#i literally had a panic attack earlier and showed the symptoms i opened up about a few days ago like the scary physical movements i can’t

[alloutshirt]

/

#hahaha i hate this so much #i avoided ranting abt my problems cause it’s a happy on my dash so ignore me #this is my dairy #i just hate how much i silently beg for my moms attention after she treated me like shit #i literally had a panic attack earlier and showed the symptoms i opened up about a few days ago like the scary physical movements i can’t #control and not be able to take a breath in and of course when im not having an episode she’s all listening and supportive #but then the ugly part of the illness shows and she gets mad at me #she loves to pretend she cares but as long as she doesn’t have to make efforts to help than i need to stop my drama #she fucking left me not being able to breathe in the car #it was this afternoon it’s now 2am and i haven’t left my room and she didn’t even check on my i haven’t eaten since breakfast and i could #hear her laughing like nothings going on #she always turns her back on the smallest inconvenience and it’s truly what a feel like #a weight on everyone’s shoulders #and now she came into the room saw me still sobbing took her stuff and left without a word #when we talked about how it hurts me that she never checks on me during episodes and she said she would just a few days ago #i hate to compare them but even if my dad never even did a google research about my mental illness and he’s clumsy and can be hurtful #at least he apologizes and openly says he doesn’t know how to help instead of acting all aware™️ but gets mad when the ugly side shows #id rather someone who doesn’t know what to do and what words to use but brings food till it gets better than someone goes #yelling then silent treatment then calls me darling in a sweet voice like nothing happened then that convo about making efforts only to #start the same circle at the next episode

[magnetictapedatastorage]

I’ve started keeping a list of questions, remnants of a past life that I now need a beat or two to remember, if I can remember at all: What time do parties end? How tall is my boss? What does a bar smell like? Are babies heavy? Does my dentist have a mustache? On what street was the good sandwich place near work, the one that toasted its bread? How much does a movie popcorn cost? What do people talk about when they don’t have a global disaster to talk about all the time? You have to wear high heels the whole night? It’s more baffling than distressing, most of the time.

Full text of the (excellent) article is under the cut. (The Atlantic, March 8th, 2021)

I first became aware that I was losing my mind in late December. It was a Friday night, the start of my 40-somethingth pandemic weekend: Hours and hours with no work to distract me, and outside temperatures prohibitive of anything other than staying in. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to fill the time. “What did I used to … do on weekends?” I asked my boyfriend, like a soap-opera amnesiac. He couldn’t really remember either.

Since then, I can’t stop noticing all the things I’m forgetting. Sometimes I grasp at a word or a name. Sometimes I walk into the kitchen and find myself bewildered as to why I am there. (At one point during the writing of this article, I absentmindedly cleaned my glasses with nail-polish remover.) Other times, the forgetting feels like someone is taking a chisel to the bedrock of my brain, prying everything loose. I’ve started keeping a list of questions, remnants of a past life that I now need a beat or two to remember, if I can remember at all: What time do parties end? How tall is my boss? What does a bar smell like? Are babies heavy? Does my dentist have a mustache? On what street was the good sandwich place near work, the one that toasted its bread? How much does a movie popcorn cost? What do people talk about when they don’t have a global disaster to talk about all the time? You have to wear high heels the whole night? It’s more baffling than distressing, most of the time.

RECOMMENDED READING

There’s No Real Reason to Eat 3 Meals a DayAMANDA MULL

The Pandemic’s Future Hangs in SuspenseTHE COVID TRACKING PROJECT

A Quite Possibly Wonderful SummerJAMES HAMBLIN

Everywhere I turn, the fog of forgetting has crept in. A friend of mine recently confessed that the morning routine he’d comfortably maintained for a decade—wake up before 7, shower, dress, get on the subway—now feels unimaginable on a literal level: He cannot put himself back there. Another has forgotten how to tie a tie. A co-worker isn’t sure her toddler remembers what it’s like to go shopping in a store. The comedian Kylie Brakeman made a joke video of herself attempting to recall pre-pandemic life, the mania flashing across her face: “You know what I miss, is, like, those night restaurants that served alcohol. What were those called?” she asks. “And there were those, like, big men outside who would check your credit card to make sure you were 41?”

Read: Sedentary pandemic life is bad for our happiness

Jen George, a community-college teacher from Cape Elizabeth, Maine, told me she is losing her train of thought in the middle of a sentence more and more often. Meanwhile, her third grader, who is attending in-person school, keeps leaving his books, papers, and lunch at home. Inny Ekeolu, a 19-year-old student from Ireland, says she has found herself forgetting how to do things she used to do on a regular basis: swiping her bus pass, paying for groceries. Recently she came across a photo of a close friend she hadn’t seen since lockdown and found that she couldn’t recognize her. “It wasn’t like I had forgotten her existence,” she told me. “But if I had bypassed her on the street, I wouldn’t have said hi.” Rachel Kowert, a research psychologist in Ottawa, used to have a standing Friday-night dinner with her neighbors—and went completely blank when one of them recently mentioned it. “It was really shocking,” Kowert told me. “This was something I really loved, and had done for a long time, and I had totally forgotten.”

This is the fog of late pandemic, and it is brutal. In the spring, we joked about the Before Times, but they were still within reach, easily accessible in our shorter-term memories. In the summer and fall, with restrictions loosening and temperatures rising, we were able to replicate some of what life used to be like, at least in an adulterated form: outdoor drinks, a day at the beach. But now, in the cold, dark, featureless middle of our pandemic winter, we can neither remember what life was like before nor imagine what it’ll be like after.

To some degree, this is a natural adaptation. The sunniest optimist would point out that all this forgetting is evidence of the resilience of our species. Humans forget a great deal of what happens to us, and we tend to do it pretty quickly—after the first 24 hours or so. “Our brains are very good at learning different things and forgetting the things that are not a priority,” Tina Franklin, a neuroscientist at Georgia Tech, told me. As the pandemic has taught us new habits and made old ones obsolete, our brains have essentially put actions like taking the bus and going to restaurants in deep storage, and placed social distancing and coughing into our elbows near the front of the closet. When our habits change back, presumably so will our recall.

That’s the good news. The pandemic is still too young to have yielded rigorous, peer-reviewed studies about its effects on cognitive function. But the brain scientists I spoke with told me they can extrapolate based on earlier work about trauma, boredom, stress, and inactivity, all of which do a host of very bad things to a mammal’s brain.

“We’re all walking around with some mild cognitive impairment,” said Mike Yassa, a neuroscientist at UC Irvine. “Based on everything we know about the brain, two of the things that are really good for it are physical activity and novelty. A thing that’s very bad for it is chronic and perpetual stress.” Living through a pandemic—even for those who are doing so in relative comfort—“is exposing people to microdoses of unpredictable stress all the time,” said Franklin, whose research has shown that stress changes the brain regions that control executive function, learning, and memory.

That stress doesn’t necessarily feel like a panic attack or a bender or a sleepless night, though of course it can. Sometimes it feels like nothing at all. “It’s like a heaviness, like you’re waking up to more of the same, and it’s never going to change,” George told me, when I asked what her pandemic anxiety felt like. “Like wading through something thicker than water. Maybe a tar pit.” She misses the sound of voices.

Prolonged boredom is, somewhat paradoxically, hugely stressful, Franklin said. Our brains hate it. “What’s very clear in the literature is that environmental enrichment—being outside of your home, bumping into people, commuting, all of these changes that we are collectively being deprived of—is very associated with synaptic plasticity,” the brain’s inherent ability to generate new connections and learn new things, she said. In the 1960s, the neuroscientist Marian Diamond conducted a series of experiments on rats in an attempt to understand how environment affects cognitive function. Time after time, the rats raised in “enriched” cages—ones with toys and playmates—performed better at mazes.

Ultimately, said Natasha Rajah, a psychology professor at McGill University, in Montreal, our winter of forgetting may be attributable to any number of overlapping factors. “There’s just so much going on: It could be the stress, it could be the grief, it could be the boredom, it could be depression,” she said. “It sounds pretty grim, doesn’t it?”

The share of Americans reporting symptoms of anxiety disorder, depressive disorder, or both roughly quadrupled from June 2019 to December 2020, according to a Census Bureau study released late last year. What’s more, we simply don’t know the long-term effects of collective, sustained grief. Longitudinal studies of survivors of Chernobyl, 9/11, and Hurricane Katrina show elevated rates of mental-health problems, in some cases lasting for more than a decade.

