#also as a healthcare professional i feel obligated to tell you this is not how amnesia works

[the-ace-with-spades]

Another unhinged buddie fic idea - amnesia Eddie at his best and dumbest

So Eddie gets hurt, hits his head, is unconscious for like two weeks and when he finally wakes up, he thinks it's 2018, he's almost finishing fire academy and his parents are still saying he should let them take Chris away permanently.

To say he panics is an understatement — his muscles are weak after the lack of stimuli but he still puts a fight with the nurse that's trying to take his blood pressure.

He keeps on asking about where he is and where is Chris, only gets a you're in Cedars Sinai MC in Los Angeles and doesn't take for answer anything that tells him to stay still or to be careful with the IV, until the nurse says, "Your partner is right outside, I'm sure he's arranged something for your son."

He freezes. "My partner? I don't have a partner. Who is taking care of my kid?"

The nurse's face changes and there are suddenly more and more questions about what he remembers last, what year he thinks is, and does he remember his partner's name. He tells her - he fell asleep in his bed, 2018, he doesn't have a partner because he's been separated from his wife for a few years now.

Apparently, the year is 2023, he was on a call with his fire crew and got hurt, his partner is definitely his partner because he's his power of attorney, next of kin, and has been taking care of his kid.

So the nurse leaves to talk to the doctor and his partner who is still outside, with said doctor.

(Eddie doesn't know that but the nurse was either absolutely sure this is what Buck is because there are assumptions and there are legal medical documents or she is sure this is the mythical firefighters' bond and they're just very close work partners - your pick. Either way, Eddie thinks she means romantic life partner.)

Meanwhile, Eddie goes through all stages of grief because his apparent partner he acquired in the past five years is a he and apparently such a sure thing he's in all of Eddie's medical documents.

A guy. What kind of a guy he would have to be for Eddie to choose him as his partner?

Then the nurse comes back with a very tall, very handsome guy built like a brick wall but also making a face that makes him look like an eager but sad golden retriever and—

Oh. That explains some stuff. If just looking at him makes Eddie feel like it, then he can't even phantom what being with him feels like.

The guy stops mid-room, not going for a hug like Eddie expected him to. "Heard you don't remember me."

And he sounds so sad that Eddie reaches his hand out and the guy — his partner — is instantly at his side, gripping his hand, and Eddie doesn't let him go until he gets the point and pulls a chair closer and sits with him.

"I don't. So a name would be nice."

"Buck. Well, Evan Buckley, but everyone calls me Buck."

And like, Eddie's never been big for pet names but even in this short moment Buck seems so bright he wants to call him mi sol. "I call you Buck?"

Buck chuckles. "Yeah, you call me Buck. Unless you're really serious, then you call me, you call me Evan."

"Evan," he tests out. "Sounds like you're in trouble."

And Buck smiles at him so softly Eddie is melting in that bed, warmth hitting him where he's still holding Buck's hand hostage and traveling up. "Not to me."

Bobby, who is apparently their captain — even though Eddie has a feeling like he's talking to his in-laws again the whole time he is there — brings Chris to the hospital and he's so big, already eleven, and so sassy with Eddie.

He's also very, very familiar with Buck, which calms him down - he talks about the funny sandwich cutters Buck's been using the whole time Eddie was in the hospital to cheer him up and tentatively admits how they slept in the same bed the first week because Chris had nightmares.

And even though his dad landed in the hospital — again, apparently? — Chris seems very, well, very well-adjusted to the situation at hand, even if Eddie can see he's being a bit clingy with both Eddie and Buck. Like the adults in his life are doing a good job at shielding him.

Buck is the one who has all the hard conversations with him, about Shanon, about his parents, about his abuela moving to Texas because of a whole pandemic, about the accident he had at work, and what will happen once he leaves the hospital.

It's really reassuring, that it's Buck telling him all that.

If he had any doubts about Buck being a very, very good and very, very close partner, all of it disappears when they go back home from the hospital.

His whole house has signs of Buck living their best lives in there — there are photos, cookbooks, cooking utensils Eddie doesn't even know the names of, Buck's clothes mixed in his wardrobe, cards from Chris for the both of them. It's very clear Buck is not only a big part of their life but also lives with them full-time, too.

He knows where everything in the kitchen is — "I have a system, Eddie" — and he knows where all Eddie's insurance paperwork is, knows the PINs to his phone, his cards and accounts, he knows all about Chris' medical needs. He knows how Eddie likes his coffee, how Chirs likes his toasts, which shaving cream Eddie likes, which toothbrush is Eddie's, which pair of shoes Eddie's only bought because they were on discount and never worn, which of Christopher's notebooks is the one for math.

He doesn't remember the past five years but he can't imagine not having Buck as his partner. Knowing he is there doesn't make him anxious like he thought it would — it makes him calm, settled.

So he's offended when the first night comes and Buck tries to bring spare blankets onto their couch. He wants him in their bed.

He gets that Buck is trying to give him space since Eddie doesn't really remember all the years they've been together, but that's a bit much. They're partners, and pretty solid ones at that, not just a new couple figuring stuff out, they must have slept together a million times.

So Eddie tells him to go off the couch and sleep in bed with him. It takes some convincing but eventually, Buck agrees. They lie down, Buck is being unnecessarily awkward, turning his back on Eddie in the dark. Eddie is not having this — turns towards him and spoons him, holding him in his arms. He's pretty sure Eddie getting hurt and forgetting five years is stressful on Buck, too, even if he doesn't show it. He deserves the comfort of his partner, even if said partner doesn't remember all of their life together.

It happens again the night after, and the night after that, until Buck stops tensing up whenever Eddie wraps his arms around him.

Because Eddie was unconscious for so long, he still needs PT, and Buck somehow manages to arrange that Eddie's and Chris' PT is at the same time and Buck oscillates between staying with either of them for the duration. There's one time when the receptionist at the therapy center asks him why he comes in so often when he looks fine — she's flirting with him, Eddie knows, which makes him glare at her, and Buck just tells her, "I'm just the chauffer for my boys." And Eddie calms down.

They assessed him at the hospital and he's supposed to have someone's handheld assistance or use a stick or a frame when he walks, until the PT gets his legs to the state from before. Using either the stick or the frame makes him feel like an old man, and the feeling doubles when Buck, the hunk of a man that he is, is nearby, so he refuses to use it when Buck is around. Which ends with Buck helping him around by placing an arm around his back and holding his hand with the other whenever Eddie needs to move.

Which is an absolutely amazing feeling because Buck is both the gentlest of giants, always knowing when Eddie needs reassurance and so freaking fit and big, Eddie can just rest against his chest whenever he feels wobbly or needs comfort from the embarrassment. It's a very contrasting feeling because it makes Eddie want to be held and pecked all over his face and thrown into the wall to make out.

Eddie's physical fitness improves and he misses Buck's touch the second his therapist says he can start moving without assistance.

That's the only problem Eddie has — Buck refuses to touch him. Again, he knows it's a bit weird with Eddie not remembering. At first, he thought it was just Buck giving him the lead on how much he wants them to do but then Buck keeps on ducking out any time Eddie initiates something.

He goes in for a kiss when Buck is drinking coffee and he dodges, standing up before Eddie can try again. Eddie gives Chris a kiss goodbye and goes to give Buck one, where he's standing next to their kid, and Buck skips out the door, telling him he's going to start the AC in the car. He tries to curl up against his side on the couch and Buck gets up with an excuse of making popcorn or tea or anything else possible. When Eddie slips into the shower while Buck is brushing his teeth, he leaves the bathroom with the toothbrush still in hand. Buck pretends to be asleep when he kisses his neck and swats Eddie's hands off when he moves them under his t-shirt when they're spooning, always calls out Eddie in the dark, like he isn't sure Eddie is comprehending what he's doing.

(Buck is pretty sure Eddie is trying to kill him — just make him have a heart attack or something — even if not deliberately. He isn't suspecting a thing about Eddie's partners assumption.)

It's like Eddie has a partner that loves him but without the bits that are funny. Like, he thought life-affirming sex is a thing and he is cleared for physical activity now and still out of work and going stir-crazy.

He doesn't get it and he can't talk about this with Buck because it almost feels like Buck is rejecting him, every time he ducks away from Eddie's affection or doesn't reciprocate it.

"Buck is—He loves me, right? He hasn't stopped after the accident, he's—He finds me attractive, he wants me, right?"

(Hen, sweet Hen, thinks he figured out Buck is in love with him now that he has a bit of an outsider perspective, and mutters, "Oh boy," cursing in her head because it's too early for this conversation. She isn't even suspecting Eddie heard partners once and ran wild with it.)

"I don't see where you're going with this," Hen says diplomatically.

"It's just, he's not doing anything about it," he explains. "It feels like he's barely touching me."

Hen is freaking out because of all times, Eddie had to realize now—"Do you... want him to touch you?"

"Have you seen him?" Eddie asks and then frowns. "Oh, right, playing for a different team."

"You just had a brain injury," she points out, hoping Eddie will find his brain somewhere, actually, and think.

"It's been almost two months, the doctors say I'm fine, memories aside," he says stubbornly.

"Eddie, I don't think Buck is going to make any first moves when you don't remember the past five years you guys—" She needs to change the track because she's saying too much. "Why don't you just talk to him about it?"

"And say what? Please bend me over our kitchen table? Please shower with me? Please give me kisses goodbye? Please hold me at night?"

"You probably should start with something more...tame," Hen suggests.

He's tried tame �� he's tried initiating kisses and hugs and Buck doesn't respond. It's like he is afraid to touch him and Eddie isn't made of glass.

He needs to do something drastic.

So at night, he waits for Buck to come to bed, lights dimmed, and when Buck pulls the covers away to slide into bed with him, Eddie is naked — he can't be more blunt, if this flies over Buck's head, he'll be worried.

"Oh my god," Buck keeps on repeating, not looking at Eddie, blindly trying to put the covers over Eddie.

"Oh, come on, I can't be more obvious," he complains. "Why can't you just touch me, Evan?"

He's taking deep breaths, not looking at Eddie at all and this is the opposite of what he aimed for. "You don't want me, Eddie, you don't even know me."

"I definitely want you," he protests, irritated. He knows what he wants, it's Buck who's been missing the signals right and left. "And I know you, you're my partner, my Buck—I know you want this, too."

It's the truth — when he thinks Eddie can't notice, he looks at him like Eddie is everything he could ask for. He wants him to look at him like that now, too. He knows Buck, even if memories aren't there.

"We're not doing anything until you get your memories back and you actually know who I am."

"What if I never get my memories back?"

Buck doesn't reply and for a second Eddie think he got him, but then Buck stands up from the bed and says, "I think I should move out."

"What?" Eddie protests because that's definitely not what he was aiming for. Buck's place is with them, even if things in their relationship are a bit dry or stilled. "And where exactly would you go?"

"I do actually have my own place, you know?"

And how Eddie was supposed to know? He lives with them. He should not have a back-up place to go.

"I think I'm sending you mixed signals and you obviously don't remember enough to interpret them with clarity in your head," he tells Eddie and leaves.

He actually leaves the house, too, no matter how much he's asking to just sit down and listen to him. He spends the night trashing from side to side, expecting Buck to be back any moment but never getting him back.

(Meanwhile, Buck doesn't go to the loft because everything is dusty in there since he's moved into Eddie's place when he had to take care of Chris when he was still unconscious. Instead, he goes to Maddie's and complains to her over a glass of wine, aiming to stay on her couch overnight. "You didn't see him, Maddie, he was just lying there like a starfish, completely naked, going all, now you can touch me all you want—" and Chim wakes up Jee with how hard he drops the pans he was pretending to clean while eavesdropping.)

Buck comes back in the morning to take Chris to school — he doesn't offer Eddie to take him together and they don't talk at all.

Eddie needs to talk to someone about this because he might have somehow ruined the relationship with the man he's pretty sure he'd like to marry one day. By wanting him to touch him, of all things. But everyone is at work.

Pepa is retired, though. The problem is, Eddie isn't about to tell her Buck had threatened to move out because Eddie wanted him to fuck him.

So he asks the more appropriate question, "Why are we not married yet, actually?"

Maybe if they were married, Buck wouldn't have some secret place to escape. Maybe he'd feel like he can touch Eddie because Eddie is his on paper, too.

Pepa gives him a look that says he's crazy. "Who?"

"Buck and I, obviously." Forget crazy, Pepa stares at him like he's insane. "What? Does Buck—not want to get married? Did I say anything about this to you?"

"Mijo," she says, sounding like it pains her to do so. "You and Buck are not—you're not together, Eddie."

Eddie laughs because that's—that's not possible, they're partners, Buck's been taking care of him and Chris since Eddie woke up, and long, long before that even if Eddie doesn't remember it. He's Eddie's power of attorney and next of kin and he's in Eddie's will, he's all but a step away from adopting Chris, knows all of Chris' and Eddie's medical history, their allergies, their likes and dislikes. He's Eddie's partner.

Pepa is not laughing, just looking at him with that pitying expression on her face,

"But—he loves me, he loves Chris, he loves us," he says dumbly.

"Believe me, I know, we all know," she says. "We've tried stirring you in the right way but you're very stubborn, mijo."

#im sorry this probably doesnt make sense #i don't know how this ends #either eddie decides he wants to be partners anyway memories be damned (and then gets his memories back months later) #or he remembers when buck actually moves out and they get together #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 fox #911 abc #buck my beloved (deregatory) #also as a healthcare professional i feel obligated to tell you this is not how amnesia works #fic ideas #op #charlie writes

[scriptmedic]

So I'm looking into the psychology of how healthcare workers cope with a Year From Hell with a flood of critical patients, an economic disaster and a domestic insurrection. This is actually for historical fiction, it's the result of a 19th-century war, and it's a left-wing insurrection, but yeah there are obviously parallels....

TW for COVID, COVID 19, COVID MENTION, PANDEMIC/PLAGUE

Hey Cathreese! (Awesome name, I hope it's real.)

I hope you're doing well and that you and yours are safe and hale and whole.

Health care resiliency is a HUGE topic for me, and I apologize if this ask is WAY too dang long.

Caution: Then != Now

The thing that makes this ask a particular challenge is the historical aspect. I can talk about how people are dealing with this now, but so much of our responses are conditioned by our environment that a 21st century health worker's response to a Year From Hell is very different from how it would have been previously.

In part that's because we're so sheltered from death and dying as a culture now. In the 1800s, families taking care of their dead was... well, kind of a matter of course. People did their dying at home, for the most part, and their families saw to them after.

In the modern era that's all expected to be tucked away in a clean white room with machines solemnly going "beep" and a gaggle of professionals to make sure it happens in a neat, tidy, orderly way.

Also, remember that nursing wasn't really a profession til the mid-1800s. It was a duty taken up by family members or, in some cases, by nuns -- but nursing as a profession really began after Florence Nightingale and the Crimean War in the 1850s. (You may want to spend some time researching her, she's a badass.)

How Chronic Stress & Trauma Affect Personality/Behavior

Chronic stress, especially chronic sympathetic activation (fight/flight/freeze mode), makes neurophysiological changes in the brain that impacts how people experience stress.

For the first part, their brain is constantly on the lookout for reasons to stress -- making them have a "hair trigger" for stressful experience.

Second, stress responses come in 3 major flavors:

Fight. This comes out as frustration, anger, short-temperedness, lack of patience, loss of kindness or compassion, etc.

Flight. This comes out as anxiety, nervousness, dread, overwhelm, panic attacks, strong startle response, etc.

Freeze. Can't think, can't make a decision, brain fog, listlessness, inability to focus, etc.

