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catscidr · 2 months

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Dr ratio and student (adult) reader who tried really hard to study but she is kinda failing? 😭 I once had strict teacher like ratio and he was softer to me, so Idk if ratio would be the same or even more mean

this is a little different from what you asked. BUT. i Do think that he wouldn't be mean n would help u study because it means you're trying to not be an idiot and his whole shtick is trying to make people less dumb. ykwim. i might've projected a littol bit... times r tough what can i say <(ㅍ _ㅍ)> cw: blurb/headcanon format (?), hurt/comfort technically because ratio is a little mean. it's not that bad tho trust, university setting includes: gn!student!reader, professor!veritas ratio, can be read as either platonic or romantic (or favoritism lmao) wc: 1k

-ˋˏ I think he would be pretty frustrated at first. How come all your studying did little to nothing to change your less-than-ideal grades? Especially when he’s the one teaching you, at this point it’s an insult to him and his teaching skills!

-ˋˏ ...but when you showed up to his office with your lips curled down in deep a frown, downturned brows and meek eyes that refused to meet his gaze for more than three seconds and reflected just how embarrassed (and almost ashamed) you were, he could only sigh and wave his hand to gesture for you to come in.

-ˋˏ You took out your textbook, your notes and the study guide he had made specifically for the final exam. They felt heavier in your hands than they usually do, since now he could very well take a single look at your messy, scribbled notes and turn you away for “wasting his time” like you’ve seen him do with other struggling students. You couldn’t afford failing this exam though, so you place down your things on his (now cleared) desk and sit at the edge of the chair he had across of him, silently praying to whatever god to grant you some mercy.

-ˋˏ His first reaction was... not good, for lack of better words. Your notes were a mess and there were splotches of black all over about five pages— the result of an unfortunate accident where your pen exploded in your hands during an all-nighter. He was tempted to turn you away or to, at the very least, scold you for being so disorganized, but he wouldn’t be the infamous Doctor Veritas Ratio if he did. One look at you and he could tell that you hadn’t slept properly in God-knows how long, that you hadn’t eaten a proper meal in just as long, and that you had the drive to study, but for a reason unknown to you, simply couldn’t. Or, at least not in a way that made you retain the information you tried to hammer into your brain.

-ˋˏ You'd sit there; hands folded in your lap, eyes refusing to meet his, silently waiting for him to say something, anything lest you implode on the spot. Ratio would gloss over your notes, eyes lingering on the little doodles of yourself you drew in the margins of the page with a little speech bubble saying ‘help’ right above it, and would hold in a sigh. Crossing his arms over his chest he would lean back in his chair and tilt his head, burning holes in your skull until you lifted your head up. He wouldn’t say a word, he’d be as patient as he needed to be, waiting.

-ˋˏ When you finally looked over at him you swore you felt your heart drop to your ass (how long had he been staring?) as you forced yourself to not grab your stuff and dip. “Um-” you started speaking but he promptly shut you up by interrupting you with a question of his own; “Do you honestly think you can study adequately in such conditions?”

-ˋˏ (Of course he’d notice, you scold yourself internally. There’s no way to successfully hide the dark circles under my eyes.)

-ˋˏ You’re taking way too long to answer, too absorbed into your head to speak, and it’s starting to get under his skin. His frown seems embedded onto his face, the absence of his plaster head making you quiver in fear from the sheer amount of frustration he must feel because of you. Unfortunately, you’re nowhere near as observant as he is— because if you were, you would have noticed that his frustration wasn’t aimed at you, but at himself. How did he let it get this bad? He’s supposed to be a teacher, and teachers are supposed to care for their pupils

-ˋˏ (It might seem like he couldn’t give two shits about his students, but he does care— in his own harsh way. He considers kicking people out of his class a blessing; if he didn’t care about their wellbeing, he would have let them stay and feel stupid as well as let them be completely overwhelmed as a result of not understanding the content of his lessons and the workload he assigns. Of course, he doesn’t want people to drop his class, but if that’s what it takes for people to not go insane then so be it. He’s made peace with it.)

-ˋˏ “When was the last time you were able to sleep for longer than eight hours consecutively?” he asks, intense gaze unfaltering as your eyes dart all over his office in a poor attempt at avoiding the inevitable. Finally, you look at him sheepishly, and mumble a number that was far from satisfactory in his books. He clicks his tongue and unfurls his arms, grabbing your books strewn across his desk and shuts them, sliding them over towards you. You sit, puzzled and flustered that you’ve gone all this way just for him to kick you out. If he was going to be an ass, he should have just dismissed you as soon as—

-ˋˏ “Your assignment is to get a good night’s rest. Do not come into my classroom if you haven’t slept for 8 hours minimum. If I see you work dark circles as prominent as the ones you have right now, I’ll drag you to the nearest bed or couch myself.”

...Can’t say you expected that kind of response.

-ˋˏ You can’t even get a word in before he beats you to it, already knowing what you were about to say. “I’ll let you retake the exam if I deem your health to be unacceptable when you arrive in the lecture hall for the exam.” You shut your mouth, unsure of what to even say in response. You really felt like you were being scolded.

-ˋˏ He would gladly help you study when you come back looking (and feeling) refreshed, though. Not that he’d show it with his body language, but his actions said everything. He’d bring energy bars for you to snack on while he explained material you struggled with, would be patient when you’d ask seemingly dumb questions (one time you asked him why he hadn’t kicked you out of his class yet, and that was the first time he actually scolded you. Because that was the first dumb question you asked him).

#୧ ‧₊˚orderup!#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x y/n #dr ratio x you #veritas ratio x reader #veritas ratio x you

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halloiambored · 2 years

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Thought / Prompt

CW: math, even more so. Run away. Part 1

“—since you’re integrating from -a to b, clearly you run into the asymptote of this function, so the integral doesn’t exist.”

Hero flawlessly disguised their laugh as a sigh, shaking their head and huffing out a curse through their gag.

“Oh, come on, it’s clear as day. And yet, somehow, you got th— rolling your eyes is rude, Hero, you should know better.”

In silence, Hero is left to glare, hoping that Villain catches their, ‘you kidnapped me and tied me to an office chair, asshole,’ regardless. To their disdain, Villain only smirks at their expression before flipping the page over.

“How the hell did you get i times pi minus two?!”

If only Villain had let them interject sooner. But alas, it’s been four pages and Villain still has no idea that z is a complex number, not a real number. And after over 17 hours without sleep? Hero’s loopy self can’t help but find the ordeal hilarious.

Unfortunately, as Hero tried to disguise another laugh as a ‘cough,’ Villain saw through their act.

“What?” The criminal inquired, head tilted to one side. Their feet were propped up to Hero’s right, the assignment in question draped accros their lap.