I have a job that allows me to work from home, an immune system and a set of neurotransmitters that tend to function pretty well, a support network, a savings account, decent Wi-Fi, plenty of hand sanitizer. I have experienced the pandemic from a position of obscene privilege, and on any given day I’d rank my mental health somewhere north of “fine.” And yet I feel like I have spent the past year being pushed through a pasta extruder. I wake up groggy and spend every day moving from the couch to the dining-room table to the bed and back. At some point night falls, and at some point after that I close work-related browser windows and open leisure-related ones. I miss my little rat friends, but I am usually too tired to call them.

Read: The most likely timeline for life to return to normal

Sometimes I imagine myself as a Sim, a diamond-shaped cursor hovering above my head as I go about my day. Tasks appear, and I do them. Mealtimes come, and I eat. Needs arise, and I meet them. I have a finite suite of moods, a limited number of possible activities, a set of strings being pulled from far offscreen. Everything is two-dimensional, fake, uncanny. My world is as big as my apartment, which is not very big at all.

“We’re trapped in our dollhouses,” said Kowert, the psychologist from Ottawa, who studies video games. “It’s just about surviving, not thriving. No one is working at their highest capacity.” She has played The Sims on and off for years, but she always gives up after a while—it’s too repetitive.

Earlier versions of The Sims had an autonomous memory function, according to Marina DelGreco, a staff writer for Game Rant. But in The Sims 3, the system was buggy; it bloated file sizes and caused players’ saved progress to delete. So The Sims 4, released in 2014, does not automatically create memories. PC users can manually enter them, and Sims can temporarily feel feelings: happy, tense, flirty. But for the most part, a Sim is a hollow vessel, more like a machine than a living thing.

The game itself doesn’t have a term for this, but the internet does: “smooth brain,” or sometimes “head empty,” which I first started noticing sometime last summer. Today, the TikTok user @smoothbrainb1tch has nearly 100,000 followers, and stoners on Twitter are marveling at the fact that their “silky smooth brain” was once capable of calculus.

This is, to be clear, meant to be an aspirational state. It’s the step after galaxy brain, because the only thing better than being a genius in a pandemic is being intellectually unencumbered by mass grief. People are celebrating “smooth brain Saturday” and chasing the ideal summer vibe: “smooth skin, smooth brain.” One frequently reposted meme shows a photograph of a glossy, raw chicken breast, with the caption “Cant think=no sad .” This is juxtaposed against a biology-textbook picture of a healthy brain, which is wrinkled, oddly translucent, and the color of canned tuna. The choice seems obvious.

Some Saturday not too long from now, I will go to a party or a bar or even a wedding. Maybe I’ll hold a baby, and maybe it will be heavy. Inevitably, I will kick my shoes off at some point. I won’t have to wonder about what I do on weekends, because I’ll be doing it. I’ll kiss my friends and try their drinks and marvel at how everyone is still the same, but a little different, after the year we all had. My brain won’t be smooth anymore, but being wrinkly won’t feel so bad. My synapses will be made plastic by the complicated, strange, utterly novel experience of being alive again, human again. I can’t wait.

ELLEN CUSHING

is the special-projects editor at The Atlantic.

#health

[snarkysims]

(Be sure to read Part One first)

This piece is longer and heavier than what I normally post. I don’t plan to make a habit of it. 

Narrated by Jonathan Parry

“Jonathan!” Jerilene called after me. She had to jog to keep up with my long stride, but I refused to slow my pace. I felt like I had been punched in the gut, but really I’d been punched in the heart. I fought with the tingling behind my eyes because I would be damned if I let her see me cry, but I felt the tell-tale wetness on my cheeks.

Jerilene grabbed the hem of my shirt. “Jonathan, please stop.” I complied to let her catch her breath.

“Look at me, Jonathan.”  She continued to breath raggedly.  I ached to console her, but I clenched my fists and jammed them into my pockets. I kept my head down, my eyes focused on the sand. I’d count every damn grain if I had to. She walked around me until she was facing me. She put a sable-toned hand to my cheek and guided my eyes to meet hers. 

“Oh,” she said when she saw the tears shining in my eyes. She slid her hand up to wipe my eyes and returned it to my cheek.  Her breathing was steadily returning to normal. “I should have known you were going to confess your feelings to me after planning such a romantic date. I’ve been dying to hear you say you loved me.”  

I sniffled to dry up the last of my tears. “If you’ve been dying to hear me say it, then why didn’t you answer my question?”  

She sighed and looked away. “You caught me off guard, and I went into a full panic attack. I’m a mess, Jonathan.”

This time, I brought her eyes back to mine. “Hey, I’m the guy who’s going to be cleaning out Sims’s mouths for a living. I can handle mess.” 

“I have issues.”

“I’m the poster child for issues. Daddy issues. Mommy issues. Commitment issues...obviously.”

She sighed. “Please stop making jokes.”

I put my forehead to hers. “Please stop making effing excuses! My point is everyone has baggage. Let me help you carry yours. I love you. For Will’s sake, Jerilene, I know you love me too.”

“I do.” At least she didn’t hesitate to answer that time. 

“Then, it’s simple.” I looked her in the eyes again and said each word deliberately, ‘Be. With. Me. Jerilene.”

“It’s not that simple.” I stepped back from her and threw my hands up.

She closed the distance between us.  “You were right. Someone did hurt me. Michael Harris was my older brother’s best friend. I’d known him practically all my life. Michael was tall like you. People assumed he was amazing at basketball, but he couldn’t dribble a ball to save his life.

“Michael loved math and science. Physics was his passion. He wanted to be a mechanical engineer. Ninth-grade geometry kicked my butt, so Michael tutored me. He got to know me as someone other than Damion’s little sister. We fell in love. He was my first, Jonathan. My first...everything. We were together for two incredible years.”  She smiled as tears spilled out of her almond-shaped eyes.

“You don’t sound like you’re talking about someone who hurt you. You sound like you’re talking about someone you might still be in love with.”

She looked down. “A part of me is. A part of me might always be.” 

I gritted my teeth. “Well, I appreciate your honesty.” 

I turned away from her, but she grabbed my hand. “I want to be honest with you so you know what you’re getting into.”

“If you still love him, why aren’t you with him?”

She said softly, “Because he’s dead. I don’t want to go into the details now, but his life was taken from him. That’s the person who hurt me, the person who took my Michael.” 

A chill went through me. “I’m so sorry, Jerilene. I had no idea.” I wrapped my arms around her and kissed the top of her head.  “Sweetheart, we’ve been in an intimate relationship for two years. Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

She pulled away from me to look up at me with her chestnut eyes. “No, we’ve been in a sexual relationship for two years.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but she put a finger to my lips. “You and I came to this college unattached, and we happened to find someone we were extremely compatible with in bed. That’s nothing to be ashamed of, so let’s not fool ourselves into believing we started out as more than that. I haven’t spoken about Michael to anyone at SSU. Not even to Everson. I’m telling you now because I do want an intimate relationship with you. That intimacy starts with showing you my demons.”

I nodded. “Then show me.”

“I’ve always had to manage depression and anxiety. When Michael died, my symptoms intensified. I withdrew from my friends and family, and I only left our apartment to go to school. My grades tanked. I thought about taking my own life.”

“No, Jerilene,” I gasped. I didn’t want to imagine a world without her in it. 

“My mom found a therapist for me, and Dr. Curtis was literally a lifesaver. Along with helping me manage my condition, she urged my mom to get me into formal singing lessons. Singing was my safe haven. It helped me remember the good times with Michael because he loved to hear me sing. The more I sang, the more I came out of my cocoon. Eventually, I pulled my grades back up and got a scholarship here. My plan was to breeze through college and land on a stage in Bridgeport or Starlight Shores. Heck, I’d even settle for Downtown. I certainly wasn’t thinking about falling in love again.

“But you came along. At first, I just thought you were sexy as hell and fun to be with. As I got to know you, I saw how caring you are, and you encouraged me in my singing too. No one had done that since Michael and Dr. Curtis. My feelings for you got intense way too soon for my comfort. I reacted badly when I saw you out with Patty because I was already falling in love with you. I do love you, Jonathan Parry, and I’m terrified if I lose you I won’t recover this time.”

I kissed her soft, full lips fervently. She matched my hunger in a return kiss. For the second time that evening, my cheeks were wet with tears, but these tears were hers. 

Eventually, we both needed air so we reluctantly broke contact. "Jerilene, you’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. And you aren’t the only one who could get hurt. You nearly shattered my heart earlier. Sweetheart, I get that you’re scared, but you don’t have to worry about losing me. I’m not going anywhere. You’re it for me."