Also, keep in mind that nightmares and other ways of processing stress are real and valid. Lack of sleep is a physiological stressor, as is poor nutrition and dehydration -- a character who's only getting a few hours a night is going to be MUCH worse off than a character who's taking good care of themselves.

More below the cut...

How Individuals Manage Chronic Stress & Trauma

First things first: relationships will matter hugely. Whether your character feels like they can rely on their team, or whether they feel constantly snarked at or nitpicked, can make a BIG difference in their ability to successfully navigate stressors.

Unfortunately, the phrase "nurses eat their young" isn't a baseless stereotype, and it originates from this era. People under stress often fall into Fight mode and want to snap, snarl, or blame rather than accept that other people are learning at their own pace -- so it would be reasonable to see a situation in which your character has, A) no support / a lot of bullying or nitpicking, B) systematically unsupported with 1 or 2 close friends, or C) an overall Good Team of People.

On top of all of that, there are the individual factors. Health care resiliency comes down to self-care and mindset, and of the mindset, of particular importance is the ability to tell ourselves stories that allow us to function.

So for each character, ask: how does their relationship to their situation cause them to see themselves?

Let's look at the possible ramifications of 3 mindsets to see how it could impact them.

"I'm just doing a job." This mentality might make someone more detached from each individual patient -- but during a plague and social upheaval, that can be really helpful in maintaining a healthy perspective. This mindset helps the person do their work, but release them from feeling obligated to get a particular outcome of their work -- they don't have to save everyone. Of course there's still pride in a job well done, and some measure of pain and loss or head-shaking when someone doesn't make it, but it's one of the least personally harmful mentalities in an industry like health care. Pair this with a strong sense of compassion and I think it's the healthiest outlook one can have. (This is where I am now.)

"I have to save everyone." This is a recipe for straight-up self-loathing, and sadly, it's a belief that underpins WAY too many health professionals. Many don't see it as a job, they see it as a calling -- and that means that they will take each loss as a personal failure. This can lead to depression, anger, and outbursts. They care so so much about each patient -- too much, and it wounds them, and it hollows them out. (I used to be like this.)

"The Divine works through me." This is an interesting mindset to me (who didn't get raised with a religious background at all). This is kind of a combination of mindsets 1 and 2 -- the character might see themselves as doing a job, yes, a very important one, but also as not being responsible for the outcome. They love and try their hardest, but the success or failure of their efforts gets pinned on someone else -- namely, a god or gods of their choosing. Thus the patients who die, well, that's His decision, innit? Same if they live.

Hope this was a place to start looking and thinking, and thank you for the ask.

xoxo, Aunt Scripty

#this post is not medical advice #this post is writing advice #mental health #health professionals #covid mention #covid 19 #covid

[fallout4reactsblog]

In my exploration for fanfic, I stumbled across a Soulmate AU in the Naruto fandom - but not just any Soulmate AU, oh no, it was something that instantly made me crack up (I'll explain why, hold on a sec). You're completely incapable of lying to your soulmate. Dead silence or weird stuttering, or maybe even a strangled noise when the words just won't come out. You just can't. *You can't.* And I thought of DEACON's reaction (lmao), and then thought the other companions would be fun/cute, too!

Cait: At least sole is nice enough to give her a beer, after the day she’s had. It’s an uncomfortably warm temperature from their bag, and it’s not the Gwinnett Stout she prefers, nor the hit of Psycho she needs, but it’s better than nothing. After all, it’s not like they’re obligated to treat her well, or even have an incentive to do so. She’s a bargaining chip that they foolishly accepted.

They return to the campfire, hair still slightly damp from washing out the blood and bone of former raiders. She has to admit that that was fun to watch, at least. They’d made quite a mess out of all those assholes, and seeing the pain be on them for a change was a sort of sick justice she never thought she’d get. She supposes she can cut them a little slack for that.

“Are you hungry?” they ask, rummaging through their bag. “I don’t eat much, but you’re welcome to have anything I’ve got in here.”

She doesn’t want their stupid pity, so she opens her mouth to snap at them and tell them no. She doesn’t want their food, nor the sad way they look at her, like she’s some sort of wounded animal.

Nothing comes out. The words are right there, burning to be said, but her mouth won’t move, and she suddenly can’t make a sound.

“Here.” They hand her what looks to be some sort of grilled meat on a skewer. “Try some squirrel. It’s fresh.”

She takes it wordlessly, still trying to understand what’s just happened to her.

“Have some water, too. You must be thirsty.”

Suddenly, there’s a can of water in her hands, too, and a knife to open it up.

“Do you need anything else?”

What she really needs is a hit of Psycho so she can make this all a fuzzy memory, but she’s not about to tell them that. It’s none of their business, frankly, and she doesn’t even trust them.

But she can’t say no. She just sits there, mouth open, trying to make any sound to refuse them, to tell them she doesn’t want their help, but her lips won’t move.

“Are you okay?” they ask, and she sees the concern in her eyes.

“I’m just trying to-” She cuts off at the words “say no,” and can’t speak again.

They sigh and lean back in the chair they’d dug out of an abandoned shack. “Cait, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you or anything. I just want to make sure I can take care of you. Since I got out of cryo, my human functions have been on the fritz, so I need you to tell me when you need food, water, or anything else. There’s no shame in it.”

The world is becoming far too clear around her for her taste. She wishes she could have stolen the Psycho stashes from the Combat Zone, but sole had gotten there first. All of her drugs are in their bag, just out of reach.

But she can’t tell them that. She can’t just admit to needing their help, because if she does- Well, she doesn’t want to think about it. But she can’t deny she really needs to be high, and she also can’t deny that the only supply is sitting by her new companion’s feet.

“Just- hand me some Psycho, will you?”

They comply without a word, digging into their bag to pull up a dose, careful of the needle. She snatches it from their hands, relieved to just have it again, and once the drug is rushing through her blood, everything feels better. She can think clearly enough to remember all those stupid conversations she’d overheard, that soulmate bullshit about not being able to lie.

She scowls across the campfire at them, where they’re cleaning their gun, and tries to figure out what the hell this means for her future.

Curie: She’s seen enough wounds to know when a limb is done for. She knows the limits of stimpacks, knows how far their healing can go, and whatever happened to sole to make their arm look like this is far beyond any medicine’s capabilities.

“How do we look?” they ask, dopey grin on their face. She’d administered some chems to at least take away the pain.

“Well-” She searches for the nicest way to tell them the truth. 

Their arm is well beyond saving, and she knows it, but to have to tell them that seems impossible. Besides, she doesn’t know how they’ll react. No, she can’t tell them the truth. She’ll have to settle for the old tradition among healthcare professionals of lying and telling them everything will be fine.

But instead of comforting words and false niceties, what comes of out her mouth is a stuttering, jumbled mess of sounds, hopelessly incoherent.

“Don’t tell me you popped some pills, too, Curie.” They giggle a little. “I saw how that worked out for Earl Sterling. Hard pass.”

“No, I did not take any chems. I am just looking at your arm, that is all.”

“Am I gonna lose it?”

Again, she tries to comfort them with a small lie, but again, she stumbles so much over her words that nothing she’s saying makes sense. She frowns at her inability to be professional; after all, she’s lied to many people about their condition since getting out of the vault. This should be no different.

“Careful with that stuttering, doc. People will start to think we’re soulmates or something.”

Her hands freeze over a pair of scissors to cut off their sleeves. “Soulmates?”

“Yeah. You know, the whole ‘there’s one person in the world you can’t lie to, and that’s your soulmate’ thing? Did they teach you about that?”

“Certainly.” She begins cutting at their shirt. “I had just forgotten about it until now.”

“Me, too.” They sigh, a little wistfully. “It’s a shame I never found mine, I guess. They’re probably long dead by now.”

“I don’t think so, madame/monsieur.” A tiny smile creeps to her face, even as she pulls out some chems to sedate them. “But we will discuss this more when you wake up.”

“You know, Curie,” they say, as their eyelids grow heavy. “If I still have a soulmate out there, I hope it’s you.”

She barely has time to process what they’ve said before they’re out like a light, and she needs to get to work.

Danse: It’s easier to be honest at night.

The fire doesn’t quite illuminate sole’s face, just the barest hint of their features as they tell him a story about life before the war. A can of purified water dangles loosely from their fingertips, seemingly forgotten as they tell him about their life before the bombs fell. It’s nice to hear them talk about it; here, people tend to idealize what life must have been like before. To get a second opinion is refreshing.

“I think one of the worst things was the soulmate obsession,” they say. “Everyone was absolutely set on marrying their ‘one true love,’ you know? Most people didn’t even consider anyone else. They wanted their soulmate and their soulmate alone. It made being married pretty hard, especially once we had a kid. So many friends of ours were upset we weren’t trying to find the person who’d been chosen for us.”

“Your partner wasn’t your soulmate?”

They shake their head. “There was war hanging over our heads, and we were both getting to the age that we wanted to settle down. We were happy enough together, so we just went ahead and got married. Why not, right?”

“I suppose so.” Truth be told, he tries not to think about the idea of a soulmate too much. He has more important things to think about, and the idea seems almost childish. A fantasy for someone who doesn’t understand how hard the world is. “Do you regret your actions now?”

They shrug. “Not really. From what I’ve seen, being in love is tough these days.”

He has to agree with them there. “The Commonwealth is dangerous, and more so if you’re committed to protecting someone else. The stress alone of that bond would make survival here difficult. I can certainly see why you would choose to not pursue a romantic connection.”

“What if you did find them, though? What would you do?”

He thinks hard on the question. “The Brotherhood is where my loyalties lie. I don’t think I would prioritize someone else over my duties there.”

“Okay, but what if you didn’t have to? I mean, this person is supposedly your perfect other half. Maybe they would understand.”

He tries to tell them that it wouldn’t matter. Loyalties are loyalties, and he won’t allow someone else to disrupt that, but for some reason he can’t. The words won’t come.

“I suppose I’d have to talk to them about it,” he admits, still wondering why he can’t say what he wants to. “What about you?”

They shrug. “The same, I guess. I’d want to get to know them better, make sure we’re both on the same page.”

They continue on talking, but Danse finds it hard to concentrate all of a sudden. His inability to speak is troubling, and something he’ll need to investigate further.

Later, though. For now, he has to focus on his duties.

Deacon: He has no clue what the hell he’s supposed to do.

Everything had been going fine. He and sole had gone adventuring, and they’d passed by a group of supermutants, and he’d tried to make a joke about having seen a supermutant in drag one time. Just a little something to lighten the mood. The tiniest, whitest lie.

But he hadn’t, no, he couldn’t. His mouth wouldn’t let him. No matter how many times he’d tried, no matter how many different variants of the joke, he couldn’t do it. Because he’s never seen a supermutant in drag (or a deathclaw, or a mirelurk, or anything else) and now it turns out he can’t lie to them, which is inconvenient, to say the least.

He’s not an idiot. He knows he lies compulsively, without even thinking about it, and he knows he can’t stop and doesn’t want to. It’s easy to hide behind a wall of lies, and it’s definitely convenient if you don’t want anyone to ever know who you really are.

But to find out he not only has a soulmate, but that it’s sole, of all people, is really fucking up his day. Because sole is a badass, and the Railroad really, really needs them. And he knows that to get them through these first few weeks of getting settled, he’s going to need to twist the truth and make the Railroad seem like it’s their only option if they want peace. He also knows that he really likes them, and he usually lies to people he likes to make sure that they like him back.

Part of him tells him he has to stop working with them. If he can’t lie, he doesn’t know what to do with himself, and who knows what he might tell them without thinking about it. But the other part of him does like sole, and wants to hang out with them more, and the only way to do that is to talk to them. Which means he’ll have to settle for not lying to them.

He doesn’t know if he can. He doesn’t know if they’re worth it. But there’s that tiny, nagging thought at the back of his head that tell him to forget the lying part, the fact that they’re his soulmate means he ought to at least try.

“Deacon!” Their head appears around a corner. “Want to go bust open a DIA cache with me?”

Like an idiot, he agrees.

Gage: They look like shit. Dark circles hang below their eyes, and there’s still blood on their lips from getting punched in the nose earlier. Those ghouls had really beaten the shit out of them, and even though their stimpacks had healed most of the damage, they still look like they’ve been through the wringer.

“Having a beer before bed?” he asks, settling into the chair across from them. He eyes the other three bottles lined up on the table suspiciously, and wonders if this is their first drink of the night. It doesn’t look likely.

“Having a beer before work, more like.” They rub a hand across their face as if they can scrub away their apparent exhaustion. “There’s too much to do. Can’t go to bed quite yet.”

“Don’t be stupid. If you’re not at your best, these pieces of shit will rip you up. You should sleep.”

“Careful, Gage.” Their eyes shine with mischief. “You keep talking like that, I’ll have to wonder if you actually care about me.”

He tries to tell them that he doesn’t care about them, but again, the words don’t come out. It’s strange. So often, when he tries to talk to them, he can’t speak, like he’s tongue-tied. It’s annoying, especially when he’s trying to get something out of them. He’s a good manipulator, and he knows that, but it’s hard to do that when he can’t seem to lie to them.

Which means, beyond any shadow of a doubt, the new Overboss happens to be his soulmate.

“Fucking hell,” he huffs, and grabs their beer to have a drink of his own.

“Something wrong, Gage?”

He shakes his head, trying to figure out how to phrase it without lying, exactly. “Nothing that I’d see as important.”

The truth is he’s never cared about having a soulmate. In fact, he was convinced he didn’t have one. Everyone around him is an idiot, weak, or too single-minded to impress him. He’d assumed a long time ago that there was no way any of them could be “the one,” and if they were, there was no way he was going to do anything about it.

But the Overboss, well, that was different. For one, it would definitely give him a tactical advantage, and it would make them want to keep him close. No chance of getting shut out. Also, in the part of him that he’d rather ignore, he had to admit that it wouldn’t be bad to be tied to them. They were the only one who he didn’t immediately peg as a moron, and they actually seemed to know what they were doing and how to do it. He liked that.

Yes, this was an advantage to him for sure. He just had to figure out a way to tell them without sounding like an idiot.

Hancock: “Hancock, how much have you had, exactly?”

He glances up to see them standing in the door, an almost disappointed look on their face. He knows them better than that, of course; their disappointment is their excuse to not show their concern. That’s okay, though. He understands.

“Not sure. Wanna join me?”

“John.” They fall to the couch beside him with a huff. “You know I have work to do. Responsibilities. Et cetera, et cetera.”

Laughing, he leans over to rest his head on their shoulder. “Me, too, sunshine. What’s your point?”

They gently tap a finger to what remains of his nose. “My point is we should be getting to those responsibilities, not getting high.”

He shrugs and burrows his head a little more firmly against their arm. They’re so warm, so comfortable, so patient with his antics. He supposes he’s lucky to have them. As they wrap an arm around his waist, he sighs contentedly, happy that they’re here. He can’t think of a single person he’d rather have at his side.

“I’m glad you’re here, sunshine. I missed you while you were gone.”

They lean to rest their head to his, their hair tickling at his scalp. “I missed you too.”

It occurs to him, somewhere at the very back of his mind, that this is probably what love feels like, or at least, what it probably should feel like. This contentment, this bliss. He could walk through fire for even a taste of this moment.

Gently, he takes their hand in his, running his fingers across their smooth skin. Their wedding band glints in the dim light of the Old State House, glimmering gold and perfectly cleaned.

“You must really miss your partner, huh?”

“I guess.” Idly, sole entwines their fingers. “It was hard, though. All our friends married their soulmates, but we never found ours. It was part of the reason we got married, actually; we were tired of waiting for someone we might never find.”

“You ever wonder who your soulmate was?”

“I try not to.”

