fat person or potential fat person) think about the ways fat liberation is simply necessary to all other forms of liberation, including for Mad eaters. likewise, remember that your own personal feelings are in many ways irrelevant to that liberatory fight: what you do, who your accomplices are, and what we can collectively dream, outweigh (lmao) the painful thoughts we experience.

these thoughts, our bodymind relationships, our fears of food and fat, don't define us, even if they take up an outsized portion of our lives. there is always time and space to find community and fight for total liberation as our imperfect selves - everyone else is coming as an imperfect self, too. i think you'll find, as you enter more conversations with people doing this work, that even the "best" advocates share your/our ambivalences and fears, and may desire things that they'd never outwardly advocate for. people are complicated, and we're living in a world that makes living in a body horrifically painful. give yourself the grace to sit with your feelings, and give yourself permission to fight on another day without feeling obligated to "get better." what matters most is the care you're able to share with the people you surround yourself with, and the care you allow yourself to receive by people who love all of you - not just the polished, good-activist parts.

[darknesseddiem]

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐚

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: As Arcadia High School diligently readies its senior students for an academic expedition to explore Romania's renowned museums, anticipation crackles in the air. Yet, amidst the buzz of excitement and preparation, Y/n finds herself haunted by a chilling nightmare that lingers like a specter in her mind, casting a shadow over the forthcoming journey.

Meanwhile, across town, the Hawkins police force grapples with a harrowing investigation—the savage and enigmatic murder of a young boy, a crime so brutal it sends shockwaves through the city's core. As detectives delve into the depths of darkness shrouding this heinous act, whispers of malevolent forces and sinister secrets echo through the streets, leaving the community gripped by fear and uncertainty.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: +18, heavy content, dark themes, volence, blood, child death, child torture, gore, witchcraft, disfigurement, murder, nightmares, Reader takes meds to help her sleep, cruelty, allusion to eating disorder.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4,9K

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (open): @ali-r3n @maedesculpaeusoubi @birdysaturne

As your gaze drifted beyond the classroom window, the gentle sway of leaves seemed to beckon you into a world far removed from the monotony of Mrs. Bennet's lecture. Her words, once a beacon of guidance, dissolved into an indistinct cacophony, overshadowed by the enigmatic maelstrom brewing within your troubled psyche.

Lost in the labyrinthine corridors of your mind, you found yourself ensnared by memories of the night prior—fragments of a haunting dream that had invaded your restless slumber like tendrils of darkness creeping into the corners of your consciousness.

It had been an eternity since such macabre visions tormented your sleep, ever since the fateful disappearance of your parents—an event veiled in obscurity that had cast you adrift in a sea of unanswered questions and whispered rumors. The memories of that night haunted you like ghostly apparitions, their specters lurking just beyond the veil of consciousness, waiting to pounce upon your unsuspecting mind.

Prescribed an arsenal of antidepressants and sedatives to assuage the relentless onslaught of nightmares, you had sought refuge in the solace of pharmaceutical oblivion, hoping to drown out the echoes of your past with the numbing embrace of chemically-induced tranquility.

But even the most potent medications could not silence the whispers of your subconscious, nor quell the restless yearning for answers that gnawed at your soul like a ravenous beast. And so, as you sat amidst the dull hum of the classroom, a sense of unease gripped you, the memories of the night prior clawing their way to the surface, demanding to be acknowledged, to be understood.

As the day unfurled its weary hours, a dense fog of uncertainty descended upon you, enveloping your senses like a leaden shroud. Within the mundane fabric of daily life lurked a disquieting sense of foreboding, blurring the lines between what was real and what existed only in the recesses of your troubled mind.

From the moment your eyes blinked open, a suffocating pall of dread hung heavy in the air, casting a long shadow over your every thought and action. It was a sensation that clung to you like a second skin, a haunting reminder of the gaping void left behind by the sudden disappearance of your parents—the day your world fractured irreparably.

Throughout the hours that followed, an unsettling presence loomed on the edge of your consciousness, a phantom specter that seemed to stalk your every movement with unyielding persistence. Its intangible grip tightened with each passing moment, weaving a tangled web of apprehension around your fragile psyche.

As daylight waned and the world bathed in the eerie glow of twilight, the tendrils of unease constricted ever tighter, wrapping around your soul like vipers poised to strike. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension, each heartbeat echoing the ominous drumbeat of impending doom.

Were your fears merely the byproduct of a fractured mind, haunted by the ghosts of its past? Or was there a more sinister force at play, lurking in the shadows, waiting to ensnare you in its malevolent embrace? Only time would tell as you stood on the precipice of uncertainty, teetering on the edge of a darkness from which there might be no return.

With each fleeting thought, doubt gnawed at the fringes of your sanity, its whispered tendrils weaving a tapestry of uncertainty within the recesses of your troubled mind. Perhaps you were indeed teetering on the brink of madness, your senses distorted by the relentless trauma of your past. Or perhaps, as the therapist had suggested, your mind had erected formidable defenses against the horrors of your reality—a defense mechanism to shield you from the overwhelming weight of your own memories.

But as the shadows deepened and the night unfurled its ebony cloak, one thing remained certain: the inexplicable sense of being watched, the disconcerting feeling that eyes unseen bore witness to your every move. In the labyrinth of your mind, the line between reality and illusion blurred, leaving you adrift in a sea of uncertainty where truth and fiction intertwined in a tantalizing dance of shadows and secrets. And as you grappled with the enigmatic forces that conspired against you, you couldn't shake the haunting suspicion that the darkest truths were yet to be revealed.

As the rhythmic din of exuberant voices reverberated off the classroom walls, you found yourself reluctantly torn from the labyrinth of your contemplations, abruptly thrust back into the bustling present by the jubilant commotion surrounding you. Tables vibrated beneath the force of pounding fists, jubilant exclamations pierced the air like shards of shattered glass, and the infectious energy of your peers permeated the atmosphere, suffusing the room with an electrifying pulse of excitement. How long had you been ensnared in the enigmatic recesses of your thoughts, oblivious to the jubilation unfolding before you?

"S-silence, please!" Mrs. Bennet's voice, a beacon of authority, cut through the tumult like a blade, commanding attention as she rapped her desk with a ruler.

As the uproar gradually subsided, a heavy silence descended upon the room, punctuated only by the soft shuffling of restless feet and the rustle of papers. All eyes turned expectantly toward the authoritative figure at the front of the classroom, Mrs. Bennet's solemn countenance casting a pall of solemnity over the room. With deliberate grace, she traversed the length of the room to stand before the imposing expanse of the blackboard, where she inscribed a single word in bold, commanding script: "RULES."

The chalk, now depleted of its purpose, returned to its designated holder with a hollow clatter, its echoes reverberating through the stillness of the room like a portentous omen. Mrs. Bennet, her posture rigid with resolve, turned to address the assembled students, her voice a solemn symphony of authority and expectation.

"Rules," she intoned, her words laden with the weight of significance. "Rules that shall delineate the boundaries between aspiration and stagnation, determination and defeat."

A ripple of apprehension swept through the room, the air thick with a sense of foreboding and anticipation. Undeterred by the murmurs of discontent that rippled through the room like the ghostly whispers of unseen phantoms, Mrs. Bennet pressed forward, her gaze piercing through the veil of uncertainty that hung heavy in the air.

"And so, the first decree," she proclaimed, her voice echoing with an unyielding resolve. "Only those who have ascended beyond the confines of mediocrity, those whose grades soar above the threshold of adequacy, shall be deemed worthy of passage on this journey."

The jock's frustration permeated the air like a tangible force, his exasperation evident in the furrow of his brow and the tightness of his jaw. "Man, I hate the way she talks, like some sort of... I don't know," he grumbled, his tone tinged with irritation and disdain.

His companion, mirroring his sentiments, offered a terse nod of agreement. "Stupid bitch," he muttered, his voice a low growl of shared frustration.

A palpable commotion erupted in the wake of Mrs. Bennet's pronouncement, casting a veil of confusion over the classroom as you struggled to decipher the elusive topic of discussion.

"Silence!" The teacher's voice thundered with palpable frustration, commanding the attention of the unruly students.

"Second rule," she continued, her tone firm and unwavering despite the uproar, "those fortunate enough to be chosen shall be entrusted to the care and supervision of the school. Hence, they are obligated to adhere to the established guidelines and regulations, even upon arrival at our destination." Pausing briefly to gather her thoughts, she drew a deep breath before proceeding with her discourse. "And lastly, but by no means least: refrain from engaging in any behavior that may jeopardize our collective integrity. Violators risk immediate repatriation to Hawkins." With a final authoritative sweep of her gaze across the room, she concluded, "The list of selected students shall be posted on the main bulletin board tomorrow. That is all."

The piercing chime of the bell reverberated through the classroom, signaling the cessation of the lesson and prompting a flurry of movement as students scrambled to gather their belongings and vacate the premises.

"Don't forget to inform your parents or legal guardian about the upcoming trip!" Mrs. Bennet's admonition, delivered in a hushed tone, barely penetrated the rush of departing students.

