#I was supposed to have therapy this past Tuesday but then my therapist had to cancel because her daughter was home sick

[hellobengski]

February 07, 2023

Tuesday, 9:30pm

Echoes from the past, unwanted thoughts, uncontrollable emotions, it just wouldn’t stop.

2017 was the last therapy session I had – because I thought I needed already. There were lots of changes since then, somehow I was able to cope with different environment around my town. I was complacent enough to know that I was making it to the peak of utopian feeling – that everything is just okay.

Maybe it’s not enough to think that I’m okay. Maybe in the same process of listening to another psychiatrist, I hope I can take away some words that could help me survive. I am always adept at juggling personalities towards people I meet or work with, can easily go along with the vibe especially when outdoor activities, but surprisingly, over the past months of isolating myself, I find the comfort of being alone. This has been hard for me -- to the extent of having conscious dilemma between trying so hard and just letting it all go.

When I’m at my best version of myself, there’s this complete notion that I can surpass things beyond my expectations. I think it’s what I’m used to. I lead, perform, and affiliate myself in different kinds of events in which I think I can contribute. You name it. But for some reason – I’m losing it again. And this has been my fear. This is the worst case scenario to be in. I’ve worked so hard with my past struggles to get into where I am right now. But why does it need to happen again?

29th of January, 2023, Sunday afternoon, I forced myself to get out of my room. Familiar faces from the church, typical lunch routine, chitchats and coffee talks – everything was completely fine. I even went out with my parents and their friends, and visited this very calming farm. The house was literally in the middle of rice fields, had to walk at least 10 minutes from the highway in which you can hear the sound of streamed river. The weather was cold and so it was also nice to stay a little bit longer for dinner. And then I met this young boy, 10 years old I think, surprised me with our conversation. He shared his interests with buildings and architecture, how he prefers to have more girl friends over boys. But what hit me was when he said he enjoys being more alone but not lonely. He just knew he’s way smarter than his classmates, but he wishes to be more accepted and could fit in.

Maybe we were once like him, enjoying things on our own and yet there will always be people out there who will never be in line with you. And that is okay. The reality of this world is not how it seems to be but hope is all we try to acquire and manifest. And this is also why I am choosing myself. Not that it may sound or look selfish, but I just have to. I’m choosing myself because at the end of the day, she’s that person I can genuinely express myself with.

Tomorrow at 5pm, I will be meeting my new therapist. This entire feeling of being unknown on what could happen, or to even acknowledge the root of pain fears me. All I ever wanted is peace of mind --- clarity. I just want it to go away. I genuinely want to let go at my own pace. I don’t want anyone to rush or dictate my process in healing. This is where I will have to start all over again.

I just hope and pray my parents won’t get tired of me. It’s not even what I want in my head and body.  I couldn’t even control it. It overwhelms me.

When this is all over, I am coming back to what is sacred and valuable to me. I will live my life how it’s supposed to be whether there may be ups or downs. Everything single thing will pass.

[liltaz-asatreat]

I'm about to mcfuckin lose it

[mountainmaven]

What a week (mostly in a good way)

This might get rambly (and long), I apologize in advance.

I've had a lot of wins this week and it's kind of surreal.

Tuesday was the MRI and I worked on NOT berating myself for worrying so much ahead of time when everything went fine. Instead I wrote in my journal: "You were terrified and you did it anyway. THAT is bravery."

Wednesday I had a really good therapy session. We got into some deep shit, which was necessary. And it still blows my mind that I often don't see the very obvious. We talked a bit about my past traumas starting in childhood all up to adulthood. She (my therapist) picked up right away on something...all of my traumatic incidents happened in places that were supposed to be safe places. So it's kind of no wonder that a) I don't really trust others or feel safe anywhere other than my home. Or that b) I don't always trust my own judgement and decision making. She also very astutely picked up on the issues I have with transition periods. I don't do well with them at all. She told me to find an old photo of myself and put it somewhere visible (I have it on my fridge and I also now have it on my lock screen on my phone) and to remember that all the shit that little girl went through made me who I am, and got me where I am today. And that if I'm not living my best life, then the only one who is going to be disappointed is her. So if I can't do it for myself, do it for her. Now I've heard this from others before but it FINALLY sank in. And having the picture helps.

Then I was talking to my oldest daughter this morning and she shared something she'd seen online recently... and it was something along the lines of: "the only two people you need to impress in this life are your 5-year old self, and your 85-year old self." And that is so liberating and empowering .

The other thing is that anxiety is a debilitating bitch - we know this. I haven't shared this next part with anyone outside of my husband and kids. Back in Dec. (Dec. 8th to be exact) I drove to my ultrasound and mammogram appointment. It had snowed recently and was icy too. We have a very steep hill in front of our house that stays in shade most of the time so it was very icy - I pulled out of the driveway in 4-Wheel drive and I was like "okay I can do this" because that went well. I put the car in drive (still in 4-Wheel drive) and started going very slowly forward - my tires hit that ice and I was all over the street going sideways etc. It scared the crap out of me. I got to a point in the street where there was no ice and stopped for a minute to collect myself. I knew I'd be okay as long as there were no more giant icy patches like that. So I got to my appointment and back again just fine. However, I hadn't driven any vehicle since. It scared me that badly.

Until yesterday that is. I drove our Toyota (because now my Jeep had sat for so long that the battery was dead lol). I drove it to our little library to pick up a book. I found out that our little library up here on the mountain (and when I say little, it's TINY lol) has a book club that meets once a month so I had called to get more information and what book they're reading this month. I went to pick up a copy yesterday. (It's The Night Tiger by Yangsze Shoo). I hope to attend the meeting at the end of the month. Driving went great, and it felt so good to drive again. I've always loved driving, I would actually do it to relax at times. And it's one of the few things I'm really good at (or was before #ANXIETY).

Today I got my Jeep running again using the battery operated jump kit. I'll check it again tomorrow. But I got it running and then just let it run for about 20 minutes so we'll see how it goes. But at least I know I can get it started, and then if I have to drive it down the mountain for maintenance I can do that.

[shxxtingstarss]

therapy no. 29

today's session was quite good, which is probably the reason why my therapist decided to overdraw the time by almost 15 minutes.

We started the session by talking about my GP, she was supposed to prescribe me my emergency meds (my old antipsychotics in a really low dose so it makes me sleep), which she did, but she had some questions for my therapist about it because she isn't familiar with that medication and the low dose is not very usual. So my therapist has to write a short letter to my GP, explaining why I need that medication and what we're doing in therapy - in that context (thinking out loud about what he should write) I think he tried to praise my efforts in therapy indirectly - he said he'd write down that I cooperate very well and try very hard to have success in therapy, that we're doing depthpsychology oriented psychotherapy, and that I would need the medication for my (nightly) panic attacks, strong overexcitement/overwhelmedness etc. so that I could just go to sleep.

After that was done, we talked about how my week went and that I tried to not be in touch with my emotions at all because when I was, they were usually really overwhelming ...I just realized in this exact moment that this is the reason why my mood-diary-app is almost empty when I look at some days of the past week. lol, could've gotten that one earlier. Anyways, we then got to the topic of F and my problems and discussions and my personal boundaries (and how they're being ignored...again). At the beginning of the session I mentioned how confused I was about the fact that the panic attacks, that wake me up from sleep, came back on tuesday morning, right after the evening when F told me he had decided that he wanted to try to start over with our relationship/partnership and I was genuinely happy and relieved, but a few hours later doubts had filled my head again and I woke up with a really bad feeling in my stomach (+diarrhea from the anxiety), crippling fear, shaky hands, trouble breathing... all the horror coming back (only in a smaller version than a few weeks ago). Well now it all makes sense, because there are a few things that feed those doubts and insecurities...

namely I found three levels of problems, the problematic way of how our conflicts were going on in the last weeks / how we were talking to each other (or..not), the way F doesn't seem to care about my boundaries in situations where it would be quite important to respect them, and a lot of (relationship-) work in general that is ahead of us and will be very hard.

Because I talked about the problematic conflicts/discussions, I finally managed to also talk about the central conflict of the last few weeks: F installing dating apps less then three days after we kinda-broke-up (it took us a week to be sure, but he already installed dating apps in the first days of that week in order to meet guys so he could finally gather experience with guys too) and F meeting people in the last few weeks while we were still figuring things out and how that made me crazy, well not crazy, but it made me feel hurt and worthless at first, later I felt threatened by the thought of him being (romantically) interested in other people while I'm still waiting for him (or at least waiting for him to decide whether or not he wants to try 'us' again) and had panic attack after panic attack when he went out with that guy from another town (he drove there over one hour which made it rly worse for me). I almost didn't want to tell my therapist how that topic made me feel, that I felt worthless and that I actually didn't think it was ok of F to do that while we were still figuring things out (that second thing is something I thought all the time but I didn't say that out loud, my therapist asked me if that was the big thing behind all that and the boundary of me that was crossed at that point), I was so ashamed of my feelings and wasn't even sure if I was allowed to feel that way. During today's session I found out that a lot of my judgement of my feelings and thoughts about this topic might have something to do with how F reacted to them: read more here

So, for example, because he asked me why I couldn't be more "chill" about all that, I wasn't sure anymore if I was allowed to feel the way I felt, and tried to re-evaluate my feelings and thoughts by talking about that topic to other people and see how they would react. But they reacted very individually, some were even more upset than me, others were not very upset at all, but they said they understood why I felt that way. Well, in the end I didn't come to any conclusion because the re-evaluation ended in a 50:50 - kinda way.

We got a bit more into that topic of me thinking about if I'm allowed to feel the way I feel, and that I was scared of being judged for the way I feel about this topic and felt really ashamed of how I feel about it (so ashamed that I first couldn't even tell my therapist how I felt about the situation when he asked me that... I explained why I didn't want to tell him and managed to tell him a few minutes later) which ended in me feeling quite overwhelmed with all the stuff I told him today and all the stuff that was waiting for me outside that safe room I was in.

I felt very deeply understood by my therapist today and very safe with him even though the topic was very complicated and stressful for me. He ended the session with stating that maybe it is good to have a focus on a topic like that, my boundaries, because I am very self-aware/reflecting person, and am thinking a lot about my actions and feelings and thoughts all the time, it can be good to really focus on something this big so we could maybe have a great impact on all the other problematic and difficult topics too.