Out of spite, Hero started to answer, as if the gag wasn’t making their speech incoherent.

Villain chuckled at their captive’s efforts, they were extraordinarily bold for someone at their mercy. And yet… it felt good to smile for a change.

Plopping the pile of (newly) disorganized papers on the desk in front of them, Villain waltzed over to Hero’s chair.

TBC

#original #hero x villain #writing prompt #it’s not done!#revisions will be made #scenes will be added #fret not

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minimag1c · 1 year

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Bahahaha no this is trash omfg

Uh have fun ig? Yuck imagine posting something like this

Uh oh

CW : ooc moments. Like. A L O T.

Like always, this idea doesn't belong to me but uncle cinnamon (literally this entire book belong to him, I just put it on wattpad lmao) and I was the one who wrote it.

I've also changed something : it doesn't happen during the meeting but when the ancients talk with each other at night and this time Clotted cream pass by, hearing all the conversation (who is a little bit changed because angst)

Edit : this dated from July 2022 so there is probably of 89 % of it that wouldn't make sense at all. Sorry for that-

Enjoy!

-Miranto

___________________________________________

It was the last meeting in the vanilla Kingdom and everyone was... how do I say it... nervous, stressed but intrigued at the same time.

Mostly Clotted Cream Cookie. But he wasn't intrigued. He just felt nervous.

Not only, he did felt awfully bad for what he had done during the last meeting but he was also scared that his dried speech would affect the ancient's decisions, mostly Pure Vanilla. He didn't wanted to say it that loud but the healer was (for now) the only ancient he was very close of. He was the only one who seemed to be kind with him and he really wanted to, maybe Hollyberry too but she wasn't that much close to him as Pure vanilla. Also maybe because he was the mighty king of the ancient vanilla Kingdom.

And now he felt ever more guilty because he probably broke their friendship. He still could hear the horrid argument with queen Hollyberry, king Dark cacao and Pure vanilla. The pure hurt and anger that was on their eyes while the healer couldn't even add something, because he couldn't deny everything they have said. White lily was dark enchantress and they have heard this information for a COMPLETE stranger.

From... Him.

Clotted cream couldn't even think about what would happen because of his imprudent mistake. Eh, what an irony. Him, the cookie of house custard who could plan ahead for any outcome, was now fearing the consequences of something that he couldn't predict anymore.

"no wonder why father doesn't like me. I'm disorganized and get easily distracted for nothing."

Clotted cream sighed as he let his head fall. He couldn't let go. He couldn't give up. It was not for his sake. No, he wasn't that kind of cookie. It was for the Republic, for all of the cookies, for all earthbread. It was the only hope and he was losing it, just because of ruthless words he had spoken without even knowing how was the relationship between the ancients. And judging how King dark cacao nearly killed him, they were very close, and he didn't acknowledge that.

Clotted cream only felt more useless, pathetic, horrible and other awful things in existence. Yet, he couldn't give up. He HAD to continue. He had to prove himself. To everyone. To the crème Republic. To the elders. To his... Father.

The young consul couldn't even imagine how disappointed Elder Custard would be towards him. The pure disgust on his face and his harsh words. No he couldn't afford that.

He needed air.

Yeah. Some of the fresh air of the night would probably calm him down. After all, even if in the morning it would be the final decision, Clotted cream couldn't sleep when he was anxious and stressed and he didn't wanted to like some sort of dead corpse at the council due of his lack of sleep.

The young counsul got up from his desk and quietly went to the exit, making sure to not wake anyone, especially Financier cookie. She had done so much for him even though in the first place, he didn't wanted a paladin to protect him since he could do it himself and yet, she kept overworking herself to make sure he was okay.

Another thing the consul was guilty about.

He let the paladin sleep and made his way to his favorite place of all the vanilla Kingdom. The garden.

It was peaceful and beautiful enough for him to be alone with his thoughts and actually put his head back together. The view toward the flowers was very charming and air was confortable enough.

Just the thought of it made him smile.

Little thing he didn't know is that he wouldn't be alone.

Clotted cream barely entered completely in the garden as he heard voices who weren't from afar. Panicking, he hid himself behind some bushes and looked at the place to find where voices were. To his grand surprise, it were the voices of the ancients, sitting on a round table and even more surprising they were still wearing their attire from this morning except their didn't wore their crown and less, they didn't had their weapons with them. The three of them were sitting on a round table, focusing a lot on their conversation that they didn't seemed to hear the young consul who hid himself in the garden.

Clotted cream cookie looked at the three heroes as his jaw slightly opened, as he grew more and more nervous.

"If they're hiding from the other, at night instead of sleeping, then it's probably something very important...." He tried to theorize, as more doubts grew in his mind. What if they are talking about him? About his behavior during the council, did they wanted him to go? Or worse, what if his irrational action caused a drastic change when it came to their initial opinion, mostly Pure vanilla cookie, who seemed to be the only one who was on his side.

No.

"Calm down clotted cream. "He thought." You're overthinking again. Maybe they're talking about something else. No need to... Panic. "the young consul tried to reassure himself, rubbing his temple. That was one of the thing he didn't liked with him, aside the constant loss of concentration everytime there was a serious situation where he needed to concentrate as well with his impulsives actions.

But it seems his stressful thoughts were unfortunately true.

"I'm sorry Pure vanilla cookie but we can't bring ourselves to just hand our soul jams to this unknown cookie who pretend to be a descendant." Clotted cream heard the king dark cacao said and peeked out his head so suddenly at this statement.

The cacaonian looked at the healer with a frown but at the same time with a look of "I'm sorry but this is my choice" as Pure vanilla cookie looked at him with surprise.

"W-what?" he stammered, glancing back and forth at his friends, his eyes widening. Why? Didn't they seemed to agree with him not a few minutes ago? How did Dark cacao suddenly changed his opinion? Pure vanilla was about to say something until Hollyberry cookie, in her turn, interrupted him, with a little bit of guilt.

"I'm sorry Pure vanilla but... Dark cacao is right. Even if this "Consul" seems to be very genius with keeping his promises despite his... Irrational act, we can't just bring ourselves to lend our soul jam to an ordinary cookie! Look what White lily has become because of it! If even our friends couldn't control its power, how an average cookie would handle such a heavy responsibility?? " she argued as the healer was just taken back, a little shocked by those words.

They... They were right.

Despite her soul jam not being involved with her transformation, White lily was an ancient who had a powerful artifact and she went more instable than a normal cookie, her has just made her transformation worse and more instable than it was already.

But what about the crème Republic? What about this remaining of the vanilla Kingdom? Wouldn't they never be able to meet them? Or even help them a second time? They were already lucky to not be slaughtered by Dark enchantress cookie's monsters and creatures, but this time she would surely come back, more powerful and worse than last time! He couldn't do the same mistake twice!