“Jonathan, you’re only twenty. How can you even say that?”

“I know my heart, Jerilene.”

“But what if I’m cursed and something happens to you too?”

I laughed. “Then I’ll die a happy man!” Her glare told me she didn’t appreciate my joke, so I kissed her on the forehead in apology.  “I’m sorry about the bad jokes. I swear I’m not trying to be a jerk. And I certainly wouldn’t make light of what happened to Michael. He sounds like he was a good guy.”

“He was. I think you two would have been good friends.”

I shook my head. “Doubtful. It’s hard being friends with a dude when you want to steal his girlfriend.” I leaned in. “And that wasn’t a joke. I meant every word.”

A blush crept into Jerilene’s cheeks. “Mark and Jin-Sang somehow manage.”

“Trust me, those two aren’t the bros they seem to be. I guarantee you they’ll come to blows before Graduation. Jin-Sang is one of my best friends, and even I don’t get why Mark hasn’t already pounded him into the ground. 

Anyway, my lame jokes are an attempt to make you smile. Sweetheart, when you smile, your eyes get this twinkle in them. It was one of the first things I noticed about you.”

“Really?”

“Well that and your banging bod.” I winked at her. She rolled her eyes and tried to glare again, but she couldn’t help breaking out into a smile. The edge that had been in her eyes gave way to a doe-like expression. I grinned at her. “Ah, there it is. There’s the twinkle...it’s mesmerizing. I could look at it forever...”

I trailed off because Jerilene was now gaping at me.  She tried to speak a couple of times, but her mouth kept gaping open. It was adorable. After several seconds, she recovered. “Damn, boy, why do you always talk like you’re in an effing Simlequin novel?” Then, she launched herself at me.

Thanking Will Wright for my reflexes, I caught her and rocked her in arms. “So to clarify...you will be my girlfriend then?”

“Yes, of course! Do you think I would literally throw myself at just any guy?”

#ts2 gameplay #sapphire springs #fall 2001 #courtyard dorm #parry #evans

[morgemuffel]

MALEC. ➰ THE BRAVEST PERSON I KNOW.

Hello everyone, this story takes place after the training scene in season 3Bx12.

This is my first fanfiction ever and my native language is not English so don't be too hard on me :) Critics are always welcome though, I would like to improve my "English" writing skills.

Sooo have fun with my story. :)

"Alec, you're such an idiot," the Shadowhunter mumbles. "Why do you always put yourself in such stupid and embarrassing situations? Yeah you're a fearless Shadowhunter and head of the New York Institute but why couldn't you listen to your gut instinct? You don't start running right away just because you've learned how to walk."

Alexander Lightwood is tied to a massive pole behind his back. There was not the slightest possibility to get out of this uncomfortable position over time. Unfortunately it was dark that's why he identified his attacker too late. He feels the warm hairy and long legs that felt along his stomach. "Damn it Lightwood, don't let your fear get the upper hand." he muttered. But it was too late. Alec had no chance the panic came over him. His heart was racing and he could literally feel how the air was getting thinner.

"Jace?" Clary asks for the fifth time now. The couple was lying relaxed and satisfied in Jace's bed at the New York Institute. Well at least until a minute ago when Jace suddenly fell into a kind of trance. She reaches for her stele to activate the healing iratzerune, cause her psycho brother had to tell her in the most macabre way that he misses her. After the rescue of Clary from the clutches of her crazy murderous brother Jonathan, the right time for her first time with Jace had finally come today. All the dramas of the last few weeks felt so surreal and far away. She didn't want these dramas to start all over again and destroy this wonderful moment. Thankfully Jace didn't noticed the carved words: -I MISS YOU- on her arm which where slowly fading away, as he was still stepped away and staring into the air.

- It is an anxious and at the same time overwhelming feeling. Dull, barely noticeable and yet completely present. Concern mixed with mild panic. Like that unpleasant feeling in school before an exam you haven't prepared for. A racing heartbeat, nervousness and then the fear that gradually became noticeable. Jace immediately recognized the symptoms that slowly spread like a ghastly fog in his body and demanded his attention. -

Clary sits in an upright position, as she is now getting a bit unsure. "Where was her boyfriend with his thoughts, hadn't he liked it? No, Clary stop drive yourself crazy, you don't need that, Jace loves you and you could see it in his eyes, he definitely liked it." She quickly pushed the thought aside and nudged Jace slightly. He flinches as if he had just awakened from a dream. It's Alec he informed her in a worried tone and got up. There was something wrong with his Parabatei. "I feel his fear, we have to go!"

Magnus was lost in thought standing in front of his 18th-century oak cabinet looking for a whip. He had no idea that Alec was facing his greatest fear right now. Lost in thought and humming to himself, Magnus rummaged in his closet. On some days he could hardly believe his luck. How was it possible that he Magnus Bane the High Warlock of Brooklyn was blessed with the most wonderful and yet best-looking Shadowhunter in the world? Yes, it took Alec some time to finally regain his sexuality and confess his love for Magnus. But honestly Alec was worth the wait and besides that, he had made his love for Magnus very clear in front of everyone at his *near-wedding* with Lydia. He belongs to Magnus and Magnus belongs to him. Since then, they had gone through a lot together. From fighting dangerous and overly evil demons like Lilith up to tricky dinners with Alec's mother Maryse and a nightmare bringing stew. Magnus knew that he had hit the jackpot with having Alec as his boyfriend and that they were able to master every hurdle and challenges. Alec didn't judge Magnus for who he was. Even when he admitted that his father was no one less than the Greater Demon Asmodeus also known as the Prince of Hell, he was unimpressed. Alec gave Magnus the love he had been waiting for all these centuries, for his whole life, and even much more. Magnus vowed to show his Shadowhunter every day how grateful he was and thanked the universe for the love it had brought to him. He would show Alec his love as often as he could in any possible way.

Although Magnus was more experienced in relationships than his partner. Alec never ceased to surprise him over and over again. Just like today as the couple was about to freshen up the rusty fighting techniques of the Warlock in the training room of the Institute. Now that Magnus had traded his powers as well as his immortality to Asmodeus, he wanted to be able to defend himself without his innate powers. Of course, Alec didn't know that Magnus was personally trained several years ago by Grand Master Mitsuyo Maeda. And of course, Magnus enjoyed bringing his astonished Alexander into the most unlikely positions, provoking him, flirting with him and keeping him confused whenever he could. He didn't expect Alec, who was so uptight and uncertain in the past, to seize the opportunity and push him against the cold pillar, kiss him passionately and wildly in this public area. “That was way out of his comfort zone wasn't it?“ So far, they've only had exchanged gentle kisses and even during sex, they remained on the flower-vanillia-level. Not that Magnus would complain. The sex with Alec was despite his lack of experience, to describe it in just one word: absolutely fantastic, incredibly hot and mind-blowing sex. Ok... it couldn’t be described with one word. So when he then pantingly suggested to hold his thought and move the whole action into his bedroom, Magnus could hardly hide his astonishment. And he was even more surprised by his demanding and dominant way Alec let him feel in bed. Even though Magnus was topping as he mostly did, and setting the pace of the thrusts, Alec grabbed his hips and pulled him harder and faster towards him. At the thought of their sexual activities earlier this day, Magnus went through a comforting shudder.

"MA..GNUUUS..!" he suddenly heard Alec yelling his name in panic. "I'm not ready to... Oh god MAAAAG... NUUS, where are you why do you need so long?!"

Magnus reached for the whip he finally spotted in the back of the cupboard and rolls his eyes. “Why was Alec all at once so impatient?“ At the Slouvaki truck in Queens an hour ago, he told Magnus they should slow down and savor such unique moments, otherwise they would not even remember them in the future. And after Clary finally got back safely to the institute, Alec became even bolder and made as suggest to Magnus in the presence of everyone, whispering in his sexy seductive voice, he would like to heat up their pillow talk with these whip-games like in that one vampire movie. When, according to this statement, Magnus only stared at him incredulously and unable to move. Alec added mischievously and sweet, "Unless you dare to spank a Shadowhunter's ass." The realization that Alec dared to share such lascivious thoughts in public with him at the institute turned him on so badly. Magnus only grinned promising and denied himself to point out that Alec probably mistook the film and meant 50 Shades of Gray and not Twilight. The portal to Magnus' Loft was open in seconds. Magnus wouldn't miss the opportunity to indulge his Alexander with sensuous blows and taut pats, with his slender leather whip.