You rose from your seat, methodically collecting your belongings and slinging your backpack over your shoulder before approaching the teacher's desk.

“Um...Mrs. Bennet, may I ask you a question?” Your voice, scarcely above a whisper, carried a note of uncertainty.

“Of course, dear!” Mrs. Bennet's kindly smile lent an air of reassurance to her response.

“I'm afraid I wasn't paying much attention, but where exactly is this trip taking us?” The admission of your inattention weighed heavily upon you, a pang of shame tugging at the corners of your conscience.

“We will be journeying to Romania, dear,” came the gentle reply, causing your blood to run cold and a shiver of unease to course down your spine.

“Oh...yes, thank you…” You offered a weak smile of gratitude before hastily exiting the room, the word "Romania" echoing ominously in your mind.

Romania? In Europe? The revelation sent a chill down your spine as you pondered the implications of this unexpected destination.

As you made your way through the bustling halls towards the cafeteria, a whirlwind of thoughts swirled through your mind like leaves caught in a tempest. Recollections of your class's recent selection to deliver an in-depth presentation on Romania and its rich history flitted through your consciousness, casting a faint glimmer of understanding upon the enigmatic decision to embark on this unexpected journey. Perhaps the school board had deemed the excursion a fitting complement to your studies, an opportunity to immerse yourselves in the culture and heritage you had diligently researched.

Yet, despite the logical rationale behind the trip and the ample resources at Arcadia's disposal, an unsettling sense of disquiet gnawed at the fringes of your consciousness. It was a feeling as elusive as mist, shrouded in ambiguity yet impossible to ignore—a silent whisper of unease that prickled at the back of your mind.

Was it the abruptness of the announcement, or the eerie coincidence of your class's recent academic focus? Or perhaps it was the inscrutable aura surrounding the destination itself, veiled in layers of mystery and intrigue. Whatever the reason, a foreboding sense of unease lingered in the air like a thick fog, refusing to dissipate despite your best efforts to dispel it.

With each step forward, the weight of uncertainty bore down upon you like an oppressive burden, casting a shadow over the otherwise mundane surroundings of the school corridors. And as you approached the cafeteria, the bustling chatter of your peers faded into the background, drowned out by the persistent echo of your own apprehension.

Something was undeniably amiss, though you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

As you entered the bustling cafeteria, the familiar sight of your friends, Robin and Steve, caught your eye, their animated discussion drawing you in like a moth to a flame. With a smile playing at your lips, you approached their table, the lively debate over the prowess of Rhea Ripley and Io Shirai serving as a backdrop to their camaraderie.

"Look, you don't understand anything about fighting, you only watch it because you like to see women," Steve retorted with an air of exasperation, his frustration evident in the tousled locks of his brown hair.

"Doesn't matter! Rhea is the best fighter and—" Robin's fervent defense was abruptly cut off as her gaze alighted upon your arrival, a warm smile spreading across her features.

"How's my little bee buzzing around today?" Robin's affectionate greeting enveloped you in a tight embrace, instantly flooding you with a sense of warmth and belonging amidst the bustling ambiance of the cafeteria.

You couldn't help but playfully roll your eyes at the endearing nickname, a remnant of childhood escapades that had evolved into an inseparable part of your identity. The moniker stemmed from a mischievous encounter with a beehive during your younger years—a venture that ended with a painful sting and a memorable trip to the hospital. Initially coined as a teasing jab by your friends, the nickname had since transformed into a cherished term of endearment, emblematic of the bond you shared with Robin and the rest of your inner circle.

"I'm alright, Robs," you replied softly, offering a small smile as you gently extricated yourself from her warm embrace.

Steve's question cut through the air with a hint of concern, his penetrating gaze triggering a twinge of guilt within you. "Did you eat something?" he inquired, his tone carrying a subtle note of accusation.

"Um, yeah, I did," you responded hesitantly, attempting to mask your discomfort with a faint smile as you noticed both Robin and Steve crossing their arms in unison, a silent testament to their shared concern.

Robin interjected, her voice a gentle blend of calm reassurance and genuine worry. "You know it's important to take care of yourself. We don't want a repeat of last time," she reminded you, her words tinged with a poignant reminder of past struggles.

Closing your eyes momentarily, you couldn't help but be transported back to that difficult period, the memory serving as a stark reminder of the delicate balance between health and neglect, and the profound significance of prioritizing self-care.

A subtle tension hung in the air, tangible yet unspoken, as you deftly navigated the delicate balance between reassurance and concealment, acutely aware of the worry etched upon your friends' faces. Each glance exchanged between you carried the weight of unspoken concerns, a silent acknowledgment of the struggles and scars hidden beneath the surface.

"I know, I know, but honestly, I'm fine. Promise," you offered with a bright grin, hoping to alleviate their concerns even as uncertainty gnawed at the edges of your own resolve.

Steve's protective instincts kicked into high gear, his expression shifting into what you affectionately referred to as "mom mode." "What about your meds? You're staying on top of that, right?" he pressed, his concern palpable in the furrow of his brow and the sharpness of his gaze.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you replied with a smirk, "Of course, Steve. I've got it all under control," the familiar banter between friends serving as a welcome respite from the weightier aspects of the conversation.

As Robin chuckled at the playful banter, you found yourself teetering on the edge of whether to broach the topic of your unsettling dream from the night before. Before you could reach a decision, however, Robin jumped in with a question of her own, effectively diverting the conversation.

"So, have you heard the news?" Robin's inquiry snapped you back to the present moment, her tone tinged with curiosity.

"And seriously, who hasn't heard about it, Buckley? But Romania? What the heck are we doing there?" Steve's incredulous gesture mirrored the bafflement echoing in your own thoughts, prompting a shared moment of bemusement among friends.

"Well, I don't think it's going to be some leisurely trip; it's probably more about enriching our curriculum," you murmured softly, casting a fleeting glance downwards as you contemplated the upcoming excursion.

Noticing your subdued demeanor, Steve's tone softened as he probed gently, "Hey, what's on your mind?"

"It's nothing, really. Just... had another one of those strange dreams," you admitted reluctantly, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders as you confided in your friends.

"Tell us about it," Robin urged, her eyes reflecting a blend of curiosity and empathy, inviting you to share the burden of your unease.

With a deep breath, you began to recount the haunting details of your dream, your words painting a vivid picture of mystery and foreboding. As the narrative unfolded, the tight knot of apprehension in your chest gradually unraveled, replaced by a sense of catharsis and relief in the comforting presence of your closest companions.

In the depths of the dream, you found yourself wandering alone through a dark and mist-laden forest, the heavy fog shrouding your surroundings in an impenetrable veil. Above, the moon cast an eerie glow, illuminating the gnarled trees that swayed ominously in the chilling breeze, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers clawing at the night.

As you navigated the shadowy landscape, a sense of unease settled over you like a heavy cloak. It was then that you caught sight of a figure lurking behind a nearby tree, seemingly concealed by the very darkness itself. Before you could even muster a word, another presence emerged—a striking ginger-haired woman, towering before you like a sentinel of the night. Draped in a billowing cape that seemed to dance in the ethereal moonlight, her gaze was fixed upon the hidden figure with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

In a swift and hauntingly graceful motion, the ginger-haired woman darted towards the tree, her silhouette slicing through the dense mist like a specter in the night. With a predatory speed that sent shivers down your spine, she seized the hidden figure by the neck with a vice-like grip, her fingers coiling possessively around his throat.

Your heart lurched painfully in your chest as the reality of the situation unfolded before your eyes. It was a child, no older than ten, his tear-streaked face contorted in terror as he stared helplessly into the eyes of his captor.

In a gut-wrenching moment of horror, the ginger-haired woman pressed her lips to the boy's exposed neck, her fangs elongating into deadly points as they pierced his tender flesh. A strangled cry tore from the boy's throat, his screams reverberating through the eerie silence of the forest like a harrowing echo.

Frozen in terror, you could only watch in stunned disbelief as the woman drained the lifeblood from the child's veins, each desperate gulp sending a chill coursing down your spine. The sickening sight unfolded before you like a nightmare brought to life, leaving you paralyzed with dread as the darkness of the forest enveloped you in its suffocating embrace.

As the boy's limp form crumpled to the forest floor, a chilling transformation swept over the tall woman, her features contorting into a grotesque mask of cruelty. With a disturbing calmness, she descended upon the lifeless body, her movements devoid of remorse or humanity.

With chilling precision, she began to snap the boy's fragile bones, each sickening crack echoing through the stillness of the forest like a macabre symphony of horror. With merciless brutality, she twisted his limbs into grotesque angles, her actions a twisted mockery of tenderness and care.

The sickening sound of bones breaking reverberated through the air, drowning out your desperate cries for mercy. With each agonizing snap, the boy's form contorted under the weight of her relentless assault, his once-fragile body now a twisted canvas of pain and suffering.

Your screams tore from your throat in a raw torrent of anguish, your voice a futile plea for the mercy that would never come. But your cries were lost amidst the cruel cacophony of violence, swallowed by the darkness of the forest and the merciless hands of his assailant.