[whenimcrying]

10:53pm 06/02/22

tw: mental illness, suicidal ideation, stupid but needed explosion of words

it’s been a while since i’ve spoken on here or even out loud. being in therapy since i was 13/14 has been rough. i understand that it’s definitely an opportunity not everyone gets but, when you don’t want help at that young of an age, you learn to lie. easily. i know exactly how to fake it, fill out doctors forms so they don’t admit me, talk my way out of anything. i learned how to effectively lie so good that even being sent into iop three times, being hospitalized three times, attended adult partial care, and a full round of tms therapy, i graduate as early as possible so i don’t have to think about myself or attempt to work on myself at all. i’ve neglected my health (mentally and physically) for a very long time now. i can’t seem to find a way out of the lies. i can’t seem to actually stop lying to people about how i feel. i brush everything off so easily, when down inside i’m screaming and crying. i almost had a panic attack today in front of my best friend. she’s seen me cry before but i still hide even from her. i actually got to the point this week that i quit my job, went to the hospital (obviously got out of that quickly), and told my therapist/psychiatrist that i’ve been bullshitting to their faces for years now. i don’t even trust myself to not lie anymore. i want to tell the truth. i want to be honest for once in my life and speak up. it’s just hard to unlearn a survival skill after you’ve been doing it for years, way over a decade now. i want to get back into tms, but ultimately screwed myself over today at the revisit appointment. i faked the depression scale like normal, by routine, and the doctor said i’m not eligible. bam, whole world over almost. i actually want to get better but i couldn’t even stop lying for that. i called another place, a new place for an appointment on tuesday to start new. hopefully i can fucking be honest for once. i scheduled a new intake for a completely new therapy place. i’m gonna go into iop or partial again, but actually try. i’ve just been so over no one giving a fuck about me, but in reality it stemmed from me. i’ve been on (including my current three) twenty medications in my span from 13/14-27. twenty. they could’ve worked but i never tried so i just kept switching when i was completely numb. my current psychiatrist said “i don’t know what to do for you, there’s no more meds we can try”. so i gave up. she gave up so i did as well. i was apparently supposed to not live past 25 (my horrible goal since 12). i just don’t know how to start and be honest. fuck mental illness. fuck lying. fuck faking it. i’m tired, exhausted, depressed, lonely, drained, numb, and forever it seems a fucking liar. i don’t want to do it anymore, but i have to. at least i need to give it a try. sorry for this, i know no one reads this stuff but i needed to talk even if i’m not heard.

[letsdiscoverkitty]

Appointment - Thursday 20th May 2021

I had a check-in with my consultant today which, in all honesty, I was dreading. Really dreading. It really didn't help that I cancelled the one we were meant to have 2 weeks ago because, well...I have no good excuse...and then I couldn't make it to the rearranged one that was meant to be on Tuesday as our internet had been knocked out by the storm. So yes, I was already on edge, expecting the worst and terrified of being judged and knocked down as I hadn't managed to implement the changes that were discussed weeks and weeks ago....

I don't quite know what has happened but she way NICE?!

Our history is not the most positive to say the least. She has previously told me that I would never recover, assigned me to the SEED pathway and tried to send me to a long-term care home facility (I am not that there is anything wrong with these places, I think they do incredible work and have a place for some people, however it was not what I wanted or needed at the time), as well as eradicating all/any hope that my parents held and telling them that it was all their fault that I was unwell...so no, not the best.

But today I actually felt like she was listening to me and, dare I say it, that she might have cared a little bit too. In all honesty, things have not been going very well as I have been struggling to get out of this relapse. I know the ins/outs of what I need to do and why, I can plan it and talk about it but when I try to actively challenge the behaviours and face the anxiety, I end up hitting brick wall after brick wall. It is like a literal road block - I go completely blank, which then means that I end up going around in the same loops/cycles that I have been stuck in for years....which is exhausting. Really exhausting. As well as frustrating and just damn annoying. Because I do not want to keep doing this - I do not want this existence anymore. Yet the excuses pile up and, to be honest with you, they all have Anorexia written all over them, so I won't even give them space on here - and I suppose that is why it has been so hard recently, because Anorexia has had a really tight grip over me. Today though, instead of over-intellectualising and talking/worming myself out of it like I usually would, I was honest. Honest about how hard it has been and how strong the AN is and how annoyed I am about it. And because I was honest with her instead of being scared of letting people down/failing/messing up etc etc, this meant that we could actually explore it a little bit more, as well as discussing how therapy was going and trying to work out what was/wan't working for me and where we go from here.

In short we have decided to arrange a proper review with my therapist so that we can all be on the same page and talk about what I might need right now. Another SEDU admission was mentioned but, as she so rightly said, they can be very disruptive and she was also concerned that I would leave and relapse again, so we are trying to find the right level and type of support that I need to stay in the community. Which I am relieved about. Therapy is on the line at the moment as the physical side of things have deteriorated to the point where I'm only just about able to engage with the work we are doing - and I really don't want to lose my therapist as we have been working really hard on that side of things - I understand why it is and that the behavioural/physical side of things have not been on the same page for a while, so I need to use this as a kick up the bum.

I cannot afford to lose this. Not like has always happened in the past (starting therapy, doing a bit of work but then losing it because of my physical health. I need this time to be different).

She must have been in a good mood today though as she even started reminiscing about how much I have matured/grown as an adult over the past few years and said how hopeful she was for me with the upcoming apprenticeship (who is this woman?!). Then, whilst dictating the letter to my therapist, she even backtracked and said "no, I am not going to be negative" and reframed her message - I never thought this woman was capable of smiling (a real smile, not one of those fake ones) but today she actually took her time to talk to me, instead of jumping to her own conclusions, listened to me and tried to offer some reassurance.

Today I don't feel very strong but the meeting actually left me feeling a little bit...dare I say it...hopeful?

But at the same time I know that there is no magic answer/pill/treatment coming. I know it has to come from me, that no one else can save me. I am never going to feel "ready" or "want" to change. Anorexia will never willingly let me walk away. It will always move the goal posts to work in its favour, never mine. So I need to dig deep. I need to find it inside of me to TRY and push forwards no matter how shit or horrible it feels. I need to give myself this chance but surely anything would be better than spending the rest of my life in this limbo, surely?

[labradoriteprince]

Locket (Crumb)

  Y’all be nice i haven’t written in like 3 years but this is just an intro to the au I am working on

“Okay Mr.Iwa, you're all good to go. Remember, physical therapy starts next Tuesday and you’ll be attending two days a week until your physical therapist decides you’ve come far enough to move down to once a week, then biweekly, and so on.” The doctor went down the checklist. 

Deidara nodded along, staring down at the black and silver replacement for his left arm. He had lost the appendage in an accident at work in which his coworker had dropped a pallet from the sky shelves. Not that it was actually Gaara’s fault. The pallet was old anyways and the bottom planks decided to give. Deidara was lucky enough that only his arm was irreparable. His chest and ribs had recovered with minimal scarring. He had gotten a permanent leave, along with worker’s compensation and a lawsuit on the company for the faulty and dangerous work setting.  

“Thank you” Deidara smiled as he got up. “See you next week, Dr.Senju.” He smiled as he headed out. He could already tell it was going to be weird trying to get used to his new arm.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Deidara stood outside the coffee shop, his nerves a little out of hand… Literally. Today was his first full day with his prosthetic arm. He had been without his left arm for almost a year, but he had to wait until he could actually invest in the device, given how expensive it was. He always came to this shop. And every Monday through Thursday the same red head was always working. A short, stoic man with bored brown eyes and… well, quite frankly, no visible personality. With a heavy sigh, Deidara headed through the door and into the line. They weren’t super busy today, given it was nine am on a Tuesday, but there was a lady ahead of him in line with her son holding tightly to her hand, ogling and drooling over the brownies and muffins.

The kid quickly let go of his mom’s hand, to run up and shove his hands up against the glass. The barista’s gaze moved to the kid, his lip curling the slightest bit at the greasy hand prints being dragged down the glass case. Oh boy, Deidara was definitely going to annoy him today. He was already having a morning. The blonde could tell.

Once the woman ordered and stepped aside, it was Deidara’s turn. He stepped up to the counter, looking over the menu to buy time, like he didn’t always order the same thing. 

“Are you not ordering the usual?” The  barista asked. Deidara looked over at him.

“No- I am, I just wasn’t sure” He assured the man. “Latte with four shots espresso.” He assured him.

“I know what you take.” The redhead turned around to the machines in the back. “I’ll make it. Last time Konan left out the extra shots.” Sasori grabbed the Styrofoam cup. Deidara noticed he had upsized the drink, a sweet gesture though it made him more nervous. 

Once the barista finished the drink, he held it out for Deidara to take. "Its on the house. Congratulations on your arm." 

Deidara smiled, carefully reaching for the cup. All was going well so far.. he just had to grip the cup. 

By now, Sasori could see where this was going, locked in eye contact with Deidara, almost daring him to-

The cup broke when Deidara went to grab it, spewing scalding hot coffee all over the counter and floor. The redhead's eyes narrowed. "Konan, can I get your help cleaning this up. I need to remake a drink. " he sighed, grumbling to himself as he turned around to remake Deidara's latte. 

"Sorry" The blonde apologized, embarrassed by the mess he had made. "I just wanted to practice grabbing things." He explained.

"Well, practice outside of my store." The redhead countered. 

"Sasori-" Konan shot her coworker a glare. So that was his name.

"Well, he made a mess." Sasori muttered. He came back to the counter, handing the blonde a new cup. "Use your right hand this time." 

“Yes sir, sorry again.” Deidara quickly apologized as he headed out of the cafe. Well, that was humiliating. He took a sip of coffee and scrunched up his nose. Oh that petty bitch, this was so much more than 4 espresso shots. He couldn’t be too upset. It was a free coffee, and he did just make a mess. 

He was just desperate to be back to his full potential again. The past year he’s just felt like a burden, not able to move his own furniture when he moved into his new apartment, or having to relearn how to drive, cook, and everything. For a while there, he had to have his old roommate help him put his hair up. Neji always did, though. Even though they both knew he had better things to do. 

Once Deidara got home, he sat his cup on the coffee table, before pulling out his phone. Sasori… hmm. That was an uncommon enough name. He should be able to find him. He logged onto Facebook, typing the redhead’s name into the search bar. It wasn’t long before he found the barista. Sasori Akasuna. The blonde clicked on his profile, scrolling through. He only had a handful of friends, including the coworker from earlier. Though, the only person who seemed to be tagging him in anything was a little old woman who, obviously, was newer to Facebook. Sasori’s entire timeline was full of outdated memes, posts about tagging loved ones, and random ‘I love my grandson’ posts, all of which were from this same woman, Chiyo Akasuna.

Huh, well, it was safe to assume Chiyo was his Grandmother. It was also probably safe to say they were close. Or at least seemed to be. Deidara scrolled all the way back to the top of the page, sending a friend request. He plopped his phone down on the coffee table as well, before looking at his arm. He slowly opened and closed his prosthetic hand, watching the fingers curl up, then open, then repeat. He smiled faintly, before laying back onto the couch. It wasn’t long before he closed his eyes and started to fall asleep. It was a good thing he hadn’t really drank his latte after discovering how bitter it was. Otherwise he’d be too awake to nap.  

Once the blonde did wake up, he picked up his phone to check the time. It was about a quarter to five and he’d been sleeping since almost eleven. “Way to go, Deidara. Way to waste a day” He lectured himself as he got up. He noticed he had a Facebook notification and opened it. It was a message. 

“How in the hell did you find me?

Why did you find me?”