"Pure vanilla?" Dark cacao asked as the healer cookie perked up.

"O-oh sorry..." He stammered before regaining his senses as Hollyberry stared at her friend with worry but eventually started to frown a little as well.

"But... Why not?" he asked while looking at Dark cacao cookie who just decided to sigh.

"Pure vanilla cookie.. We can't bring ourselves to give the Soul Jam. The risk is too high and this..." consul " cannot be trusted even if he comes from the remaining of the vanilla Kingdom."

The hollyberrian queen seems to notice how her healer friend was upset about this response and decided to told him

" Pure vanilla... If it upset you that much, we can propose another solution tomorrow? "she tried to ease, because she saw the two men became more tense than usual.

Pure vanilla and Dark cacao cookie both perked up to look at the queen. A small confused expression on their faces.

"Tomorrow?" the cacaonian king asked, raising an eyebrow. "Hollyberry cookie, are you sure this is a good idea to report the decision? After all, we've already have decided that it's not sure to give our soul jam to a stranger and.."

"Maybe Hollyberry is right" Pure vanilla interrupted, holding his staff a little bit more tightly as the cacaonian king looked at him with surprise and so did the other ancien heroe.

"You sure? We don't have much time and-" the king stopped talking when his friend raised his hand to talk as he opened his heteromantic eyes.

"I think it's more wise to think about it and not directly jumping into hâtives conclusions.. And still, we aren't even talking about it with the concerned one, Clotted cream cookie. Probably it is more wise to talk about this... Quite difficult choice." the healer suggested, calming himself a little bit down while Hollyberry cookie sighed in relief as Dark cacao resigned, sighing as well.

"I guess you're right pure vanilla cookie.. It's probably wiser to discuss about it in the morning, we will be in better conditions and we can't be the only one that need to talk about it." he admitted as he got up and so did the two other heroes.

"Then it's settled, we should discuss that matter in the morning. For now, maybe we should rest and sleep, I don't want any of you to be tired in the meeting" pure vanilla tried to joke a little to hide his awkwardness towards the situation that he had been put in.

The hollyberrian queen directly agreed following Dakr cacao with a little bit of hesitation and eventually gave up as the three stood up.

"I admitted that you are right.." the king said once again as he took his crown and sword and glanced at his friends one more time. "we should probably rest for now."

Pure vanilla and Hollyberry both agreed and was about to go away until the three heard a suspicious sound towards the bushes as the group of friends positioned themselves, ready to attack until Pure vanilla saw a fancy ribbon that he directly recognized.

[...]

During all of the conversation the ancients had between each other, Clotted cream's heart bet faster and faster, being more and more stressed at each words King Dark cacao cookie and Queen Hollyberry Cookie have said. His breathing was faster than usual as he gripped a branch a little too tightly that his hand started to have a small wound and blood on it but it wasn't his main concern.

It was the response to his proposal during the consul that made his heart skip a beat.

Did pure vanilla actually agree with them???

No no no, it was impossible, right??? The healer had agreed with him, he seemed okay with the proposal and didn't object with his idea of cooperating with the crème Republic and he actually tried to defend the young cookie!

But he seemed to be iffy when he have done that?? Or he just tried to hold himself with a little bit possibility of seeing once again the kingdom he failed to protect? Was it actually his real motivation?? Then another horrible thought striked in his mind.

What if the healer only

Too many thoughts were inside Clotted cream's head, making him feel a migraine in additional of his lack of sleep. He stopped holding at the plant but instead grip his arm alongside with his shirt who was already dirty because of the mud in the bushes, trying to calm himself down but it just got worse.

His breathing was nearly blocking, suffocating his lungs. His eyes were widely opened, staring into nothing as tears were threatened to fall. It was all foggy and wuzzy around him as if he was in a fever dream. His head was spinning aggressively and eyes burned so much. But he still didn't move an inch, even if his body acted so strange, Clotted cream still looked at the ground as his legs gave up and nearly collapsed on the floor, his ribbon shivering uncontrollably.

It wasn't long before the ancients noticed him and rushed towards the young consul.

To be honest, Clotted cream didn't even flinch or react when he heard the voices of the three coming towards him and less when Pure vanilla tried to shook him from his trance, as if he wanted to completely shut off the world.

"Quick! What should we do???" Hollyberry asked, worried and unsure about the situation as the younger cookie didn't seemed to stop soon.

"I-I'll try to comfort him! .." Pure vanilla spoke over, trying to ease and calm down Clotted cream cookie. "Maybe you two should go, probably it's for the best from him to not feel crowded.." the healer suggested.

During all the small commotion, Dark cacao didn't talk or even opened his mouth. The king just looked the consul with a complex expression on his face. Did the lad spy on them? Or it wasn't intended but just pure coincidence that at the moment they've talked, he was here? To be honest, he didn't really wanted to ask, maybe it was for the better that Pure vanilla take care of Clotted cream than him.

He sighed and called Hollyberry to say that it was probably for the best to leave them alone. The queen was about to protest until she judged it was wiser and went away with her friends to their respective chambers while the third ancient heroe stroked the young consul and tried to ease him, like a parent comforting their child.

Soon, after some seconds that felt like an eternity, Clotted wasn't tensed anymore and breathed in and out normally but was probably extremely tired. Pure vanilla still worryingly looked at him, trying to see if there was any wounds that he created without noticing.

The healer sighed in relief. There were no severe wounds, only some marks but it wasn't bleeding so it was okay.

"Maybe I should lead him to his bedroom.." Pure vanilla cookie though and tried to find a solution to take him there until he heard someone running and heavy breathing that came closer along side with the sound of a sword clenching inside the scabbard.

[...]

Financier sighed as she put the plate of food with a cup of tea on the table, near clotted cream's bed where the consul still slept peacefully. She was glad, he didn't seemed on the edge now but still, the paladin knew that she needed to take care of him.

This never happened before.

Okay, maybe it happened before but it was never that severe. Financier knew that sometimes, when he was stressed or extremely scared, he would dig his nails into his whole arm and wouldn't stop until it started to bleed and that left marks from his shoulders to his arms. Sometimes, he completely shut off like having a lost look or not even breathing normally. When he did that, she was always there to calm him down but when she woke up in the middle of the night to drink water, she realized that he was gone and directly took her sword just in case as she hurried outside, fear rising.

It wasn't that surprising that she found her friend in the garden but it wasn't normal that Pure vanilla would held and reassure Clotted cream cookie and talk him softly like a child.

The healer agreed that he needed rest and so she took him and carried the consul to his bedroom and laid him on the bed as Pure vanilla prepared at least something to eat for him.