MAAAAAGNUUUS! “I swear by the angels if you don't move your sexy ass into this room right now it was the last time we tried something like this!”

"So authoritative, Alexander." Magnus chuckles as he heads for the bedroom. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed how the door handle of the loft was pushed down and Jace and Clary stuck their heads into the living room. "Where is he?" Jace yelled completely out of breath. "Izzy said you left the institute together, Clary adds with a gasp." Magnus stopped as if rooted to the spot, caught red-handed only wearing his black silk boxer shorts, gave Jace an annoyed and questioning look. At the same time he tried to hide the whip unobtrusively behind his back. It was clear that Alec's annoying brother managed once again to destroy an intimate moment. For that he was Alec's Parabatei, he was clearly missing the sensitivity to find an appropriate time whenever he wanted to talk to Alec. "Knocking is not your strength isn't it?" Magnus replied frustrated. Clary, who starts to understand the situation, blushes and tries to pull back Jace on his arm towards the exit. "Jace I think there's a mistake here, she grins sheepishly." Jace shakes his head timidly, "Naah, No, No... I'm feeling it he is scared, he's full of fear and panic," Jace contradicts. "Are you forcing him to do something he doesn't want to? " At that moment, a fearful scream echoes throughout the loft.

AAAAAH! MAAAGNUS! PLEASE!

Alec wind under the touch of his archenemy. Why does Magnus need so long and with whom is he speaking out there? Sure, this whole tie him to the bed thing was his idea. He thought trying something new doesn't hurt right? He always wanted to know if the rumors about pleasure and pain were true. Besides Magnus was only too pleased to use his old whip again after so many years. But who could have known that one of Magnus' ingredients for his potions would break out of his office, which funnily enough had to be a hairy, disgusting spider and find his way to their bedroom. Alec's greatest fear was now walking up and down on his stomach with relish, and in that position he couldn't possibly reach for his Stele to at least activate the fearless rune. He felt so helpless and ashamed that such a small creature could intimidate him so much.

Finally Magnus stormed into the room with Jace and Clary in tow. "Oh, shit I was prepared for everything except this!" Jace blurted out, he could only suspect how Alec was feeling right now. Not only did he have a huge spider on his belly, but also the fact that he was tied half naked to Magnus' bed and knew that Jace would withhold this moment forever. Magnus made a graceful gesture to let his magic play, then paused as it occurred to him that he no longer had those powers. Unexpectedly Clary spoke. "Alec... do not move now," she said in a low monotone voice as she walked towards him. She took a jewelry box from Magnus' dressing table and tore off a page from the GQ magazine that lay next to it. She sneaked quietly toward the spider, then slowly placed the box over the spider so that the animal sat roughly in the middle. Then she gently pushed the sheet of paper under the box. With a triumphant smile, she lifted the jewelry box up in the air and handed over the animal to Magnus. Alec let out a relieved sigh. "That's not how I've imagined this new experience" he mumbled embarrassed and blushed. Jace refused to comment the whole situation this time because he felt how much his parabatei was ashamed. Instead, he took Clary by the hand. Let's give these two lovebirds a bit privacy, after all, we were pretty busy too. Clary grinned contentedly and said "hmm.. I guess I deserve a new sketchbook, what do you think?"

After the two had left the loft, Magnus relieved Alec from his chains, well in this case from his bathrobe belt. They sat there for a moment, just in silence until Magnus spoke up, ashamed. "I'm so sorry Alexander, I should have known something was wrong." Alec looked at him stunned. "You don't have to apologize for anything Magnus, I'm the one to apologize, I'm so sorry, I'm such a wimp that I'm scared of this little crawly animals, I hope you're not too ashamed of me being your boyfriend. " he said subdued. It's exactly these moments that showed Magnus how great his boyfriend really was. Even after being confronted with his greatest anxiety, he is convinced he had failed. How could it be that he didn't see how great he is? And it was this kind of innocent ignorance which made him so pure and amiable "Alexander..." Magnus began in a gentle firm voice. Believe me when I tell you that you didn't do anything wrong and you could never disappoint me. You are the bravest and most fearless person I know and I could not be more proud of calling you my boyfriend." Alec still smiled a little uncertainly as he asked. "So maybe we can stay a little longer on this flower-vanillia-level?" Magnus giggled in amusement as he nodded affirmatively. Alec visibly relaxed again and pulled Magnus into a passionate and heartfelt kiss. "I love you, Magnus" he said. And I love you Alexander, "Magnus replied.

#malec shadowhunters tv what scares you? fanfiction magnus bane alec lightwood magnus x alec so authoritative parabatei jace herondale clary

[emeto-things]

My Emetophobia Story!