He opens his mouth to agree, but something stops him. The words catch. It’s a lie, but one that he’s never had an issue telling. As far as everyone else knows, he never thinks about his soulmate, and doesn’t believe in the idea. But for some reason, no matter how he tries to phrase it, he just can’t tell sole.

“Sunshine, will you be honest with me a second?”

They laugh softly. “I’m always honest with you, John.”

“You’ve never lied to me?”

“Of course not.”

Despite how sedated he should feel, given how much Day Tripper he’s probably consumed today, his heartbeat kicks up into overdrive. Suddenly, he’s faced with the possibility of a soulmate, despite spending years denying they exist and longer trying to pretend they didn’t

“Why do you ask?”

As he tries and fails to tell them, “No reason,” he realizes how tough this is actually going to be.

MacCready: “Mac.”

He doesn’t respond. He knows that’s immature of him, but it’s what they deserve. After all, they didn’t tell him they’d joined the Railroad, he had to find out from some rando in Diamond City, so why should he tell them anything?

“Come on, RJ, stop being stupid. It’s not that big of a deal.”

It feels like a big deal, though. He’s trusted them so much, and they couldn’t bother to share this little tidbit of information? It’s not fair, and it definitely doesn’t earn them any conversation. Instead, he’ll sit here and clean his gun and stare sullenly at the fire. That’ll show them.

They huff, obviously irritated, and sit down beside him. He scoots away, which is definitely immature, but he’s beyond caring about his image at the moment. They scoot closer in retaliation.

“I don’t get why you’re so upset about such a little thing.”

“I’m not upset,” he snaps, or at least he tries, but it doesn’t come out like that. It comes out as unintelligible stuttering, and he freezes.

He knows this feeling; the way the words scramble in his mouth before he can say them. He’s felt it once before, years ago, and he thought he couldn’t have it again. After all, Lucy was his soulmate, wasn’t she? His one and only, the person he was meant to be with. But here he is, sitting with sole, unable to say a word.

“Come again?” they say, bumping his knee with theirs.

He stands, stomach twisting. It’s not possible to have another soulmate. He shouldn’t, he can’t. He won’t just leave her behind because suddenly sole is in the picture. Sure, they’re just the right amount of kind, they’re smarter than he is, and they always listen when he speaks. But that doesn’t make them his soulmate, and it doesn’t give him an excuse to move on.

“RJ, what’s wrong?” They stand up, too, peering into the darkness around their camp. “Did you hear something?”

The sound of their voice makes him want to throw up. Not because he hates them, to the contrary, he’s far more fond of them than he has any right to be.

“No. I need to take a walk.”

“It’s dangerous,” they protest. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

Their worry for him is endearing, but he needs to collect his thoughts quietly, before he says something he’ll regret.

“I’m not going far. I just need a minute.”

The fact that they accept it, trust him, and let him go makes everything that much worse.

Nick: “I swear I set it down right here.”

Nick watches them from across the agency, bemused smile on his face as they try to find the sunglasses perched on top of their head. For someone so intelligent, so clever, he’s almost impressed by their antics. Not just everyone can decipher a code, hack a terminal, and then turn around and lose the sunglasses that they’re wearing.

“Ellie, have you seen my glasses?”

“Nope, haven’t seen them.” She shoots Nick a mischievous look across the room, and he chuckles and shakes his head. God, she’s impossible in the most fun way.

“Nick?” The hero of the Commonwealth turns to him, next. “I thought I set them on your desk.”

He almost says, “I haven’t seen them,” but he can’t. Before he can even get the first syllable out, his lips freeze in place, and he can’t speak.

“Hello?” They wave a hand in front of his face. “Don’t tell me you’re glitching on me now, Nick. I still need you.”

“Ha ha,” he says sarcastically, batting their hand away. “I’m not glitching, just having a little trouble, that’s all.”

“Me, too, because I can’t find these stupid...”

They turn away to begin rifling through drawers. Ellie looks at him with a concerned look on her face, but he waves her off, mouthing, “I’m fine,” at her.

He’s surprised, though. He honestly thought he couldn’t have a soulmate, that his better half would be the same as pre-war Nick’s. After all, they do have the same memories, the same personality, they just happen to look a little different. It wasn’t unreasonable to assume that they would have the same soulmate.

He almost wishes they did, as he watches sole begin peering under desks. They deserve better. Someone who can keep up with them, who still has their youth and their whole life ahead of them. Besides, they’re probably still mourning their late spouse. He’s not sure how long he’ll be able to keep this a secret from them.

Especially since he can’t lie.

Piper: She sizes them up discreetly from across the room. They’ve curled up on her couch with the latest issue of the Publick, despite the fact that they proofread every article in it. Still, they look deeply invested. It’s flattering.

Now’s probably a good time, she thinks. She’s known Blue for a while now, and if they’re her soulmate she wouldn’t be upset in the slightest. After all, they’re clever, cute, and their butt looks great in their vault suit. She’s not going to get her hopes up, though, because Blue’s soulmate could have easily been alive with them all those years ago and now be long dead. But, if it does just so happen that everything works out in her favor, that would be almost too good to be true.

She picks a lie carefully, just in case the words actually can be spoken to them. She doesn’t want to sound stupid, or say something that’s embarrassing. Maybe something about her favorite flavor of Nuka-Cola? She’s always been pretty ambivalent about Nuka-Cherry.

“Hey, Blue.”

They glance up from the paper as if they forgot she was there altogether. “What is it, Piper?”

“Do you want to know a secret?”

“Absolutely.” They put the paper to the side and lean forward intently. “Spill.”

She smiles at their enthusiasm and attempts her lie. Nuka-Cherry is her favorite. Such a simple little thing, so inconsequential, something that would be so easy to lie about, if she could.

But she can’t.

“Piper? Are you gonna tell me your secret?”

Her smile spreads into a grin, and she winks at them in a way she hopes is cute and flirtatious. “We’re soulmates, Blue.”

“What?” They jump to their feet, eyes sparkling. “Are you serious?”

“Well, I can’t exactly lie to you about it.”

They’re across the room in an instant, sweeping her into a hug. “Holy shit! I thought I’d never find you, that I’d lost you when the bombs dropped. But you were here the whole time. I just had to get to you first.”

She laughs and wraps her arms around their neck. “That’s right! I was just waiting for you to finally show up.”

They stand in the middle of Piper’s home, arms wrapped around each other, enjoying a moment neither of them knew they would ever have.

Preston: “Preston.”

Their voice startles him. He hadn’t heard them come down the hall, and he hastily wipes the tears from his face and uncurls from his position in the corner. They’re standing in the doorway, green light illuminating the air around them. He forces a smile up to his face.

“Did you need something, General?”

“Nothing more important than you.” They step further into the room and sit down on the chair across from him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He stands up, straightening his coat out and dusting himself off, forcing away the thoughts of blood that threaten to cloud his vision.

“Preston. You can tell me. I’m not going to judge you.”

For a moment, he considers it. He could lay it all out in front of them, finally let someone else share the burden of Quincy and everything that followed. If nothing else, maybe it would help clear his mind.

But, he can’t. They’ve been through too much to have to shoulder his troubles as well. It would be unfair of him to ask them for help, and unfair to expect them to. They’re doing enough for the Minutemen already.

He doesn’t say that, though. In fact, he doesn’t say anything, because when he tries to tell them that he’s fine and that nothing’s wrong, the words scramble themselves on his tongue and emerge in a mess of sounds with no meaning.

They raise an eyebrow. “You okay there? You didn’t take anything strange, did you? I know Mama Murphy offers, but you don’t have to accept.”

He sighs, though the lightness of their voice does help to lift the mood in the room a little. “No, I didn’t take anything.”

“Well, that’s something, at least.” They reach into their bag which rests at their feet. “Do you want a gumdrop?”

He accepts, and the flavor of artificial orange offers him some comfort. It’s easier to forget about the darkness and rain and the taste of blood in his mouth with sole across from him and half an orange gumdrop in his hand.

“So what was it?” they ask as he chews.

He tries again to brush them off, but when the syllables scramble themselves up again, he gives up and falls back into silence. Across the room, he catches the faintest hint of a smile on their face, and for some reason that stings.

“What’s so funny?”

They wave a hand through the air, laughing just a little under their breath. “Preston, I don’t suppose you’ve ever met your soulmate?”

“I never really looked for them. It wasn’t really a priority, so I-” Realization dawns on him. “Oh. You think? We’re...?

“Well, you can’t just brush me off and tell me it’s nothing, which is what you’re trying to do. Just like I can’t tell you I’m fine when I’m not. It just makes sense.”

And, suddenly, it does.

A stupid grin finds his face as he looks at them, washed in green light from their Pip-Boy. In this moment, he can’t honestly think of anyone he’d rather be soulmates with. They’re perfect in every way. He couldn’t ask for better.

“Well, soulmate, how about you tell me what’s going on? I’d hate to leave you crying in the dark all alone.”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “So you remember what I told you about Quincy...”

X6: Their face is furious. Anger blazes in their eyes with the heat of a thousand suns, hot enough that X6 suspects he might get burned if he steps any closer. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least. He’s not supposed to be easily intimidated, but in this moment, sole is terrifying.

“Are you going to answer my question, or not?”

He’d very much like to answer their question. In fact, he’d love to tell them that he’s not been hiding anything from them, that he has no doubts about his loyalties, and that everything is functioning perfectly, but the words just won’t come. It doesn’t matter how many times he tries. Nothing. Works.

“X6, I’m starting to get very irritated.”

“It seems to me that you’re beyond irritated already.”

“Then that should be an incentive to tell me if you’ve been hiding something from me, and then lay out exactly what that thing is. Believe me, you will not like-”

“I’m trying,” he snaps, frustrated at himself for being so unable to complete this simple task. “Will you just give me a goddamn second?”

“I don’t know why you’re making this so difficult.”

He grapples with his lie again, attempting to force it from between his lips, but surrenders quickly in exasperation. “Believe me, neither do I.”

They shake their head and scrub a hand over their eyes, seemingly fed up. The look in their eyes is still anger, but a resigned kind, the kind that festers and breaks people apart. “Look. I’m not angry, and as long as it’s not going to hurt anyone, it’s fine. Don’t tell me. Whatever. I honestly don’t care anymore.”

Their scorn strikes a nerve, and X6, who is already at his breaking point with both them and himself, gives in. “Don’t insult me. You know as well as I do that if it were that simple, I would have told you by now. I don’t hide things unless it’s necessary, and I’ve never lied to you. As it turns out, I probably can’t, so you’ll just have to trust me when I say I won’t hide something from you unless it’s important.”

They blink once, eyes wide, seemingly stunned into silence. For the first time in what feels like hours, the air around them is quiet and almost peaceful. There are no angry words, no harsh accusations. They just stare at him as if in shock, and he takes the moment to compose himself again.

“You can’t lie to me?”

“It seems not. Probably because you’re the future Director, and it’s not logical for me to be able to lie to you. I would suppose I can’t lie to Father, either, but I’ve never tried.”

“No, I’ve looked through the data. That’s nowhere in the programming. You should be able to lie to anyone you need to, including me.”

“Well, I can’t. I suppose it’s a malfunction.”

“It could be, but...”

They look him in the eyes, open their mouth as if to speak, then snap it closed. A smirk finds their face, almost triumphant.

“That settles it. You’re not malfunctioning, X6. You just happen to have found your soulmate.”

That stops his train of thought dead in its tracks. While not unfamiliar with the concept of soulmates- he had heard some of the scientists discussing the matter- he had never put much thought to it. After all, as a synth he couldn’t have a soulmate, because he had no soul. At least, that was what he’d been taught, and what he’d believed for his entire life.

“A soulmate? You?”

“Seems that way.” They smile, all the anger now gone from their face. “Come on, let’s sit down by the fire. We should get to know each other a little better.”

Wordlessly, he agrees.

#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #fo4 companions #fallout 4 companions #fallout 4 companions react #fo4 companions react #cait #curie #danse #paladin danse #deacon #gage #porter gage #hancock #maccready #rj maccready #robert joseph maccready #nick valentine #piper wright #preston garvey #x6 #x6-88

[scarlettrose0]

On Anon

There is no point in posting anon hate, I won’t answer it. Instead do you and me a favor and block me, you are not obligated to see my posts. Please ask me on anything you want, especially on abortion as I am admittedly very interested in that topic.

On What This Blog Is About

This blog is mainly as mentioned above, about abortion, the shows I am currently watching, mainly anime specifically. As, well as art, as well as controversial topics.

Pro-Life Responses To Pro-Choice Arguments

On sentience and personhood ~ https://scarlettrose0.tumblr.com/post/657559401237037056/2a-continuous-properties

On pro-life people just being pro-birth, and the differences between foster care and adoption, (and to me this argument is an red herring, but it’s so common I put it here) ~ https://scarlettrose0.tumblr.com/post/657479339834753024/foster-care

On it just being a clump of cells, fetal tissue, etc ~ https://blog.secularprolife.org/2021/07/responding-to-common-pro-choice-tactic.html?m=1

My pro-life essay referring to any other pro-choice argument ~ https://scarlettrose0.tumblr.com/post/65752688675220684 The effects of pro-choice culture, and how it leads to men being able to leave parenthood just as women are able to, as well as leading towards an weird relationship of how we view unborn babies or rather, not knowing their worth ~https://blog.secularprolife.org/2021/01/our-cultural-gaslighting-of-women-who.html?m=1

~https://blog.secularprolife.org/2011/05/roe-v-wade-for-men.html?m=1

Also, if your a pregnant women who needs help who are the cons and pros of pregnancy crisis centers, (good luck btw):

If you are choosing to carry your child, and need help. I hope all goes well, an CPC is, if you don’t know.

”...sometimes called a pregnancy resource center (PRC),[1]is a type of nonprofit organization established to persuade pregnant women against having an abortion.[2][3]:1[4] CPCs generally provide peer counseling related to abortion, pregnancy, and childbirth, and may also offer additional non-medical services such as financial assistance, child-rearing resources, and adoption referrals.[5][6][7] CPCs that qualify as medical clinics may also provide pregnancy testing, sonograms, and other services.[8]However, CPCs have also frequently been found to disseminate false medical information, usually about the supposed physical and mental health risks of abortion,[9][10][11] but sometimes also about the effectiveness of condoms and the prevention of sexually transmitted infections.[12]”

Some provide misinformation, I don’t support that. I only want the best for you and your child. Good luck.

Also * I copy pasted these lists from other posts.

Let Them Live will pay for your bills during and after your pregnancy GetYourCare to find a clinic near you Baby2Baby and HopeSupplyCo for baby supplies Adoption Medicaid Medicare Find a low cost community health clinic near you Find a Title X clinic near you (confidential reproductive health care for teens and adults) International: Birthright International Choice42 Worldwide directory of pregnancy centers

Pregnancy help

Life begins at conception.

And the leading cause of abortion is lack of support, resources, and finances.

You have alternatives.

Crisis Talk Lines:

OptionLine

RealAlternatives

AllOptions

Get Immediate Mental Help

Domestic Abuse Helpline

Sexual Assault Pregnancy Help

Financial Aid and Social Services:

Women, Infants, Children Aid (any guardian can apply)

Temporary Assistance for Needy Families

SNAP

Other government benefits

Let Them Live (financial aid for pregnant women)

Women Deserve Better

Pregnant in College Rights

Carrying a terminally sick baby to term

International pregnancy help

Check Baby2Baby and HopeSupplyCo for free baby supplies

Healthcare:

Find a low cost health clinic near you

Find a TitleX clinic near you

Children’s Health Insurance Program

Get Your Care (find low cost or free pregnancy care near you)

Medicaid

List of international pregnancy centers which offer pregnancy care and social services

Adoption:

Adopt Help (finances birth moms)

How to start an adoption plan

Finding an agency

Open Adoption

Emotional Support

Parenting:

Department of Health Resources for Parents

National Parent Helpline

Diaper Banks

Single Mothers by Choice

To locate PCC, please see here:

https://crisispregnancycentermap.com

I wouldn’t go to an PCC for an Sex-Ed, but there not completely useless. Please, use them the best of your abilities.