How was Deidara supposed to respond? Lie? Yeah- lying is good. 

“You were in my suggested friends list.”

It was almost an immediate reply.

“Right, with no mutuals and no idea what my name was before now. 

This is almost obsessive. You come in everyday at the same time, 

Constantly you're in my shop to just kill time, and now coincidentally, “

“You’ve found my Facebook.”

Oh man, this was taking a bad turn, and fast. 

“No, look, really. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just wanted to see 

Who you were. Not in a creepy way, though. Really.” 

“Right

I’m blocking you.”

Oh shit. Deidara messed up. Now how was he supposed to show his face at the cafe? He groaned and tossed the phone down. 

Well... Fuck.

[tylerwritez]

11:10 p.m. Tuesday June 29

Hey guys

As I type this I'm a little scared since my parents are arguing downstairs pretty bad... I had to try n brush my teeth quietly so I could stay outta it except my toothbrush is ELECTRIC.... they probably know I heard it all.

Well... I didn't hear it all. I couldn't make out half of it. They just both seemed agitated and angry and my mom called my dad a motherfucker and was on the phone with soemone saying bad stuff about him and the whole time he was saying she was lying and it was just really nasty to have to hear...

11:18 p.m. Its weirdly quiet now. But I'm scared. I'm scared. I want none of this. I don't want them to feel so fucking... upset. I hate that. Oh no. Oh no. I feel like I'm about to cry. But I won't. I won't cry because I'm stronger than that. I won't cry.

Oh shit now they're talking about me... but it sounds like my dad's on the phone with someone and my mom is gone, probably smoking/drinking in the garage. They're pissed I'm not packed yet. Damn, they really can't stand each other.

My mom is faking abuse????

It's hard to tell what he's saying from up here in my room...

It's my responsibility not to be upset about this anyways, okay? I'm just worried that shit will go down... or that my sister is hearing all this.

FOOTSTEPS... MY DADS... SCARED. SCAREDSCAREDSCARED PLEASE DONT GO UP THE STAIRS PLEASE DONT GO UP FUCK

Okay I misheard he just turned on the A/C... didnt go upstairs to my room. Man my ribs hurt. Probably from binding. they hurt so much I cant sleep on my side tonight :( oh well.

12:56 a.m. update: GODDAMNIT I TRIGGERED MYSELF BY LISTENING TO THIS FUCKIGN SONG AND NOW I HAVE SELF HARM URGES FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK HELP HELP ME HOW DO I STOP I HaVE NO REASON TO CUT I JUST GOT TRIGGERED TO WANTING TO DO IT...

1:20 a.m. update: I think I want to be sick again. I look at all this work I've done and I think to myself, why did I have to do this all alone? Why is there still so much ground to cover? It's not bad enough. I should be sicker if I want help.

I think I WANT to fall back into my old habits so I can get help.

That's. Weird.

I'd tell y'all about my day but I didnt really go out. We went to the mall and I l1fted some stuff. Easy peasy. I'm listening to music... I packed some more so lots of music... youtube...

I didnt do much today. This entry looks lazy but my day WAS lazy. It's super hot here... I have a fan RIGHT NEXT TO ME RN and I'm half naked and that's like. A normal temperature. If I were to move away from the fan (and its 2 cm away from me) I'd die of heatstroke.

Here's the song I'm listening to:

I'm alone, in the dark. I don't know. My brain keeps going back to the same memories over and over and over and forcing me to live through it all and forcing me to feel all of that and my physical form can't handle it and I start to twitch and spasm.

Actually I noticed I'm kinda prone to weird movements... this physical vessel is weak. I stim (sometimes on purpose, sometimes not on purpose), I get shiveries, my arms start to tremble if I put any weight on them and keep em in the same position long enough, and MEMORIES make my physical self RECOIL, my ribs hurt a lot..... I'm so weak. So so weak.

I dont know how I'm supposed to feel about that? I dont WANT to be weak in any way. But I mean... it makes sense.

I'm hoenslty really fucked up.. I need therapy like right fucking now but WE ALL KNOW IM NOT GETTING ANY OF THAT :)

Oh the strife that comes with trying to be a decent son and more accurately, oh the strife that comes with being afraid of telling g people that you need therapy... and being afraid of therapy and therapists in general.

If only we could erase the past.

I don't WANT to be a living breathing memory of a boy who's dead now, or a funeral sad about the man he could've become.

... I keep looking around my room and seeing how BARE it looks and it really cements the fact that I'm moving cos my parents are getting divorced and its fucking OVER. Like woah. Just when I finally thought I could maybe get a family,,, it's all torn apart.

I wonder how long they loved each other... and how long they stayed together for us.

Fucking hell. Fuck. FUCK. this is so unfair. I thought maybe... I thought that since they stopped being so scary and mean... I thoguht that since... well okay. They stopped being total dickheads to me and let me express myself more and now things are so much better and as long as you catch them in a good mood... you have parents.

....

Now? I wonder if any chance for me to rebuild our relationship and become a normal family has been taken away.

Fuck, why do I care so much about Parents anwyays? It's too late now. Even if they got back together and started being decent toward me like a real true family, that doesnt undo everything else.

Fuck, but I can never tell them that. They proabbaly think to themselves that hey, at least they did a good job with Kid Number 1... I dont have the heart to tell them its complicated.

I know whoever reads this is gonna think I'm some ungrateful brat. But trust me... I've been through some stuff. The ian you know today is a fucking hellhound. The dog of god, not the lamb of god.

I'll explain later. I'm too tired now. Here, take this post.

1:37 a.m.

Goodnight

Oh shit no not goodnight, Ariel messaged me, one sec

[hajimes-erect-ahoge]

Postmortem- Chapter 8

Kokichi attends group therapy for the first time.

ao3

Ouma’s deep slumber, after not sleeping in lord knows how long, was interrupted by an incessant knocking at his door. Half-asleep, he faintly heard someone yell that they were coming in, followed by the opening of the door. Blinking the last remains of sleep from his weary eyes, Ouma groggily registered the sight of a nurse entering his room.

“There you are, Ouma-kun!” the nurse smiled. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything!” She paused for a moment, Ouma staring at her expectantly. “Actually, I’ve come to take you somewhere. You see, every Tuesday and Thursday we hold group therapy with the participants of the most recent season, and it happens to be starting in a few minutes, so I was wondering if you’d come with me?” The nurse’s tone was light but firm, suggesting that the group therapy wasn’t really optional. Nonetheless, this didn’t stop Ouma from rolling over in his bed and responding with a curt no thanks.

The nurse continued, “It’s… not really optional. It’s required, actually, and most participants seem to be benefiting from it greatly…”

Required, my ass. What’re they gonna do to me if I don’t go?

“...so I strongly recommend that you attend today’s meeting, or else you might get into some legal trouble. Your past self did sign a contract with us, after all.”

“...Then I don’t have a choice, do I?” Ouma grumbled, shoving aside his sheets and dangling his legs off the side of the bed.

“I suppose not… but just give it a try, I’m sure you’ll find some aspect of it that you like!”

Both of them knew that last part was a lie, but, seeing as he had no choice, Ouma decided to prepare himself to leave his room and look presentable for other people. The nurse left after telling him where the meeting was, leaving him to smooth out his hair in front of the mirror and change into a fresh t-shirt and jeans that his pregame self had packed for him. The thought of being associated with anything that his pregame self liked, let alone wearing something he used to like, disgusted him, but he didn’t really have much of a choice there either.

Ouma stole one last look at himself in the mirror before exiting. There were bags under his eyes, despite the nap he just took, and his clothes looked baggy on him. He must have lost some weight after barely eating the meals he was provided with, and in his reflection he somehow looked even smaller than he already was. Deciding that his appearance was the least of his worries, he exited his room and made his way to the room where the meeting was being held.

-------

The other fourteen participants had already gathered in the room where they were meeting for group therapy, as well as the therapist leading the group. All of their seats were arranged in one big circle, one chair still empty as they were still waiting for Ouma. Normally, his absence was to be expected since he woke up last from the simulation and was soon whisked off to the emergency room, though the others did not know this (except for Momota and Saihara). They just assumed that he did not want to come, which wasn’t entirely wrong. But when Ouma hesitantly appeared near the door that was left ajar, peeking into the room cautiously, the room fell silent. No one was expecting him here.

Ouma smirked to himself, finding it amusing how predictable the others always were. Just like when he entered the dining hall the other day, they stared at him with eyes wide and mouth agape, some of them looking more fearful than surprised. The only one who didn’t look surprised was the therapist, who presumably was expecting him.

The therapist running the group was different from the personal therapist that he met with the other day, making Ouma wonder how many different staff members with glasses and clipboards were in this damn hospital.

“Ouma-kun, nice to see you.” This therapist clearly lacked the unnecessary enthusiasm that the nurses often had, which, surprisingly, put Ouma at ease. “Take a seat between Momota-kun and Akamatsu-san, please.”

Staring at the ground, Ouma walked over to the leftover seat and sat down, avoiding Akamatsu’s pitying gaze as he did so. At least Momota didn’t even bother to look at him, feeling too awkward after their last encounter.

“What is he doing here?” Harukawa grit her teeth.

“Relax, princess.” Ouma propped one elbow up on the back of his chair, sitting more casually. “I don’t wanna be here either, ‘kay?”

Harukawa glared at him and crossed her arms, but otherwise said nothing.

Rather than intervening, the therapist simply observed their exchange. She then glanced at her watch and sat up straight, announcing the start of the meeting.

“Well then, I suppose it’s about time we get started.” She looked around the room, observing everyone’s faces. “As you may have already noticed, we have a new member joining us today, meaning that this is our first meeting with all the living participants of the latest season of Danganronpa!” Her gaze fell on Ouma, who was absent-mindedly staring at the ground, wishing he was anywhere but here. “Now, Ouma-kun, I believe a brief introduction to this group would benefit you. As you may have already figured out, this is a safe space where the participants of Danganronpa’s latest season talk about their experience in the simulation, and is often a place where grievances between participants are resolved.”

The therapist then continued to list general guidelines of the group, such as how whatever is mentioned in the group stays in the group, and how everyone must be respectful towards one another.

“I think that covers it all. Is there anything that anyone else would like to add?” She opened the discussion to the rest of the room, allowing anyone to contribute.

“If I may point something out…” Kiibo spoke up, drawing the room’s attention to him. Out of everyone in the room, he was the only one who didn’t have the option to distance themselves from their programmed Ultimate talent, being the Ultimate Robot. “Why hasn’t Ouma-kun been at the previous meetings? I recall seeing him in the dining hall a week or two ago, so he should’ve been able to attend the meetings at those times as well.”

Of course, the topic of discussion just had to be Ouma himself. The former supreme leader expected nothing less to occur at this meeting, but that didn’t make it any less uncomfortable.

“Well, Ouma-kun?” The therapist spoke. “Is there anything you would like to share?”

Ouma’s signature grin had returned, cheshire and taunting.