In the cruel grip of terror, you could only watch helplessly as the boy's fate was sealed by the cruel hands of his assailant, his innocence shattered beneath the weight of her unfathomable cruelty.

In a moment of chilling clarity, the woman's dark gaze pierced through the shadows of the forest, locking onto you with an unsettling intensity. A twisted smile danced upon her lips, a sinister curve that seemed to mock the very fabric of your existence. With an accusatory gesture, she pointed towards the lifeless body at her feet, her voice dripping with venomous accusation.

"Look what you made me do..." Her words hung in the air like a sinister taunt, each syllable laden with malice and contempt. The weight of her accusation bore down upon you like a leaden weight, sending a shiver of terror coursing down your spine as you recoiled in horror.

With a sudden jolt, you snapped awake, your heart pounding in your chest like a thunderous drumbeat. Drenched in a cold sweat, you lay frozen in the darkness, the lingering sensation of dread coiling in the pit of your stomach like a serpent poised to strike. The nightmarish vision that had haunted your sleep refused to release its grip, its tendrils of fear winding around your consciousness with relentless tenacity as you struggled to shake off its suffocating embrace.

The two of them stood frozen in the aftermath of your harrowing account, their faces contorted with a mixture of horror, fear, and disbelief. Steve's voice quivered with concern as he broke the heavy silence, his words laden with genuine worry.

"Oh my God, this... This is horrific. You shouldn't be having these kinds of dreams again, it's like a nightmare!" His voice carried a tremor of unease, reflecting the gravity of the situation.

"I know, but the..." you began, your words trailing off as another voice cut through the tension, interrupting your attempt to explain.

"Y/n... Have you been messing with that stuff again?" Robin's expression was grave, her gaze probing as she referenced the dark history tied to the old diaries of your great-grandmother.

The mention of "that stuff" sent a chill down your spine, evoking memories of the ancient diaries that had once belonged to your great-grandmother—an enigmatic figure shrouded in tales of witchcraft and tragedy. The mere mention of those forbidden tomes dredged up a host of unsettling memories, stirring the murky depths of your family's hidden past.

"What? No! It's all been stored and locked away in the attic since... since my parents disappeared," you explained in a rush, the words tumbling out in a mixture of denial and frustration as you sought to reassure your friends.

Relief washed over Steve and Robin's faces, their expressions softening as the weight of suspicion lifted from their shoulders. Yet, despite their reassurance, a lingering unease lingered in the back of your mind, a nagging sense that there was more to your unsettling dreams than met the eye.

Steve, ever the master of lightening the mood, broke the tense silence with a grin. "Know what sounds like the perfect antidote to our nightmare-induced stress?" he asked, his voice infused with a hint of excitement. "Let's shift gears and head to my place. We'll dive into a marathon of movies, raid the junk food stash, and engage in some lighthearted banter."

"Count me in for the movie marathon and junk food fest!" Robin exclaimed eagerly, her enthusiasm infectious as she swiftly gathered her belongings and trailed after Harrington with a bounce in her step.

"Sure, sounds like just what we need," you agreed with a half-hearted smile, your thoughts still weighed down by the unsettling visions that plagued your sleep.

As your friends exited the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts, the lingering sense of disquiet intensified. Despite the facade of normalcy and the promise of distraction, a nagging feeling persisted—a whispered reminder of the deeper mysteries that lurked beneath the surface, waiting to be unraveled.

Meanwhile, across town, the tranquil facade of Hawkins was shattered by the brutal aftermath of a crime, sending shockwaves rippling through the community. Oblivious to the ominous shadows that loomed on the horizon, the police department and residents found themselves thrust into a harrowing ordeal.

Police cruisers dotted the perimeter of the forest, their flashing lights piercing through the darkness like beacons of distress. Amidst the dense canopy of trees, yellow crime scene tape crisscrossed between the trunks, marking off the area like a sinister web woven by unseen hands. Reporters and news vans swarmed at the edges of the containment barrier, their clamor echoing through the stillness of the forest as they vied for a glimpse of the unfolding tragedy and hungered for a sensational scoop.

At the heart of the chaos stood Police Chief Jim Hopper, his rugged features etched with a mixture of shock and apprehension. This was undoubtedly one of the most chilling crimes to have ever befallen the city, and the weight of responsibility pressed heavily upon him. With every passing moment, the mystery deepened, casting a pall of uncertainty over the once-peaceful town of Hawkins.

"Sam Prescot, age 8, last seen taking out the trash last night," one of the officers reported grimly, the weight of the words hanging heavily in the air like a leaden weight.

The man nodded gravely, his tired eyes fixed on the scene before him as he lifted his coffee cup to his lips, the bitter liquid offering little solace amidst the unfolding tragedy. An investigator approached, his expression grave as he delivered a somber report on the grim tableau that lay before them.

"According to reports, the boy was last seen taking out the trash, but none of the neighbors witnessed any commotion or unusual noise," the investigator explained, his voice tinged with a mixture of sorrow and frustration as he led the sheriff towards the boy's lifeless form.

"Some residents mentioned hearing the screams and cries of a child in the vicinity, but none dared to investigate," he continued, his words a sobering reminder of the community's collective fear and reluctance to intervene. The two men came to a halt a few feet from where the boy lay, their hearts heavy with the weight of the unspeakable tragedy that had befallen young Sam Prescot.

As Chief Hopper beheld the harrowing sight before him, a sickening feeling gripped his stomach like a vice, his heart heavy with grief and anger at the senseless tragedy that had befallen young Sam Prescot.

Sam's once-vibrant form lay twisted amidst the shadowy undergrowth, a grotesque tableau of suffering etched upon his contorted features. His limbs, once full of youthful energy, were now bent at unnatural angles, bones jutting out through torn flesh like jagged shards of agony. Wide-eyed in terror, his mouth hung open in a silent scream, a grim rictus of horror frozen upon his pale face—a haunting testament to the unimaginable pain and fear he had endured in his final moments.

Chief Hopper clenched his jaw tightly, his fists trembling with a mixture of sorrow and righteous fury. This was not just a crime scene; it was a desecration of innocence, a betrayal of the very fabric of humanity.

Chief Hopper's heart plummeted as he beheld the gruesome sight before him, his breath catching in his throat at the savage evidence of unspeakable violence inflicted upon young Sam Prescot.

Prescot's once-whole torso now bore the cruel marks of brutality, a gaping wound that cleaved him from neck to pelvis, his shattered ribs protruding like jagged teeth from the torn flesh. The very core of his being lay exposed, his innards strewn about in a macabre display of carnage—a tangled mass of torn flesh and viscera, intermingled with the shattered remnants of vital organs that had once sustained the vibrant life of a young boy.

Yet, amidst the horror and devastation, it was the savage mutilation of the boy's genitalia that elicited a guttural gasp of horror from the seasoned lawman. In a cruel and depraved act of barbarity, the innocence of youth had been violently ripped away, leaving behind a gaping void of despair and revulsion—a desecration of innocence that shook Chief Hopper to his core and ignited a blazing fury within his soul.

As Chief Hopper recoiled in shock, a chilling realization settled over him like a shroud of darkness: this was no ordinary crime scene. It was a stark testament to the depths of human depravity, a grim reminder of the darkness that lurked within the shadows, waiting to consume the innocent and the unsuspecting. And as he stood amidst the twisted wreckage of a young life torn asunder, Chief Hopper knew that this was only the beginning of a nightmare that would haunt him for years to come.

"Sweet Jesus…"

The investigator's voice quivered as he examined Sam's lifeless form. The boy's legs contorted into a twisted "W" shape, the bones crushed so brutally that fragments protruded from his mangled toes, twisted at grotesque angles. Each new detail uncovered seemed to deepen the horror of the scene, adding another layer to the incomprehensible brutality inflicted upon the young victim.

Chief Hopper's jaw clenched tightly, his fists balling at his sides as a wave of revulsion and fury surged through him. This was not just a crime—it was an atrocity, a vile assault on everything decent and good in the world.

"We're still in the dark about what could've done this. Could it have been some kind of animal attack?" The investigator pondered aloud, his gaze fixed on the grim tableau before him.

"Not even the fiercest beast would inflict such brutality," Chief Hopper replied, his tone tinged with a grim certainty born of years of experience. "Cover the body and ensure no one stumbles upon this scene until we have answers."

As Hopper turned to depart, a sense of unease settled over him like a heavy cloak, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling with an instinctual warning. It was as if unseen eyes were watching his every move, the oppressive weight of the forest bearing down upon him with an almost tangible presence.

Little did he know, perched high atop a nearby tree, a mysterious figure observed his every action with keen interest, its presence cloaked in shadow as it remained concealed from sight. With a silent and calculating gaze, it watched as Chief Hopper made his way through the underbrush, a harbinger of unseen dangers yet to come.

[asukamood]

Together [1] (fmaa2)

***

The lore of this AT is so thick you have no clue how much Jay and I have been working on it. Anyway, you are once again about to read a part of the story that is not included in the “main storyline.” As a reminder, the main storyline is mostly about Dream and Blue’s arranged marriage.