And all of it happened during midnight and 2am.

After seeing that everything was fine for now, she nearly threw herself on her bed and let out a heavy breath she didn't knew she held and closed her eyes. During those last days, everything was happening so fast and all at once, she didn't knew what caused Clotted cream to act this way this time but she would probably try to find out tomorrow (or after a few hours? She didn't knew anymore) because it wasn't very wise to ask him.

Let's just hope that in the morning, everything would be at ease.

----

Wattpad version

Archive of our own

___________________________________________

What

Earth

Was

THIS???

Anyway.

Heeeey uh yeah ik it's been a while since I've posted anything and I'm terribly sorry about it. And plus, the one-shot is so s h i t t y bruh. I didn't even read it at the end lmao I'm so sorry.

Also! I don't accept requests anymore for now, I have a list 🤏🏾 like this of requests in my crk one-shot and countryhumans and look how much I take time to finish one. I hope you understand :')

-Miranto

#Cookie run #cookie run kingdom #clotted cream cookie #dark cacao cookie #cookie run au #pure vanilla cookie #hollyberry cookie #financier cookie

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modlishka · 2 years

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Mental phenomena

CW: mental health, schizophrenia spectrum description, psychosis

I thought I'd write about my schizoaffective disorder. Forgive me if this is not linear.

It's not only voices and visual hallucinations, but those are a problem. I hallucinate people sitting next to me and having a conversation with me, and this can be simultaneous auditory and visual hallucination. I also frequently experience tactile and olfactory hallucinations. But I'm able to hide this very well. I occasionally experience command auditory hallucinations, but much less now than I did years ago.

What I have a hard time hiding are paranoia and my disorganized thinking and speech. I routinely say things that apparently don't make sense to those around me, and I struggle with making it understandable. Most people call me "weird" as a result, but that it's "part of (my) charm." Sometimes I regard what I'm saying as of extreme importance and I've been waiting some time to tell people, but I can't get them to understand me.

My paranoia is ever-present and pervasive. I'm constantly suspecting everybody around me of doing things to ruin my career, or generally just destroying my life. I live in constant fear of being beaten to death or stabbed by people who aren't close to me. No matter what, when I'm driving, I think that the people in cars around mine are trying to target me or fuck me over, but it isn't borne out. I'm afraid of losing my friends due to my paranoia.

There's much more to it than this, but this is a glimpse.

#schizoaffective #schizophrenia #psychosis #paranoia #delusions #hallucinations #commandhallucinations

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fivour · 3 years

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hi! I really love your fic the relation of art and pain! I know you said you were open to asks about it a while ago, and if that's still accurate I was wondering if you could share more about kakyoin (if that's too vague of a topic, mabye stuff about his backstory, his symptoms, his relationships w his family & jotaro, or any future plans you had for him?). No pressure to answer though! Again, love the fic, it made me smile a lot :D

thank you so much!! i'm glad you liked it :) i don't have my comprehensive notes anymore from when i planned the fic, but here’s some stuff! also this ended up being full of painful rambling so i cut it down a lot, feel free to ask for elaborations or more or anything like that.

cw: mentions of bullying & violence; schizophrenia.

most of the significance of will and robert's cafe got cut in the end. but, the original plan was to have allusions to the fact that when kakyoin was beaten up, robert was the first to find him and get help. i wanted the cafe to be close to where he got his scars (why he feels phantom pain when there) and also wanted to portray the father-son type bonds he has with those two.

yes i’ve been waiting for an opportunity to say this since publishing and realizing i failed miserably at showing it lol

as for his symptoms i’ll try to keep it short. hopefully the fic does the rest of the talking. he has a perceived loss of control to his hallucination of hierophant; thought projection delusions; auditory hallucinations; paranoia; blunted emotional responses; blunt speech/lack of a “filter”; disorganized speech/thoughts; social isolation.

enough pain what about art... kakyoin has difficulty understanding others’ emotions as his do not have the same frequency, depth, or reasoning as others might, so he appreciates the fact that jotaro is often blunt or just as confused as he is. it’s part of why jotaro is so easy to get along with for him and why they click.

as they grow closer, jotaro would eventually get to a comfortable enough spot to flat out admit his confusion and that type of honesty and trust would probably just make kakyoin shit himself LOL

jotaro is clueless to it but he’d give kakyoin a lot of things that he has never been given before by accident. awkward dumbasses... but make them in love.

in a sequel or spin-off, if i ever wrote more for this au it would probably attempt to show a complete picture of kakyoin’s struggles, including hospitalization and recovery. i cut out the very rushed hospitalization chapters from the original fic bc it deserves more time, attention, and detail. i would prefer to do it right, or not do it at all!

#ask #art & pain au #kakyoin noriaki #cw schizophrenia #cw bullying #sorry it took a couple days to reply #i forgot to check my email for a while lol

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relatable-psychosis · 7 years

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Do you anything about thought blocking and anything on how to stop it?

Yes, thought blocking is when a train of thought is suddenly lost. It’s not the same as the brief lapses in memory people typically experience every now and then. It’s an abrupt stop where the thought vanishes and the speech result is the person talking will suddenly stop speaking. When the person recovers from the silence and resumes speaking, they may talk about a different subject from before. They also may not begin speaking again until prompted.Treatments: therapy, medication such as antipsychotics and mood stabilizers [x, x].- Mod Alex

#ask #not a feel #disorganized thought #disorganized speech #thought blocking #info #recovery #treatment #medication cw #ittybittymaggiemae #queue

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focailmarbh · 3 years

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'i dont think i can walk' with jackie maybe for the prompts??

cw: catatonia, psychotic symptoms, insects

-----

Jackie is stiff. Rusted tinman with fused joints. His head rocks back and forth, and it would seem like he was listening to music if it weren’t for his board-stiff limbs and, well, lack of headphones. His eyes are unfocused, unseeing.

That is how Marvin found him about two hours ago. Since then, he hasn’t moved or changed position since, besides the rock, rock, rocking of his head. Marvin paces around the cramped but neat bedroom in their small apartment, room covered in Spiderman memorabilia.

Marvin sighs, their nervous pacing stopping for a moment. “Jackie..? Brother mine,” he sing-songs softly, trying to draw him out. If Jackie would just stop moving his head, then Marvin could slip the benzodiazepine from Henrik down his throat and bring his catatonic episode to an end. They huff and gently cup their hand on his chin, coaxing Jackie’s head to still. His eyes still stare unfocusedly however.

Humming, Marvin slips the benzo into his mouth, prying past his clenched teeth. Marvin massages his throat, and the pill slips down. They sigh, eyes drifting partially shut. As soon as they remove their hand, Jackie’s head goes back into motion. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth...