“Oh, you guys haven’t heard? I totally tried to kill myself! I had a knife and everything!”

Using his reputation as a liar, Ouma merely told the truth, knowing that no one would believe him. He felt Momota stiffen at his side.

“Cut it out, you degenerate! Can’t you tell the truth for two seconds?!” Chabashira cried, instinctively adopting a Neo-Aikido pose with her upper-body.

“But it’s not a lie, Chabashira-chan! I felt sooo bad after what I did during the killing game that I tried to take my own life! Sowwy, but that’s the truth!” Ouma crooned as he tilted his head innocently, poking a finger into his cheek.

“Why you little-”

“Chabashira-san, please!” Akamatsu sounded exasperated, as if the discord in the group physically pained her. “And Ouma-kun… We know that you didn’t want to show up, but suicide is really serious! Please don’t joke about that!”

“Hmm… Nah! Thanks for the suggestion Akamatsu-chan, but I’m gonna keep on lying! Nice try, though!” He smirked, linking his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair.

“Ouma-kun…” Akamatsu’s gaze was suddenly determined, her gaze firmly settled on Ouma’s face. “Everyone here already knows the truth… How you sacrificed yourself because you wanted to end the killing game… You don’t need to lie anymore.”

And then she looked at him with the most disgusting look Ouma had ever seen.

Her eyes were full of pity, staring at “the poor guy who killed himself to try and end the killing game,” boring into his skull, digging deep into his soul and tearing into his flesh.

He then noticed that everyone in the room was staring at him this way- eyes full of pity and concern, looking down on him, making fun of him.

Ouma felt himself snap, his blood running cold.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that!”

Akamatsu, for all her kindness and determination, fell silent, shocked at Ouma’s sudden outburst.

The whole room just stared at him, gawking at him like a fucking zoo animal.

Ouma stood up violently, digging his fingers into his scalp and closing his eyes.

“Stop staring at me!”

When he opened his eyes, even the therapist looked taken off guard.

“Ouma-kun, please sit down-”

“No! Don’t tell me what to do! I’m leaving!”

Ouma stormed out of the room, leaving a wake of destruction and chaos in the room.

He slammed the door behind him.

-------

Ouma lingered outside of the door for a moment, trying to compose himself. How dare they all pity him like that? Like he was so weak and helpless? It made him sick.

He made his way to his room, pausing outside of the common room when he heard a familiar voice.

“That coulda been a lie, too. He probably just said it so I’d cooperate with him.”

Was that… Momota’s voice?

Ouma stepped into the common room, devoid of all people since group therapy was still taking place. On the TV he saw the familiar trial room of the killing game, along with the remaining survivors before Momota’s execution.

”Was it really a lie…?” Kiibo’s voice spoke, “I think his dying words may have been the honest truth…”

That had certainly piqued Ouma’s interest. After waking up, the participants of Danganronpa’s latest season would watch the trials take place, but since he woke up so late Ouma never had the chance to see how people reacted to his own death. He had heard from the nurses that he and Momota’s plan failed, and how Saihara ultimately ended the killing game, but he never got to witness any of the footage.

”No, it’s definitely a lie. He’s not the type to shed real tears.”

...Thanks, Yumeno-chan. Not like I’m human or anything. 

Ouma watched as they briefly discussed whether or not his dying words were the truth before they moved on, dismissing his sacrifice entirely.

…

Did he really mean that little to them?

No, don’t think like that. You painted yourself as the villain so that they wouldn’t mourn you. You did this to yourself. You deserve this.

As the footage continued, Harukawa confessed her love for Momota, who was sent off with a smile as he climbed into the rocket ship, finally achieving his dream of seeing space with his own two eyes before his illness took his life. Everyone looked dejected after losing their resident optimistic astronaut, joining together in one big training session to lift their spirits.

Funny how Momota’s death had affected them so much, when he spent the killing game lying his ass off just like Ouma did. From lying about his illness, to lying during the fifth trial… Momota was just as much a liar as Ouma was. Yet he was mourned so much more, having been glorified as the hero who was blackmailed into working with Ouma.

The truth is, this is exactly how Ouma planned it to be. He didn’t want anyone to mourn his eventual death, as that would only contribute to their despair. He was perfectly content with no one missing him after he died.

...So then why did it hurt so much?

Not even Saihara, the brilliant detective Saihara who always saw the truth, had anything to say about Ouma’s sacrifice. Not even a “Maybe his last words really were the truth” or a “Thank you for sacrificing yourself, Ouma-kun.” Just a half-assed shrug followed by tears for Momota and Momota only.

No one even acknowledged Ouma’s true intentions, they just brushed over his entire plan in an instant, opting to focus on Momota instead. The hours he spent in his room coming up with different plans of action to take down the mastermind all rendered useless as both his plan A and plan B failed, leaving his entire existence and efforts useless.

Was it selfish to want more?

Was it selfish to want people to have mourned him, even after all the horrible things he did to them, if it was for the greater good?

Of course it’s selfish. You don’t deserve their attention. You don’t even deserve the fucking pity they give you. 

He turned off the TV and went back to his room, having seen enough.

Can’t risk getting caught here being emotional over the simulation. No one can know that the big bag Kokichi Ouma has feelings.

Surprisingly, he didn’t cry. Not when he was in the common room and not when he was back in his own room. Sure, he cried to himself many nights in the simulation, especially after manipulating Gokuhara, but not right now. Instead he felt bitter and hollow, like watching that footage tore a hole straight into his chest where his heart should be.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. He had just felt so overwhelmed with finding out that the killing game was just a simulation that crying took too much energy- it was easier to just stare at the ceiling, hoping some form of emotion would make its way into his consciousness.

Little did he know, that was about to change.

[infinite-inferno]

Who Cares?

Fandom: Jacksepticeye

Characters: Chase Brody, Doctor Henrik von Schneeplestein, Marvin the Magnificent, Jackieboy Man, Jameson Jackson, Antisepticeye

Content warning: a lot of mentions of depression, addiction, alcoholism, suicide mentions, suicidal thoughts

If I wasn’t on mobile I’d use the zalgo text for anti so instead it’s bolded

[[MORE]]

As soon as Chase closed the door to his bedroom he flopped onto the bed, his smiling and laughing expression he wore seconds ago with his family immediately replaced by a somber one. He took long, deep breaths, having a staring contest with the ceiling (it of course won). After... well he couldn’t tell how long he laid like that - time seemed to slow and drag on forever but also go way too fast - he spoke so softly to himself that he barely heard himself speak. “Am I really depressed? Or is it just that I’m reminding myself that I’m supposed to be sad? I was just out there with everyone for hours and wasn’t sad at all. Am I just faking it?” A lone tear escaped from his eye and he didn’t bother to wipe it away.

He heard his phone vibrate, but didn’t bother to check it. The only person that would be calling him is his therapist’s office, attempting to confirm a meeting he already planned on skipping. He went to one to humor Jackie, and of course he had to schedule another visit, but the whole time he knew that he wasn’t going back. He would just be wasting his therapists time, and taking up space for people who really needed therapy.

His room wasn’t far from the room where all the other egos were still gathered - he told the others that he was going to his room to plan the next bro average video (which he really should be doing anyway) - and he could faintly hear some conversations. From what he could piece together, they started playing Cards Against Humanity and somehow Jameson was winning, even though he didn’t understand most of the cards. He could tell that they were having a lot of fun - a lot of fun without him.

“Would anyone even care if I-“ he spoke, again, barely audible (he wondered if he even vocalized the words, or if they halted in his head). He had to stop himself short, not daring to finish the thought. “Chase you idiot, you already tried to do it and you know what outcomes you would get. Doc would blame himself if he couldn’t save you, Marvin would lock himself away in his room and refuse to come out, Jackie would take out all his emotions on fighting villains that were unbeatable, at least in his headspace, and Jamie would...” he trailed off, biting his lip. “That’s right... he wasn’t even here when I did it...” Chase blinked and violently shook his head. “PMA Chase... PMA... PMA... PM- ya know they can shove that up their arse. I need a fucking drink is what I need not some positivity bullshit,” he grumbled, going back to further examine his closet. There had to be something...

Huffing, he picked up a pair of shoes, put his hat back on his head, and wiped any evidence of tears off his face before walking out of his room. He took a deep breath right before he got to the room where all the egos were gathered - he was right about his guesses as to their activity - and strode to the door. Jackie looked up from the game as Chase walked past to get his coat. “Hey Chase, what’s up? Where’re ya going?” He sensed something off about him (but it could’ve just been paranoia) and needed to make sure nothing happened to any of his brothers.

Chase blinked. He didn’t expect any of them to notice and now all of them were staring at him and- ‘deep breaths’ he thought to himself. “I’m just... going for a walk. I’m stuck on trying to find a new idea and... need to clear my head.”

If Jackie still had his doubts, he kept them to himself. “You have your phone on you right?”

Chase held up his phone as evidence, giving a “yup” in response. With that, he walked out the front door. “Of fucking course it’s raining,” he muttered, heading towards one of the bars in town. He knew better than to try any of the ones close to the house, as they knew him and wouldn’t contribute to his addiction. Finally, he ended up at one that he didn’t even know existed, and figured it was worth a shot. He walked up to the bar and sat on the stool, surveying his options, pupils dilating by simply looking at the bottles. He told the bartender to “keep em coming until I’m so plastered I’m falling off the chair.”

The bartender eyed him, as it was 4:30 pm on a Tuesday, but didn’t question it, besides offering a “rough day?”

Chase nodded to that, “I guess you could call it that.”

The bartender handed him his drink. “If you want to just drink your cares away, go ahead. But if you want an ear then I’ll be here.”

Chase took a long swig, then registered what the bartender was saying, growling slightly. “I don’t need fucking therapy.” He finished his drink and felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

Baby Bean: “Hello Chase, it’s Jameson. Please do let us know when you will be returning. Marvin wants to know when he should begin making dinner, as he does not want your food to get cold, although given his history, you might be better off eating while you are out! 😆 I also should tell you that, while I do not know for certain, I think that some of the others are fearing that you are out getting bent, but if you say you’re just going for a walk, then I believe you! ☺️💚 Have a swell rest of your stroll!”

Chase sighed, grabbing the phone with his other hand. ‘What do I even say to this?’

“uh idk when i’ll be back. tell marv not to worry about me and not to burn the place down. also ty jj it means a lot that u trust me like that. i just wish the others would too” he deleted the last sentence, not wanting his brothers to feel guilty over not trusting him, especially when they had every right to be doubtful - considering he was actually at a bar. It also hurt to see that Jameson trusted him, because that meant he was betraying his trust, and he drank another glass at the thought.

About 20 minutes later, he felt his phone vibrate again. Judging by how it was many texts all at once, he assumed it was Marvin before he even pulled out his phone.

Magic Man: “Hey”

Magic Man: “I’m making dinner rn”

Magic Man: “It’s mac and cheese and whatever frozen chicken we have”

Magic Man: “Jamie said u were taking a longer walk but like it’s raining out and I don’t want u to get sick”

Magic Man: “Plz respond Chase”

Magic Man: “U there?”