You may have wondered what Hacker and Blue were here and how they met, this is the story of how they became best friends. You guys better buckle up because this is far from being a happy story. (Very long as well, this is only the first part.)

If you have yet to, I do encourage you to read the post “Target Syndrome (EX).” It will help you understand Hacker’s condition in the story, though it is important to note that the diagnosis here was done a bit differently considering the lack of magic in this world.

As a heads-up, I would like to point out that I am not saying that all psych wards mistreat their patients nor am I saying that all psych wards treat their patients wonderfully. This story is still fictional, do remember that.

This specific psych ward did not respect normal procedure (for one) and will later be closed for patient mistreatment so do not think that this is the norm of psych ward.

***

Warnings: Mentioned physical abuse (here disguised as self-harm), self-harm (cutting), eating disorder (anorexia), mentioned suicide attempt/ideation, psych ward setting (with patient mistreatment), very strongly implied depression, light description of injuries, blood, violence, borderline sexual harassment [the character has no intention to do anything of the sort but her words may be interpreted that way], mentioned sexual abuse

Synopsis: When, during one of his most violent outbursts, Papyrus had threatened to isolate Blue in a psych ward to show how much worse he could make him as he was struck down to the floor, Blue had no idea he would actually go through the idea.

So, when he found himself standing in front of a nurse in the hospital, telling him to strip, he could hardly believe he was not hallucinating.

***

When, during one of his most violent outbursts, Papyrus had threatened to isolate Blue in a psych ward to show how much worse he could make him as he was struck down to the floor, Blue had no idea he would actually go through the idea.

So, when he found himself standing in front of a nurse in the hospital, telling him to strip, he could hardly believe he was not hallucinating.

The nurse, a woman in her thirties who looked old enough to be in her fifties instead, glared as Blue stayed motionless. “What are you waiting for? I don’t have all day and you're not the only patient I have to see so I would appreciate it if you were to hurry up.”

“Ah- Excuse me but is this really--” He was unbelievably uncomfortable but the nurse, instead of softening her features at the sight of a poor 16-year-old boy so distressed, only had her eyes narrowed even more.

“If you keep stalling, I’m going to have to do it myself.” She hissed, tapping her finger on the wooden tablet on her lap.

That finally prompted him into action, reluctantly taking off his shirt. After he was done removing his clothes, the woman got up from her seat, looking him up and down before he heard her count aloud.

Was she... was she counting his scars?

After she seemed satisfied, she handed him a shoebox, telling him to change into the gown he would find inside. She took his outdoor clothes from him, along with his scarf.

“Can I not keep my scarf at least? It’s quite important to me--” He asked before he was rudely shut down again.

“Unless you want to know in advance how our sedatives feel, you can’t.” She simply replied, walking toward a bunch of drawers. She opened one of them, throwing his belongings inside before locking them up. “You’ll get it back after you’re discharged, now get moving. As I said, I don’t have all day.”

That is how he found himself being led by two staff members; their faces expressionless. Similarly, to their colleague, they seemed unwilling to answer his questions or even look his way. It was almost like they had been tasked with walking a dog instead of a human being. Blue tried to stay positive, telling himself that these two at least were not actively threatening him.

He had a feeling it would not last long. Although, he decided to ignore the thought for the moment.

Eventually, they stopped in front of a door leading to which he assumed would be his room. One of the psych techs handed him a binder labelled “Unit rules,” urging him to read it carefully. The other opened the door, explaining that he would be sharing his room with another patient who would be the one explaining how life worked in the facility.

He would have been fine with that if his roommate was not dangerous to him at least.

He stepped inside the room, checking his surroundings. The space they had was quite limited but sufficient for two people. The beds were each pushed against the opposite wall of each other, while what looked like a closet was placed against the wall facing the entrance, next to the window. A small desk filled the other corner of the room.

Each piece of furniture was either secured to the ground or the wall, leaving no place hidden for the staff. On his left, a door leading to what he assumed to be the bathroom stood there, slightly ajar.

Although, his attention was more attracted to the boy sitting on one of the beds, a nurse standing before him, holding his arm. Blond with some brown strands at the back of his head, dark blue eyes underlined by heavy eyebags, pale and young-looking, he looked... tired.

He was wearing a long-sleeved gown just like Blue himself was, but one of said sleeves was rolled up, revealing the poor state of his forearm. It was covered with both old and fresh cuts, some of which were even covered with concerning bruises. At the sight of the cuts, Blue involuntarily let out a gag, attracting the attention of both the nurse and the boy.

One of the psych techs narrowed his eye at him, telling him to better control himself. He nodded, not risking another look in fear of ending up throwing up. The nurse just rolled her eyes, pressing a syringe onto the patient, taking a little blood from him.

The boy was heard wincing, the grimace on his face easily guessable.

Blue waited until the nurse had left the room before risking a glance forward, the blond one waving in his direction with a small smile before he stood up to meet him. As he expected, he had rolled down his sleeves again, hiding the scars underneath the fabric.

“Hello!” He beamed. “You must be my new roommate, what’s your name?”

“You can call me Blue--” One of the psych techs cleared his throat before he had the chance to ask for the other’s name.

“He was asking for your real name, kid.” He sighed, looking away.

“My name is Lucian.” He has always hated that name, why did he have to be called that even here anyway?

Unexpectedly though, the other just smiled. “Hi Blue!” He glanced at the psych tech who only glared at him before taking his leave. “I’m Theodore, I’m glad to meet you!”

“As am I.”

“I’ve never seen you before, are you new here or did I just not notice you?” he asked, studying his face.

“I got here a few minutes ago.” He answered, grimacing as he recalled the behavior of that nurse. “The two others told me that you would explain how it was like here?”

Theodore raised an eyebrow, surprised. “They did?” He scoffed. “Actually, it doesn’t surprise me that they would make me do their work in their stead, oh well!”

“Did they give you the shoebox?” To answer him, Blue simply lifted the box in his hands. “Okay, perfect. You are in luck, we’re in our free period so nobody should bother us while we’re talking.”

Blue raised an eyebrow. “A free period?”

“They didn’t explain that to you either? Our life here is heavily monitored and rhythmed by a schedule we all follow.” He walked over to the desk, picking up a notebook Blue assumed was his. He flipped a few pages in front of Blue, ignoring most torn pages. He finally stopped on the last page that he showed Blue.

“In the morning, the staff takes your vitals which really means that they check your temperature, your blood, your bpm, and other stuff like that. After that is done, you’ll be led to the cafeteria to have breakfast--” Blue grimaced at the mention of the meal, already dreading it. “-- and you’ll follow up with an activity. It depends on the day but most of the time, you’ll be given free time.”

He nodded, showing he was following. “At noon, we’ll have lunch then free time, so what we are having right now, and then we’ll be sent to group activities.”

Blue tilted his head to the side in confusion, group activities?

Theodore smiled. “I had the exact same reaction as you when I was told that. Basically, we’ll be put in small groups with a psych tech who’ll make us read the unit rules and then talk about ourselves and stuff like that.”

“... That sounds extremely boring and uncomfortable.” Theodore nodded in agreement.

“You could not be righter. Did they tell you in which group you’ll be with today?” Blue shook his head, making Theodore frown again. Judging by the other’s reaction, it was clear that this was once again information he should have gotten but was not told of. He wondered just how many times this would happen today.

“I’ll just ask if you can join my group later then.” He scribbled something in his notebook along these lines with a... crayon?

Noticing his staring, the other laughed. “Yeah, they don’t let us use real pens because they’re worried about us trying to hurt ourselves with those.”

“I see...” That would also explain how thin these blankets look. Blue did hear something about the presence of ‘anti-suffocation’ blankets in wards. He never thought he would one day find himself using one of those.

“If the two thirds of the day are quite boring, nighttime is a bit more chill. We start off with dinner, then a shower--” He interrupted himself midway, looking around. Under Blue’s confused gaze, Theodore walked over to the door before closing it, motioning for him to come closer.

He did so as the other leaned in next to his ear.

“You’re honestly better off not washing your hair, the shampoo here is awful.” He whispered with the voice of someone who had learned that the hard way, before backing away again. “The bathroom is over there.” He pointed toward the door Blue had noticed upon his arrival, confirming his theory.

“There is no lock on the door since the staff is going to check up on you every once in a while, to make sure you’re not trying to drown yourself in there.” He added, making Blue’s heart drop.

“They... can enter at any moment?” He must have looked distraught as he said that, if the sympathetic look the other gave him was any indication of that.

“Pretty much yes, but there is nothing to worry about, there is a shower curtain, so you only need to pop your head out when they are there. Besides, I will always be right outside so if there is any problem, I will gladly throw hands.” He pat his shoulder, a dangerous look in his eyes. That look was kind of scary, but he supposed he didn’t mind it that much, considering he had said that to defend him.

“Right... You also spoke of the staff taking vitals in the morning I believe?” Theodore nodded. “Yet I just saw you get a sample of your blood taken and it is well past noon, why is that?”

Theodore smiled sheepishly, chuckling nervously. “It’s a bit hard to explain but let’s just say I’m a... ‘Special case.’”