Hi my name is Abby and I’ve had emetophobia since 2011 when I was only 8 years old. It was the winter and the flu was going around. My brother got it, and for some reason he makes himself sick on purpose so he can feel better? Idk. Either way, my bedroom was next door to the bathroom. I woke up to the horrendous sound of g* and v*. I ran into my parents room and asked my mom what was going. She told me he was purposefully making himself sick and that everything was okay. After shaking and crying, I went to bed and couldn’t sleep because it made me so awake. I ended up catching the flu a couple hours later. I was so worried that I was gonna v* too and my mom could NOT convince me that it wasn’t part of the flu and he didn’t that on purpose. The whole time I had the flu I slept barely any, constantly worrying i’d v*. Thankfully I didn’t! After the flu was gone, I was back to my normal self. Until 2013, when I was 10. I was talking to a pen pal online and we decided to make a movie together. I was in charge of everything, and she’d call me everyday asking if I had worked on it. It stressed me out so much that I developed anxiety. Later that year, I was in the car and felt totally fine but had a scary thought of “what if I get motion sickness?” I had motion sickness when I was younger and I still might I just don’t wanna test it. I started to cry and shake uncontrollably and I didn’t know why. I guess that was my first glimpse of a panic attack but I didn’t know such thing existed back then. I realized my friend was not so much of a good friend after all and decided to cut ties with her. My anxiety kinda disappeared again. I then started to develop OCD. I would constantly check her social media’s and read our old messages obsessively to the point i’d Be sad that I left her. It took me monthsss to get over that. But I eventually did. In 2014, my fears got far behind me and I was having a really good life. I don’t remember having anxiety at all much that year. It was the best year ever to this day. In early 2015 when I was 12, I started having strange, violent thoughts. I’d be sleeping with my dog and get a random “urge” to want to shove him off the bed and hurt him. The thoughts scared me so much since I love him and would never want to hurt him. I started having them more. I’d have an “urge” to kill a family member or poison them. It made me so uncomfortable and scared and I thought I had a serious problem and was going to end up a serial killer. It wasn’t until a few months later I was researching OCD and found that those thoughts are an extremely common OCD symptom and that you’d never actually act on it. I felt so much better! I found out I wasn’t a crazy person! Now I don’t even have those thoughts anymore. I was going pretty good until April 2015. I had been in an art class for about 6 months, but I’m this particular day I went, apparently a sv* was going around but I didn’t know about it. And apparently someone in my class was s* and still came in. It was a very tight class with a lot of kids and we were all sharing the same markers and pens and pencils and one girl (I believe who was the s* one) coughed with her mouth open all the time and we sat literally right next to each other that I could feel her breath on me. I didn’t have emetophobia then so I didn’t get all freaked out. Besides, I didn’t even know anyone was sick! If I did, I wouldn’t have gone. Not because I was scared but because of common sense. (This part may be a little triggering but i’ll Try not to be. Skip this part if you want.) 2 nights later, I’m asleep. I wake up around 4am with a very bad feeling. I didn’t think I was s* I just didn’t feel good. I tried to go back to sleep but I couldn’t. I had a small stomach ache, I was kinda dizzy and my head felt really gross. I was also kinda hot & cold and kept having weird dreams every time I’d start to fall asleep. Since I had anxiety in the past, I figured it was just anxiety so I googled ways to calm down and then eventually, my stomach ache went away and I fell asleep. I was extremely tired & basically fell asleep during a small panic attack which is unusual. I woke up again at 7am and I remember my first thoughts were “omg I feel even worse than I did earlier” and I rubbed my head and felt kinda hot. Idk how to describe how I felt it was just horrible. I went on my iPod and went on twitter and was watching YouTube videos to keep my mind off of whatever I was feeling. I then suddenly just g*d. I went into my moms room and told her I had been feeling bad for a while and didn’t know why. She asked me if I was nervous about anything and I said no. I told her I hoped I wasn’t sick. We were counting the days of places I’ve been to see if it was a possibility for me to be sick. And when I said “I went to my art class the other day” my mom realized that could be a possibility but didn’t wanna say anything. She said she still thought I probably wasn’t s* though. I went back to bed and watched more YouTube videos. I suddenly got reaaaaaally tired and decided to listen to calming music. I put on a song and in the song, someone made a noise that sounded like a g* and that triggered my reflex since I was already feeling it anyway. I knew v* was about to happen but I kept on keeping it from happen. I even started to feel better. So I told my mom I was feeling better and would be downstairs for breakfast soon. I got dressed like I normally would, just feeling tired but not really s*. I went downstairs and got a banana and sat on the couch next to my mom. I ate two bites and started to feel s* again. She had on a cooking show which obviously didn’t make me feel any better. I told a joke to my mom that made me start laughing hard and then my headache and pain all came back. I went from laughing to g* within seconds and then it happened. I rushed to the sink, did my thing and then that was it. I ran back to the living room and started crying like crazy and screaming “what is wrong with me???” But thankfully I didn’t get s* again but I was just super tired and drained the whole day. But we had a birthday party at my house that night since I was feeling better. Since that day, everything has changed. The very next day, I started wondering about every bodily symptom that before then I would’ve totally ignored. Just thinking of bananas sent me into panic, my mom couldn’t watch her cooking show around me and the smallest stomach pain would send me into a panic spiral. Over the summer I got really busy and my phobia got pushed aside. I still worried about it more than I ever did before but I wasn’t panicking and I could get my mind off of it pretty easily. I even got to meet my favorite band (The Vamps) that summer! Which totally distracted me from everything. It was going pretty good until October 2015. I went to Starbucks and got a pumpkin coffee, and had a strange thought of “what if I’m allergic to pumpkin?” And I started to have trouble breathing (not because a health issue, it was my anxiety - but I didn’t know that then.) I calmed down, and the day went on like normal. That night, my family came over and I was in my room singing. I got extremely hot out of nowhere, so I ripped my boots, jacket and scarf off and turned on my fan. I got even more hot. Then my lips went tingly and so did my hands and feet. Then I started getting really dizzy. I ran downstairs to my mom. I had NO idea what was happening. I cried for hours and my grandma (who also has anxiety) helped me and told me it was a panic attack and how she has had them before. They really calmed me down, and after it was over I was so thankful and was glad i’d Probably never experience another one. I was wrong. The next morning, the panic symptoms came back and I was on the verge of another one. I had a panic attack everyday for around 2-3 weeks. I was miserable, tired and my nerves never got a chance to relax because any time I was almost calm, I would panic again. At the same time, my dad lost his job, my brother had a horrible cold that I caught (I’m not even telling that story because it’s too long. I didn’t v* though!!!) and my anxiety was the worst it had ever been. Christmas that year was a total blur because I was so sleep deprived and out of it that I honestly barely remember what happened. In 2016, my anxiety got a lot better. I was still very careful and worried a lot but I wasn’t panicking all the time. I developed OCD hard core though. I couldn’t do simple tasks like cleaning my room because I would have to refill a certain article of clothing 50+ times due to my OCD. My OCD would say “if you don’t fold it like this, you’ll get s*” so I listened to it. I feel like I was dead that whole year. My hair was dry and brittle and almost coming out because I stayed in the shower so long trying to get clean and I brushed my hair super hard because my OCD told me it was the only thing to prevent s* from happening. Thanks to a lovely girl online who helped me with OCD and the help of praying, my OCD went away almost completely!! I was so happy. This was in January 2017 when I was 14. My family had a stressful year though due to family problems. But around June 2017, my anxiety and emetophobia started to pick up again and it’s been bad again ever since. I worry about food and viruses more than I ever have and I’m starting to have panic attacks again. So sadly, that’s where I am now. 15 years old atm. My life is still pretty good I guess. I don’t have controlling OCD anymore, and since I’m older I’m able to think more logically than I used to. But I’m nowhere near recovery yet. Hopefully soon! Sadly, I can’t end my story on a positive note because I have recovered yet. But for all of you out there dealing with this horrible phobia, I know what you’re going through. You’re not alone. I know what it feels like to shaky uncontrollably worrying that any second you’ll be s*. I know what fake n* feels like. I know what worrying to the point you just want to sleep feels like. I know what it feels like to want to die than rather be s*. I know what you feel like! I’ve felt it several times and it’s horrible. But we can get through this together. We are so much stronger than we think we are and we won’t let this phobia beat us. I know it can be so controlling, but we can do it. Getting s* is soooo uncommon. People rarely ever v* and if they do, it’s because they were doing something us careful people wouldn’t. We are so careful that we have way less of a chance than people who aren’t like us - and even they won’t be s*!! Don’t worry. You will be okay. Remember all the times you’ve felt this way and been scared all for nothing. Each time you have a panic attack, it makes you stronger. And remember not to google your symptoms. Google doesn’t know everything and there’s a lot of liars and people who don’t know much out there. Some people probably post things just to scare us health freaks! You’re going to be okay. And you won’t be s*. Keep telling yourself that! You’re okay and we’ll get through this, together. Stay strong my loves!❤️❤️❤️

[bittenscreations]

Bye, Mia

Supernatural fiction with original characters. First part of a ?? length series. Possible triggers include: blood, violence, kidnapping, panic attack, gore.

It was late, and Mia was ready to go home. She gathered up her things, locked her computer, and stood up just as the office lights went out. It wasn’t the first time she’d worked so late, though, and she was prepared. Picking up her phone, she opened the menu and turned on the flashlight. The icon lit up, but nothing else happened.

“What the hell?” She tried again, tapping the icon twice. Nothing changed, so she sighed and grabbed her bag. She knew from previous experience that she could make it to the exit by using the small amount of light from the exit signs & regularly spaced safety lights.

As she walked through the abandoned halls, she was comforted by the regular nighttime sounds of the office: distant vacuuming as the cleaning staff tidied up, the echoing footsteps of the security guards as they made their rounds, and faint murmurs of other people making their way out of the building. A tiny scrabbling sound caught her attention and she frowned. Had another mouse gotten into the building somehow? The last one had wreaked havoc on the files before it was caught.

“Hey, Siri, make a note,” she said, holding up her phone.

“Ok I can take that note for you, just tell me what you want it to say,” the digital assistant replied.

Before she could answer, she heard a noise that sounded vaugely like laughter? Something sniffing? She wasn’t sure. She strained her ears to see what it was or where it had come from.

The phone in her hand spoke again, startling her. “Creating your note…here’s your note.” She looked down at the screen in surprise, then quickly glanced around. ‘I’m coming for you,’ was displayed in the area where Siri usually displayed whatever it had heard.

“Very funny,” Mia called, fear coloring her voice. “How did you manage to mess with my phone? It was on the desk next to me all day.” She turned, looking for someone in the depths of the shadows. If someone was trying to play a prank on her, they probably weren’t far away.

“Not far, no,” Siri responded to her thoughts, startling her again.

“Who’s there?” Mia whirled around again. It occurred to her that standing in the darkness & trying to find someone in its depths wasn’t the smartest thing to do, so she started walking toward the security desk to report the harrassment. She heard muffled footsteps behind her, and glanced back to find no one there. She walked faster, glad that she wore sneakers for the walk out to her car. As she passed under a security light, the rest of them went out.

Her text alert rang into the darkness, making her jump. As she glanced at the phone, she saw the text message for a brief moment before the screen glitched and went black. 'Gotcha,’ was all it said.

The light above her dimmed, brightened, and went out. As she stood in the darkness with her heart hammering frantically, she smelled something like burnt rubber. She heard the scrabbling sound again, louder this time, and realized that whatever was making the noise was too big to be a mouse. It sounded more like…like human-sized claws scraping along the office wall. She backed away from the noise, keeping one hand on the wall to guide herself.

“Yes,” Siri spoke from her hand again, “they’re claws.”

Mia threw her phone in the direction of the scrabbling and turned to run. She could make out the light of an exit sign in the distance. As she reached the door, the light went out. She threw open the door and felt warm air on her face. Something about it seemed wrong, though. The air outside the office usually smelled like pine trees, but this had the same scent she’d noticed before. Was it hot metal or burnt rubber? The air changed direction, heating up as she heard laughter and she realized it wasn’t air at all. Someone or something was breathing on her face.