“yo chill marv”

“i stepped inside a store to get out of the rain”

Magic Man: “Do u want one of us to pick u up??”

Magic Man: “If u lmk wya I can teleport to u”

Magic Man: “Or I’m sure Hen or Jackie would drive to get u if u just wanted to drive back”

Magic Man: “Ik how u feel abt teleporting”

Chase bit his lip before downing another glass. He forgot exactly what he was drinking, but it was alcohol and that’s all he cared about. He didn’t want to tell them that he was at a bar, not even thinking about how anyone could see or smell that he was drunk from a block away. He got another drink and almost forgot to respond before another message came through.

Magic Man: “Chase?”

Magic Man: “Plz just tell me where u r so we can pick u up”

“what so u can make fun of me??? nope i’ll b home later. i’m gonna stay here a bit longer then WALK home”

Chase put his phone away, not wanting to see Marvin’s response and just wanting to see more alcohol in his hands.

It was probably about an hour later when the bartender finally cut him off. He said that he was told to stop him when he looked like he was going to fall out of the chair and so the bartender wasn’t going to let him have any more. Plus his boss would be pissed if he let Chase leave any more intoxicated than he already was.

Chase stormed out of the bar and back into the rain before realizing he had no idea where we was. He looked around and tried to find something familiar but came up with absolutely nothing. He started walking in one direction, but it felt wrong, so he started in the opposite direction, which also felt wrong. So, he did what anyone else in his situation would do - he cried in the rain on the sidewalk of a basically empty street. After he felt he cried all he could, he looked at his notifications.

Baby Bean: 2 unread messages

Ze Best Doctah: 1 unread message

Magic Man: 13 unread messages, 2 missed calls

Spider-Man 2.0: 7 unread messages, 5 missed calls

Turtle: 1 unread message

“Shit.” Chase mumbled, scanning through the messages.

Baby Bean: “Hello Chase, Jameson again! 😊 You haven’t responded to anyone and we are all very worried about you. I’m hoping that your cellular device simply ran out of charge, but Jackie is informing me that when he tries to call you it would not ring as long as it is if your device has run out of battery.”

Baby Bean: “Chase, it’s Jameson. Where are you? I am getting increasingly worried for your safety, as is everyone else. Please respond to one of us.”

Ze Best Doctah: “Chase are you alright? You are scaring all of us. Do you need help? Or a ride? Marvin said you would not tell him where you were. I am praying you are not at a bar but right now I don’t know what to think. I trusted you would be smart and safe but now I’m not sure if you were either. Please call one of us when you see this.”

Magic Man: “Chase y do u think I would make fun of u?”

Magic Man: “R u ok?”

Magic Man: “R u mad at me?”

Magic Man: “Chase plz answer someone”

Magic Man: “If I said smth I’m sry”

Magic Man: “Just plz come home”

Magic Man: “Chase?”

Magic Man: “Ur dinner is getting cold WHERE ARE YOU”

Magic Man: “If u put on dnd I’ll b pissed”

Missed call from Magic Man

Magic Man: “Chase I stg if ur at a bar rn imma fucking deck u”

Magic Man: “No actually I’ll let Jackie do that”

Missed call from Magic Man

Magic Man: “Pick up ur damn phone Brody!!”

Magic Man: “Where tf r u????!!!!”

Spider-Man 2.0: “where did you go chase???????”

Spider-Man 2.0: “I thought you were just going on a walk”

Spider-Man 2.0: “THIS IS A VERY LONG WALK ITS BEEN HOURS”

Missed call from Spider-Man 2.0

Spider-Man 2.0: “if I have to save your ass from something or someone”

2 missed calls from Spider-Man 2.0

Spider-Man 2.0: “this isn’t funny chase”

Spider-Man 2.0: “I’m really fucking worried about you

2 missed calls from Spider-Man 2.0

Spider-Man 2.0: “CHASE I SWEAR IF YOU DONT PICK UP YOUR PHONE IM COMING TO LOOK FOR YOU”

Turtle: “Brody get your ass home RIGHT NOW!”

Chase weighed his options between who seemed the least pissed at him. Marvin and Jackieboy were obviously out. He didn’t particularly want to call Anti either. That left Henrik and Jameson. He went to the contact and pressed the call button. It barely rang before it was picked up.

“CHASE!! VERE ZEE FUCK HAFFE VOU BEEN??” Henrik shouted, his accent the thickest Chase has ever heard it, barely understandable in his drunken haze

“I’m sorry Hen” he slurred

“Chase vere are vou? Are vou fucking betrunken?!”

“Hen, Hen what? I-I don’t know what... what you’re saying.”

“HES ASKING IF YOU’RE DRUNK ASSHOLE!” Jackie shouted. “You’re on speakerphone you dick!”

Chase couldn’t see it but Jameson was trying to tell Jackie to calm down.

“OH FUCK NO THIS IS AS CALM AS I’LL BE JAMIE!”

Chase sat down on the sidewalk, leaning against a building. “I’m not fucking drunk,” he slurred

“Tell that to your voice.” Marvin piped up.

“Fiiiiiiiineeeeee mayyybeee I had a drink or few. Happy?”

“How many is ein few?”

Chase snorted and started laughing like that was just the funniest thing ever. “Fuck if I know, I wasn’t counting.”

“Chase where are you?” The static behind the phone let him know it was Anti and he whimpered.

“You’ll be mad at me...”

“WE’RE ALREADY MAD AT YOU DIPSHIT!” Jackie yelled. Henrik left the phone on the table while he grabbed his shoes and a jacket, figuring that because Chase called him, he should be the one to get him.

Chase suddenly got quiet. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Marvin furrowed his eyebrows.

“I mean I’m lost... that’s why I called... I was at a bar, then tried to walk home and got lost.”

There was silence for a little while. Marvin suddenly stepped towards an open area of floor and started mumbling a spell. “He’s on the corner of Center Street and Behmer Drive. A block down from a bar.” Henrik nodded, grabbing his phone and getting into the car.

“Chase stay on ze phone ja?”

“Okayyyy.” Chase yawned. “Hen I’m tired.”

“Vell I vill not carry vou in so vou need to stay avake”

“But I’m sleepyyyyyyy” Henrik sighed, driving as fast as he could without getting arrested until he saw a familiar figure all the while trying to keep said person awake. He pulled over and got out of the car. Chase stood up, but he stood up too quickly and vomited, luckily for him none of it got on Henrik. As soon as he was done, he was ushered into the car.

“I von’t um... vhat is that expression? Chew vou out now, vou vill certainly get enough shit vrom Jackieboy and Marvin.”

“Thank you,” Chase mumbled, the heat of the car feeling nice on his cold wet body.

“Und vour hangover und sickness vill be more zan enough punishment tomorrow.”

“I’m real sorry Hen.”

“Zat is vhat vou zaid last time. Und vou did it again. Vou must earn mein trust back Chase. Jamie’s too. Und vou vill be lucky if ze ozers trust vou again soon.” All of a sudden, Chase broke into sobs. He thought he didn’t have anymore tears left in him, but apparently he was wrong.

“Please don’t make me see them Hen... I’m just so weak and pathetic and you all are important. All I have is... is... I’m just useless. What have I ever been besides a nuisance? With all my whining about Stacy, over reacting to a couple sad days and calling it depression, my-my bad habits and self destructive tendencies... I’m surprised you all still keep me around,” Chase’s whole body shook with his sobs.

There was a lot to unpack there and Henrik had no clue where to start. He pulled into the driveway and put the car in park, turning to face Chase. “Chase... how long have vou been feeling like zis?”

He just shrugged. “I dunno... a while now, maybe a year or so?”

“Vhy didn’t vou say anyzing?”

“I was scared you would realize your mistake and kick me out.” He mumbled. It was quiet, but Henrik heard it loud and clear.

“Ve vould never dream of it Chase. Vou are far from useless-“

“Oh yeah? Name one thing that I’ve done that actually helped!”

Henrik went silent as his brain tried to think of a good example that wasn’t easily written off because he knew that anything he said would be torn to bits anyway.

“Thought so.” Chase shook his head. “I actually thought you were gonna say something too. Guess I can add moron to the list.”

“Chase stop-“

“Oh look, I’m being a bother yet again. Shocking.” He got out of the car, slamming the door, puked in the grass, then went inside, ready to be reminded yet again of how weak and pathetic he was.

The second he opened the door was the second the yelling began. He didn’t even bother protesting because they were all right. He screwed up, could’ve died, worried them all.

“Do you have ANY idea how scared we were?! I thought I was going to get a call from a hospital that you were hurt or DEAD! We all were so worried-“

“I DIDN’T ASK YOU TO CARE!” Chase snapped.

“WELL SCREW YOU TOO! I’m your brother!” Jackie fired right back.

‘Ok I think that’s enough’ Jameson tried to intervene, but of course, nobody was paying attention to him. Well, nobody except one person who did happen to notice. Anti stepped in between the two.

“That is enough.” His voice caused everyone to stop yelling, Jameson signing a small thank you towards him. “It seems like Chase has already berated himself over and over, haven’t you? I’m not inside your head, chill out, but you’re fucking screaming it with your body language. You seem to forget that you all can’t hide anything from me. And, I can assure you Chase, you aren’t faking anything, and we all would care.

“Don’t you see? Look around you Brody! Jackieboy is yelling at you because he was scared, and cares so damn much about you. Marvin had so much anxious energy that while he was pacing he started to fucking glow. Yes Marvin, I saw that. Jameson wasn’t signing anything, he just retreated into his mind again, like he always does when he’s worried. Henrik was prepping his work station just in case you came home half dead and was shaking so much he dropped half his equipment. And I-” Anti took a deep breath “I was glitching so much I disappeared for a little bit, just static filling my place. I’m still glitching a lot, and it is taking all of my energy to stay present enough to knock some sense into your drunken mind! We care about you because we all have no idea what we would do without you here!” He balled his hands into fists, and stared down Chase, watching him deflate even more than he already was. He shook his head, retreating to his room where he resumed his excessive glitching.

Jameson was the first one to recover. ‘Chase? What did Anti mean about “you aren’t faking anything, and we all would care”?’ When he was met with a blank stare, he sighed and looked to one of the others to translate. Marvin was the one to interpret for Chase.

“I... I had it in my head that... that I was just faking my depression... that I was just sad a bit. And that... that nobody would care if I... if I... tried again.” Everyone in the room but Jameson understood, and Jameson wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to know. His mind supplied an answer and he didn’t like it. Jackie was the one to walk over to Chase and engulf him in a hug. The rest soon followed, and Chase began to cry again into Jackie’s shoulder. After a while they one by one let go, and Chase looked between them all before going to his room and passing out on his bed.

[alwaysanotherrainbow]

Peonies

After Remus says something worrying at the dinner table, Roman surprises him with a gift, but the former’s not exactly sure how to handle the gesture. He’s also got to tell Roman something really important.