Marvin slips a Superman blanket over their twin’s shoulders and then sits beside him softly. They hum, gently rubbing his back. “I’m here, I’m here, you’re all okay, you’re just okay, Jackson, you’re just okay.” From their hands slides a small bit of calming magic, blue glow in colour, as they mumble the spell under their breath.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and... Jackie’s head slows to a stop, his eyes blinking sluggishly as he lifts his head. “Marvy..?” he speaks shakily, breathing getting a bit heavy.

“I’m here Jackie, I’m here.” Marvin continues to rub his back softly, a comforting and soft gesture. Jackie stiffly turns to him, eyes fuzzy but there is recognition and worry in them rather than the blankness of before.

“I don’t think I can move my legs. I don’t think I can walk. Walk down to Nando’s. Fish fly in water, but the crab is a fucking meal.” Jackie’s speech is disorganized and mostly monotone, his face blank except his furrowed eyebrows. Marvin’s face seems pained and tired, but they guide their twin to lay down softly, tugging the blanket tighter around him.

“That’s nice, but just rest now, alright? Rest time for superheros.” Marvin rubs Jackie’s shoulder softly, feeling his muscles slowly start to unstiffen, his body relaxing from the catatonia.

After a short while, Jackie turns to look at his twin. “Coffee?” he mumbles. “Coffee is for closers but the pigeon takes your doughnut before the Queen can shot!” Jackie’s voice is injected with a bit of passion, as though he is delivering a life-changing speech. Marvin smiles softly at him, even though seeing Jackie like this pains them.

“You want some coffee, love, is that it?”

Jackie nods, and Marvin sees excitement in the curves and wrinkles of his face. “Alright, Jackieboy, just lay still and rest your head, I’ll get us some coffees.”

Jackie lays still, but his mind is in turmoil, even with the benzodiazepine. There are spiders under his skin, and he is certain Marvin’s sash disappearing through the door scowled at him. He shuts his eyes, willing his stiff body to curl up into a ball. He hears buzzing of streetlights but there are none on their street. He stares blankly at the Spiderman poster that is watching him, feeling the spiders and the buzzing.

“Jay-jay, I’m back.” Jackie had not even noticed Marvin reenter the room, and he turns to them. Marvin’s gentle smile turns to a frown when they see that the emptiness has returned to their twin’s eyes. “Oh, buddy, it’s alright. C’mere, love.” Marvin sets the hot caramel-flavoured coffee down on the side table and coaxes Jackie up to a sitting position. They hand Jackie his coffee, letting him feel the warmth and smell the warm caramel smell. Jackie rubs his hands on the hot galaxy painted mug, feeling the spiders retreat as Marvin sits with him and hands him warm coffee they made just for him. He feels the weight of his nice red hoodie and the nice, firm, reassuring pressure of Marvin on the bed beside him.

Jackie sighs, his eyes finally raising and meeting Marvin’s for a moment. “Thanks, dude... Can’t think... much.” Jackie tries his hardest to string the words properly. He feels like he might cry, if it were not for the apathy. In an instant Marvin’s soft besweatered arms are around him, careful of the coffee between them.

“It’s okay, J. I love you, bro-bro.”

“I love you so-so,” Jackie replies, a small smile on his face pressed into Marvin’s shoulder at the recital of their usual quip.

Perhaps not too apathetic after all.

#psychosis #jackieboy man #marvin the magnificent #jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jse fanfiction #jse marvin #jse jackie #writersofjack #writersoftumblr

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sennamybeloved · 3 years

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could i get a motherfuckin uhhhhhhh “i don’t feel so good” or “Here, lean on me. I’ll support you.” ?? or just do whichever one u want i love those kinda prompts

YELL HEAH i ended up doing both but i did the second one,,,, wordlessly,,,, if that makes sense,,,,,,,,

i am using (high noon) senna for this !

CW: some blood b/c they both got injured at a shootout, and senna has a fever :(

“I don’t feel so good.”

The words—spoken softly with a slur—didn’t shock the vastaya. Senna had been staggering since they crawled out of the river in Grimfield. Seren was unaffected by the cold that had undone the wounded gunslinger, and when she turned to see them shivering and stumbling, she cursed herself for being so blind.

“Oh, darling. . .” Seren cooed. Senna lifted their head, staring back at her with tired, fuscia-tinted eyes. It filled the vastaya with alarming amounts of worry.

Seren took a step closer, but Senna was the one to close the distance. They stumbled right into their lover’s waiting arm, which caught them as their legs gave way. They leaned against Seren, who was able to support their weight without much of a hastle. She raked her claws through the angel’s braids, listening in silence as their breath became dangerously shallow.

Seren hurriedly removed Senna’s brimmed hat, followed by a sharp command: “Look at me.”

Senna did. They were tired and glazed-over, but they were alive. For now.

Seren breathed a sigh of relief, but this didn’t elevate all of her worries. She placed a slender hand atop the other’s forehead. It burned like the devil, droplets of sweat freckling their skin. Her fingertips glided their her cheek, tracing open cuts and streams of blood. She dragged her thumb through one to check if it was fresh. Lo and behold, warm blood now stained her skin.

“Sorry,” the angel snorted. “I shoulda warned you-”

“No,” Seren cut them off, shakng her head. “I should’ve paid more attention to you.”

Senna disagreed, but she didn’t have the energy to argue. With a small grunt, Seren hoisted them up into her arms. They nuzzled into the crook of their lover’s neck, breathing out slow as they were carried further and further away from the river’s edge.

“Does anything else hurt?” Seren asked.

“My head,” Senna replied. “And my body.”

“No, I mean specifically.” She stressed. “Where are you injuried?”

“I know what y’ meant!” They lisped with a chuckle. “I got. . . a buncha cuts from wrestling down them outlaws back in Devil’s Hollow.” Their speech was muddled and disorganized. “And I think a bullet grazed my hip.”

Seren nodded, trying to mask her worry. “That. . . sounds like it could be worse.”

Senna closed their eyes. “It could.”

The vastaya stared at her sweetheart for a moment longer, before glancing off into the distance. It had been a mistake to travel out this far. Seren had expected them to take the train back, but they were chased out of town by the threat of more bandits. They were both injuried, Seren less so than Senna, but they weren’t one to complain—even when they had something to complain about.

Her tail swayed in a rythmatic back-and-forth motion as she thought. “We’re close to Fairgate,” she said. “We should reach it before sundown, but it’s a decent walk. You think you can make it?”

Senna snorted. “Of course I can make it!” They boasted, but their voice breaking.

“I just don’t want something back to happen to you, Senna.” She confessed, her stomach wound in knots. “I don’t want you to die.”