She screamed and backed away, pushing her hands in front of her to ward off whoever it was. All she felt was the metal of the door as it swung shut. She listened for the claws behind her, but only heard the sound of her own harsh breathing. Her chest tightened painfully, and she wondered if she was having a heart attack. Did women hallucinate during heart attacks? She couldn’t remember the symptoms.

“Symptoms of heart attacks in women include breathlessness,” Siri again answered her thoughts. Mia could see the faint light from her phone as she looked back in the direction she’d thrown it. As she started crawling toward the phone, it continued reciting, “sweating, pain or discomfort in your chest or upper back, lightheadedness or dizziness, severe anxiety or confusion, and a feeling of impending doom.”

Mia reached out to her phone, ready to call 911. She had all of those symptoms, and more.

“The symptoms do not include hallucinations,” a different voice spoke from the darkness behind her. Mia screamed again as a hand closed around her ankle. The hand pulled her backward and she fell, hitting her head on the floor. As she blacked out, she felt the same hot breath against the back of her neck. The scent of burnt rubber (or was it hot metal? She still wasn’t sure) surrounded her, following her awareness into the depths of her mind.

As Mia came to, she could feel her hands tied behind her back. She tried to wiggle loose, but stopped as she felt the rope biting into her wrists painfully. She heard the laughter again, and looked around for the source.

She was sitting in a chair, in the center of a dim pool of light. She couldn’t see much beyond a few feet, but it looked like she was in an empty concrete room. Something moved in the darkness at the edge of her vision, and she turned to look at it.

“Who’s there?” she called.

“Did you rest well?” a hoarse, somewhat familiar-sounding voice replied with an eerie chuckle.

“Who are you? Why am I here?” Mia asked, terrified.

“I suppose I do owe you an answer, in thanks for such a wonderful meal. Dinner AND a show,” the voice said, and Mia could make out a human-looking form in the darkness. The figure moved closer and began clapping slowly. “Such a wonderful performance,” it mocked.

As the figure moved into the light, Mia’s first thought was that her eyes were playing tricks on her. Its hands were black, the fingers too long, ending in sharp-looking claws. As she stared, Mia realized that the black faded partway up the thing’s forearms, splitting into ragged lines that disappeared at various intervals as paler skin took over. The thing moved further into the light, and Mia realized with a start that she recognized the face.

“Theresa? What are you doing? Let me go, now!” she exclaimed.

“Theresa isn’t here right now,” the thing said in that same hoarse voice, and Mia realized it sounded like Theresa with a bad case of laryngitis.

“Would you like to leave a message?” Siri asked from her feet. Mia looked down and saw her phone, with the same glitchy screen she’d seen earlier.

“Ah, Siri,” the thing (Theresa?) cooed. “You played your part well, too. Of course,” it (she?) continued, Siri speaking in unison with it, “I DO have a way with technology.”

Mia blinked, recognizing one of Theresa’s favorite phrases. “Theresa, please let me go,” she begged.

“I told you,” the thing spat, “Theresa isn’t HERE right now!” A strange layer of static surrounded the thing that was Theresa, her voice overlaid with multiple tones. “You could say she’s gone on vacation.” Its mood changed suddenly, and it chuckled at some inner amusement. “But you asked some questions, and I agreed to answer them. You know part of who I am. Well, you know who my vessel is, at least. A better question would have been 'what are you,’ but I’ll give you that for free. I am a manifestation of pain, fear, and rage. As to the second question: you’re here because you’re the one who created me.”

“What? I don’t understand,” Mia protested. “I didn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Oh, but you did,” the thing replied. “Everytime Theresa pushed aside her anger & rage at your idiocy, each time she literally bit her tongue or dug her nails into her palms under the table, all the times she kept silent for fear of losing her job; all of those things she pushed aside in the name of 'professionalism’,” it sneered, “had to go somewhere. For most people, those things just fester in their soul, or they find ways to work through them: alocholism, drugs, painting, escapism, kickboxing classes, all those coping mechanisms. Theresa, though, she never did any of those. She let her imagination roam instead. Every bit of pain became a spark, every instance of fear became a drop of oil, each moment of rage was a piece of wood on a funeral pyre she built for you all in her mind.”

“But why me?” Mia interrupted.

“Every time you went to your supervisor because you knew he would push until you got your way, every time you pretended not to understand a task so that someone else would have to do it, each moment you spent with that blank look on your face as she explained the same thing again and again, all of those were the logs that built your pyre. You built yourself a nice large bonfire, others fanned it into a towering inferno, and now it - or I should say 'I’ - have come to consume you all.” The thing pulsed with heat, seeming to grow and shrink before her eyes as it spoke. Mia stared at the thing in horror, just beginning to comprehend the situation she was in. This wasn’t a crazed Theresa, this was something else, something that didn’t care about losing a job or going to prison.

“You’re right,” it responded to her thoughts. “I don’t care about those things. Fire consumes, that’s all it does. And since you were so kind enough to create me with pain, fear, and rage, I decided to start with you.” The thing stared at her, and Mia realized that its veins and arteries, all of its blood vessels, had turned black. “It’s pitch, Mia. Theresa’s blood has turned to pitch in her veins.” The thing started to giggle as static covered its form. “I needed a way to keep myself alive in here until I consumed everything I could.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” Mia began to cry in fear.

“It’s too late for that,” the thing sang. “I’m here now, and I’m hungry. Hungry for the things that created me in the first place. Theresa has all the rage I’ll ever need. I was surprised at that; I’d have expected her to have problems with depression or anxiety, given her past, but she is filled with rage. You were kind enough to treat me to a wonderful feast of fear earlier, and it should keep me sated for a day or two.”

“Then let me go!” Mia exclaimed. “If you already got what you wanted, you don’t need to keep me here.”

“Mia, Mia, Mia,” the thing spoke gently to her, explaining itself like an adult to a child. “Don’t you remember? There were three things that brought me here. Three things that I crave: rage, fear…” it hesitated, looking at her expectantly.

“And pain,” Mia finished in a whisper, realizing that she wasn’t going to leave here alive.

“And pain,” the thing agreed, smiling in approval. “You’ve given me a small taste, but I need more.” It moved closer, gently caressing her face with its claws.

Mia gasped as pain followed the path of that caress. She hadn’t realized the thing’s claws were razor sharp, parting the skin as they gently moved from her forehead and along the side of her jaw. She felt the warmth of her own blood running down her skin, and the thing leaned closer, still smiling.

“That’s it,” it whispered, and Mia felt its hot breath wash over her just before its tongue darted out and flicked along one of the blood trails. “Oh,” it murmured in surprise, “I didn’t know she had a taste for blood, too.”

The last thing Mia was aware of, before the world disappeared into a haze of pain, was the thing’s delighted laughter and the smell of its breath, now tinged with the copperish smell of her own blood. Then the thing grabbed the flap of skin it had separated from her jawline and began to peel off her face, and Mia knew nothing but pain and screaming for a long, long time.

#possible trigger #blood #violence #kidnapping #panic attack #supernatural #rage #darkness

[lk-mitogen]

mental health rant

A friend of mine had an explosive breakdown at work today, and he got into a lot of trouble for it (he yelled at an R4 and an external doctor, both of which are...wayyyyyy higher up in rank than we are lmao, we’re at the bottom rung or lower). Talking to him and his girlfriend and another friend individually, I got the gist of why he did it -- his parents are divorcing, he has financial issues because of it, he’s lost faith in becoming a pediatrician and now has no idea who he wants to be, we work under insane pressure every day and no one gives a shit except when we fuck up, etc etc -- and I remembered me in my first year and a bit of med school, how I was just like that, because my own parents were divocing and it was hellish, and people came to know me as “that person who’s always fighting with the teachers” because I didn’t give a shit who you were, if you were wrong I told you and gave you twenty citations to back up my opinion, and it was just disruptive and offensive and it absolutely made me no allies.

He wasn’t wrong to get angry, to get irritated, but there are ways of expressing it that are better and more productive, but the reason I can tell that is because I’m in a better place now.

And like, he’s not the only one. My best medical school friend had a prolonged breakdown from last year until very recently, and it manifested as panic attacks and fainting spells and she would literally tell me “I have to get fresh air” and leave me alone in the emergency room with 20 patients because she just couldn’t handle it anymore, and I hated her a little bit for it, not gonna lie, she abandoned me when I really fucking needed someone to help me over and over and over, even in the middle of a goddamn surgery once, but I understood, I got it, and she got help and she’s better now, and she’s an impeccable doctor, whipsmart and attentive, I’d consult her anyday.