Characters/ships: remrom (established and romantic), Patton and Virgil mention

Warnings: this fic deals with an eating disorder. Please don’t ignore this warning. If this will upset you, please do not read. Self-deprecating talk, implied past intervention with a different character that didn’t go great

Notes: Hopeful ending. Reference isn’t really made explicit to Remus and Roman being siblings, but that is my headcanon. This is a vent-fic; it’s okay to reblog, but please tag the triggers!

________________________________________________________________

Remus gazed at the peony in his hand.

Early summer always had that association for them, when the peonies would seemingly resurrect from mulch and soil, and blossom into beautiful cloud-like flowers. The colors danced in his mind even now- the most delicate pink one could imagine, white bright enough to make the first snows look dull, and the stunning magenta ones. Those were Roman’s favorites, and those were the ones which he had given him, and they really ought to match that warmth in the air and the sound of cicadas outside, but... 

He wished Thomas would go inside, he thought with a shiver. The Mindscape had a nasty tendency to pick up on the weather outside. The peony should have brought back nostalgia, or anything other than Is it bad that I’m not more excited? and I’ve gotta apologize to him, I’m not even looking him in the eyes.

“I noticed you’re not feeling well,” the prince said apologetically. “It’s... concerning.”

“No need to feel that way! I say fucked-up stuff all the time, it’s what I do.”

“Patton didn’t mean to make you feel bad, you know. I’m not saying that you’re overreacting! It’s just that he didn’t mean it badly, he just asked if you wanted a second cookie.”

“Yeah, I know, I just wasn’t hungry-” I’m begging you, please don’t say it-

“You said, and I quote-”

“’Look at my figure, I clearly don’t need it,’ yes, I said that, made everyone uncomfortable, Patton asked if I was okay, Virgil looked like he was ready to cry. Profuse apologies all around. I know.”

“And I know that people talk that way, like, all the time,” Roman said, with a bit of levity in his voice that tried to disguise that fear that Remus could spot in an instant. “But just because people do that doesn’t mean it’s good.”

“I know, I know, I’m just morbid.”

“What if Thomas said that?”

God, even the thought was terrifying. “That’s different! It’s Thomas.”

“Right. I’d want him to feel better. I don’t know, it kind of got me thinking, I wanted to try to cheer you up, because what if you really feel that way about yourself?”

“Of course I don’t,” he said, but a wave of nausea rocked through him. He was brutal honesty for Thomas, and he was brutally honest with himself, so even the idea of lying to someone that shared his heart that much just hurt. “Well, I do. Kind of- don’t get worried.” Yeah, that’ll stop him from worrying. Great job. “But...” 

(Don’t you see I’m trying to make sure you’ll be okay?)

“...you’re not gonna like the truth. I want to tell you, honestly, I do, but...” Remus sighed.

“Would it help to tell me?”

“Yeah. But if you get hurt, then what?”

“Maybe it’ll hurt to hear, but I’ll like not being able to help you even less.”

“I mean- okay, let me try this a different way. Look at me, would you really want to be with someone like me?”

Roman gave him his hand to help him steady himself. Remus hadn’t even been aware that he was feeling a horrible vertigo descend upon him. As he gazed at his love’s hand, he saw a ring of green gold.

“I made a vow in the Chapel of the Mind-Palace because I want to be with you.”

Roman settled down next to him. He held him, not as if he’d shatter (oh, Remus would have hated that), but rather, as the steady, kind presence that the Duke committed to memory when he woke up in the morning.

“To make a long story short... I kind of have a problem. Like, a really bad one.”

“Oh?”

“I’m bulimic, Roman.”

Saying that felt like getting a mace to the ribs, but- wait. Wait, that was the first time he said it out loud. He wanted to swear at himself, the first time he told anyone that he had this problem, it had to be his soulmate and it had to be on a day where the peonies were in blossom and the crickets were chirping outside and everything was supposed to be perfect-

Taking one look at Roman’s face, a panic seized him and he tried his best to cover things up again. 

“You have bulimia?” he asked too softly.

“Honestly, it’s a long, depressing history. Virgil knows, and he tried his best to help, but it’s not something that you’d like to hear about, believe me- don’t look at me like that, love, I’m trying to save you from me here, I don’t need you to look at me like you’re gonna try and save me, too.”

“I know it’s not a question of being ‘saved’,” cried Roman, in a voice that told Remus ‘holy shit, you just told him and everything’s about to hit the goddamn fan’. “It’s a question of you feeling better, that’s all.”

“But this is all my fault-”

“Remus, it’s an illness. It’s not like it’s something that you brought down upon yourself. But I want you to feel better.”

“I know. And I feel awful for bringing it up. You don’t think of me the way that I think of me. I hate it so much and I don’t know why I can’t just eat food like a normal person, you know? Or even look at myself like a normal person would. And I mean, everyone else looks fine, they don’t need to change, it’s just when it comes to me, I look like shit, and I feel like shit and...”

Roman was silent, trying to grasp anything about what Remus was talking about, trying to understand.

“And I don’t know what to do from here, or how you’ll think of me or if you’ll say it’s my fault, or what everyone will say or what to do if I start to get better but fuck up, and I know I can’t put all of that onto you because you aren’t experts in this, but I need help and I need help and I-”

He managed to stop himself from full-on breaking down, but once he managed to catch his breath again and keep from getting dizzier, he was able to actually grasp what he had just said. He needed help. That was... right, he needed help, and he had said so himself.

“Are you okay for now?” Roman asked, gently but not condescendingly.

“For now.. I’m okay.”

“I don’t have an answer to all those questions,” said Roman sadly. “I can tell you that I don’t think of you any differently, that you’re still the wonderful person I fell in love with, that this isn’t your fault. But as for the other things... I don’t know what to do.”

“Right.” 

“But it’s one of the first things you learn when you’re a prince. If you can’t help, you’ve got to find someone who can.” Roman gazed at him. “How about the Characters?”

“The... oh, like Remy and Dad Guy-”

“And Dr. Picani. The therapist. I mean, he’s got a degree in how to help, and- ah!”

Remus had hugged him. Roman embraced him back. 

A half-hour passed by, but if he was pressed to recall it, neither of them thought that he could. Little fragments came back, like Roman sobbing into a pillow, Remus sobbing into the same pillow, an in-depth discussion about what to do if someone asked questions, and one of them remembering that they had planned to call Dr. Picani. Remus made the call, Roman held his hand, and by the time that he managed to say “3:00 on Tuesday sounds good, thank you,” he had calmed down enough to take a sip or two of some tea as Dr. Picani told him about the setup of a therapy session.

Two hours later, they were resting together in their bed, a date on a calendar marked, a letter to the other Sides written out, and the peonies in a crystal vase on their nightstand.

________________________________________________________________

Thanks for reading. I hope that everything’s going all right with you, wherever or whoever you are.

-alwaysanotherrainbow

[jedifighterpilot2727]

The Rook Chapter 3

Alright, y'all, here it is! The grand finale!! (Though there may be an epilogue!)

I hope you enjoy!! (btw, comments and asks are my absolute life!)

The song for this is 'i hate u, i love u' by gnash ft. Olivia O'brien 

Oh, by the way, I sobbed writing this, so tissues are recommended.

        I Hate You (But I Love You)

She wakes on her office couch, the now empty bottle of Scotch beside her reminding her that her pounding head is her own fault. She refuses to open her eyes, even though the curtains are drawn and the room should be mostly dark.

She just wants to not think, about Kara, about Supergirl, about how stupid she was for not realizing that the woman she was in love with was hiding  a whole identity from her.

So, she lays there, pondering how long she can put off getting up before someone interrupts her relative peace.

Turns out the answer is about five minutes before the door to her office swings open.

“Come on, up and at ‘em. Early bird gets the worm, yada yada yada.”

“Ugh, Jess, no.” Even behind her closed eyelids, she can tell when Jess flips the light on and she groans, throwing her arm over her eyes.

“Nope, none of that! Come on, busy day ahead.”

Lena groans again but complies, shifting into a sitting position and blinking until her eyes adjust enough that she can see the aspirin and bottle of gatorade that Jess is holding out for her. She takes them gratefully, swallowing the pills and following them with a long, slow sip of the neon colored drink.

“Gotta say, boss, the drunk on a work night look does not work on you.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good, cause we have a lot to do today.” She thrusts a small bag in Lena’s direction. “Here are some toiletries, there’s a dress that just came from back from dry cleaning in your closet, oh and be sure to wear some sunglasses to cover those bags under your eyes - I called the press so there’s going to be photographers.”

Lena looks up, pressing the cool bottle of gatorade to her forehead.

“Photographers? For what?”

“Oh, right, sorry, the plane for Metropolis leaves in . . . “ Jess checks her watch. “Two hours.”

“Metropolis? I’m not going to Metropolis!”

“Yes, you are, in two hours; so chop chop.”

“Jess, what are you doing?”

Much to her surprise, her assistant kneels down so she's at eye level.

“Look, Lena, you pay me a lot of money to know . . . well, everything. And we may not exactly be friends, but I care about you, and for the past few weeks you’ve been really . . . not yourself. And I’m not going to mention any names, but we both know why. You need some space, and you’re going to get it. For a month. In Metropolis.”

“A month?!”

“And, speaking of she who shall not be named, there’s quite a list of things that you’ve been meaning to do in Metropolis that you’ve been putting off because you didn’t want to leave her. Now is the perfect time to tie up all those loose ends. Plus, my mom has been begging me to come visit, so it works out great. Three birds, one stone.”

“You’re coming with me?”

“Of course, dummy, who else is going to keep you straight!” Jess frowns. “Well, not straight, cause you like the ladies, but you know what I mean. Now come on, we gotta go.”

Jess turns for the door, and Lena watches her, stunned for a moment before calling out.

“Hey, Jess?” she waits for Jess to look back at her before continuing. “Thanks.”

“No problem, boss. Oh, and you might wanna put your hair in a bun today, it looks kinda -“ She trails off, her hands making some sort of jazz hands gesture around her head that makes Lena laugh.

“Yeah, of course. Oh and Jess? Can you make sure the plane has some hashbrowns for the ride? Preferably smothered in gravy."

* - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Long story short, Jess is a genius.

For starters, the photos of Lena leaving her office and getting into the SUV for the airport are stunning. She looks hot, by any standard, regardless of the fact that the sunglasses covering her face are hiding blood shot eyes and there’s a gatorade and saltine crackers tucked into her purse. All that matters is that her wine colored dress has a plunging neckline and her matching lipstick is one of Kara’s favorite shades.

It doesn’t matter that she almost breaks down on the short ride to the airport, because the Page Six spread makes her look like she’s fine.

It’s a sort of evil satisfaction, knowing that Kara will see the photos and wonder why she’s so put together.

She only wishes she really was that put together, and that her heart didn’t feel like it was shattering into a million pieces as she watches National City fade from view out the plane window.

* - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Metropolis is . . . refreshing.