Blue opened his mouth to ask him to elaborate, his interest piqued, but the other quickly changed the subject, this time gesturing toward the beds. “You probably noticed them before but those are ‘anti-suffocation’ blankets or, as I like to call them, ‘anti-warmth’ blankets.”

He made a grimace as he said it, grabbing one of said blankets and letting it fall to the bed again. “You can’t request for proper blankets, trust me, I’ve tried, but if it really is that bad some nurses do accept to give you painkillers to get through the night.”

Blue was not sure he quite liked the implication of the last phrase.

“During the day, you might be interrupted in your free time to talk to a therapist, a doctor, or any certified mental health professional. Most of the time, they ask you basic questions like ‘have you had thoughts of harming yourself or others the last 2 weeks?’ or to rate your emotions on a scale of 1 to 10. Though, since you are a newbie, they might ask you more personal questions.”

“You seemed to know your way around here quite well.” He remarked. “If I may ask, how long have you been here for?”

Theodore tapped his chin in thought. “... Which month are we again?”

“April.” He replied.

“Oh, then it must be my 4th month here since I’m still 14.” Oh, so Theodore was younger than him by two years.

“That... sounds like hell.” Theodore laughed, nodding in confirmation.

“Oh, it is, but there is not much I can do about it.” He walked past him to open the door. He gestured toward the hallway. “There is nothing left to see here, let me introduce you to the others and show you around!”

Blue gladly followed him. “What are you even here for?” Considering what he had seen earlier, he was quite certain severe self-harm was on the list, but he was quite curious to find out whether it was the only reason he was there.

The hall was mostly silent as they walked, which was quite surprising for Blue as he had more so expected to hear screams or at least a cry. Not that he was complaining though.

“You know, we’re not supposed to be talking about that kind of stuff.” He warned, eyeing a tech who was passing by. Then, quieter. “We always find a way to anyway but I’m mainly here for self-harm, sexual abuse and a bunch of lies.”

Blue nodded. “What about you?”

“Ah well...” He looked around, just like Theodore did previously, before sliding his thumb horizontally across his throat. He did not have to know the real reason for his internment here, it was probably fine if he lied for a bit.

“Ooooh, gotcha.” He gave him a thumbs-up before opening two large doors.

“We’re here!” Theordore announced as they stepped into the room. Unlike the hallway, this room boasted life; many patients were sat down, most playing cards. “This is the main area of the facility and one of the rooms you will spend the most time in apart from our room. During free time, we are mostly free to distract ourselves and during nighttime they typically bring us here to watch a movie together.”

Blue let his eyes travel around the room, focusing on studying the people reunited around the tables. “How would you describe the others?”

“Most of them are nice.” Theodore replied without much hesitation, following Blue’s gaze. “We are all pretty much in the same boat, fighting similar battles so you can say that we are pretty close to one another.” Blue nodded.

Since he had spent so long not able to interact with people, Blue never had many friends. He had a feeling this stay here was going to be a living hell, but maybe he could try to make a few friends?

He was about to ask another question before a girl, about their age, jumped on Theodore. “Theo!” She laughed, hugging him for a few seconds before letting go of the startled teen. “Nice to see you back, how was it?”

Theodore quickly regained his composure, shrugging at her question. “It was average, pretty much what always happened.”

She chuckled again, seemingly not having listened to a word he said. “Glad to hear that, anyway I gotta go, toodaloo!” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek, much to Blue’s surprise, before running off again.

“...Who was that?”

“That was Ella, she’s probably in a manic episode again.” He calmly replied. “She won’t remember she did when she goes back to her depressive episode so you shouldn’t place too much importance on that.”

“Right.” After that, Theodore led him to a small group of people playing hanging man (here called standing man because it was ‘too inappropriate.’)

It was going to take him some time to adjust to this life but at least his roommate seemed to be nice. He could not ask for much anyway.

He hated it here.

Get him out of here.

***

Next part

[firefly-sky]

100% agree with your ED post, considering how he makes dramatic changes to himself whenever he feels there is something wrong with him, like World Wide Privacy Tour, where he tried to change himself from clothes to personality to make appear more laid back (or mentally stronger in his words) when he felt his friends didn’t like those aspects about him in the episode, so it would make sense if he felt there was something wrong with his weight, that he would do everything he felt would make it idle in his eyes (though unfortunately a lot with ed’s don’t ever see that :( )

Also when you said he would be scared of not maintaining his body even after he was more satisfied with it, I honestly felt that, as someone who was chubby as a kid and criticised for it, then lost a lot of weight as a teenager, I was also scared of gaining weight again so I would also skip meals if I felt I didn't eat right (along with other stuff).

(also, sorry for being so venty over here and dumping this information about myself on you, what you said was just really relatable to me)

Anyway, I love your takes and I hope you have a lovely day!

tw: eating disorder

hey. you’re okay. i hope you’re doing better now, first of all. second of all; i kinda based it off of my own experiences too where i was afraid of not being able to maintain a “perfect” body. to the point i resorted to some things too. so i did kinda base it off my own experiences and i also like to do my research before making such a bold(?) take because i like to make it as accurate as possible. but yeah. i have seen some fics where people portray kyle as someone who would be obsessed with his appearance and in some more desperate measures, he takes really bold action, in a way.

i do kinda think that it stemmed from his middle school days. i headcanon that kyle was really thin? like he just ended up being really tall and lanky with no visible muscle mass (not discrediting him because he was strong but looking at him you wouldn’t know it? so at first he wanted to gain weight so he didn’t look so thin. so in the beginning it was a lot of binging. and then when he finally stopped growing and he did gain weight he was thrilled. but then he never really saw himself as like ‘oh i’m heavier because of muscle because i exercise’ but more like ‘i’m fat now’ kind of way. i don’t think hanging out with cartman made it easier. i don’t think he would be chubby per se? but looking at pics of him in eighth grade cs pics of him in say the end of freshman year he was noticably kinda heavier? not chubby but not like a stick figure either. and sheila also was probably no help. she’s probably load him with the whole ‘oh kyle, you’ve finally got some meat on your bones!’ type comments and eventually he kinda just snapped.

he probably kept some sort of diary and tracked what he was eating. likely in his phone in a locked note so nobody could find it. he honestly probably ended up tracking his calories that he took in vs the calories he burned and he would probably be out late at night if he didn’t seem he had enough exercise. after a while he started skipping meals if he didn’t eat something he seemed healthy. he gets help in the end but he ends up staying like this throughout most of high school. up until graduation i’d argue. eating disorders are no joke; they can last a while. he started getting help in college. he never told his mom. he knew it would break her heart so he just never told her. i also don’t think him being arguably the person with the most presence on social media helps.

it’s another reason i like to headcanons him as a child psychologist in the future. he wants to prevent the things he went through. i know oftentimes stan is seen as the one with the most ‘angst potential’ but looking at kyle it’s pretty clear he has some potential too. it’s honestly probably something i’ll incorporate into future works, like comics and such.

thank you for the lovely wishes. ditto <3

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group C Round 2: #C5 vs #C8

#C5: A bunch of teenagers are forced to share pain

#C8: Government employee and his white cat boss

Details and poll under the cut!

#C5: Kiznaiver

Summary:

Katsuhira Agata is a quiet and reserved teenage boy whose sense of pain has all but vanished. His friend, Chidori Takashiro, can only faintly remember the days before Katsuhira had undergone this profound change. Now, his muffled and complacent demeanor make Katsuhira a constant target for bullies, who exploit him for egregious sums of money. But their fists only just manage to make him blink, as even emotions are far from his grasp.

However, one day Katsuhira, Chidori, and four other teenagers are abducted and forced to join the Kizuna System as official "Kiznaivers." Those taking part are connected through pain: if one member is injured, the others will feel an equal amount of agony. These individuals must become the lab rats and scapegoats of an incomplete system designed with world peace in mind. With their fates literally intertwined, the Kiznaivers must expose their true selves to each other, or risk failing much more than just the Kizuna System.

Propaganda:

Kiznaiver is an extremely underrated work of Studio Trigger’s and is definitely one of their bests. Not just for the animation, but for the impactful story as well. The characters just feel so real, and this show just makes you think about human connection and how much we might care for each other if we shared our pain. Although it can get a little confusing at the end, the sheer raw emotion is what makes up for everything. Every single one of the characters gets developed in ways that made me smile like an idiot.

Very good but severely underrated anime! Would recommend! :)

Trigger Warnings: Emotional Abuse, Fatphobia, Disordered Eating, Implied Sexual Assault (maybe).

The fact that Yuuta is formerly fat is constantly mocked throughout the series, which leaves a bit of a sour taste in my mouth as a fat person watching the show personally. Yuuta, to maintain his thinness, engages in disordered eating by simply eating a small cube of food every day. Said character is also the subject of an attempted sexual assault by a female character, but I don’t remember correctly if that actually happened or if I just got triggered by the way the scene was portrayed.

#C8: White Cat Legend 2020 (Dali si Rizhi)

Summary:

Chen Shi, a young man from the countryside, journeys to the capital in search of his missing older brother, whose existence he only knew about upon his mother’s death. He knows neither the name nor face of his brother, and after finally arriving at the capital, he runs out of money as well. One thing led to another, and he finds himself employed at Dali Court, where he works for Vice Minister Li Bing, a large white cat.