And like, this guy’s girlfriend has lately been complaining about nonspecific abdominal symptoms, and she keeps wanting to find a medical explanation for it, but I know it’s psychological, because she’s dealing with the same stress we’re all under PLUS her boyfriend is going absolutely nuts and in a violent way, it’s not the first time he yells at people when he’s frustrated, it’s just the first time he did it to people high enough and emotionally alien enough to him to report the shit out of him for it, and she’s his onlly emotional support, he’s the kind of boyfriend who would say “if you leave me I’ll kill myself”, so good luck with that sort of insane pressure, even if you have enough money to pay for your own transportation and food without difficulties like some other people have.

Another friend keeps sleeping in, she just can’t get up, I keep telling her put!! an alarm!! earlier!!! and she swears she does, but she says she can’t help herself from turning it off, because she “self-sabotages”, and it’s so!! fucking!!! frustrating!!!! because again, she leaves me to handle the 6:45 am handoff alone every. single. day. because she can’t get up and she arrives at 7:20 am with coffee and an apology and I gotta grit my teeth and bear it, because I GET IT, i really really do, she’s under a lot of stress and it manifests as self-sabotage, like, boy do I get it, I’ve been there, so I try to be kind and understanding and patient but. My god. I legit tune her out now whenever she starts apologizing because I’m 99.999% sick of it. And like! She’s a great doctor! Her bedside manner is A++ I admire her so much for it, and she genuinely cares for our patients, even the worst of the lot, I really wish I had her empathy (only not really because that’s where her self-destructive tendencies come from, I think). Basically, she’s a great person, just. Man. Wake the fuck up on time, PLEASE.

And this other guy, another part of our team, is a total flake, he keeps manifesting nonspecific symptoms like MY JAW HURTS I GOTTA GET MY WISDOM TEETH PULLED OUT!! one day and MY ABDOMEN HURTS I CANT COME TO WORK I THINK I HAVE APENDICITIS!!! and fucking shit like this every goddamn week it’s something new, and he’s on so many different medications for depression and anxiety and sleeping and staying awake and he’s gained easily 20 kilograms this year and I feel for him, I really do, his life is spiraling out of control and he’s clawing the walls all the way down to rock bottom, and I can see it, everyone can see it, but he’s too flakey to ever get anyone on his side, and part of me wants to tell him, buddy, take a sabbatical, but the problem is, he already took one so he can’t take another, and he’s burned me too many times and not reciprocated emotionally enough for me to reach out and help him, because I will drown right alongside him at the rate he’s going.

And then my other friend!! Whom I care about! A lot!! she’s also super empathic and kind but. SHE IS. SO GODDAMN SLOW. AT EVERYTHING. In the time it takes me to see 6 patients and write their SOAP notes she’s done one, and she’s not the sharpest tool in the box, she sometimes suggests treatments that are...not the correct ones, and so I gotta go and help her out, talk it through with her so she doesn’t heck it up, and she’s super cool about it! But!!! SO GODDAMN SLOW!!!!! PLEASE! LEARN TO BE MORE EFFICIENT!!! Even though I know it’s all a symptom of burnout, too, even I’m not cold-hearted enough to not realize it.

We’re all just. Shambling through this year, trying our best, and our best manifests in different ways when under stress, sometimes it’s just showing up to work. Sometimes it’s just managing to write the note, even if it takes you hours. Sometimes it’s asking your buddy if they can cover you so you can go cry in the bathroom for five minutes and then come back. We’re all doing our absolute best to be here and attentive and empathic, and I am really proud of everyone, but I’m also really sick of being the most sane person on the team. A selfish childish part of me is like, I WANNA HAVE MY BREAKDOWN TOO DAMNIT!! But I’m too old for it, and I’ve trained myself quite well to handle my meltdowns in efficient ways, productive ways, so I can get back on the horse quickly and in a stable manner. I’m proud of me for that too, but it does get tiring, having all parts of my team leaking anxiety and depression and stress in psychosomatic ways.

So I’m going to give in to my desire right now and have a very condensed breakdown rant and hopefully get all my high octane frustration out in one go, and then parse it out once it’s text.

For the past 10 months I’ve lived through the best and worst of people. I’ve given folks CPR to the point where their ribs break under my hands, I’ve had to fist a lady’s inverted uterus back into place in the most body horror moment of my life, I legit feared for my life when this dude going through withdrawal physically threatened me, I’ve delivered an extremely deformed baby with gastroschisis manually and their guts were spilling over my hands and though it didn’t die in my arms it died about ten minutes later in mom’s and it was sad as FUCK, I’ve had 13 12 11 and 10 year old girls delivering babies because their brother cousin uncle foster dad abused them and abortion is illegal in my stupid fucking hyper catholic state and this is a never ending cycle cause mom was 14 when they had them and on and on and on, and this other time I was the only fucking doctor at a public hospital once during an overnight shift and I had to suture this guy’s toes back on having 0 prior experience suturing ANYTHING and they fell right off the next day because I didn’t know what the FUCK I was doing and I still feel fucking awful about that, and at that same fucking hospital some IDIOT put formaldehyde in a saline solution bottle and this poor surgical nurse accidentally poured it into some poor patient’s open abdominal cavity IN FRONT OF ME and the fucking suction didn’t work because that public hospital is a piece of SHIT and that patient totally died and the resident told the family it had been something else and I WAS THERE and it was BULLSHIT, and COUNTLESS other horrible, truly horrible, absolutely horrible things, and I’ve tried to take all of that shit and learn something from it, make something good come out of so much, so much, SO MUCH awful, and I’ve patiently, patiently, patiently tried to tolerate my collegue’s breakdowns, and their eternal lateness, and the residents yelling at me, and the external doctors telling us we’re never going to be anything worthy, and I think I’ve been doing a good job of it, to be honest, at this point I feel like I’ve become this politely smiling shell of myself to survive it, because a part of me feels like I’m living in an alternate dimension where morality and ethics and laws no longer exist, because they simply do not apply anymore, someone has just taken all of that important stuff and dismissed it to be kindergarden stuff, and I gotta nod and go with it or else I’m going to be my friend saying “i need air” and leaving, or “i self sabotage like this” and sleeping in, or “i think my wisdom tooth is aching” and taking the day off or just, simply, EXPLODING at everyone until they kick me out, and like

a big part of me is MOURNING the fact that I’ve become like this, that THIS is what becoming a doctor means in my country, that THIS is the type of formation they require of us. This horrible automaton of a person, that is a symbol of so much goodness but underneath it it’s all lawless shit, it’s all under the water shit, it’s all cover everyone’s fuck ups type shit. I hate it. I hate what I’m becoming. This person that can talk about all this and kind of go “yeah, I guess it’s objectively awful, but have I told you about [this even more awful event]?” because if you play that game there’s always a worse story, there’s always lower, and lower, and LOWER.

I’ll always be glad I chose to study this career, for all it’s morphed me into something I never wished to be. Because I can wade in these muddy rotten waters and help my friends and my family navigate it, I can help strangers and underprivileged people navigate it, I can help all of them from my insider privileges, to make their experience better than it would have been without me, more efficient, more smooth, more right, correct, lawful. I can’t help everyone, and I’m human and I’ll fuck up now and again too, because I’m learning, but I know, firm in my heart, that wherever I go it will be better that I was there than if I wasn’t.

Even if it’s just because the bar is so fucking low it’s difficult not to do better, believe you me, a lot of my colleagues are so fucking burnt out that they somehow still do it worse, and I’ve seen it in external doctors as well.

I’ll take all of these horrible awful no good experiences and I’m going to do better, I’m already better, I will make people have a better experience when they are going through the worst parts of their lives. Even if I had to mess myself up a lot to survive it, I think it’s worth it to spend this one life of mine doing this. I really really do.

#doodle diary #tho no doodles this time

[gyromitra-esculenta]

Synchronicity 6 or 7 (I honestly lost count)

With guest appearances by Roadhog and THE Shrike. Otherwise, take your meds, yadda yadda yadda. And maybe Reaps.

(…)

Now a changing of the guard has begun

A kingdom that belies the internal

Is a prison of the mind that's infernal

And eternal is the lie turned plague

(…)

The time on the screen is now forty-five past ten as Jack huddles behind the counter and scrapes off the caked flaking blood from his nose, the itch unbearable. He lost a quarter of an hour. He should have taken the meds, the attacks, three if he remembers them, take time from him, and luckily he has not been found during this episode. He could go back and try to scrounge something from the remains of the crushed pills, but the idea has him almost giggling desperately.