She doesn’t see Kara in her mind’s eye every time she walks down the street or steps into a restaurant. Everywhere isn’t tainted with the memory of the best friend she thought she knew like National City is. After a few days, she can actually breathe, she can actually exist for longer than an hour without thinking of Kara’s smile.

She works pretty much from the time her eyes open until the time she falls asleep; but the exhaustion is welcome. Jess was right, she did have a lot of things to take care of in Metropolis, which is why she’s surprised when Jess leaves a break in her schedule on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Jess?” She calls over the intercom. “What am I doing from 3-4?”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot to pencil it in. You have an appointment with Dr. Fowler.”

Lena frowns.

“A doctor’s appointment? It’s not time for my yearly.”

“Dr. Fowler is a psychiatrist.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Yeah, I scheduled you an appointment with her, thought it might help with your . . .  girl problems.”

“Jess, I don’t need a psychiatrist.”

“Ok, boss, noted. but it’s already booked and paid for, so you might as well go this first time.”

Unfortunately, Lena can’t find the logic to argue with her.

* - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

She sits on the comfortable chair in Dr. Fowler’s office, staring down the woman across from her.

She seems, nice, for a psychiatrist.

Her shoulder length brown hair is tucked behind her ears, and her gray suit is non-threatening. She has a kind face, Lena thinks, unable to think of anything negative. Still, she refuses to cave, and fixes her eyes on the clock above Dr. Fowler’s head.

“My assistant made me this appointment.” She says for explanation. “I don’t really need therapy, so I’m sorry to waste your time.”

“I don’t mind.” Dr, Fowler smiles. “We can always just talk. No therapy needed. Are you from Metropolis?”

Lena debates answering her, but common manners win out.

“Well, mother was from Ireland, originally, but that’s . . . “

“A story for a therapist.” Dr. Fowler guesses, and Lena nods.

“That’s fine, we don’t have to talk about it. What brings you to Metropolis? Business? Pleasure?”

“Business.” Lena answers immediately, but guilt creeps up her spine, and she adjusts her answer. “Well, sort of. I live in National City, but . . . well, my assistant thought I could use a break from some people there so she scheduled me some time away. L-Corp has offices in both cities, so it’s convenient.”

“Ah, L-Corp. I remember when you opened up a branch in National City. I thought you were just supposed to stay there for a few months to make sure that everything was going smoothly, what made you change your mind?”

Lena hesitates, unwilling to share more than she has to, but still, she is paying for this; she might as well see what crazy advice this sham has to offer.

“I met someone.” She explains. “A friend.”

“A friend?”

“Well, sort of.”

“Sort of? Do I sense gay drama?” Dr. Fowler’s eyes sparkle, and Lena’s gaze catches on a picture of Dr. Fowler with her arm around another woman, a yellow lab sitting in front of them.

Of course Jess would do her research.

“She’s like . . . sunshine personified.” Lena offers as explanation. “Or at least, she was. Now, I don’t know what she is.”

Dr. Fowler shifts in her chair.

“What’s changed?”

“She . . .” Lena hesitates, reluctant to rehash her heart break. “She lied; about who she is. It turns out that she has this whole other persona that she just . . . hid from me. And you know what the worst part is?” She laughs mirthlessly. “I was friends with the other persona! and she just lied to me! Over and over again! Like I’m some kind of fool! Because I’m the idiot who can’t figure out that Kara Danvers is Supergirl!”

Her eyes flash to Dr. Fowler at her accidental revelation, but the other woman just smiles.

“Everything you say here is confidential. The secret is safe with me.”

Lena nods softly, but it seems that once the dam is broken the flow of her words can’t be stopped.

“She lied to me. For three years! I had to learn the truth from my dying brother! And then when she finally got the guts to tell me, do you know what she said?”

Dr. Fowler shakes her head.

“She said she loved me. That she wanted us to be together. Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear that?!”

“For three years?” Dr. Fowler offers, and Lena chokes back a sob.

“I’ve been in love with her for so long! And she was just oblivious. I guess like I was oblivious about her being Supergirl. But then she just tells me that she loves me. In the same conversation that she tells me the truth.”

“I’m sure that must have been devastating.” Dr. Fowler comments quietly, and Lena sets her jaw.

“I don’t know how I feel about her anymore. I don’t know if I can trust her.”

“That’s fair, you deserve to feel that way.”

Something in Lena settles at that. Up until now, she’s been berating herself for her anger. Like she was wrong for thinking bad of the great Supergirl. But now, she feels validated.

“I bought a whole company for her, you know. . . “

* - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The rest of her session with Dr. Fowler is cathartic, if only because she can finally air out feelings without fear of judgment, with someone who gives her constructive feedback.

On her way out, she checks in with the receptionist.

“Jess scheduled you for two sessions a week, your next appointment is Thursday at 2. Is that okay?”'

Lena can’t help but roll her eyes. She definitely owes Jess another raise.

“Sounds perfect.”

* - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It’s surprisingly hard for her to fall into her post Kara routine. More often than not, she finds herself looking for her best friend in her downtime.

Kara’s presence has become a staple in her life, and she can’t help but mourn the loss.

Even though she knows whatever dream she had of them is lost.

It’s infuriating.

The one time she gets attached to someone,  it backfires.

Dr. Fowler says that she has ‘abandonment issues’, but she doesn’t feel abandoned, just. . . lost.

Kara Danvers was her reason for existing for so long. The drive behind every decision she made.

She just wanted Kara to be happy, but it turns out that Kara is a completely different person than she thought.

Dr. Fowler challenges her, asks her how she feels about Supergirl, separate from Kara.

And honestly, she doesn’t know.

At first she felt like she had to like Supergirl, if only to combat her brother’s dangerous rhetoric with Superman.

But then . . . Supergirl was nice, and good, and she saved Lena’s life on numerous occasions.

Not to mention she was the most beautiful woman Lena had ever seen, minus Kara, of course.

Kara with her glasses and dorky blunders.

Though she supposes, now that she thinks about it, that those blunders come from less of a place of awkwardness and more from the place of an alien being unsure of earth customs. She finds it endearing, in a way that makes her uncomfortable, and Dr. Fowler smiles softly before letting the subject drop.

The good thing about being in Metropolis is that she doesn’t hear a single news story about Supergirl.

Superman, maybe, but Supergirl is noticeably absent.

It’s refreshing.

So it shocks her even more when she gets a surprise visitor.

“Ms. Luthor, I’m sorry, I tried to stop her, but she’s got a badge, and a gun, and I wasn’t sure if -“

Lena’s eyes settle on none other than Alex Danvers.

“It’s fine, Jess, don’t worry about it. “

Jess looks between them for a long moment before she heads back to her desk.

“Alex.” Lena says once Jess is through the door.

“Lena. Kara told me you know her secret.”

“Ahh, are you here to mock me?”

“Mock you?” Alex brow crinkles in a way that’s so much like Kara it almost hurts. “I’m not here to mock you, I’m here to see if you needed a friend. I know I’m not as close as you and Kara, but I thought I’d at least offer my support.”

“Support?”

Alex sighs heavily.

“Look, ever since I was 14, protecting Kara’s secret identity has been my main goal. My parents entrusted me with it, and . . .  I never really got over it.”

“She never lied to you about her secret identity though.” Lena scoffs.

“No.” Alex concedes. “But I lied to her about mine.”

Lena’s head snaps up, eyeing Alex like she’s the last oracle.

"For four years, I lied to her about my job. I told her I was involved in biomedical engineering, that I was a sales rep for some company when really I worked for the DEO.”

“The Department of Extranormal Operations.” Lena clarifies.

“Exactly, and I didn’t even tell her what I was doing, because I wanted to protect her.”

“That’s still not -“

“I shot her down,” Alex continues. “I shot her down with Kryptonite arrows. Because I didn’t trust anyone else to make the shot. I shot my own sister with the one thing that hurts her, when she thought I was a sales rep.”

“What’s your point, Alex?”

“My point is that sometimes we lie to the people we love because we think it will protect them, even if it ends up hurting them in the end.”

“So you side with her then.” Lena concludes.

“No, I don’t, I . . . look, as Supergirl’s protector, I’m glad she waited to tell you, because the less people who know, the better, it’s not even because you’re a Luthor, it’s just common sense. But as your friend. . . she was wrong not to tell you, and you deserved to know the truth. It’s not always black and white, sometimes good intentions make for bad actualities. I can understand why Kara didn’t tell you, and I can also understand why you’re upset. I’m just saying, sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to, sometimes we lie to the people we love and sometimes we think we know what’s best for them, even when we don't.

“But no matter what happens between you and my sister, just know that you’re still my friend, and I still support you. I know we’re not as close as you and Kara, but I’m here for you; if you need me. “

“You’re here for me?” Lena asks incredulously.

“I’m am, and I’m sorry you got the raw end of the stick. If it were anyone but Kara, I’d go beat her up for you. In fact, I have a red sun room for training, I still can if you really want me to.”

Lena’s voice breaks in a sob, and Alex stares at her strangely.

“Oh god, don’t cry. I don’t know what to do with criers, please don’t.” she holds out her arms and Lena collapses into them. “Do you want a hug? Will a hug help? I can do a hug.” She whispers as rock solid arms close around Lena.

Are both of the Danvers sisters jacked?

“Did you really shoot Kara down with Kryptonite arrows?” Lena hiccups.

“Yeah, I did. One of the biggest regrets of my life. Just like I’m sure not telling you the truth is one of Kara’s.”

“You’re her sister, you’re supposed to say that.”

“Look, maybe I am. But I don’t have to say this - stay mad for a while, she deserves it. But I hope to see you around soon, game night just isn’t the same without you.”

Lena wants to say more, but she doesn’t, letting Alex pull away.

“I couldn’t tell you the truth, because I’ve been protecting Kara since she was 13 years old. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t deserve to know the truth.”

“Easy for you to say. You were in on the secret.”

“I was.” Alex concedes. “And now you are too, what are you going to do with it?”

Lena doesn’t answer, and Alex backs away.

“I have to get back to National City, but call me when you come home, ok?”

Lena nods, even though she’s unsure of the details of her returning to National City.

She feels the warmth of Alex’s hug long after the other woman is gone.

* - - — - - - - - - - -

She stays in Metropolis for a month and a half, a fact she’s sure Jess and Dr. Fowler are conspiring together towards.

She can’t deny that she feels exceptionally better on the plane ride to National City than she did on her trip to Metropolis.

She hates to admit it, but therapy really has helped her, and she has Dr. Fowler’s number stored in her phone and ready for face time sessions.

She doesn’t exactly forgive Kara, but she maybe understands where she was coming from - even if she doesn’t agree with it.

Still, she doesn’t expect what she finds when she comes back to National City.

Supergirl is no where to be found.

According to all reports that she can find, Supergirl disappeared two weeks after she did. It makes sense, she supposes, but what she doesn’t understand is where Kara is now.

Lena's back now, so where is Supergirl?