On the other hand, Li Bing is of royal blood who was imprisoned because of his family’s treason. Now, he has to work in the government to atone for the crime. As for why he is in cat form? That’s for you to find out.

Propaganda:

White Cat Legend is a captivating blend of political intrigue, supernatural elements, comedy, drama, and action, showcasing a diverse cast whose allegiances are ever-fluid. It’s difficult to discern who’s on which side and why, since at any moment enemies may become friends, and friends may become enemies.

We have Chen Shi, who looks a lot like Tintin that it’s hard to believe he’s a main character. I think he’s more like the designated POV character, who guides the audience through the intricate political landscape. He becomes more prominent in season 2, though, when he is angered by how when those on top clash, it’s those below who suffer the most.

Then we have Li Bing, the white cat detective. When he’s not attempting paperwork with his inconvenient cat paws, he’s busy exposing schemes and conspiracies, yearning for the crimes to be judged fairly. But when the world is controlled by those in power, this is no easy task, not to mention that he also has to watch out becoming a real cat. 

Their colleagues in Dali Court are just as memorable. We have the shrewd Wang Qi whose luck is so good that it’s impossible to kill him, the runaway Arab prince Alibaba who wants to finally pass the Level 8 Mandarin exam so he can keep his boring desk job, the former soldier Sun Bao who’s afraid of ghosts, and the extremely unlucky Cui Bei who brings disaster wherever he goes that he’s just as effective as a nuclear weapon.

Outside of Dali Court, we have the ominous-looking General Qiu Shenji who is too sexy to be a villain, the cool lady General Lang Bailing whom even women would crush on, the cannibal demon Yi Zhihua who is too iconic to hate, the old as fuck Empress who somehow looks and acts like a child, and many more.

I’m making it a point to highlight the characters because the beauty of this show really lies in them. Whether they’re on the side of the protagonists or not, they’re all so loveable. They’re just different people, you know? Different people with different upbringings fighting for what they think is right, and sometimes their ideas clash with others. This is simply what divides them, much like relationships in real-life. White Cat Legend forces us to reflect on this.

Season 1 starts off light and hilarious as we follow the adventures of the Dali Court officials but gets heavier in later episodes. In Season 2, the humor is still there, but the overall mood is more serious. Both seasons will make you bawl your eyes out in their final episodes, so be prepared for that :)

The show also has exceptional animation, particularly during action scenes. They’re very immersive, made even more amazing with an emotionally-gripping soundtrack. 

I really hope you vote for this show, and if not, at least try watching it. It’s worth your time <3

Trigger Warnings:

Cannibalism - There’s a cat demon who appears in human form, and he eats humans (it’s not shown explicitly, though).

Animal Cruelty or Death - said cat demon also eats animals raw (again, not explicitly)

Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore - There’s blood and fighting, and somebody also gets tortured in season 2. But again, nothing too graphic

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how they’re presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form, where you can submit revisions for taglines, propaganda, trigger warnings, and/or video.

[demise-seems-dead]

@askingkyborg's main here to being you another emo chip mini fic! Spoilers for 33-36 and SHHH i know it doesnt make sense timeline wise because they go straight to the vampspire from town but shut up no they dont

this will be posted on ao3 when i fix my account btws!!

also also heavilyly implied OCD chip because yes <3

TW: Suicidal actions, ideation, etc. also minor disordered eating talk.

‘Care to spar with me, mon ami?” Chip looks up from the campfire at that point, maybe for the first time all day. His eyes focused up on Mathilde, the bird's eyes glinting softly. Of course, if Chip was honest with himself, that was a flat out no. Chip wasn't in the mood for being tactical, which is normally his thing. The only thing he wanted was for everyone to leave him alone. His brain has been on autopilot for the past two days and all he's done is sleep, eat and walk.

Chip isn't dumb. He knows mathilde is just trying to get him to do something, but what's even the point any more?

“Sure. I’ll spar, but we both know I'll lose.” The forced smile on his face wavers a bit.

Chip stands up, popping his back with a deep crackle. He sighs gingerly, and unlatches his arm blade. He knows I'd be smarter to use his crossbow if mathilde is going to fly, but it's not like he was intending to win. Chip is not a bad fighter, of course. No, he's actually quite good. It's just hard to think about when your mind is static and ocean foam.

Absently he loosens his neck, one of his habits that never ceased to leave him from years of assassin work. He always seems to have a crick in his neck, but it’s not really surprising. Chip had found himself in and out of jails, hostage situations, and attempted murder more times than he could shake a stick at. His body was a wheat maze of scars and old wounds, of torture and strain. But it was all part of the job, or at least that's the half assed excuse he gave himself.

The other part of Chip's fight ritual was coming into his surroundings. He followed mathildes movements in the clearing with lidded eyes, focusing in on the world for the first time since-...

Mathilde was moving cockily, as they almost always do. Slowly and elegant, feathers smoothed and freshly preened, it looks like. Chip raises his heels up off the ground, eyes narrowing in, trying to get lighter on his feet. His own body is different, and he feels less familiar with it. He's lost weight recently- not having eaten in a few days- too sick to his stomach from the previous weeks to even think about it. It wasn't a lot, but his shouldie hung off him in a different way. It made him wish he still had his D.A.G.A.R suit for training. His hand smelt like wild onions, and the rest of him like ash. He's been lighting the campfires with his tiefling abilities lately, instead of using his boy scout training from his childhood. Using that fire always drained him, but he can't help but be glad it helps him pass out at night rather than lie awake. He needed to sleep, to sleep, to dream and fight it off for a while. It's been his only time of peace for quite some time.

A few more seconds till the battle begins, mathilde is counting down, but he doesn't dare let the sound get into his ears. You focus on your target and your target alone when you fight. He’ll read their beaks movements for days instead of breaking his focus if he needs to.

Chip repositions, moving his left side forward. Not only is it the hand he's got his armblade on, but it helps hide his weak spot- the crossbow wounds still healing from the previous night. Barney had given him some healing in between, but in the night he'd gently picked at it. The red stains have always calmed him down, and on himself no different. Red meant alive still, red was the enemy, but red meant weakened and ready to die. To embrace the people they miss… so…so…bad.

Mathilde moves, battle begins. He knows they're saying something snarky but he's too tuned out to regard it. He's watching and commanding from third person, and that's just how he wants it. Bob down, weave right. Mathilde lands a firm noncorporeal blow to his face, and he gasps out a little, breaking part of his concentration. A smooth trickle of blood drips from a now busted lip, and chip can't help but smile.

The chipper killer. That's what people used to call him, back in the day. Always had a smile when he killed, made jokes and jabs. This was basically the same, just less lethal. A laugh busts through chips teeth, and he smiles. Mathilde obviously looks a little shocked by his reaction. 

Chip plants his left foot, pressing all of his weight on his toes and not his heels to keep him flighty. He takes a slash with his arm blade. His eyes shut, but fly back open in seconds. Mathilde has a sting of blood dripping from the cut over his chest, red plumage soaking even redder. Chip laughs, and he sounds wild. A snarky insult comes to his lips but he presses it down.He can't cause hesitation, you hesitate you die. He needs to get his target. 

Chips' eyes are blurry, and he can hardly make out the figure in front of him. He's used to shots in the dark though. The blurriness backs up, and a sneer falls into his face. Kill. His ears flicker down a bit, and he moves forward. The kill drive of his nature was seizing him, hands steady and brain calculated. A stab at the shadows, voice howling in his own skull. “DIE!” 

Blood was splattered onto his hands, and it didn't matter whos it was. There's shouting all around him. He wants his target dead. He wants everything to die. He wants to die-

“CHIIIPPP!” a high pitched squeak breaks his brain, and the haze fades. The dark shadows reform, and suddenly he sees mathilde, blood dripping down their front and hands in front of their face, not in cowardice but in preparation for attack. An attack from him. 

Chips eyes shoot down at ellga, who was the one who snapped him out of it. His arm blade glistened in the draining sun, wet blood still on it. He looks up at mathilde, and the bird gives a sympathetic look at the absolute horror streaked across Chip's face.

“Mathilde i am so-’ “Don't be sorry, we were sparing, you just got a little into it is all. im fine, barney can heal me right up-”

“Already on it” the old man blurts, but looks at Chip with a spike of fear that makes the tiefling want to dry heave. 

“I-I-”

Chip runs a hand through his hair, unable to talk. He knew his killing nature was catching back up to him with carol dying, but now he's going back to how he was. 

Chip stumbles a little, back into ellga. He jumps forward and turns, pulling his hands all the way away. Sweat beads down in a streak off his chin.

‘IM- i- I'm gonna go forage-!” Chip announces with his most normal smile, his fakest smile, and turns on his heel. Mathilde makes a noise like they're going to talk, but just sighs, and it wills Chip into walking even faster in the opposite direction. He stumbles his way down the hill, moving away from the patch of grass they'd been at and into the main town of vania. He bumps into every person there, and several ask him if hes alright from the blood on his hands and his face. They don't know him, they don't know he's a monster. They don't know he's a friend hurter, or that he's the reason his wife is dead. They don't know anything, so Chip doesn't say anything. He just walks.