Instead, he reaches into his pocket for a cigarette. This time he lights it and the smoke scratches his throat in a strangely familiar way, the nicotine dizziness and elation pass fast, leaving him shivering.

“Brings back memories, doesn’t it,” the Beast, amused, sits by him, the ever-present shadow of himself.

“I have no idea,” Jack shrugs. “I don’t smoke.”

“I guess you don’t,” the Beast purrs in contentment, fangs nipping at his neck dangerously. Jack puts the cigarette out on the floor. “Any plans, Sunshine?”

“Forward.” It grows quiet after that and he pulls himself up, muscles trembling with exertion as he grips the countertop to stabilize himself. First few steps are harder than they should be, stiff and painful, and Jack takes a deep breath before he pushes to the next room – a corridor really – which looks more like a maintenance area with fenced off pipes lining the wall, the hum of electrical machinery strangely discomforting.

Muffled sounds of shots fired and screams send his senses into a frenzy, his grip on the pistol grows strained as he creeps further, only to stop at the turn, his instinct trying to keep him back. But he cannot allow himself to stay and wait it all out, he has to survive and get out. The purpose that he does not understand spurs him to move and round the corner.

A nurse pummels on the reinforced glass trying to get his attention like he could do something – anything really – seconds before his face becomes a gore show of exit wounds splattered against the transparent surface and then, he slides down leaving bloody smears with bits of bone and white brain matter. Jack observes, the strangely empty feeling unfurling in his mind as if he were just standing beside himself. None are blameless here.

“Boss, you won’t believe whom I just run into.” The voice snaps his head to its source, eyes widening in recognition. Mako Rutledge. Surging panic stops him in place and he can’t breathe suddenly because there is a hand at his throat... “Fucking Morrison.”

“See, Sunshine? All our old friends,” the Beast hisses into his ear, the ghost of touch moves along his jaw and lips, thumb pressing hard to demand his urgent concentration, but he cannot breathe, cannot focus on anything other than the man on the other side of the bloodstained glass smirking at him knowingly.

“Yeah. I just might know how to cut him off,” Rutledge heads for the exit. “You want him rare or done?”

“Remember your training. You can still outrun him, Sunshine.” The Beast whispers and Jack unfreezes, the sudden jolt of his muscles almost hurting, a jump, each step. He takes off, dashing through the meandering corridors and crashing through fence gates.

Rutledge is big. Doesn’t care for collateral. Close quarters is his forte. In hand to hand, he is going to be severely disadvantaged. Jack needs to put distance between them and think up a plan to deal with the situation. To deal with the unexplainable fear churning in his gut at the mere sight of the man.

More so, he realizes, when the hot air almost dries up his throat and billowing smoke threatens to close up his airways, just past the first sealed doors. Because where Rutledge is, Fawkes and his personal brand of destruction are not far behind.

He rushes through the burning room, heat singing his hair. The next are has nothing to burn and Jack takes a big thankful gulp of air. The crack of the radio has him pushing against the wall when the display shows unknown caller id.

“Jack, you are going into an ambush,” the heavily modulated voice cuts in.

“Who the bloody fuck are you!? This is a secure channel…”

“Lena,” Jack asks and she grows quiet but her displeasure carries with an irritated click of a tongue. “Is Rutledge there?”

“He took a different path, to meet up with Lacroix, it seems,” the person on the other side answers after some consideration. “I don’t have the command frequency code.”

“Fawkes?”

“With Lacroix at the moment. The room you’re going into is the internal foyer of the right research facility. There is a guard desk on the left by the entrance. There are four boogies in at the moment, two on the left by the exit, two just in the front. Standard gear.”

“Do they have the video feed?” Jack checks the Seegert again, counting bullets, just to be sure.

“I cut them off.” So they do not know where anyone exactly is or how many of them are here, surviving so far. It’s him, Lena, and possibly still Winston. Others unaccounted for. They only know what path he is going to take. It’s something, at least.

“Roger that.”

Jack steadies himself, calming breaths slow, and reaches inside for that something that will not let him die, the Beast at his fingertips purring and taking over.

“Remember your training,” it murmurs when the doors crash open. The first two shots find their targets with terrifying accuracy but he does not stop and turns left, vaulting over the desk. The grenade passes him in the air and lands behind the counter where he was a scant second earlier.

The other of the two remaining enemies starts firing only now but his aim is low. Too low. Another two shots take care of the situation and then Jack falls flat to the ground. The explosion shakes the room and glass dividers shatter with the soundwave. Concussion grenade.

They were not trying to kill him, they were trying to incapacitate him. He doesn’t know if that thought eases him in any way as he scrambles up. But it is an advantage he will have to press.

“Glad to see you hadn’t rusted, Morrison.”

“Jack, you good?” Lena whispers as he takes the rifle clips off the bodies and reloads the one he has on his shoulder. He finds two more grenades.

“Positive. Replenished the arsenal.”

“Okay, who the bloody…”

“You can call me Shrike.” The voice on the other side stops her mid-sentence. “You’re in the clear for now, Jack. Left through the another hospital hub security area is your best bet to elevators and T.A.C. – there are three Blackwatch and a worker barricaded inside.”

He grunts in answer, the weight of the rifle in his hands now giving him some semblance of security.

“Shrike? You stop bollocking us right now, because…”

“Child,” the voice is more amused than angry. “The Shrike is based off me. Patching the lock.” The light by the keycard reader turns green and the strengthened door slides open.

“And you just so happen to know Jack, bloody brilliant if you expect me to believe this to boot…”

“I don’t know him, girl. I used to.”

“Jack, luv?”

“I have no idea, but she is helping.” Jack steps through. Shrike chuckles on the line.

“She? The Shrike is a bloke!”

“Don’t believe everything you see on the telly. How’s your medication, Jack, by the way?”

“Ditched it,” the impulse to lie is not there, not now, and he can imagine Shrike nodding with approval on the other side of the comm even if Lena reproachfully mutters some curse.

“Any withdrawal symptoms so far?”

“Hell if I know. I’m hallucinating like crazy, but it started on the dosage.” The place is again eerily empty, the red crosses on the walls don’t bother him that much anymore but the sporadic clusters of gray ash he makes sure not to step in out of some inner inexplicable conviction shake him to the core.

“It’s going to get worse with Reaper around. It induces psychic shock only with proximity.” It. Calling Reaper ‘it’ feels inherently wrong and Jack clenches his teeth, faltering in his stride for a second. “Next turn will have you above the hub. They are rigging explosives to blow the security area open. There’s something I have to take care of, if anything comes up I will contact you again.”

“I’m moved by your concern, Sunshine, really,” the Beast mocks him with a lurking undertone of fondness.

“Bloody hogwash, all this shit,” Lena spats out. “What’s this business with your meds?”

“They weren’t helping. The Beast doesn’t like them.” She falls silent for a while. “I have the episodes already but I’m managing.”

“Jack, luv, you read about thirty meters below me.” She is concerned. He doesn’t want her to be. Crazy or not, he is dealing. Somehow, badly, but he is dealing with it. “We will get this mess sorted out. Call me if you need, you know… Oxton out.”

He stops above the security room, ever so helpfully labeled literally with a big sign over the secluded area in the bigger hall. The set up does not belong in a hospital and would be strange and suspicious if he had not known what he does know now. One of the agents below knocks on the glass.

“Ma’am, there was a break out in specimen containment. We are evacuating everybody.” Jack crouches down and braces the rifle against his shoulder, preparing for the recoil.

“No! Leave me alone! I’m safe in here!” The woman inside screams back at him. The one setting up the charge moves back and shows the okay sign. Jack holds his breath and aims.

“Steady now, Sunshine,” the Beast chides him.

“I know,” he pulls the trigger and holds it until the magazine empties. Splattered blood brings an intense sense of satisfaction he isn’t sure is his own that flows through his mind. He jumps down and rolls on the floor, turning towards the secure area, sudden pain stabbing just behind his eyes.

Inside, through the window, he can see the woman, now frozen in the motion of backing off towards the wall, her skin graying rapidly and changing the texture. There is something – someone – standing before her, dark claw touching her forehead, but the red glowing eyes of the black figure with decaying flesh in place of a face focus on him.

There is a flick of a finger and the woman’s form crumples into gray ash, slowly falling apart, parts drifting off on an invisible air current.

“I see you,” Jack, with the Beast crowding his back, whispers weakly.

#sometimes i write #overwatch #fear!au #r76 #reaper76 #i guess