I understand some are against PCC but they do more good then bad. Abortion places provide that——abortions. They help the mother by providing ultra sounds, Planned Parenthood thankfully is run by professionals but as much as those that are biased against abortion. Planned Parenthood is literally just as biased, especially against pro-life people. A good bit of them don’t even provide ultrasounds, see here: https://youtu.be/CHGOBkX2esU, they aren’t ”innocent“ either considering that their founder used eugenics and wanted to lower the black population and used PP for that. They’ve also been found to sell baby parts, etc.

https://www.centerformedicalprogress.org/2020/05/planned-parenthood-testimony-on-selling-baby-parts-unsealed-new-videos-released/

they do however provide free birth control and condoms, STD testing, etc. But pregnancy crisis centers they also help them by providing diapers, food, formula and clothes and help the mother AFTER the baby is born … those are non profit organizations so there not getting paid either, they clearly want to help women and especially there child. PP and Pregnancy Crisis Centers both help, both do good and bad. PCC aren’t all of a sudden bad because they don’t support abortions. And, there not forcing you to not have an abortion.

TL;DR I don’t support pregnancy crisis centers that fake what they are and give out misinformation, we should be vocal about the fact that we’re anti-abortion. I do support them helping the mother and giving good sex-ed so that she won’t get pregnant and providing medical accuracy as well as having actual medical professionals there. I don’t support Planned Parenthood or any other abortion place, there JUST as biased as pregnancy crisis centers and even claimed that pro-life people are:

”Generally, people who identify as pro-choice believe that everyone has the basic human right to decide when and whether to have children. When you say you’re pro-choice you’re telling people that you believe it’s OK for them to have the ability to choose abortion as an option for an unplanned pregnancy — even if you wouldn’t choose abortion for yourself.

People who oppose abortion often call themselves  pro-life. However, the only life many of them are concerned with is the life of the fertilized egg, embryo, or fetus. They are much less concerned about the life of women who have unintended pregnancies or the welfare of children after they’re born. In fact, many people who call themselves “pro-life” support capital punishment (AKA the death penalty) and oppose child welfare legislation.

The black-and-white labels of “pro-life” and “pro-choice” pit people against each other, as if they’re on two different teams. But we agree more than we disagree: A majority of Americans believe abortion should be legal, and they support the right to access abortion.

We Say “Pro-Reproductive Rights” and “Anti-Abortion”

To be more clear and inclusive with our word choices, we at Planned Parenthood say “pro-reproductive rights” and “anti-abortion” to describe people’s beliefs about abortion access. The pro-reproductive rights and anti-abortion labels leave room for a variety of beliefs, while focusing on access to abortion specifically. “Accessing” abortion means having the ability to afford it, physically get to an abortion provider, and other factors that allow you to exercise your right to abortion care.

Pro-Reproductive Rights

When you say that you support reproductive rights, that means you support laws that allow people to access the full range of reproductive health care — including safe, legal abortion.

If you identify as pro-reproductive rights, it means you want to keep abortion legal and you believe people have the right to be able to access abortion.

Pro-reproductive rights folks oppose laws that ban abortion, as well as laws that keep abortion out of reach — like laws that shut down health centers or that force patients to jump through hoops to get the care they need.

Many pro-reproductive rights people also support access to birth control, sex education, care at Planned Parenthood health centers, and other forms of sexual and reproductive health care.

Anti-Abortion

Using the term “anti-abortion” is a more accurate way to describe people who want abortion to be illegal. Many anti-abortion people don’t believe that pregnant people should be able to choose abortion under any circumstances, even if their pregnancyis a result of rape or if carrying the pregnancy to term puts their life in danger.

Anti-abortion people tend to:

Disagree with most medical authorities about the definition of pregnancy. They mistakenly believe that pregnancy begins with the fertilization of the egg. Most authorities believe that pregnancy begins when the implantation of the fertilized egg into the lining of the uterus is complete.

They believe that people should not be allowed to use birth control.

They want to overturn the 1973 U.S. Supreme Court decision in Roe v. Wade. In that decision, the court ruled that a woman’s right to choose abortion is protected by the Constitution and that abortion is legal throughout the United States.

The Bottom Line

“Pro-choice” and “pro-life” labels don’t reflect the complexity of how most people actually think and feel about abortion. Instead of putting people in one category or another, we should respect the real-life decisions people and their families face every day.

Decisions about whether to choose adoption, end a pregnancy, or continue a pregnancy should be made by a pregnant person with the counsel of their family, their faith, and their health care provider. Politicians should not be involved in anyone’s personal medical decisions about their reproductive health or pregnancy.”

Planned Parenthood is just as biased, but I do support the fact that they provide more then abortions, but abortion is definitely there main money maker.

#anon hate #not replying #prolife #pregnancy crisis centers #good luck #planned parenthood

[cryptovalid]

Some things I wanted to share with you all

-2020 was the best year I can remember for my personal growth

-I’m fitter, happier, less poor and more stable than I have been in almost a decade.

-When I started going to serious, 24 hrs/week therapy a couple of years ago, I was not able to imagine having anything resembling a future.

-I hated myself deeply and I didn’t even know how I was slowly killing myself through neglect.

-I ate and slept like shit and was afraid to talk to people.

-I applied for any job I could with absolutely no confidence just because if I didn’t, my social security would stop coming.

-I did some painful, exhausting things and some self-destructive things so I wouldn’t have to confront my shit.

-Therapy was terrifying and I thought I was ‘terrible at it.’ That should tell you everything you need to know about my mental health. All told that therapy lasted for two years.

-Afterwards, I was a lot better at taking care of myself. I felt like I deserved good things. I know I wasn’t a piece of shit and that my feelings weren’t weird, inexplicable or toxic. And neither are yours.

-I still regularly relapsed. Still do. But now I can tell much sooner what’s happening, and I know to take care of my emotions without judgment.

-I started a job as a kind of customer service/IT worker. It didn’t pay much, but it was very important to my structure. 

-My case worker allowed me to work without sending in weekly applications, even though legally I was mandated to because I still received assistance from the government. He hooked me up with an organisation that gave away free professional clothing to job seekers, and got me into a reintegration program.

-Unlike some of the more humiliating jobseeker programs I’d done, my liaison there understood that not every jobseeker needs the same thing. She repeatedly assured me that since I was already working, I wasn’t obligated to apply if I wasn’t psyched about a job. We talked about things like self-care and the hobbies I was taking up. She understood I was desperate and anxious and that was holding me back. She saw me as a whole person and nurtured my self-confidence when I wasn’t cutting myself enough slack. I didn’t find the right job until last june, when the program was already done. Thank you Inssaf.

-I hired a friend of mine as a dating coach. She also recognized that my lack of self-confidence was tripping me up. I got into tantra and meditation and journalling and although that was a year ago, I credit her advice with my growing self-esteem (even though dating is still terrifying to me, even without COVID). 

-I started a better meal plan, was diagnosed with celiac’s and together with my physical therapy sessions twice a week I really started to get fitter. I dropped several sizes and my clothes are too big now.

-This december I signed a contract with one of the biggest Universities in Europe as part of their IT-department until the end of the academic year. I highly doubt they’ll let me go after that: the department is stretched thin at the moment and likely always was. So far, I think I’m doing well and my coworkers agree.

-I’m going to be moving to a new appartment soon. I’ll be able to save money. Buy a new wardrobe. Maybe take a vacation. All of this was nearly unthinkable 4 years ago.

-I’m not telling you this could be your story. I know I was lucky, and it still wasn’t easy.

-I only know that if I hadn’t been patient and forgiving with myself, if other people hadn’t been, This wouldn’t be possible.

-I’m so proud of that guy that hated himself. It might look like he did everything wrong, but he is also the one who asked for help. However codependent and self-destructive he could be, he did go to therapy to talk about things that terrified him to strangers, expecting that like all therapy before it, it wouldn’t help.

-He clawed his way out of a deep dark pit lined with rusty nails when he could have sat down and waited to die. And I’m grateful he didn’t.

-You don’t have to love yourself right away. You just need to survive. 

-Maybe your problems are worse than mine. Maybe you won’t be as lucky as I was. But luck is nothing but numbers. Survive long enough, and chances are good stuff will happen eventually. You’ll find things to appreciate about yourself. And if you’re reading this, I hope you’ll keep taking that chance as long as you have to.

-This is not a celebration of the free market. I was absolutely bailed out by a social safety net that was sufficient to keep me alive and somewhat dignified, and a healthcare system that paid for most of my basic needs and treatments. Without those things I would be DEAD. But now I have the resources to make different decisions to engage with activism and politics differently. And if nothing else, I have as much of a chance to see a postcapitalist world as the next person.       

-This is NOT a bootstrapping narrative. My friends and several professionals helped me recover from mental illness. I won’t deny my own hard work and insight, but I can’t take all the credit.

-I am NOT special. I guarantee you I didn’t survive this shit because I’m some kind of enlightened being. With enough time, community and self-care, I believe anyone can lead a dignified life.

-Thank you for reading this. Stay safe, stay in touch with your emotions and boundaries, and be patient with yourself in 2021.

#about me #mental health

[saundraswriting]

Need Some TLC Chapter 7: Sick at Bucky’s

SUMMARY:You make you way home after the longest week in a long time. You more tired then you every have been coupled with the beginning of the flu. You decide to take the Captain and Sargent up on their offer. They force you to res

WARNING: None

You pursed your lips and eyed the red key with hesitation. You did promise to use the key if you needed to sleep after a rough stint at the hospital. You were tired-beyond tired-and not feeling well. You wanted to use the key, you knew that you were in no shape to care for yourself. You were dizzy and cotton mouthed. You could feel yourself swaying as you blinked. Your heart was racing and you knew you were dehydrated. This was definitely time to use the key, even if they weren't there F.R.I.D.A.Y would be able to monitor you for them.

'Maybe they only offered out of politeness and responsibility. They only see you as an obligation. Captain America would surely offer his apartment out of neighborly obligation. Maybe they don't like me anyway.' Your thoughts grew more and more depressing and anxious, your sleep deprivation getting to you. While you debated on taking the two men up on their proposition your feet chose to make the decision for you. You stopped outside their door and fingered the key. 'Fuck it! They won't mind. I certainly don't. Maybe they will even be here to keep me company.' With that thought you inserted the key and turned. You hadn't seen Bucky before work in a day or two, you vaguely remembered him mentioning needing to be in the compound. You took a deep breath and slouched against the door using your body weight to push it open.

You stepped in quietly closed the door hoping to be unobtrusive. You pulled your bags off and sat them on the floor, keeping the strap in your hand. You looked up to scan the apartment, once and then twice before you recognized the crowd of people in the living room. You squinted and looked at the key in you hand and back to the room. Your eyes were having trouble focusing. You finally locked on to blue eyes staring at you in obvious concern. Bucky was sitting on a couch by himself.

"I'm sorry." You said to the room. "Sargent Barnes and Captain Rogers told me to come over if I ever needed to. I have worked a lot lately." You yawned deeply and swayed. You were struggling to stay on your feet after a 20 hour day. You were slowly losing your ability to stay awake but you couched down to gather your bags. The migraine you had shoved away was coming back with a vengeance. "I can go? I don't want to interrupt." Bucky interrupted before you could make to leave.

"Y/N, c'mon. Lay down. You need to sleep. You are always welcome here. Now let go of the bag and come here." Bucky patted the couch next to him. You did as he said letting the bags slouch against each other on the floor. Steve and the others watched with thinly veiled interest. Most didn't know who you were let alone why you had a key or why Bucky was being so soft and dotting. You stumbled over to Bucky like a drunkard, not able to focus. Steve was glad he cleared a path for you. You sat on the couch with a groan and with Bucky's encouragement and help laid down. Almost instantly you were settling. Bucky smiled and pulled off your shoes and socks and emptied your pockets. He reached up and gently took your ponytail out. He tucked a pillow behind your head and wrapped you in a blanket. You sighed deeply and gave a  final wiggle to get comfortable.

"You okay, sweetheart? I have been worried." Bucky said as he tucked you in.

"Fine. Just want to stop. Tired. People just need to do their job." You spoke with forced enunciation, a choppiness to your words. "I am cold and nauseous and achy." You slurred. The sensation of being taken care of, of safety and closeness helping ease your tense muscles and tired brain into drowsiness.

"I know, darling. A good rest will help put you to rights." He began rubbing your feet where they rested in his lap. You peered up at him with suspicion.

"You are doing this on purpose. I should stay up. Keep my schedule. Somewhat." You told him. He glared at you with a twinge of heat. "Or, I can just lay here and take a nap." Bucky nodded and rewarded you with a smile. "Fine don't let me sleep too long. You have company." You ordered. He nodded but the twinkle in his eye told you that your next few days would be spent in his care getting better.

"Sure thing, sweetheart. I will wake you in a few hours." Bucky murmured in your ear, adjusting the pillow and blanket. With that you fell asleep between one breath and the next.

Bucky watched you for a few minutes. He instinctively counted your rapid, shallow breaths and fast, hard  heartbeats. Your face was pale and blotchy, a grey tint at the very edges of your skin. Bucky felt his concern and worry grow in his chest.

"Steve, do we have a thermometer?" Bucky asked smoothing a hair from your face. It was greasy and he could feel the dry shampoo build up in your roots.

"Want us to leave the room?" Clint teased. "We can leave if you want." Bucky knew even though he was joking, Clint and the others would leave if asked.

"Stop. She is sick and tired. She came here for comfort. I am trying to reteach her affection and friendship. She doesn't have anyone-by circumstance or choice I do not know. I want to be there for her. Like she is for me. Us." Bucky said.

"Bucky, even I can tell from here, she has a fever. You want me to call Bruce?" Steve asked. He handed over the thermometer, telling Bucky to just scan your forehead.

"Bruce isn't that kind of doctor he continually tells us. She is actually a healthcare professional." Bucky took your temperature and winced at the number. "101.3. The is a little high. She should stay here this weekend."

"Agreed. But we both knew she was staying even before the fever. But let's get to lunch and games. She'll sleep like the dead." Steve's lack of concern in his weekend being crashed confused the others but they said nothing.

The group began bickering over what to do for lunch and which game to play. Eventually they decided on pizza and Trivial Pursuit. While they ate and played, Bucky split his attention between his friends and you. He didn't want to keep you on the couch for too long. He was also thinking of ways to get you fever down and rehydrate you. A loud bout of laughter rang through the apartment, Natasha glowering at Sam and Clint. The sudden noise broke through your sleep causing you to stir and whine softly.

"Hush, darling." Bucky murmured in your ear. You settled at the sound of his voice. Clint looked on with warmth in his gaze. He was always a sucker for people in need. His apartment buildings were always full of people trying to get back on their feet for something.

"Wake her in two hours. That will give her one full R.E.M cycle. Give her some regular water or Gatorade and some soup broth to help rehydrate her. Give her some Tylenol to get the fever down at first then bed. Then tomorrow push fluids and good food. She should be better in no time." Clint told Bucky as the pizza arrived and everyone scrambled for some like vultures. Bucky nodded and thanked Clint as he stroked your hair or rubbed a thumb on your ankle while your feet rested in his lap.