By the time the sun starts setting, Chip doesn't even know where he is. Vania isn't huge by any stretch of the imagination, but chip is already lost enough in his own mind to know where exactly he is in this unfamiliar place. After a while, he settles, tucked behind a building and hidden, breathing heavily.

He stares at the blood on his hands, and he twitches. Chip has never been a messy killer. Blood makes his hands itch, too wet then too dry. Dirty and disgusting. As much as he hates the smell of bleach, he always uses it for crime scenes. Blood was too dirty. Filthy, nasty, and wrong. He's been nervously rubbing his hands for hours, the blood mainly off, but still feeling like it's on there. He rubs some more at it, and curses under his breath.

He hurt his friend. 

He's a bad omen. An omen of death.

He's killed hundreds.

He's a bad person. An omen of death.

He's the reason his wife is dead.

He's a bad husband. An omen of death.

He's the real problem.

A monster. An omen of death. 

Why does he even bother being ALIVE? 

Chip sighs, running a hand through his hair and then wincing. Now that's contaminated too. Everything about him is dirty and wrong. Tears threaten his eyes, pushing into the corners and making a soft noise as they roll over his cheeks.Days of lapsing suicidal urges and injuries have snapped him into a terrible, terrible place.  Softly he presses his forehead onto his knees, feeling the cool scared up skin over his hot face.

He's not sure how long he rests but his dreams are uncomfortable. Swirling memories of killings past. Bad bad memories. They never bothered him before, but now he knows what it's like to lose somebody. Now he knows how much of a monster he really is. 

He's only ever startled awake by voices. Mushing noises of high and low pitches. He opened his eyes, and they flooded over with brightness. He stifled a groan, headache and ready airdropping into his skull and ears ringing like a kenku scream. His eyes focus, and he sees several balls of gleaming light, and his party in front of them. 

“What is tarnation…?” he grumbles, and the light speckles vanish, the sun's last entrails covered by mathilde spreading their wings. His eyes go up to his team mates who are staring at him with worry in their eyes. He winces distantly, feeling a spike of guilt as he sees mathildes feathers pushed out of place and puffed up. 

‘Oh.. uh… hey guys..” He rubs the back of his now sore neck.

“Chip crétin! Je devrais avoir ton visage pour ça, pourquoi diable m'enfuirais-tu comme ça, Ellga était inquiète, Barney était inquiet, j'étais inquiet d'avoir crié à haute voix ! Ce n'est pas si mal, je vais bien, c'est bien!” mathilde scolds in panicked sounding French, grabbing Chip by the collar of his hoodie and yanking him up.

 Ellga huffs. “Why’d you run off? It's fine! You two were having fun! It was a play fight. It's not real! Mathildes is not dead- well, they are, but it's unrelated!”

“I-” chip sighs heavily, shutting his eyes a bit. “You're right. Sorry. I guess…” chip searches for the words in his head, scrambling to think of what to say. Tiredness flushes over him in a wave, and he lets out a sigh, throwing his hands up. He lets his head embrace the wall behind him, and his horns click on it. 

‘I'm just.. I'm just so..so..tired.” he gives. “I didn't mean to hurtcha’ mathilde, I just got lost in my own head. Guess my…killer ways are catching up with me…” “Well you’d never intentionally hurt any of us. You told me coming into town that you're a good assassin.” Barney tries to encourage, but chips heart falls. “Yeah, well…is there really such a thing?I'm still a murderer” he chokes, and his body tingles with the feeling of blood splats from past kills all surging up and bubbling under his purple skin.

“Nonsense. Words are all made up, mon ami. One isn't worse than another. An assassin is a profession, and a murderer is apparently a death sentence to ‘za living. It dos’ant matt’ar! Those titles don't dictate who you a’hre, the people who love you do. And I say you're perfectly fine. We all do bad t’ings sometimes.” Chip sighs at mathildes word, ever wise in their later later years. “I suppose.” he says, not at all convinced. Ellga frowns, and it makes Chip want to bury his head in the vanian dirt. She turns to the alchemist, who Chip had almost forgotten about.

“Mr alchemist, do you have any cures for sadness?” “Not…quite, ellga, but i have somethings that may help, if chip here is willing.” The room pauses, and all eyes form onto Chip. “Awh, what da heck..?”

“Give me your arm blade.”

“What?” Chip stares at Robert like he's crazy. “Just hand it to me.” Chip sighs, and unties the arm band to it and tosses it over to the alchemist, who catches deftly. He looks at it for a moment, and then tucks it into his bag.

“How's that supposed to help? That's my best stealth weapon.'' Chip finds himself grumbling.

“Exactly. That way if you try to hurt yourself, you don't have anything silent to do it with.”

“Oh.” He momentarily wants to fight off the claim, but the arrow wounds in his foot and his lower neck burn with a shot of pain to remind him. 

“Okay.”

“Besides that-” Robert continues momentarily, digging around in his bag, tophat sliding down his head, “I've got a potion I want you to try. It should help.”

He extends out a vial filled with a shimmering blue liquid. Chip extends a gloved hand, and takes it. He removes the cap with a pop, and tips it back. He drains the liquid in a quick motion, and wipes the corner of his mouth.

“I don't feel any different. I just feel really tired and useless, mainly.” He says, and his head flinches back at his own words. Robert smiles, and taps the vile.

“Truth telling serum. Now you can't hide anything from us.” he pats his shoulder as he chuckles.

Chip goes to scold, but realises everything would get turned on its head when he says it. 

Mathilde snickers. "There isn't any way to heal depression with a potion, but now our too clever rogue cant hide anything from us.”

“You guys are my favourite people.” chip sighs, exasperatedly. Ellga squeezes his hand.

“Come on, let's go to the vampspire. Maybe seeing my home will cheer you up.”

“Yeah… maybe it will.”

[whump-about-it]

Healing Isn't Linear

@whumpril Day 2: Sweat No Appetite

CW: angst, trauma recovery, trauma from recovery, set backs in recovery, disordered eating, possible eating disorder? (no body dysmorphia), referenced panic attacks, referenced nausea.

The clock on Whumpee's laptop read 8:45 p.m.. They'd been staring at it since 8:41, watching the minutes pass and trying to remember if they had adjusted the time for day light savings. Did their computer do that automatically? When did daylight's savings start anyway? Was it an hour later? Or an hour earlier?

It didn't really matter. The whole mental exercise was only a way for Whumpee to distract themselves from the fact that it was well past time that they should have eaten dinner. As well as the fact that they really should have noticed that earlier.

Whumpee had missed lunch too. And all they'd had for breakfast was half a slice of toast. Whumpee should have been hungry. They should have been starving. But they felt nothing.

It had been the same the day before. And the day before that too. In fact it had been several days since Whumpee had had any sort of appetite to speak of. They'd been able to ignore it up to this point, but the realization that things were getting bad again was beginning to sink in.

It had been a few years since Whumpee had escaped Whumper. The first year after had been rough. Their physical wounds had healed quickly, but the mental recovery was almost worse than anything Whumper had done to them.

When the initial relief of rescue had faded, fear had begun to set in. What if Whumper came back? What if Whumpee couldn't acclimate to the outside world? What if no one believed what had happened to them? The anxiety and desperation had begun to wear on Whumpee in as many physical ways as mental. They couldn't sleep. When they did they had horrible nightmares. Panic attacks were a near daily occurrence and the times between them were so fraught with anxiety that Whumpee could barely leave the house.

Everything came to a head with their appetite. The anxiety is what had started it. Even at their calmest, the tightness in Whumpee's chest was so constricting that they constantly felt on the verge of being out of breathe. Having to actually hold their breathe for any reason such as drinking or chewing felt so suffocating that Whumpee began to avoid such actions as much as possible. Soon enough, the feeling of hunger began to become synonymous with impending panic attacks, and then began to be replaced by them. Before long Whumpee had no appetite to speak of, and could only manage a few bites of food before panic would set in. Even the smell of food began to make Whumpee nauseous from the anxiety of knowing that eating it was going to make them suffer.

Even as their other symptoms began to improve, Whumpee's appetite stubbornly refused to return. They had wasted away to less than they had been when they were with Whumper. A pale, shivering, bag of bones, sinking into corners and shadows anytime food was brought up. Caretaker had had to apply some very tough love, before Whumpee eventually began to improve. Threatening to check them into impatient care if they didn't agree to getting treatment. The whole idea felt too much like being locked up again. So despite giving Caretaker the silent treatment for a month afterwards, Whumpee agreed.

It had been years since that had been an issue. Other problems would resurface occasionally. Insomnia, nightmares, panic attacks. And Caretaker was always quick to check on Whumpee's eating habits when they divulged to them that things were getting harder. But until now, Whumpee's appetite, and diet, had at least remained stabled.