Senna laughed this time; underwhelming in sound but profuse in energy. “Seren, when you found me, I was nothing but a formless spirit trapped in limbo.” They said. “I doubt a fever will be the thing to end me.”

Their words calmed her slightly— no matter how tough they thought they were, they weren’t immune to life’s countless vices. However, their boisterous attitude was enough to settle her nerves. She looked down at them and smiled. “I suppose your right.��

With that, Seren trekked onwards, traversing open forests that were in the midst of being logged. The more stumps and neat piles of wood they passed, they closer they were getting to Fairgate. There, they’d take refuge in an inn while Senna recovers. When they’re ready, they’ll take the trip back to Lucian, who was probably worried sick by now.

If Senna didn’t drop dead by then, of course, everything would go according to plan— but even though she was trembling, bloody and feverish, Seren doubted that hell would claim another soul today.

#dont. ask how they got in this situation.#i dont know.#i especially don’t know where the horse gun went #also sen uses she/they pronouns #self ship community #lotus writes #lotus answers #* 💚 / death is drawn to life .#would this be considered a sickfic #i don’t think the whump community would take this from me #au: high noon (🔥)#✦ * · ˚ — self insert: seren .#senna (🔥)

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honeysuckle-venom · 7 months

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Middle of night last night scariest bug ever been in apartment ever so so so so so afraid dad killed it thank gd but still so so so so so scared it was so fast so big so many legs so scary so afraid afraid afraid exhausted and terrified

#text post #my post #disorganized speech cw #entomophobia cw #insects cw

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sasstablook · 5 years

Text

voidpunk feels, let’s go

quote, OG voidpunk @arotaro: “I don’t have a voidsona because I don’t have much of a sense of self”

what is voidpunk? 1 2

a history of voidpunk

alright, the rest of it is under the cut!

cw: discussion of “scary” mental disorders, self harm mention, dysphoria talk, anorexia mention, violence mention, some mentions of sex, abuse discussion

so to start out with, these are my Official Diagnoses: C-PTSD, bipolar-1, and fibromyalgia. I am not against self-diagnosis, but I tend not to self-diagnose myself, for fear of using the wrong term and it coming back to bite me in the ass. that being said, I'm pretty certain (especially in regards to my bipolar disorder) that there's something else going on here that the professionals are missing. I'll only be discussing my symptoms from here on out, not my disorders as a whole.

my main symptoms I experience that make me "not human" are:

intrusive thoughts and impulsiveness

paranoia and psychosis

body, social, and mind dysphoria

memory loss and executive dysfunction

disorganized speech and being nonverbal

hypo/hyperactivity

ambivalence and black+white thinking

I started with a very long list, and I tried to group related symptoms together. so...

I'm going to refrain from inputting sources and various denotative definitions, speaking only on my personal experiences.

1. intrusive thoughts and impulsiveness

a lot of "normal" people get random unwanted thoughts. like that little voice that says "throw your phone in the river" when walking across a bridge. these aren't necessarily intrusive. the main thing that separates these two experiences is intensity. my personal pattern of intrusive thoughts includes a lot of violence. for fear of stigma, I won't go into further detail. but often times, these intrusive thoughts develop into impulses. these are things I do without thinking them through. I don't think about consequences, I just act. my brain tells me to... let's say, scream. like blood curdling, someone's getting murdered, scream. I just do it.

my brain tells me to hurt myself. I don't know why. I do it without further questioning or examination. not even to just get my brain to shut up, necessarily. there are some persistent intrusive thoughts that never get acted on. but some of them do lead to action, even if they're the least persistent of the bunch

2. paranoia and psychosis

these aren't necessarily linked in the way intrusive thoughts and impulsiveness are, being that one can exist without the other (impulsiveness is always caused by an intrusive thought). but they very often go hand in hand, with paranoid thinking leading to psychotic symptoms. example: I am paranoid that my roommates are talking about me in the other room; I then begin to hear voices-- which may or may not belong to my roommates-- whispering unintelligibly

3. body, social, and mind dysphoria

https://imgur.com/vp1EjlA

dysphoria is something a lot of trans folk can relate to. but my dysphoria isn't exclusively tied to my gender. my dysphoria is invariably linked to my dissociation and depersonalization experience. this ties into my inability to connect with human beings.

I experience body dysphoria in that I despise basic bodily functions and necessities to keep the body alive. this includes consuming food stuffs, which ties into my experiences with disordered eating (y'all remember when I was anorexic? yeah, the thoughts haven't went away, but I'm doing better with my actions now). also can humans just... not... with the bathroom thing. like is it absolutely necessary to piss and shit all the goddamn time.

I experience social dysphoria in the way I am perceived by others. this mostly ties into my gender. no matter what I do, I am always read as a girl. but even so, I struggle to be read as masculine in that I don't necessarily *want* to be read as masculine. because men are just flat out awful. and this isn't exclusive to cis men. I don't *want* to be associated with men. because if men are bad.... and I'm a man... then I must be bad, right?

which leads us to mind dysphoria and the same line of thinking in regards to my masculinity. I am at war with myself on exactly how I would like to be perceived by others. my feelings on The Way Men Are and my feelings on my own identity as a man do not coexist peacefully

4. memory loss and executive dysfunction

memory problems are a symptom of all three of my Official Diagnoses, so it's no surprise I struggle with short and long term memory. if the event occurred even last month, I probably won't remember it. I struggle to recall basic details about people I've known for years, including age and last names. so you can imagine what it's like when I meet someone new!

as far as executive dysfunction goes? I just... don't remember. I don't remember how to do the most basic things. I've had to have loved ones walk me through the steps of preparing a bowl of cereal before. no, I'm not joking

5. disorganized speech and being nonverbal

I love language. I'm a poet. language is my thing. I got a perfect 36 on the English portion of my ACT, dammit

but as time goes on, I'm losing my command of the English language. I use the wrong word in the middle of sentences. sometimes the word isn't even related to the word I meant to use, though I can't think of any specific examples right now. sometimes it's just straight up word salads, which make sense to me, but not to those around me.

sometimes my brain's language center just... gives up. during those times, I may utter one or two word sentences. I might just make noises. I might use gestures or ASL. I might text full sentences or just a couple words at a time. or I could just become completely and utterly silent, not even attempting to communicate. I don't understand this

6. hypo/hyperactivity

note: I chose the suffix "-activity" rather than "-sexuality" because this isn't just limited to my problems in bed, though that's a large part of it.

this is something that I've only become aware of after others have pointed it out to me. there are days where I move too slow for their comfort. and it isn't always related to my pain either. I can be having a good physical day and still move like a sloth. on the other hand, there are days when I'm bouncing off the walls

I also fluctuate between hypo/hypersexual. there are days when I am sex repulsed. there are days when all I want to do is fuck

7. ambivalence and black+white thinking

I live in such a state of contradiction. I don't know how to feel about people, concepts, what have you. in order to cope with this, my brain often sorts others into 2 categories: perfect and evil.

sometimes, someone who was perfect yesterday can be put in the evil category the next day (I'm currently experiencing this with a lover of mine). I don't see gray areas. I'm incapable of processing gray. which is odd, considering I'm on the gray-ace spectrum

all of these combined tend to cause certain thoughts, feelings, and actions in other people.