"Okay. I know she has been neglecting herself. She baseline is dehydrated, overworked, sleep deprived, and malnourished. I have a lot to fix. She doesn't even seem to understand that she can rely on people or that she deserves  basic things. I know that she has some mental health problems-who doesn't-but I want her to know that working through them like this isn't healthy. I want her to know she can rely on us. on me. to help." Bucky told Clint. Bucky felt better with instructions. He made a mental note to research modern medicine to better help anyone in the future. The relief settled him so he could play games and enjoy his friends.

The predetermined two hours was just about up, Bucky was thinking on how to wake you up when your phone began vibrating. The caller ID screen read Work. The vibrating made you stir but Bucky snatched it off the table before you awoke and answered it. The team instantly was silent.

"Hello?" Bucky was hesitant, he didn't want to invade your privacy and he didn't want to wake you just yet either.

"Hello. I'm sorry? I was trying to reach Y/N? I am Diane from Mercy Hospital General Care Ward." The woman on the other end of the call was polite but confused.

"This is her phone. She is unavailable. Can I take a message?" Bucky sounded calm but his right hand was clenched tightly and his eyebrows dipped together in a frown.

"I know that today is her first day off in sometime but I needed to ask her-" Bucky didn't let her finish before he rejected her statement.

"Absolutely not." Bucky's voice was as sharp as flint.

"Pardon me?" Diane's voice rose in pitch.

"Y/N has just gotten off of 4 16 hour shifts and 2 20 hour shifts. Just this week. She is ill and tired. I am sorry to disappoint you but she will continue to be unavailable until Tuesday as scheduled." Bucky was firm and just shy of rude, he was not giving on this issue even a millimeter.

"Very well. Thank you for your help. I hope she feels better. Good day." Diane hung up not waiting for Bucky's response. Bucky placed the phone back on the table trying not to move you too much.

"Good job, Bucky!" Steve grinned at his friend. Everyone looked on bewildered.

"Bucky, that maybe was a little too far? She should've made that decision herself?" Pietro asked.

"No, she would've forced herself to go in. The state she is in would do more harm then good. She knows they need her but she also knows they need her healthy. I took away the guilt of saying no from her." Bucky defended himself.

"Also me going in with a little bug can lead to huge problems, even if I am careful. Who was it on the phone? Everyone knew I was unreachable until Tuesday, unless it was an emergency." You cut into the conversation with a yawn.

"Y/N! I am sorry did we wake you?" Steve leaned over the back of the couch by Bucky's shoulder.

"No. I heard you talking but I was freaking out about oversleeping and next thing I know, I am awake. Sort of." You said while stretching. "Claudia was definitely right."

""Claudia?" Steve repeated.

"A night nurse, I knew. She told me that sometimes it is good to sleep with people near. Humans are social creatures when sleeping too. Helps the brain relax." You explained to Steve before turning to Bucky. "You didn't answer my question."

"Diane."

"Man, fuck Diane. I hate her. Thank you for telling her no for me." You smiled at Bucky, who smiled back feeling relief. "What was my temp?" You asked seeing the thermometer on the coffee table.

"101.3." Steve said. He and the others watched as you blinked blearily around the room.

"Temporal? Then it is probably 102 even 103. I have a high grade fever. I will need to push fluids." You pushed up to a sitting position, throwing a hand out to ride out the dizziness.

"Your iron is low. You are anemic." A man with short dirty blonde hair said.

"Huh?" You blinked at him. "Oh, yeah. But not from being sick. I haven't been eating well." You narrowed your eyes at the man who you were speaking to, then widened them in recognition. "Sargent Barnes...I know we discussed me trading baked good for name-dropping bragging rights but I think it will have to wait." You said.

Bucky laughed and helped you sit up. "They aren't here for your baked goods today. They are here for Team-Bonding. Anyway sweetie, lets get you some fluids and food and meds. Then you can go to bed in my room. Bucky took your elbow in hand and helped you stand up and guided you towards the kitchen.

"'Bucky, it's nothing to make a fuss about. I am fine. Let me go home, please I have chores to do." You halfheartedly pulled at you arm.

"Y/N, I don't think so. Come on, food, water, meds, sleep, hun. In that that order. I will even loan you my shirt to sleep in." Bucky's grip didn't slacken at your tugging. You looked between the kitchen and his front door before the words registered.

"The red one?" You asked quietly like it was a secret. "It is my favorite."

"If you want. You can have anything you want." Bucky kept the thrill he felt when you admitted to having a favorite shirt of his. Bucky wanted to repeat his demands but knew that you knew them.

You felt like shit and having someone to dote on you wouldn't be unwanted. You knew from past experience that being sick was terrible but being sick and alone was unbearable.

"Fine. I will eat and take meds then I will go home. I am not interrupting your Team-Bonding any more than I already have." You tell Bucky. You peek at his teammates-who some you recognize and some you don't-you were trying to look like they weren't just watching the two of you. Bucky nodded at you with an overly innocent look.

"Yes, My dear. Whatever you say." You flinched at his words and Bucky looed at you with a question in his eyes as he helped you sit down in the kitchen island.

You sat down ungracefully still groggy and wibbly. You placed you head on crossed arms but kept your eyes on Bucky. "Don't call me that. That is what my dad called my mom when they would fight." You mumbled.

"Okay, baby-girl, okay." Bucky pulled out a bowl and served you some soup he'd been simmering for a while. You stayed slumped in your chair patiently, zoning out, listening to Bucky puttering around the kitchen and the others playing their game. Bucky glanced over to you and saw your glazed over eyes and pale skin and purple smudges under your eyes. He felt his heart clench at your appearance. Bucky brought over the bowl, pressing featherlight kiss to your hair. "Here's some soup. Full disclosure? This is yours, from when Steve's nightmares started acting up last month? I froze it and thawed it out to eat today." You huffed a laugh and leaned your weight into Bucky's chest for a second before pulling away to eat. Bucky sat down next to you. Tylenol and water found their home next to the bowl of soup. You began to dig in, slowly. Bucky sat with you for a bit.

"Good idea to freeze it. I need to make some stuff. Especially if I am going to use it as bribery to meet everyone. Sargent Barnes? Go on and play. You did your job. I will eat drink and be miserable right here, then I shall steal your clothes and bed. You'll never get rid off me then." You tried to get him to go to his teammates, guilt flooding you for taking him away from his team.

Bucky only grinned at you, dimples showing, eyes lighting up. "That is kinda the plan, doll. Minus the be miserable part." Bucky ruffled your hair affectionately.

"Cause I'm your girl?" You said teasingly. But you could hear the insecurity behind it and knew he could too.

"Yep. My girl. My best girl." Bucky said without hesitation. You beamed at him, reassured for now. you nudged him with you elbow. "Go on, play your games. I think, though, Trivial Pursuit is an unfair advantage for the others considering you were locked away like a pint of Ben and Jerry's for 70 years."

Bucky tuned in time to see everyone direct their gaze from the two of you. He sighed but said nothing, knowing the behavior was born from concern for him and curiosity about you. Not just anyone had a key to their apartment or free rein over it either. Bucky turned to see you went back to eating. He sat down to go back to the game. "Okay, we got at max 45 minutes until she is out again. I gave her nighttime cold medication instead of regular Tylenol." Steve clapped in friend on the back in support. They would apologize when you woke back up again.

"You gonna introduce us? She said she wanted to meet us." Natasha asked. Bucky could see how antsy everyone was to meet you. He knew his answer wouldn't help. "Not right now. She needs rest. One day yes. She won't appreciate being dropped into a first meeting. She works very hard and she is very important to me. I don't want to cause her distress."

"I know that isn't what you guys want to hear but please be patient. She is amazing, she was completely unfazed when we asked to help her move in and she realized who we are. She didn't freak out or anything. Just thanked us and dropped off cookies. She is a polite and considerate woman who deserves our respect. She'll want to meet you when she believes she won't embarrass us." Steve took over when Bucky trailed off. "She takes care of us when she can, because she doesn't take car of herself." Steve raised his voice to carry into the kitchen.

"That's fucking rich coming from the multiple 4-F-lying-on-government-forms-jumping-without-parachutes-reckless idiot." You snapped back finally standing up from the table. You eyed the dishwasher but ultimately decided to put you bowl in the sink, you headache had shrank but you still feared it falling off if you bent over.

"If you have time to sass Steve, you time to take meds." Bucky reminded you.

"I just took them, dad." You stuck your tongue out at him. "Do I get to be introduced?" You smiled but Bucky could see the tense set of your shoulders and how your eyes jumped from person to person.

"Nope. I am not giving you any excuse to skip your nap. Go on, if you want to take a show-"

You moaned in delight. "Oh, god, yes, please." You shuffled over to where you knew the bathroom to be not paying attention to how Bucky was struggling to push down thoughts of how else he could get those noises out of you.

"Everything is in the bathroom." Bucky called out as the door shut. He spun to face Steve, eyes wide and hands wringing. "Steve" Bucky whined pitifully.

Steve looked up to see Bucky's distraught look. Steve offered no support only shaking his head in amusement.  Bucky flopped down, feeling dramatically unsettled. He was aware he had a possessive streak a mile wide and you were going to be wet and slippery in his shower, using his soaps, wearing his clothes, sleeping in his bed. It was enough to fell a weaker man but Bucky was better than that. He would respect your boundaries and wait for the proper opening. Laughter from the game grabbed his attention, he chose to actively follow the game feeling guilty about his raunchy thoughts and neglect of his friends. "Sorry, guys. I didn't mean to ignore you."

Natasha didn't say anything just smiled knowingly at the ever so slight sheen of sweat at Bucky's temple. The Maximoff Twins waved away the apology.

"Dude, if I was you, I would have kicked everyone out and taken care of my girl." Sam said.

"She would have left first. She sees herself as the second choice. Something I hope to unlearn her of. I want to help her more, slowly I am learning her personality. But I constantly freeze in the moment. She's always so busy. I am trying to help by making her lunch and keeping her place tidy. That really seemed to help." Bucky said.

"That is a good idea. Why not invite her as your date to the Stark Charity Gala in a few months?" Sam suggested. Bucky seemed to think on it for a moment and looked to Steve, who nodded.

"Fine. I will ask her to the gala. that should give her time to find a dress and get off work." The group cheered lightly. "But!" They paused. "I will only ask her as my official date if Steve asks Tony. No matter what I will ask her to go for a night out because she deserves it." Bucky challenged his old friend. The other members of the team cheered once more. Steve and Tony's mutual pining was frustrating enough, adding on Bucky and yours's was nauseatingly frustrating.

The excitement of the possible feelings resolution was enough to get everyone involved in the game once more. Bucky kept an ear out for you in case you needed something. 20 minutes later and you shuffled out of the bathroom, looking extremely refreshed. Bucky almost swallowed his tongue, his red shirt and sweat draped off your much smaller frame and he could smell his shampoo in your hair and his body wash on your skin.

"Sargent Bar-"Bucky shot you a look. "James." Earned you another. "Bucky" You sighed. "Bucky, Steve, everyone, sorry I ruined you afternoon. I didn't mean to intrude." You played with the hem of his shirt, looking small and tired.

"We already covered this. You didn't ruin anything." Bucky said firmly without any heat. You flinched anyway. "I gave you a key. I want you to use it. I didn't give it to you with conditions, I gave it to you for both my sanity and yours." Bucky got up and walked over to you. "I am glad you used it today. Please understand, you are my best girl. I want you here, wearing my clothes, smelling like me. I want you with me, near me, all of it." Bucky paused. He was coming on strong and he didn't want to push you away.

"I know. But...I don't want to assume anything.:" you said quietly into his chest. Bucky pulled you into a tight hug. He rubbed your back with one hand and stroked your hair with his metal hand.

"Assume away, pretty girl. I may have reached out because you had helped us so much but now? I want you around because I want you and I care for you." Bucky held you tight for another moment.

"Okay. I am sorry. I am a mess. I get whiny and insecure when I am sick." You pressed your face deeper into his chest.

"Y/N, you are a registered nurse, living on her own in NYC. You are friends with most if not all the Avengers. You are sweet and amazing and compassionate. I know sometimes the hard days turn into hard weeks and you get lost in the fog but you are working through it. You know when to ask for help even if you hate it. You aren't a mess. Maybe a little disheveled but that is easy to straighten out." Bucky pulled away slightly to slid his left hand to your back and his right to your thighs, picking you up to cradle in his arms. "Now, let's get you into bed. You still have two day off and a cold to get rid of."

"Okay, Bucky. Thank you." You mumbled. You wanted to tell him to put you down but the idea of being coddled and carried won out quickly. Your awareness was getting fuzzy around the edges. "You didn't give me Tylenol did you?" You said as Bucky tucked you into his bed. He turned on some music very softly to drown out the noise in the living room, not answering you.

"You need anything, ask me. I mean it, anything. Until then...Sleep tight, my sweet girl. See you later." Bucky kissed you temple, heading towards the door.

"Thank you, sweetheart." You mumbled before nodding off. Bucky physically melted, tension leaving his back and shoulders as he shut the door.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #protective Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x nurse! reader #bucky barnes x medical! reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x tony stark #steve rogers fanfiction #Stony #saundrasays #saundraswriting #Need Some TLC fic

[asking-jude]

i’m 16 and from the uk, and i’m going to a doctor soon as i think i might be depressed. i’ve also struggled with self harm and suicidal thoughts, however my mum doesn’t know that. i’m just wondering if the doctor will keep it between us when i tell them that. i don’t want to lie obviously, but i really would prefer if my mum didn’t know about those things. i don’t have an intention of committing suicide, but the thoughts trouble me a lot. i’d just like to know what the doctor will ask me about.

Hi there-

Thanks so much for reaching out to us at Asking Jude. I applaud the bravery and courage it must have taken to write this post. After doing some research on confidentiality laws in the UK, I have an idea of what the doctor will ask you about.

First, if you are going to a GP, the doctor will most likely refer you to a therapist or a psychiatrist once he/she hears that you are experiencing depression, self-harm, and suicidal thoughts. As long as you clearly state that you have no intention of killing yourself and have no plan of doing so, then the GP is not obligated to tell your mom. As someone who is 16 years of age, you are protected by the same confidentiality extended to adults. However, if the GP thinks that you are in danger of severely harming yourself or others, he/she will be legally required to tell your parent. After you are referred to a therapist or psychiatrist, more confidentiality measures are put in place. 

Please see this wonderful website about confidentiality and self-harm for teens under 18. https://www.themix.org.uk/mental-health/self-harm/confidentiality-and-self-harm-5685.html

In regards to therapy, all information will be kept confidential except “if the therapist is concerned that you’re at serious risk of harming yourself or someone else. They may need to inform your GP, a healthcare professional or someone else. They should tell you first if they’re going to do this.” (https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/drugs-and-treatments/talking-therapy-and-counselling/what-happens-in-therapy/#.XG65KfZKh-U) This would only occur if your therapist thinks that you have a plan to kill yourself. However, therapists are trained to know that suicidal ideation and self-harm are much different from actually contemplating and carrying through suicide. They are more likely to help you learn coping skills to deal with these thoughts and compulsive behaviors than to tell your mom or a doctor. Thus, your parent would only be notified if you explicitly give consent to the therapist to do so, or if the therapist thinks you are going to kill yourself. 

Please see the following websites for more information about how the therapy process works in the UK:

https://www.kingsleynapley.co.uk/insights/blogs/defending-professionals-law-blog/telling-tales-on-your-patients-what-are-the-limits-of-therapeutic-confidentiality-and-what-are-lawful-disclosures

https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/drugs-and-treatments/talking-therapy-and-counselling/what-happens-in-therapy/#.XG65KfZKh-U

https://youngminds.org.uk/find-help/feelings-and-symptoms/suicidal-feelings/

Do not hesitate to contact any of the following organizations if you feel like you need to talk to someone immediately. 