It was thinking about Caretaker that finally compelled Whumpee to close their laptop and stand up. They would notice something was off soon if Whumpee didn't get a handle on the situation. The only reason they hadn't yet was because work was busy for them right now and they hadn't been over to Whumpee's house since before things started up. Their work wasn't slated to die down again anytime soon either, and Whumpee didn't want to give them anything else to worry about. So they made their way to the kitchen and pulled some leftovers out of the fridge.

You're going to be fine.

Whumpee told themselves as they watched their left overs spin lazily around the microwave.

You won't have a panic attack if you eat.

You'll still be able to breathe if you eat.

The microwave beeped its completion and Whumpee took the now steaming food out to set on the counter. They were hit with the warm, delicious smell of noodles and pasta sauce which they basked in for a split second before a wave of nausea washed over them so intense they doubled over.

Oh this isn't good.

Whumpee's chest tightened. Their throat felt like it was closing. The room began to wobble around them and their heart rate spiked.

You have to eat!

Even the thought of it made bile rise in Whumpee's throat. With one last mournful look at their dinner, Whumpee tossed it in the trash where the smell couldn't nauseate them anymore.

Maybe some crackers will do better.

[girlblogger666]

Teen pregnancy Eddissy

An: i wanted to write a fic about this but here’s some headcanons instead ✨ also i kinda wanna include this into my secret dating au which shall b posted very soooooon! Enjoyyyy

Okay so before any of this happened, Chrissy would still be “dating” Jason, but banging Eddie in secret

It kinda just happened like during the night she went to see Eddie for drugs one thing lead to the other and boom she realized she really liked Eddie

So the two of them kept doing their thanng while chrissy began to grow even more distant from her boyfriend

Eventually, her perfect best of both worlds came to a crashing end once she realized she got knocked up by none other than the freak himself

It doesn’t bother her bc really she loves Eddie, it just heightens her panic. so of course before she tells baby daddy, she frantically breaks up with Jason, leaving him heartbroken and confused

Eddie would immediately know somethings up so as he waits for her a few minutes after the bell has rung and no other students are around, she confesses

“Eddie,” she’d look up at him with her eyes starting to water, “I’m pregnant.”

Eddie wants to laugh maybe even cry, but he doesn’t because he’s old enough to know majority of it is his fault and he needs to take responsibility from his actions

It never once crosses his mind to leave her or get upset, instead he comforts her by holding her and letting her calm down before they can both decide over their options

Ultimately, chrissy decides she wants to keep it

She’s 17, he’s 19 and they’re almost done their senior year, the months left in school won’t be enough to make chrissy stop continuing her classes

Still, they worry because none of them have enough money to support a baby financially and Chrissy knows the second she breaks the news to her mother, she’s getting kicked out of her house

Chrissy would try to push it off, secretly throwing up every morning as the weeks progress and deep down it hurts her because sometimes she feels as if she’s alone and really wishes Eddie could be there holding back her hair or rubbing soothing circles on her shoulder

It’s not to say that Eddie isn’t doing nothing as he gets a job while managing to finish high school for good

The pressure becomes too much for chrissy and one day she just breaks down after Eddie picks her up and seeing her practically sob into pieces is enough for him to convince her to move in his place

On the night that Chrissy packs as much as she can fit into Eddie’s van, she doesn’t tell her parents anything besides a little letter she wrote explaining as much as she wanted to

Like majority of them do, the rumours spread around school about Chrissy and Eddie, but no one believes it and it’s better off that way

Chrissy would enjoy sleeping in Eddie’s bed every night and getting to wake up next to him on the mornings that their peace isn’t disturbed by her sudden nausea

Also Uncle Wayne would know because Eddie can’t lie to him without feeling like a total douche, but he’d be super supportive and try his best to help out the young couple with whatever he can do

So on the days that Chrissy really can’t get out of bed due to how shitty she feels, she spends her time with Wayne in the trailer

He makes her green tea in one of his many mugs hanging around and tells her stories about Eddie as a baby that make her want to cry out in laughter

The stories make her feel just a tiny bit of excitement for when her baby will arrive and how it might just be an exact copy it’s father

But for the time being, she’d shove those thoughts aside because she still has finishing high school on her mind

Her pregnancy would also be a little hard for her because of her eating disorder, but it gives her the right motivation to start bettering herself one day at a time for the baby’s sake

Eddie really treasuring every moment spent with Chrissy because of how hard he’s been working both to graduate and his job

Luckily, the last months of class fly by, even though they were a tedious pain for the couple, and the two of them graduate together

Chrissy is barely showing and is so happy she gets to relax for the whole summer without ever worrying about the harsh backlash she would’ve received from all the other students

Eddie on the other hand, smiles at the tiny sonogram pic he secretly keeps in his wallet and is proud of himself for turning around his life 💕

Tysmmm for reading!! Idk if I should make a part two cuz these kinda felt long, but reqs are always open ✨💁🏻‍♀️

[riikive]

LOVESONG ⌕ 태규

synopsis. living in a bittersweet world, there will always be a war every day. it is a never-ending war. sometimes, the war is in our heads.

staring. kang taehyun x female!oc x choi beomgyu

genre. romance, comfort/hurt, soft, fluff, young adult, college au, throuple au, ships, friends to lovers, etc.

status. ongoing

warning. make-out scenes, blood, suicide, physical fights, physical abuse, anxiety, emotional abuse, self-harm, depression, eating disorders, lgbtqia+, homophobic, xenophobia, traumas, alcohol, self-hatred, loneliness, bullying, nightmares, hallucinations, weak oc, etc. there only be suggestive scenes! No nsfw content!

I recommend nobody under 16 years old read this story since there is a lot of tiggers/sensitive topics!

taglist. open (please send an ask to be in the list! please tell me which taglist do you want to be in, either the permanent taglist or the temporary taglist. ask requests will only be accepted, srry!)

note. this is my first type of fanfiction series. I DO NOT ship any of the members romantically or sexually! I only ship them as friends! If even I write ships, it doesn't mean I ship them! I DO NOT glorify any of these topics! If you are uncomfortable with these topics, then please block the tag and don't report the story! There will be a lot of drama and action in the story, so beware and be careful reading this story. Enjoy the story!

recommend you use the dark mode!

characters . playlist . aesthetics . others . wattpad ver

MASTERLISTS

prologue.

01. fragile one

02.

03.

04.

05.

06.

07.

08.

09.

10.

more chapters coming soon...

please do not copy, steal, plagiarize, rewrite, repost, etc!! Feel free to reblog, like, comment, and share!!

[iheartchv]

Hey, I'm 18, btw. Could I request a COD match-up?

I'm a native Russian speaker . Im learning 5 different languages (Swedish, German, Spanish, Polish, and English). My height is 5"2(156,6/157cm), and i weigh 40kg. Pale and have eyebags. Freezing 24/ Dark blond, short (chin length with blond locs) hair, and i have blue-gray eyes.

Have scoliosis and osteochandrosis, and astigmatism (wearing contact lenses). Give no fucks. Calm and stealthy as fuck (yes, I'm THAT silent that I scare the shit out of my parents. They call me ghost, mhm. ) I'm studying a landscape design in college. I'm a spender.

Energetic at night times only (23:00-06:30 am.) Sleep deprived and have an eating disorder (i HATE eating). Addicted to RedBull. INTJ. I LOVE to listen to music l have my headphones in 24/7. Love drawing (digital only), horror movies. No friends.

Srry for my English.

🤔 I match you with...

Alex Keller

I feel like Alex would be your match

Of course he'd try to be your friend at first

He would probably meet you while he was undercover for a mission

He saw someone following right behind you as soon as you walked by them

He followed, making sure not to raise suspicion to your pursuer

Needless to say he beat the crap out of the thug following you

"You okay there?" He'd ask you

You nodded. "I could've handled it myself though"

"Really?" He'd raise an eye brow and a tiny side smirk on his lips

"Can I walk you home?"

Sure he was getting sidetracked from his main objective, but he couldn't leave you to try and fend off that creep

On the wall home he decided to try to small talk with you, trying to make you feel more at ease

There was something about you that seeemed to pull his thoughts from anything but you

You were in the back of his mind, and couldn't stop thinking about you

He had to see you again, but now was too soon

Instead, he paid for a room nearby to stay in while he was still undercover

For a few weeks or months, he didn't know how long he was going to stay

Alex met you on a subway later on, seeing you with headphones on, listening to music

He sat beside you, wondering how he should approach this...

He tapped you

"Hey"

He put on a small smile

"How are you?"

You pulled an earphone away from one of your ears and were startled but recognized who he was

"Fine. Thanks again for helping me out the other day."

"No problem. What're you listening to?"

He was doing what he could to keep a conversation going between you and him

And the more you talked, the more he was fascinated with you

He handed you a small piece of paper with the number and info for the place he was staying at

"You can call me if you need me anytime"

You tucked the paper in your pocket and thanked him

Well, you didn't call him, but he did come to your rescue when you and many others got held hostage

You couldn't believe that Alex was a military man, undercover

You saw him a different light bow as you saw him in action

Your heart felt warm and fuzzy

And even more so as he held you in his arms, carrying you to safety

After that, you two became close friends, keeping in touch even from across the world