"that's not normal"

"that's weird"

"you're crazy"

"you're broken"

"what's wrong with you?"

"we're putting you here for your own safety"

"this will fix you"

sure, help me out a little. give me some medication, some therapy. but... "fix" me? what about me needs to be "fixed"? why do I need to be "fixed"? namely, why won't you listen when I tell you what I need in order to cope with my brain's battle against me? I don't need crisis intervention. I don't need an institution. I just need medication for my chemical imbalances and therapy to learn how to live with my brain. when you talk about "fixing" me... it's like the only reason you care is because I'm not a "productive" member of society. it's like you want to "fix" me for your benefit. does that make sense to anyone else but me? this comes back around to the disorganized speech and communication, I'm really not sure I'm getting across my thoughts effectively here.

people hurt me... I feel like they do this because they think I'm a villain. I feel like they hurt me to protect themselves. even if I go out of my way to shield them from the way I am inside, it might not be enough to help them feel safe around me

I'm scary.

for so long, I've been in love with aliens, and cryptids, and monsters, among other inhuman creatures. I relate to them. I feel so disconnected with my humanity, that these beings bring me comfort

and now, I'm not the only one

voidpunk

bonus: actual notes from my notepad that I took in an attempt to gather my thoughts

my voidpunk: aliens, cryptids, slasher horror, cyborgs/androids, uncanny valley, Homestuck, primal, cannibal, afterlife, demons, liminal spaces, occult, FNAF, psychedelics, Undertale, dandelions, hoarding, Twilight vampires, parasites, X-Men, we're all made of star stuff, death and decay, bugs and creepy crawlies, succubus/incubus, god complex, yandere simulator, fae, transparent, Nathan W. Pyle comics, the world is quiet here, Lemony Snicket, escapism, fernweh, unconventional beauty

things that make me voidpunk: sleep paralysis, hurting others, an urge to kill, impulsive violence, using sex to get what I want, hyper/hyposexuality, xenogenders, microlabels, neopronouns, dissociation, an inability to connect and relate to other humans, lack of "common sense", "men are trash", inability to distinguish between My Reality and Real Reality, I Don't Remember Anything, psychosis, can't pick up on subtlety, unsure how to socialize properly, I'm Scary, ambivalence, inability to make concrete decisions, self medicating, Out Of Control, how do I move properly, broken executive functioning, disorganized speech, paranoia, I despise basic bodily functions like eating and bathroom, what do you mean you can't read my mind, google: how to communicate effectively, black and white thinking

#voidpunk #personal #okay to reblog #I guess #just don't be a dick about it

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thewillowness · 5 years

Text

No more apologies.

CW: Frank discussion of mental health. Also. very long and disorganized writing.

This year has been pretty challenging because of a confluence of several unrelated matters. By large, though, the perfect storm of events that took place since a year ago and now has taken a serious toll on my mental (and physical, to an extent) health. I am slowly recovering from all this as of this writing, but all this spring and summer I was not able to motivate myself to do anything at all.

In retrospect, the signs were there. I no longer enjoyed engaging in activities that I once loved to do. I was sleeping too much and even then I was exhausted a few hours later. I was, from time to time, bordering on the paranoid, having my anxiety to be debilitating.

Often I questioned why I am here, what in the hell I am doing, and any prospect for a better future.

I’ve wasted a large bulk of my lifetime, mostly trying to survive and nothing more. I had a long history of homelessness as an adult. When I was still newly on the street, I dreaded every evening and boredom was unbearable. The only goal in my life was to make another day fly by me as fast as possible so I could survive one more day. That was most of my life during my 30s.

I have never had a normal childhood and I have never had a normal adult life. That sometimes causes me an inferiority complex, when the kids who graduated from my high school the same year have already built respectable careers, earned multiple postgraduate degrees, and making families and children.

To add to this, the last three years in the United States have done a lot of damage to my own psyche. Having been exposed to the daily barrage of news about hate crimes, racist terror, institutionalization of extreme homophobia at the highest level of the government, and ethnic cleansing policy from the top, I have internalized so much of racism, classism and homophobia into my subconscious. Frankly, before the rise of Trump, I had not given much thought about discrimination or hate despite my being a member of the marginalized minorities. Now no day will pass without at least thinking about it.

I know that people around me are barely tolerating me, perhaps out of pity, perhaps out of their own guilt. Nobody has really liked me, and even though from time to time I made an attempt to be “likable,” I’ve given up on that prospect.

I tried to get a date and get laid for years in vain, but now I realize that I was doing all that (1) out of curiosity, and (2) because “everyone else is doing it.” I had internalized the rather heteronormative (and assimilationist) social narrative that relationship is good, romance is good, and everyone’s goal should be marriage and family. Fuck that.

Now I firmly believe that I am aromantic, and it makes sense because as an autistic I cannot relate to people like normies might.

People look at me with disgust, and I know I creep them out. They obviously try to be polite and don’t tell me that in my face but I am not fooled.

For too long I longed to be normal. I wanted to be one of the normies. I wanted to be accepted. I wanted to be taken seriously.

Being taken seriously meant freedom. It also meant more income. More opportunities. More friends. Maybe more sex.

But I am starting to see the error in my thinking, because of two recent events.

1. Recently I attended an all-day conference called Build and Monetize. It was a conference geared toward consultants and other entrepreneurs. One thing I learned was that almost everyone thinks they’re not being taken seriously (”impostor syndrome”). The other thing is that I don’t have to market myself to the “normies” but rather I could play on my own difference (now working on this!) -- no more trying in vain to compete.

2. Like you, I have been following Greta Thunberg. It’s hard now to believe that merely a year ago, she organized a “School Strike for the Climate” at the Swedish Parliament and NOBODY showed up (like almost all of the events I had organized so far!). She just stood there alone. In 2019, she’s met Barack Obama, gave a speech in the United Nations, and is a leading voice of the youth climate movement and the global conscience. Her one-person protest has grown to one of the largest mass demonstrations in world history, ranking at par with the Women’s March on Washington (2017) and Occupy Wall Street (2011). I really wished I was her when I was 15. Like Greta, I was already very much politically and socially conscious at that age. Despite the haters (mostly the right-wing, how predictable) and critics feigning compassion, Greta actually was the right person to be doing this.