——YoungMinds Crisis Messenger

Provides free, 24/7 crisis support across the UK if you are experiencing a mental health crisis

If you need urgent help text YM to 85258

All texts are answered by trained volunteers, with support from experienced clinical supervisors

Texts are free from EE, O2, Vodafone, 3, Virgin Mobile, BT Mobile, GiffGaff, Tesco Mobile and Telecom Plus.

——Papyrus (Prevention of Young Suicide)

www.papyrus-uk.org

Confidential advice and support for young people who feel suicidal.

HOPELineUK: 0800 068 41 41

Text: 07786 209 697

Email: [email protected] 

——-Samaritans 

www.samaritans.org

If you’re in distress and need support, you can ring Samaritans for free at any time of the day or night.

Freephone (UK and Republic of Ireland): 116 123 (24 hours)

Email: [email protected]

——-Also check out the Asking Jude Youtube channel: https://www.youtube.com/c/AskingJude

All the best, 

Breanna Shearin 

Asking Jude needs YOUR help! Donate pocket change here and save our safe space.

#ask #advice #mental health

[sunplanter]

No no, it wasn't either of those posts. My b. The more recent one.

I’m still kinda confused as to what you’re referencing then.

If it’s the wlw one that mentions Janelle Monae and Hayley Kiyoko, I’ll direct you back to point 1 in my last answer to your previous ask (plus maybe read my tags on that post idk it that’ll help shed light on what I think of the issue or not but it’s worth a try lol).

If it’s the post abt Jeff Bezos and comparing his income to those of poor Amazon workers then idk what to say if you don’t see something inherently wrong with that picture. Idk what to tell you if you truly think someone needs/should be in possession of a billion+ dollars.

And if this is maybe abt that post that’s like “hey don’t tell your trauma to random people/your friends if they don’t necessarily want to hear it” then I don’t understand your point? How is that narcissistic? It’s very important to take into consideration other peoples feelings and reactions to what you choose to tell them. Your friends aren’t your therapists. And I actually think it’s kinda the other way around, that it’s more narcissistic to believe that you’re entitled to tell others your problems and expect them to help you, especially if they aren’t qualified to do so. Sorry, but if you really need to deal with trauma and some things in life on a professional level, you need to seek actual help for that (and do so carefully bc our healthcare system in the US under capitalism can sometimes fail us completely). Also I don’t wanna get random anons that say stuff like, “oh my god I’m gonna kill myself tonight I’m so so suicidal no one loves me,” like that’s awful. It’s obviously a bad situation for that person, but why are they coming to me? Now I feel a moral obligation to try to help, when I can basically do nothing for them. This just puts added pressure on me because of course I don’t want people to feel that way! But like… for my own mental health it shouldn’t be my priority problem to have to help others in that way. I’ll support them through recovery and encourage them to continue on their path to betterment, but to act like I’m their therapist while they’re also not searching for actual help for their personal issues could be just as hurtful to me and my mental health. And me not wanting to be someone’s personal therapist while also having to deal with my own issues isn’t narcissistic.

If this is about none of these posts… I have no idea what you’re talking abt dude I’m sorry 😂

#answers #I’m so lost omg #also @ anon: if any of my responses come off as unwelcoming or critical I’m just basically preparing for the worst of the worst #when it comes to your supposed ideologies abt those situations #also I’m just going off of the pretty defensive attitude of your first ask #but i hope all my insight on these things doesn’t come off as overly critical to the point where it feels like I’m belittling you!! because #I really don’t know your whole opinion on whatever you’re talking abt #and I’m just going blind here and expecting the worst tbh!! #so yeah hopefully no harm no foul! #also if we do happen to really have extremely opposing insights when it comes to these things #and at least some of my assumptions are correct #I still hope my ‘rebuttal’ (or whatever lol) to your ask #*asks #still doesn’t come off as too harsh or judge mental (past the point of me just saying that I’m not entirely certain your presumed ideologies #are on par with my moral compass lol) #like don’t get me wrong I mean it when I say that I don’t understand how you could just say that expecting people to be kind to others is a #bad/narcissistic thing #but like I don’t hate you for it I mean that’s your opinion #I don’t think it’s correct and I don’t think it has a lot of issues #but I’m not gonna hold myself ‘above you’ indefinitely because of that if that makes sense ?? #like ok I think you’re wrong in some ways in regards to how I see things but #I don’t think that makes me narcissistic #especially when it’s mostly concerning ideals abt kindness and acceptance towards others #like for example is me pointing out that someone automatically disliking people for x (sexuality #race disability etc) #narcissistic? #like idk I just don’t think pointing out the wrongness in prejudice and discrimination is necessarily narcissistic at all #especially when at least I’m my case #I’m doing so not to point out how better my take on things is but to really highlight how problematic and hurtful the issue is for others #idk I’m rambling sry!!!

[drrobertmacarthur]

Dr. Robert MacArthur

Dr. Robert MacArthur

Excitement About Dr. Rob Macarthur

As necessary, it is very important for you to clarify exactly how this injury is actually different. For instance, if the earlier accident cured a number of years earlier as well as you haven't experienced any sort of pain or symptoms for time, inform the doctor that Dr. Robert MacArthur RM. Or, if you are actually experiencing brand new signs, additional pain, or even added restrictions due to this brand new personal injury, make sure to define all of them.

Keep in mind that you might be under monitoring leaving behind the workplace, so do not perform anything irregular with your injuries or what you said at the test. Dr. MacArthur. The IME medical professional will certainly write a file after the examination, and also you or your lawyer need to receive a duplicate. Review it meticulously as well as deliver up any sort of valid mistakes concerning your clinical history or even procedure.

Depending on the rules in your condition, your legal professional might have the capacity to demand one more IME along with a variety of medical professionals to counter the first inspector's opinion. Dr. MacArthur, RM. Your attorney might likewise submit objections, perform a deposition to inquire of the very first supervisor, and make use of all of the other available employees' comp techniques for guarding your civil liberties. Robert MacArthur.

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Intend you've experienced an occupational injury and have actually currently applied for workers' settlement benefits. During that suit, you recognize what's coming next: Researchers found out that there are actually over 4. 5 million workplace traumas annually, and also employees' remuneration asserts payouts completed some $62 billion in 2017, a shocking amount of money.

You see, a visit with an insurance company-appointed medical professional is a crucial part of the insurance claims procedure in any sort of laborer's compensation instance. If an employer has a hurt employee on their hands, after that the insurance policy business will definitely intend to perform every little thing they may to verify the level of the accident as well as strive to minimize their liability.

This way, the laborers' payment insurance provider will certainly have a much better understanding of the reason, the level, and also regulations of your personal injuries as well as manage to create a decision on your compensation case. If you have actually been contacted to complete an IME or even you are actually counting on the demand coming from the insurance carrier then below's what you require to find out about the method Dr. MacArthur RM.

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Things about Doctor Macarthur RM

However, prior to our team diving in, a quick meaning. An IME is actually a formal clinical test made use of to assess the magnitude of your common work environment personal injury. Once the insurance provider is alerted of your case, they are going to seek that you accept an Independent Medical Exam (IME). Individual health care tests are normally requested when: The insurance policy company disagrees along with your personal physician's point of view Arrangements along with the claims insurer are actually taking as well long, or even becoming too costly Your handling medical professional identifies complete or limited handicap While insurance provider place this as a "request," create no oversight: This doctor administering the IME will definitely be actually a specialist on employees' payment instances and accidents.

If your company's insurance provider is demanded to recompense you for your workplace personal injury, after that you could be sure they'll carry out everything they can to confine the benefits payments - Dr. Robert Macarthur. The surest technique to confine your laborers' compensation is to possess "proof" coming from your laborers' remuneration medical professional that you're all set and toned to get back to work Dr. MacArthur.

Don't forget, the doctor's goal for your IME is to look at your job standing as well as calculate when you may return to work Doctor MacArthur, RM. The employees' medical professional is actually, besides, an extension of the insurer, which is actually why they must deal with each employees' comp case very carefully to confine their obligation.

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Robert Macarthur, RM for Dummies

Your medical professional can easily utilize your test results to find out the appropriate program of therapy and also healthcare. Besides, the quicker the injured staff member may go back to operate, the far better Dr. MacArthur. Throughout the independent medical examination, the physician's goal is to assess the degree of your job injury and also pass off this information to the insurance policy company.

Throughout the IME your medical professional will certainly begin to ask you concerning your clinical background, any kind of pre-existing problems, as well as any medical treatments you may possess made use of before. Be actually prepared to describe thoroughly exactly how your job mishap has impacted your day-to-day life as well as don't make an effort to minimize any sort of information. Therefore, see to it to discuss exact particulars that indicate how your quality of life has actually had to deal with the collision.

Nevertheless, the insurance coverage provider will prefer the new physician to become within its protection network - Doctor Rob MacArthur. The absolute most vital trait you can do throughout your IME is to be actually truthful. Insurance providers are skillful at finding disparities in your declarations and signs and symptoms as well as are going to utilize those disparities to destroy your laborers' comp case Dr. Robert Macarthur, RM.

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During the course of an IME the physician will certainly run you by means of a series of examinations and also exams to detect the reason for your discomfort, suffering, and also discomfort Dr. Rob MacArthur. Some of these tests are actually meant to determine your feedback to pain and even lack of response. You might think that overemphasizing your indicators will only enhance the chances of a sizable workers' compensation payout.

If you choose to exaggerate your signs and symptoms as well as the medical professional believes you aren't telling the reality, that may be actually reason good enough to reject your case - Doctor Robert MacArthur RM. Certainly not merely carry out employees' compensation medical professionals have a high level of intuition regarding whether patients are actually being actually genuine or even certainly not, they additionally have medical equipment as well as analysis innovation to uncover those overestimations. Doctor MacArthur RM.

You intend to leave your medical profession along with a positive, radiant feeling of you; you really want the doctor to become in your corner. As well as if you talk badly regarding your company, this may stain the medical professional's feeling of you Doctor MacArthur, RM. What's even more, those negative things you state concerning your employer might discover their way into your official health care record, casting additional questions on your scenario in its entirety.

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I've observed several write-ups on the web attempting to suggest on what not to state to an employees' compensation medical professional during an IME Dr. MacArthur, RM. Several of these short articles perform a suitable work, however in my knowledge, the principle that brings about excellence is basic: don't exist. You've been actually injured or hurt at the workplace. Robert MacArthur RM.

And while the seduction to overemphasize or embellish your problem might be solid, believe me when I claim that you must follow the realities and also be truthful concerning your tale. Below are 2 more ideas that are going to assist: You may think insurance coverage business will be actually more probable to refute your case if you presently possess existing conditions in your health care file.

Yet you should be actually prepared to define the instances of the previous or existing trauma. You should also manage to discuss how the ache from your new trauma is actually different or extra extreme than your aged trauma Dr. Robert Macarthur. That is key: if you may do that, there is actually no factor to hide an outdated accident.

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[trevorrain]

Recap

This is going to be a long text post. There is no TLDR.

About a week ago I expressed a few words of gratitude towards a follower. Thanking them for their time and for the content on their blog as well. They asked how the job was going and I couldn’t help but kind of laugh to myself when asked that. 

The last post I made on the goings on of myself was over a year ago from now, I believe. Not really thinking that people might be interested since nobody is really asking unless prompted.

Warning: Below I talk about dementia and other not so very happy things. I just need to get this off my chest. Don’t keep reading if you have a sensitivity to these things. Lord knows I understand.

I just feel the need to kind of ‘recap’ what happened in greater detail. Even so, there’s much being left unsaid. I’ll make a follow up post where I talk about the most recent goings on in my life.

But this night is one where I’m lost in melancholy, and I’ve been meaning to talk about the few things that have been occupying my mind as of late. 

But first, I want to clarify what had happened to me two years ago.

I was living with my parents. Helping to take care of them in a way. Having been born over a decade away from my nearest sibling in age. It was soon after moving to St. George Utah that my mother was diagnosed with Dementia that would turn into full blown Alzheimer syndrome. I was with her in the room during the diagnosis. For reasons that would take too long to explain, she wanted me to be there instead of my father, and I remember her holding my hand so very tight. She didn’t tell me where we were going and why.

It would be years still before she deteriorated to the point where she needed professional help. I knew I was inadequate to take care of her and pushed to have her admitted into a nursing home, or have skilled staff come to our home on a regular basis to give her the care she needed. Father’s insurance was not the best for helping long term. She had been admitted into a nursing facility temporarily while I worked on getting the neccisary papers to get medicaid approval.

Mother was a high fall risk. Rarely slept and would wander without caution. She sustained injuries as there was inadequate staff at the facility to watch her 24/7. She was in the hospital from those injuries when I was told she was approved the medicaid was approved. Just in time for her to be admitted into hospice. Due to the broken bones and bruising along with the rapid progression of her condition, she was not expected to last long. 

The time period is fuzzy to me. It was either a week or two weeks before we were told her last day was fast approaching. Father and I stayed up most of the night, waiting and listening. Among the details I’m skimming over is the sound of her breathing. I remember that the most, but I imagine it would be very unpleasant to read about. It’s my fear of causing pain by my story that keeps me from telling it in detail. Even if I want to.

Father and I decided to get a few minutes of sleep. I woke up to dad tapping me on the shoulder. Mom waited until we were both asleep before passing away. 

I had to stop typing for a few minutes after writing that.

The funeral was held that weekend. There was plenty of time to prepare. I returned home with my father, and we tried to figure things out from there. Tried alone, anyway. Father didn’t talk about his emotions, and we were different types of people. We weren’t close. Despite my hangups and so much that was never resolved between us, I still loved him.

He wasn’t eating much, so I tried to cook his favorite meals more often. He didn’t get out often, so I did most of the shopping. Doing what I could with a part time job. But understand that they both married when they were 21. They had been married for over 40 years.

One day I noticed he wasn’t feeling well. When trying to talk to him, he would respond with confusion, as if he didn’t understand what I was saying. He was acting strange. Due to the daily pain from extensive nerve damage from his working days, he would sleep in an easy chair rather than the bed. This night he chose the bed. I checked up on him the day after and found he hadn’t moved, and wasn’t responding to my questioning. I found things like the remote control he uses being put in the fridge and a few other abnormal signs of behavior.

I called the home healthcare people that were checking on him. They recommended I call an ambulance. I did.

He spent three days in the hospital and ended up recovering, but the doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. They only found he was low on potassium, and recovered not long after they gave him the needed IV fluids. Discharged within 3 days. 

A week, maybe two later, it happened again. A neighbor helped me get him into the car so I could drive him to the hospital this time. They ran almost every test they could think of on my father. He spent 7 days in the hospital this time before some recovery took place, and he only remembered the last 3 days of it. Again, it was low potassium. They couldn’t find the cause. 

Should be noted that a psychologist saw my father while I was away, and he was convinced my father also had dementia of some kind that was overshadowed mother’s more advanced condition.  I mentioned before my father never spoke about his feelings, not being one to believe in emotional health. Any question of his health when it came to mental or emotional was a lost cause.

And really, it was that kind of behavior I grew up with. But talking to my siblings, it’s possible that the parents that I grew up with were very different from those that raised my sisters and my brother. I’m... still processing this.

He was exhibiting late stage dementia. He never recovered fully from that last hospital visit. 

The health home that took my mother in for hospice agreed to look after my father for a few weeks, and I was happy to hear this at the time. They could monitor his health much closer and with a more skilled eye than I had.

But my father's antiquated behavior towards women made the female staff uncomfortable, they didn’t feel safe around him, and I was called to pick him up within 24 hours. 

Suddenly the care of a man three times my age was put upon me. I had taken the task in stride before now. I felt... oddly... older after my mother had past. Like I was stepping into a more adult role and I wanted to do well at it. I mentioned that getting my father in that facility was my way of figuring out how to better take care of him, I felt more in control. Then I get that call asking me to take him back. I was furious.

But I took him back. He wasn’t taking care of himself very well, so I doubled up on the groceries and the cooking. Trying to get him to eat with the little appetite he had. Setting up doctors appointments. He was complaining about his stomach hurting. Taking him to these appointments lead to him feeling very sick. He ended up cancelling one that I set up. I made him promise to go to the next one.

The day of the appointment is when he died. I found him sitting on the couch, pale. I knew something was wrong. I called an ambulance.

It’s harder for me to talk about dad passing more than it is with mom. I was closer to my mother, but the way my father passed, with the emotional burdens, the things the family found out in his medical records. It brings this whirlwind of emotion out, making this hard to write. Especially for how tired I am right now. Where I had weeks to say goodbye to mom, I lost my father to a heart attack in the middle of an Emergency room surrounded by doctors and technicians, being asked if they should keep doing chest compression, calling my sister because I couldn’t make a decision like that on my own.

It was made for me after they found he had bled out internally. Almost completely. There was no saving him.

I didn’t leave the hospital until after the mortuary sent someone for the body. After they did, I went home. It felt so empty. It would feel that way for weeks.

I don’t get many chances to talk about this. I haven’t had many. I had, for the longest time, resolved not to say anything until someone asked me. Nobody would ask. And I understand why. It’s a unique grief. People have said they couldn’t imagine how I feel, can’t imagine how it would make them feel. I suppose there’d be very little reason to ask my feelings because it’s a safe assumption that ‘bad’ would cover it. People feel like there’s little they could do, so often they don’t try. In the end, it’s unfair of me to judge others on my made up personal parameters like that.

I’ve talked with people that had completely forgotten about this aspect of my life. Makes me wonder if I’m doing any disservice to their memory by trying to sidestep something that effected me so much. That feels so real even years after. I don’t know. I’m starting to question why I’m even typing this up right now. Possibly a moment in grief.

Part of it is my fault. I’ve made it part of my life to try and be selfless. To bring some sort of happiness or contentment to people I meet. Friends, strangers, acquaintance, I care for the well being of. For me to go out of my way to find a friend or person to talk to feels almost aggressive. Like backing someone up in a corner and saying ‘Hey! I have a sad story, this will make you feel uncomfortable, but you can’t move due to me taking advantage of this unspoken obligation, taking hostage of your time!’ I don’t want to force people to commiserate with me.

But it doesn’t mean that I don’t want, or even actually need, this commiseration. Much of the fault lies with me keeping this bottled up for so long anyway.

I’m going to queue this post up for tomorrow. I need to get some sleep. I’ve got work tomorrow. I’ll try to draft an update of how I’m doing now then. Maybe help shake some of the cobwebs out of my head.  Goodnight for some, good morning for others.

Peace.

#dementia #real life #sadpost #past

[centaurrential]

“The Big See”

Before I start this next project, here are some addenda to my last post:

1. I made an error in my section on units of measurement. The time it takes for light to travel a meter is actually approximately 1/300,000ths of a second. However, what I said about using light as a standard for measurement still stands, and it’s pretty reasonable to at least think of it that way. That’s because light is sort of hierarchical in the sense that we obey it (at least we did, initially), and we don’t run the risk of falling into infinite regress, which according to professional philosophers is a problem (I might say that with a little sarcasm...). We didn’t build light like we do its human counterparts in terms of ‘boss-dom’; we only perform something like an irrigation.

2. An important intermediary in the psychology of a grocery shopper is an assumption that the supermarket will have what they need. The very fact that people even make these kinds of assumptions is indicative of how advanced our economy has become. So again, please stay mindful about the processes, that you don’t see plainly, that ensure you can have what you want. In one episode of “The Crown”, set some time in the 1960s, the Prime Minister of Great Britain (who happens to be the leader of the Labour Party - go figure) remarks that the opening of a new supermarket signals the “democratization” of food and other essentials, and he is quite right. Our essentials (and certainly non-essentials too!) have been consolidated into single, publicly accessible buildings--anyone can walk in and out. Many different products sit on the shelves, inertly, side by side--neighbours--as the inconspicuous faces of a wildly complex yet hidden ecosystem.

P.S. The link between human psychology and economics will resurface later in this post.

When developing characters, writers of fiction often comment on the momentum that launches the characters into writing themselves, almost independently of the author’s own mind. Hmm, I wonder why that is? Maybe it has something to do with that little thing that starts with the letter “A” and ends with “rchetypes”... I feel the same way about my own writing, which I view like a fiddlehead unfurling into a frond.

Ok, so, I was brought into this world at the intersection of a lot of different forces at work--I was a bridge between two completely different socio-economic classes, and I suppose that inevitably set me on a trajectory by which I would find myself in many, many diverse and often peculiar social situations. You know, if you’ve lived a quiet life that doesn’t involve zig-zagging from one insane scenario to the next, you’d assume that all people are a certain way. I will never say that I was always comfortable in such situations, but as a result of introspection and for my own sanity I needed to excavate some gratitude for those experiences. The reason for that is, the more difference, the more heterogeneity in the set of things you come into contact with, the more clearly you can see things for what they are. Here’s an analogy: It’s akin to the meaning of something, carved by a sentence. In the spirit of boundedness, sentences are then coated with another layer of meaning as they sit within paragraphs. Paragraphs within stories, and stories within ‘bodies of canonical literature’.

I admit it: I am a spy. When I was younger and less self-assured I’d often find myself the onlooker in social situations, and if I was a participant, it would often be to my detriment. Sometimes that was ‘cause something about me attracted negative attention, and sometimes because I found myself in a state of social paralysis, not having a clue what magic word would open the sky and send the ladder of social climbing down and within my reach. But in all of my glorious sponginess I picked up little observations here and there and so this, below, is the culmination of all that.

This is a commentary on human relationships, and particularly what people think they should offer to those relationships. I must make it clear that I am not pretending the problem is an easy one to solve because we are dealing with instinct, and deeply ingrained attitudes, but I do have principles and I do have an orientation that I prefer. Ultimately the way one chooses to act is their own prerogative (given a certain amount of knowledge that they possess), but there are always sacrifices to be made and consequences to think about. And for those who are capable of it, guilt is a beast.

I was once in a conversation with a mental health professional--a psychiatrist, to be exact. Meaning he had a legal licence to practise mental healthcare, to conduct psychotherapy, and to prescribe medication. He had what we think of as ‘credentials’. He said to me, “relationships don’t define you”.

WHAT?!

This is the kind of person that is entrusted with the emotional mending and security of a damaged individual, and these approaches to life are thought to be okay? Imagine someone impressionable, lost, misunderstood, and unable to understand people in return, taking this idiot’s word as law, and then applying that attitude toward their life’s activities from thereon out. It’s like, why the fuck are you feeling shitty in the first place? It’s because people can be cruel, and if you’re telling me that that’s not at all involved in forming your character, then...well, I just don’t know what to say to that. And the converse is true, too: as a human agent, you do have a responsibility to other people. This psychiatrist was basically saying that you are free from obligations to others, and I think that’s definitely reflected in the attitudes of the immature. If you don’t want that kind of responsibility then go be a hermit, completely alone, in the middle of nowhere, and let’s see how well you do. At least if you’re on your own you won’t have to be accountable to others.

You see, for the people who find themselves on the more radical side of the spectrum of reductionism, nothing and nobody is special, and nothing is sacred. In fact, I think reductionism breeds nihilism. (FYI, if you’re new to the idea of ‘reductionism’, it simply means that anything and everything can be explained in scientific terms. So for example, an emotion you may be feeling is only due to the presence of a hormone, or neurotransmitter, and along with that, its molecular structure and how that interacts with your neural structure.) Every damn thing can be explained to oblivion...

Fools.

Imagine physically entering a room with furnishings arranged a certain way, art of a particular kind on the wall, different colours interacting with one another, and the feeling you get when you take it all in. Do you feel good? It must mean the different elements giving the space definition are interacting harmoniously according to your innate sensibilities. Do you feel bad energy? Then there is something amiss. Maybe you can figure out what needs changing, maybe you can’t. Maybe it’s so overwhelmingly bad that you have to leave the space. I see human interaction the same way, and I challenge the reductionists to piece together every little detail about the nice room that they can, and then give me a scientific explanation for why those details produce a certain feeling. I want it to be revelatory enough to make me go, “So THAT’s why!!!”

I hope you trust your grammar.

I don’t know much about feng shui, but I’d imagine what I described above is similar. And because it’s obvious different people have different aesthetic preferences, it follows that the ‘energetic configurations’ they prefer are different too. By now you probably realize that when I use the term “energy” I’m not using it like E = mc2, I’m using it in the New Age way.

Sometimes quasi-reductionists allow for things called “emergent properties”. That basically means that there are little elements that can easily be described in an atomistic fashion, but that “the whole is greater than the sum of its parts”. If you think that way, then maybe the idea of a soul has some credibility. I think this is what Rene Descartes (also the inventor of the Cartesian plane I used in my last post) grappled with in his investigation into where the mind “sat”. He decided it was the pineal gland, but he was saying that there needs to be a location, a physical location. The mind-body dichotomy is a difficult thing to resolve, if it’s even a dichotomy at all... But I think in general people have a hard time with the concept of a soul because the soul is intangible, and science is now so integral to the way we live our lives that without scientific explanation we are left dumbfounded. But we can’t just leave it at that; oh no, it’s yet another frontier that must be conquered... If there’s something we think we can know, we must know it.

It’s sort of been decided that reason in decision-making is best practice. That was to ensure the people who make decisions are trustworthy; that their personal biases and wacky emotions wouldn’t get in the way of valuable, objective contributions to the development of civilization. If you consider the lay of the land today and you think it’s a good thing, then that shift in thinking paid off nicely. But emotion of ANY kind is now thought to be an interference; it is unprofessional, it is inappropriate, it is not reasonable.

In fact, for many people, relationships are just an afterthought. Like parents who don’t think twice about the way they say things to their young children when admonishing them.  And emotional labour isn’t thought to require as much mindfulness, or to be as rewarding as market-related labour and therefore the young ones you’re responsible for teaching about how to behave as honourable people in the world suffer greatly. Wake up! Those little ones will, in no time, be carrying the anchors of the future within them. Child psychologists have identified the age period between 2 and 4 years to be absolutely crucial in forming a child’s sociability. Of course the relative progression of time for an adult compared to a child is fast. Two years can go by in what seems like an instant (and parents do often say that is the case), but for a child of that age, two years is a hell of a long time. Additionally, we need to take seriously the fact that investment of that type is not something you can just go back and change in case it doesn’t suit you in the future. It’s either now, or never.

And as those kids grow up, they’re going to find something to invest in, too.

Say you, the now-grown kid, decide to one day admit to a friend that, God forbid, you want to fall in love and you are searching for your partner. The usual response is: “Focus on your education. Focus on your career; get that established before you do anything like that.” And the best one of all: “Have some ‘fun’ before you settle down.” Okay, there’s a lot to unpack here.

Right off the bat you know this friend doesn’t give equal importance to both “The Career” and to romantic relationships. You know what that’s a product of? Propaganda. I mean, how could you possibly be a productive member of a capitalist society if you devote a good chunk of your energy to another person? There’s no bankable return on that kind of labour! The perpetrators of that propaganda hate real love because it’s so compelling and because it compels people like that it’s considered a “distraction” - it interferes with the profiteer’s ability to squeeze out of you everything that they possibly can. So what they’ve decided to do is market individualism and radical independence as ‘the right way’. And not only that, but what real love can show you is a need to switch up your priorities, that there is less you need in the way of materialism because the love from this person sends you to outer SPACE!

We’re told it’s a dangerous thing for a person to be dependent on another in that way. But that is yet another example of things we just assume to be the truth because that’s the structure of the current zeitgeist.

And what’s more, you shouldn’t put all your eggs in one basket because people are fickle. Your education is something no one can take away from you, but your partner could leave in a heartbeat, if they decide there are better “opportunities” around. But then I say to the partner who took off: if you think of love and romance as opportunities, maybe you shouldn’t allow other folks to waste their time on you. And even if you are like that and you think you’ve found someone you could legally bind yourself to, you’re certainly not spiritually bound, and I would hate to be that other person, knowing that you’re not throwing your entire might into it; that you’re not loving at full capacity. 

Of course, that conception of “romancing” can be learned too, and this is where that notion of “fun” comes into play. To be shallow and promiscuous, to make sure that you can lose your virginity as fast as possible, the free love, the cool detachment from relationships - it’s all bullshit. The sixties were obviously a pivotal moment for the shift in perception of sex and for some reason people thought the revolution to be completely justifiable. Now, people are convinced that giving it all away is a sign of liberation, of self-confidence, of self-determination - even if there’s something tugging at them that may be hinting otherwise. And even if that’s genuinely what you want to do with yourself, I can’t help but think of that attitude as being inherently nihilistic.

Many years ago I was reading an issue of Cosmopolitan where I came across an interview with Scarlett Johansson. Never mind what her personal decisions looked like, she said something profound. She said that sex (of the kind that involves both a penis and a vagina) is fundamentally different between men and women: for women, sex literally is invasive. People with penises share; people with vaginas invite. And for a young woman to try to convince herself that she should feel empowered by these invitations, it can be seriously damaging. I’d say the same is true for a lot of men, who really do believe that sex should be shared in the context of committed love, but conventional wisdom dictates that men find it easier to be promiscuous, to separate emotion from sex, and that women really need to “catch up” as part of their commitment to feminism. This obviously applies to non-binary individuals too. Like I said earlier, what one decides to do is their prerogative, but look critically at your reasons for making certain choices. Don’t, for one second, force yourself to believe that being promiscuous is the only way you can take ownership of your sexuality. Coercion doesn’t just happen on a one-to-one level.  

The point is that people aren’t fucking disposable, but of course disposability is capitalism’s modus operandi and that doesn’t just apply to that smartphone of yours that’s gonna break in a couple of years (or that will be superseded by a better model, whichever comes first).

People do still look for love; it’s in our nature. But these days, they make lists of qualities their ideal partners must possess. And it’s always generic shit like, “must have a sense of humour, must be kind, must be good-looking”...o rly? But the things that cause you to love a person can’t be captured with such dull language. When I think of these lists, I think of that song by Beyonce, “Irreplaceable”. She’s telling the dude not to get too comfortable because the spot he is currently occupying can easily be filled by someone else! That is not love, that is opportunism. Why would you even bother? When you really love a person, you think, “This is the truth. Things cannot be any other way.”

I also happen to think that once people sort of reach the age when marriage becomes a serious consideration, they often don’t marry because of love and a willingness to merge their lives. It’s more like, “Well you seem convenient and this is yet another thing I have to check off my to-do list.” I really want to give some folks a good shake and say to them, you do realize that the wedding you are planning is ONE day where you get to be the star, where you’re gathering the people that mean something to you so you can make a public declaration of your love and commitment to care for the person’s heart (because that is your responsibility), and that a wedding day is absolutely nothing like the rest of your life?!