“She admitted her passion was partly down to viewing the world in stark terms. The result of her simplistic approach, fuelled by her condition, is that she has presented this issue with more clarity and competence than almost any adult activist or politician in recent years. And there is something rather beautiful in hearing this teenager demonstrate by her actions how society is stronger when it embraces difference – a message that seems so pertinent to our troubled age. Indeed, this aspect of her stance as a now-public figure on the autism spectrum is arguably as important as her bold stand on climate change, given many prevailing attitudes.“ -- The Guardian, April 23, 2019.

I don’t believe like some that autistic people are some new “supergroup” that will save the world. I think we’ve always been here. But I do think our clarity, moral outrage, allergy to bullshit and refusal to go along are some of the many disabled skills that can be part of saving the world. -- Truth Out, Sept. 25, 2019.

A few years ago, Thunberg’s ascent to fame likely would have been framed in the media as that of an inspiring young girl “overcoming” her disability to become the leader of a worldwide movement. But Thunberg herself makes a different, more radical argument: that she became an activist not in spite of her autism but because of it. “I see the world a bit different, from another perspective,” she explained to New Yorker reporter Masha Gessen. “It’s very common that people on the autism spectrum have a special interest. … I can do the same thing for hours.” Thunberg discovered her special interest in climate change when she was just 9 years old, and she couldn’t understand why everyone on the planet wasn’t similarly obsessed with preventing it.A visceral feeling of repulsion toward deceit and hypocrisy is also common among people on the spectrum. As Thunberg told the BBC, “I don’t fall for lies as easily as regular people, I can see through things.” She has a particular contempt for the professional propagandists and apologists who prop up the fossil fuel industry and discourage the development of renewable energy resources, dismissing UK claims about reductions in carbon emissions as the result of “very creative accounting.” -- Vox, Sept. 24, 2019.

In fact, Greta Thunberg may have been the absolute best thing that happened to the autistic community in modern history, when most people’s perception of autism was pretty much shaped by the film Rain Man and propaganda from Autism Speaks.

At the very least, Greta is my inspiration. (And despite what the haters think, she is beautiful and her face almost reminds me of a classical Greek or Roman sculpture. She could as well be a Greek goddess incarnate.)

Back to the topic, I feel that I’ve wasted good two decades of my life trying to fit in and be “respected” (read: act and speak like normies, according to the white cisheteronormative middle-class standard of “respectability”), and engage in activities that normies might find “respectable.”

Between apologizing for being “abnormal” and internalizing ableism, classism, racism, sexism, and heterosexism, I had wasted so much of my creativity and energy on this uncompensated labor to make people around me “comfortable” so they might “accept” me.

Fuck that. I’m done living my life like this, so as to please the normies for a pittance in return (and mostly uncompensated).

They never understand me anyway. They have never walked a tenth of a mile in my shoes at the intersection of multiple oppressions. They may be well-meaning but their privilege means ignorance, self-righteousness, meaningless virtue-signalling circle jerk, and unwillingness to learn (and it’s not my responsibility to “educate” them without compensation, either).

And yes, history of “mental health” is history of colonialism and racism, too. What many non-Western and pre-Christian Western cultures called it shamanic gifts or witchcraft, the Christendom called it “hysteria” and “lunacy.” (Note: I have studied cultural anthropology of shamanism as a purely academic subject for two semesters. I do not purport to be a shaman nor it is my intention to appropriate their traditions.)

I am instead going to quadruple down on my “craziness,” and I will no longer apologize for it. (For the most part, “mental health” in our society is just a mechanism to enforce social order and norms -- if there be any question on this, ask why it is always the police that responds to mental health “emergencies” and not EMTs.) I am turning the landmine that it my “craziness” into a goldmine instead.

And fuck the normies.

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platoapproved · 7 years

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Why is Kacey on that awful show? Ever since Hannibal, which elevated her performance and credibility as an actress, I feel like she's above the material of a typical sub-par CW show like Arrow.

😒 I…. can’t believe I’m about to defend Arrow but honestly this message bugs me in about 10 different ways. And like, I don’t wanna discourage people from disagreeing with me or leaving anon messages. But, like, I’m gonna say what I’m gonna say.

1. I realize you might’ve found this post somehow without following me, but, you do realize I blog about the DCTV shows frequently, right? Like… as a network the CW has many (MANY) flaws, and I have no illusions about that. But coming and talking shit about CW shows generally to me is kind of not a good place to start, already.

2. Like, Arrow is deeply flawed and there’s been times when I struggle to keep watching it. but you know what? Honestly, Hannibal had some pretty damn subpar moments, too. Arrow never offended me as deeply or disappointed me as thoroughly as Hannibal did at times. The third season of Hannibal was an incoherent disorganized mess, and not in a good way. I’m still furious over how the show and some of the people behind it handled Beverly’s death and coming up with bullshit reasons to have a lesbian character sleep with the show’s leading man. Hannibal, particularly in the later parts of season 2 and all of season 3, confused ambiguity and nonsense for depth and meaningfulness. They’re not the same thing. Honestly, when push comes to shove I will take the thousandth oversimplified ethical speech in Arrow about how whether the ends justify the means over an uncut 5 minute montage of Snails In The Dark ft. Brian Reitzell Dropping a Kitchen Set Down the Stairs.

3. Abigail’s storyline through most of the first season meant a lot to me because it looked like they were going to subvert some tropes and let the abused teenage girl actually live. Like they were gonna let her be a survivor story. But then they totally undid any of that meaningfulness when they killed her and brought her back again in season 2 and season 3 just to kill her over and over again onscreen. Arrow is violent but Hannibal got way more Weird about the ways it showed violence being done to women’s bodies. For them to bring Kacey back in over and over just so Abigail could be ostentatiously victimized and dehumanized and used to forward Will’s story and advance his storyline? Gross. Sure Arrow has had some fridging problems, but so does Hannibal. It can claim no superiority there.

4. Hannibal never elevated Kacey: KACEY elevated Hannibal. Let’s not act like she had no part in what made her character so good in the first season. A lot of it was down to her talent and hard work.

5. It’s nice seeing Kacey show up sometimes in Arrow because it means she’s getting work! She’s got a job, she’s doing okay and making a career for herself. She’s on something that’s not The Magicians which isn’t really my cup of tea. And I’m pretty sure her getting hired and cast in stuff is more important than whether those particular shows impress one random person as “credible” or not. Credible is meeting people and getting paid and doing her best with the material she is given.

6. This whole thing is just such weird concern-trolling. Kacey’s career decisions aren’t any of my business: they’re hers.

#negativity #DID I MENTION NEGATIVITY #/#//#///#arrow #hannibal #Anonymous

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