And then there’s that trope in modern Hollywood, where partnered, career women gather around wine and complain about their significant others. Guys do it too, but they’re obviously shown drinking beer instead of wine and it’s more like, “Oh, you know the old ball-and-chain said I did X wrong today...” And similarly, in “The Crown”, where Tony, Princess Margaret’s photographer lover distinctly says, “Marriage is the opposite of happiness” - but they get married anyway!!! It’s like there’s a brick wall that’s being thrown up, cutting you off from your partner. That doesn’t look like a real partnership to me. And I think, the moment you decide that’s what you’re gonna do, that’s how you’re gonna live your life in response to this other person, then you should seriously reconsider your choices. I used to look at people who behaved like that and think, God, is that what marriage is actually like? Then I want no part of it! Those sorts of arrangements inevitably lead to misery. And divorce can send a person packing with their tail between their legs because it is perceived as a failure. And rightly so. It is a failure of mindfulness, it is a reflection of the “afterthought” I spoke of earlier. It is an indication of your decision to work harder at other shit than at your most important relationship. It is a situation where gratitude is replaced by taking things for granted.

People tend to think that if you’re not a relative of someone’s, that when the “only” stakes at hand are romantic/intimate ones, that such a person is untrustworthy. That’s because those bonds are no longer thought to be strong enough to withstand tests. Let me provide you with a reality check: sometimes even your blood relatives cannot be trusted because they don’t always have your best interests at heart. And if you assume that their goodwill toward you is a given because you are a “natural” family, you would be wrong. Again, you must always pay attention to a person’s motives, what spurs them into action, and we would all do well to treat opinions formed out of resentment with a grain of salt.

You may think that psychopaths are only out to end conscious lives, but those are only the obvious ones, and often they don’t get very far because they are so obvious. The people who put their own evil to good use are disguised in much better ways - so well that you can’t even tell, and they’re the ones that deliberately manipulate your thinking for their own benefit, but definitely not for yours. You may have encountered someone like this in your personal life and sensed that something was “off”. But you’re in denial because there’s no way someone close to you could have evil in them, and you really want to believe that he or she is a good person, but you certainly won’t say anything for fear of blowing the roof off the house. How awkward would THAT be?

I want to offer a new definition of capitalism, which is “the method of creating problems where there are none, and offering a solution that can only be purchased.” Problems are identified in advertising and marketing. Solutions are in the shops. Take make-up for example. I’ve worn it, and at some point I’ll probably wear it again. It can be fun; it can be a way to express yourself as part of a sartorial performance, where people gather to see what you have to (non-verbally) say. But I do not approve of the thinking that a person needs to distort their features, every damn day, because they think their natural faces aren’t good enough. Over the last decade or so, make-up development and marketing has basically exploded and been supported by seemingly innocuous vehicles such as Instagram. And why is it that women suffer disproportionately in this arena compared to men? Don’t get me wrong - men have their problems too, which I will talk about in a bit. But THIS is just so lopsided: what capitalists are telling you is that there is a gap between who you really are and how you should be, and you need to fork out the money, and you need to engage in more labour, to close that gap. No doubt though, what they demand of you must be reasonable enough that it will captivate a large enough audience to make development worth it.

“Aspect perception” is key here, and I’m not talking about ‘contouring of the face’. I’m talking about the entrenched attitude that your plain skin, in all its blemish-y loveliness, needs fixing. I do believe it takes courage to go out in public and leave behind the foundation and the concealer and the other like, SEVEN products some women use daily, because in a way you are baring yourself and you are making yourself vulnerable. Flamboyant women have it easier than flamboyant men, that’s for sure. But male faces are fine just as they are; why can’t that hold true for women?

So now we’re entering the territory of that wild beast we like to call feminism. I just want to make a disclaimer before I piss a lot of people off, in case I haven’t already done so: there is absolutely no way an umbrella term like feminism can equalize all women in terms of the problems we experience, and we must be very careful to sift through those problems that women happen to experience, and those problems that women have because they are women. After all, feminism is at its core a meditation on causes and effects, problems and ways to mitigate them. I mean, I don’t blame people for the messiness of this topic - it’s really bloody hard to put one’s finger on a single, fundamental fact from which all problems emanate. What I absolutely cannot condone is the idea that the solution is to HATE MEN. Sure, there are disgraceful men around, but there are also disgraceful women who believe that they possess a sort of “moral immunity” just because they are women. I’ve had conversations with (at least partially straight) women who may or may not be in relationships with men, who BASH men for the sole reason that they are men! It’s shocking. Would you want to be in a relationship with a person who felt that you were a problem because of something you couldn’t change?

I understand that patriarchy can hit women hard. Some more so than others. But men suffer because of “patriarchy” too, and they don’t always enjoy the privilege that leftists assume men have. Let me explain it this way: when you see a man with power, you see a man. The problem on “the woman’s side” is that she feels there is no one to represent her. That’s one kind of problem. On the other hand, what men see when they look at a man with power is someone pretending to represent them, but what’s actually going on is that the man-spectator identifies all the qualities he has that don’t match up to the ‘ideal’ ones being marketed, and sees that gap I spoke of earlier and really struggles with what he needs to do to fill it. So here we go, here is a problem for which a solution must be found. Feminism shouldn’t be about antagonism between men and women, but unfortunately that’s how things have evolved and certain subsets of women are playing dodgeball with certain subsets of men. Men aren’t just thrown into the world as babies with a hunger for domination - those are learned behaviours, just as women with questionable morals are taught too. But of course a lot of men feel they need to keep quiet because this privilege is their birthright and because they’re men they’ve forfeited any shot at an opinion! At least that’s how it appears to me.

I’ve encountered all manner of people in my life, and let me reiterate something that I think we’ve heard lots. No matter what political orientation a person has, no matter how “cool” they are, to decide if they’re worth having around you must look at the way they treat people, because that’ll illuminate what they really think life should be made of. I’ve met people who consider themselves “radical social justice warriors” and “progressive”, but they’re rude, unkind, and worst of all, they lack humility. Many of them are filled with hate too. And while it is obvious that we need to recalibrate ourselves socially (hence this post), oppression comes in forms that many progressives are totally oblivious to, often because they are “worldly” individuals who come from middle-class backgrounds. 

Oppression is not just about the colour of someone’s skin or sexuality. For crying out loud, a person who is too tall or too short can technically be oppressed too, if they find themselves in a situation that wasn’t constructed with their literal point of view in mind!  I would define oppression as “a relationship between a person and their environment, whereby the environment is constructed in such a way that does not allow for the free and comfortable movement and expression of that individual.” So oppression isn’t static, and if we were to continue thinking of it as static, we’d still be running into problems trying to figure out what the hell to do about it.

Now, you may be asking why I’m talking about radical politics in a post that is focused on relationships. I’ve been around people who were socially disenfranchised. Not since I got ‘woke’, but when I was a child. There’s nothing less motivating or less empowering than the feeling that no one listens to your voice and you haven’t got anyone to translate for you, or to amplify your voice through a friggin’ megaphone. The people in those positions are usually poor, but they’re still trying to live their lives with the goal to at least sometimes feel happy. If that means shopping at big bad Walmart, then so be it. There is no “organizational”, or mobilizing potential there. It is by virtue of that fact that they continue to be in the positions they are in! They have few friends. They are avoided. They are forgotten. You don’t act like a good person because if you don’t you’re going to Hell. You act like a good person because you can’t stand the thought of someone else’s loneliness, pain, and the thought that real love might be completely absent from their lives. And to think that you have caused another’s pain, that is hell in itself. Sometimes I think about those people and I get sad, but what comforts me is the beatitude, “The meek will inherit the Earth.” That one always stuck with me.

Another thing. I’ve come into contact with people who have anarchistic sentiments, and frankly I sympathize with them. They do see how messed up this world has become and some feel desperate enough that they think we’d all be in a better position if we didn’t have capitalism’s puppets signing on the dotted lines. However, I don’t think it’s practical to raze the organizational components of society to the ground. Not only because the sheer amount of infrastructure we’ve built, but because things are so convoluted that people would enter a state of psychological shock! And while some shock is good, too much is debilitating. So with that understanding in mind, any criticisms I have, I offer from a dialectical perspective.

Karl Marx kind of used dialectics in his theories, and what the word basically means is that you’ve got something called a ‘thesis’ and something called an ‘antithesis’, with the antithesis usually being a response to the thesis, and they are always in opposition in some way. If you get lucky, you can meld the two together to generate a ‘synthesis’. This process can go on indefinitely, but the premise is that you can use the tools you’ve already got (and we have MANY, both technological and conceptual) to create something new... and possibly something better. People are angry all over the place (obviously - look how long this post is) and for good reason, but we really need to rethink how we channel that anger. I believe we all agree in one way though: just cut the shit.

Evil is a supernatural thing that preys on you and intentionally toys with the way you see yourself, and the way you see other people. It performs a rape of the soul. It creeps so slyly it can literally be staring you in the face and you don’t even notice it. It’s not like the ‘bad guys’ you see in Hollywood, where it’s blatant about its evilness. What’s so shockingly messed up about it is that it can totally disorient you. It sends you spiralling, shoves you into insanity, makes you distrustful, suspicious. It isolates you. It can cause you to value things you shouldn’t, and it devalues what’s already good. 

I know, because it’s happened to me.

[rin--sohma]

pocketsizedkai replied to your post “hey I’m posting here for more exposure. does anyone know if its normal...”

Seeing different therapists simultaneously for first impressions is normal and encouraged! Since therapy is a very personal thing it's important to find a therapist you click with. As for diagnoses, iirc therapists cannot and should not report any diagnoses they make to any other healthcare professionals, employers, family, etc. so any diagnosis they make is between you and your therapist, and is at your discretion whether you want to tell anyone or not (1/2)

It is a good idea to tell your primary physician what medications if any that you're prescribed just in case of any drug interactions with any other medications you may be taking, but you're under no obligation to tell your physician anything other than "I am seeing a therapist who prescribed me x" and you don't need to mention what it's for. It's your right to withold prescriptions and diagnoses from employers too (and they shouldn't even be asking!) (2/3 one last thing oops)

Also a professional therapist should not be going "wow this person's crazy"; if a therapist you speak to seems dismissive or treats you in any way that isn't respectful and empathetic, that is 100% not a therapist to be seeing long term (3/3)

oof thank you kai. I feel like therapists uhhh expect someone to walk in and go “i want to kill myself” and they’re like ok this is Bad but i do know how to treat that or go “I’m struggling with my divorce” and they’re like ok this is an Intimate level of Pain but I also know how to treat that and if I walk in and say I’m one of 40 living in my brain that doesn’t belong to me, several of whom are Psychotic or compulsively tryin to mutilate our genitals or controlling or about 5 seconds on a bad day away from mass murdering the rest of them then a therapist will be like um. i. no. hah a. that is a lot and Too Much what the fuck lma?o. like how can I ask a therapist to take on an entire system of patients. not like everyone wants therapy but a handful of us need it. idk.

cool cool i’m glad I can keep things under as much wraps as I want. i’m just scared my being dependent on someone else’s opinions to the point where i need therapy will fuck something up for someone else somewhere down the road.

#pocketsizedkai #it's ya boy warren being pathetic #suicide ment ts

[cezulian]

ok ok so on that topic about the boys becoming functioning members i have (bit tmi sorry) i know my dad used to be unsettingly similar to patrick in pretty much every way as a kid including the solipsism and thinking he was god and the only real thing (minus the straight up murder and groping/molesting cuz that was against The Rules according to him) when i was super duper little and then after i was born he got decent therapy and also medication and is now one of the sweetest and kindest (1/2)

“(2/2) people i know and treats everyone mostly well (now hes kinda just a sarcastic asshole sometimes, tho he can get a bit scary when really provoked) and if the boys also recieved decent help they would for sure have been pretty much full functioning people and even possibly good people with families and tbh, id like to see some people write that because those boys deserve it as people with psychosis very frequently if given help do get better my dad and myself included!!”

That’s great, I’m so happy for you and your dad! I’ll always firmly support destigmatizing therapy and taking medication as treatment options, so thank you for being willing to share your personal experiences!

One of the reasons I didn’t answer that previous question with a firm “yeah, totally, it’ll be fine!” Though, is because I didn’t want it to seem like I was implying that Psychopathy or antisocial traits are a thing that need to be “cured”, just like something like Autism doesn’t need to be “cured”, it just needs to have some aspects of it managed in a manner seen fit by healthcare professionals and the individual dealing with it. You can’t cure a person of who they are, like trust me, if I could I’d have done it for myself by now lmao.

But I also don’t want to discount Henry or Patrick’s past experiences, because I know I mentioned that if they’d had the opportunity to be raised in entirely different situations but otherwise remained the same, everything could have played out well for them but the initial question was if they would be able to receive treatment as teenagers in the movie universe. I don’t know what your dad might have been through or how he might have grown up, and you certainty aren’t obligated to tell me, but one huge part of what makes therapy help is actually wanting to be helped, and I think that where they were in the canon would make getting to that point a real piece of work. You have Patrick, who’s convinced that he’s fine and then you have Henry, who is far too insecure about even thinking about the idea that he has feelings to consider talking about them with some stranger that thinks they know everything or thinks they’re better than him (which is probably what he’d say) and you put on top of that that they’re both teenage boys, a species known for communicating chiefly in grunts and “I dunno”s and the occasional “yeah sure”. Patrick, I know, would probably either say whatever he felt he was supposed to to be able to leave, would refuse to say anything and perceive that as a power move, or on the complete flipside of the situation, would find out that he could talk about anything (except his refrigerator and Avery of course because a therapist would be obligated to report that) and at least gain some kind of catharsis from being able to overshare like he wants to, though I do think he’d have some serious trouble with removing his filter of “I’m gonna deconstruct your bullshit every time you open your mouth to try and figure out how I can take back the power in this situation and then I’m gonna act like your favorite boy and you wont even know, you idiot” because it’d just sort of be going through the motions for him at that point but yeah. It’d depend a lot on them and how fuckin excellent this therapist was. The real problem-solver for Patrick, at least, I think would be to get his parents in there. Not with him, that’d be a shit show, but just after learning enough about Patrick to feel the need to explore what aided in bringing him to this point. Butch needs his own fuckin therapist. I won’t even get into that.

I do, though, I totally believe that they could be, as you said, functioning or even beneficial members of society if they were given help, attention, and love. I also think that their symbiosis that functions on a darker level presently could be developed into a level of closeness and understanding that a neurotypical probably couldn’t understand, in whatever form of a relationship you believe that would take, and would overall become something healthy that they would be thankful for. But since you mentioned them getting jobs and all, I’m curious what you or anyone reading this thinks Henry would go into if he could in this scenario? Would it be a career or just a job doing something he likes? Would it be a hobby turned into a job? What makes him happy about it? We don’t know much about Henry’s interests from the book besides cool jackets and rock and roll (but who doesn’t like those things) and in the movie all we know is that he’s into monster trucks but the only reason we know that is from a deleted scene in two scripts where it talks about the posters on his wall. I’ll look into his character a little more too and see if I can’t find something I think he’d like, but I’m curious to know what yall think.

I personally have always believed (and can believe it for the movie universe too, since that’s what we’re talking about) that Patrick would be some kind of artist, if he could. I have all kinds of artist Patrick headcanons that I’ve talked about with @nicholashamilton that I won’t go into on this post but I think that’d be great for him and already comes pretty naturally, but I feel like book Patrick and movie Patrick would have very different attitudes towards getting paid for it.

Anyway, thank you for sharing, again. Not a lot of people take these kinda of things seriously because “they’re just characters” or whatever, which is true, but I think its important to know that the things these characters are dealing with (particularly characters who are violent and play antagonistic roles) are not only very real but don’t make anyone in real life dealing with them bad people because of them. So much is environmental, but its all real shit, yo.

#henry bowers #patrick hockstetter #it 2017