She tempted to text Kara and ask, but she holds out, unwilling to give in like that. Curiosity isn’t enough to send her crawling back. The anger has faded, but the hurt still lingers. She misses the Kara that she used to know, but she still isn’t sure where she stands now.

A few days after she comes back, she meets Alex for lunch - at a craft beer bar, because Dr. Fowler says it’s important for her be around people who care and she figures Alex is the closest she’s got. But still, she refuses to ask about Kara, and Alex doesn’t offer any information; though she does insist on meeting up again soon.  

Despite the million other things she has to do, one question overtakes her mind.

Where is Kara?

A look at CatCo records reveals that she’s been clocking in to work as scheduled, so maybe the question she should really be asking is ‘where is Supergirl?’

Later, back at her apartment,  she pulls out the switch that Kara sent her and sets it on her coffee table. An hour of staring at it doesn’t give her anymore answers than she had before.

* - - - - - — - - - - -

She finally gets her answer a week later when a school bus is locked up in a battle  with a few aliens. The bus stop is on her walk to get coffee, so she gets an unintentional front row view.

Her mind is racing, trying to think of some way to help in this post-Supergirl world that they're apparently in.  Luckily the DEO vans show up just as she’s debating how weaponize a fire hydrant, and she breathes a sigh of relief.

She breathes an even bigger sigh when Supergirl shows up out of nowhere to join the fight, and all of National City + Lena is enthralled. Especially when she sees Kara’s new suit.

It’s an all blue, skin tight number that Lena definitely hasn’t seen before, and the missing skirt adds to the attractiveness.  

Unfortunately, it doesn’t do much to distract Lena from the fight, especially when Kara puts herself in unnecessary danger.

The anger she thought she was over is back, only this time, it’s for Kara.

How dare Supergirl put her friend in danger like that, by fighting that horribly! Her speed is definitely slowed, and some of her movements are jerky and uncoordinated. Frankly, she looks like a prize fighter that took an extended leave of absence and showed up to the championship match without even a warm-up.

Which, Lena supposes, is exactly what happened.

She holds her breath for what feels like hours, refusing to exhale until the hostile alien is deposited with the waiting DEO agents nearby and Kara is safely on the ground.

She knows the exact moment that Kara spots her, shoulders tensing and her forehead crinkling.

Grinding her teeth, she watches as Kara takes a tentative step in her direction.

“Kara."

“Lena, I -"

If Kara had gotten hurt because Supergirl was on some hare-brained, self righteous mission to just jump back into action without even making sure she’s ready, Lena’s going to . . .

Well, she doesn’t really know what she’s going to do.

In fact, she barely realizes she’s made a decision until her fist is halfway to Supergirl’s face.

Bad move.

Stupid brain.

Thankfully, Kara shifts with the punch, but it still feels like she laid a haymaker into a brick wall.

“Shit! Shit! Fuck!” she doubles over, clutching at her hand, but soft fingers pry her hands apart and cold air leaves a frosty mist over her bruised knuckles as Kara uses her freeze breath to soothe the sting.

“Nothing’s broken, thankfully. Damn it, Lena, you really could have hurt yourself, you have to be careful -“

“I have to be careful?! I have to be careful?! I’m not the one who’s going around fighting aliens when it looks like I barely remember how to fly!”

To her surprise, Kara actually looks remorseful.

“I tried, Lena, I tried so hard, not to be Supergirl, but I -“ she gestures at the school bus. “- the kids, Lena, I couldn’t let them die just because -“

Lena interrupts her.

“You tried to stop being Supergirl?” That would certainly explain things, but it’s a concept Lena has a hard time wrapping her head around. “Why?”

Even as she towers over Lena in her cape and boots, Kara still somehow looks so small.

“Because you hate Supergirl, and I didn’t want you to hate me. I thought maybe if I could stop being Supergirl then maybe - well, I don’t know what I thought, but . . .”

Kara continues to speak, but Lena stops listening.

Instead, her eyes settle on something glinting in the sunlight.

A white gold chain around Kara’s neck, the sapphire of the pendant nearly hidden in the blue of her suit.

Suddenly, everything is too much.

Horns are honking, people are talking, and there’s a stupid bird that just won’t SHUT UP. Almost before she can make out what’s happening, Lena finds herself at the brink of a panic attack.

“Kara,” she fights to stay upright, holding up  a hand to stop the flow of the other woman’s words. “Get me out of here.”

“What?”

“Get me out of here, please.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere, please, just - “

Before she can blink, Kara’s scoops her up and they’re flying off. She has no idea where Kara is taking her, but it takes long enough that by the time they touch down, her panic attack is mostly over; Kara’s strong grip and the white noise of the wind working wonders.

They land on a deserted beach, and Lena looks out over the ocean for a long moment, trying to place where they are.

Until Kara clears her throat.

“Umm, should I like . . . put you down? I mean if you want me to hold you that’s fine, you’re really light, I just umm, well I didn’t know if you wanted to -“

“Kara.” she squeezes the shoulder under her hand, bringing the adorable rambling to a stop. “It’s fine, you can put me down, thank you.”

“Right, umm, here.” Kara bends, lowering her arm so that Lena’s feet can reach the ground, and she uses Kara’s for balance before stepping away.

“You know if I would have known it was really Kara Danvers holding me all those times you saved me, I would have enjoyed it a lot more.” Lena says without thinking, and Kara blushes all the way to the tips of her ears.

“Sorry!” she immediately backtracks. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, it was just awkward, and I thought ‘why not make it more awkward?’”

“No, it’s fine! I mean I like holding you.”

The awkward tension lingers between them for a long moment before Lena breaks it, turning to stare out over the ocean. She waits until Kara steps up beside her to speak.

“Where are we?”

"Somewhere in the Caribbean? I don’t know the exact coordinates, just a little place I found when I was looking for a place to think and look at the stars after you . . . after you left.”

“It’s beautiful.” Lena observes, and she can feel Kara’s eyes studying her profile. After a moment, she turns to look at Kara too, taking in the face she used to know so well.

“You cut your bangs.” she finally says, and Kara blinks at her from beneath the fringe.

“Well, you said you hated my ‘stupid hair’, so . . . “ Kara shrugs, and Lena holds back a smile.

“Is that why you changed your suit too?”

“No!” Kara’s forehead crinkles. “Maybe. Yes. I just didn’t want you to hate me anymore.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You hate Supergirl.” Kara counters.

Lena turns back to the ocean with a sigh.

“A while back, my therapist asked me how I felt about Supergirl, apart from you. And when she asked, I didn’t know what to say, because I wasn’t sure. But I’ve had some time to think about it, and I’ve come to some conclusions.”

She faces Kara before continuing.

“Supergirl is . . . she is kind, and she is good, and she's saved my life on numerous occasions. But she is also self-righteous, and arrogant, and stubborn - almost to the point of being foolhardy on occasion. . . She broke my heart once.”

Lena’s voice cracks, and her eyes fill with tears as Kara’s head drops to look at her boots.

“But she also made the decision to put on that suit and help people - people who don’t always deserve it - at great risk to herself. She could just hide away her powers and be a reporter and spend her Thursday nights playing scrabble with her friends instead of putting out factory fires. And I would love that person, because that person is enough. But instead she chooses to use her powers for good, she puts her life on the line to protect people. And for some reason she has this deeply rooted belief that people are good; even when I know for a fact that she’s seen some of the worst that humanity has to offer.”

“Lena -“

“Let me finish.” she says gently and Kara nods, tears streaking down her face.

“I don’t hate you, Kara. I could never hate you. And it’s taken a lot of therapy, and a lot of long talks with Alex, but . . .” She takes a moment to put her words in order.

“The way I see it, I have two options. I can move to a new city. I can work at a different office in a different state where nothing will be tainted with your memory and I can pretend like Kara Danvers never existed. But I don’t like that option.”

Kara’s face lightens marginally, but her eyes are still wary.

“What’s option two?”

“Option two is that I forgive you, and we start over. This time with no secrets - not about our identities, or our feelings, or our pasts. I want it all out on the table, and I want us to try. And it may not work and it won’t be easy, and I want you to see Dr. Fowler with me. But my heart has been shattered, regardless, and I can either fix it with you or without you, and I want to do it with you; because life is so much better with you in it. Even the bad parts.” The tears spill over now, and she chokes out a sob, Kara’s face crumpling.

“Lena, I am so sorry. And I never in a million years meant to hurt you. You’re my red sun. You make me feel so grounded, and home. And I realize now that I was using you as crutch to deal with this double life I lead, and I thought maybe somehow if I kept you separate then things would be different. But I was so wrong to do that to you. I should have told you the truth years ago, and I promise I will never keep secrets from you again. I will do whatever I have to, to make this work. I’ll go to therapy, I’ll communicate, I’ll literally fly to the moon if I have to.”

“Will you share your potstickers?” Lena can’t help asking, desperate to lighten the mood, if only for a second.

Kara sobs a laugh.

“You can have all the potstickers. I would never eat a potsticker again if it would make you happy. I would do anything you asked of me and not give it a second thought to show you how sorry I am.”

Lena studies her for long moment.

“Would you really give up being Supergirl for me?”

“Lena . . . I don’t think you understand. You’ve made me indestructible. Whatever weakness I still have under this yellow sun, you’ve come up with the technology to fix it. Nothing from earth can hurt me. But that day on the rooftop, when you walked away . . . it was like watching Krypton explode all over again. And there’s some sort of poetic justice about the person who made me indestructible also being the only one who can bring me to my knees. But would I give up Supergirl for you. I think showed today that I’m not very good at giving it up, but I would try again, for you.”

Lena can see the sincerity in her eyes, in the way that her arms are halfway outstretched as if just waiting for an invitation to pull Lena into a hug.

“I would never ask you to give up a part of who you are. In fact the reason that I was so upset when I found out was because you felt like you had to hide it from me in the first place. I want you to be yourself, and Supergirl is part of you; I just need you to share her with me.”

Kara nods slowly.

��I can do that.”

They stand there, staring at each other on the beach, the waves lapping against the shore, and for the first time since Lex told her the truth, Lena feels at peace.

“I know this is kind of awkward but . . . can I have a hug? I really missed your hugs.” Lena shifts awkwardly in the sand, but she shouldn’t have worried, because Kara’s eyes light up and her mouth twists into the soft smile that Lena loves so much.

“Of course, get in here, bring it in.” Kara’s arms widen even further, and she takes a step towards Lena before wrapping her up in a bear hug.

“I’ve missed you so much.” Kara whispers against her hair. “I was afraid that I’d never get you back.”

For a few long minutes, Lena just lets herself breathe, content in the way that Kara’s arms are just slightly too tight around her, her fingers clutching at Kara’s cape.

“It’s kind of weird, hugging you in the suit.” She says, finally breaking the silence.

“I can change?" Kara offers, starting to pull away, but Lena holds her in place.

“No, I wanna get used to it. I can’t limit my hug time to just when you’re not in the suit.”

Kara settles at that, and Lena waits another minute before she pulls away, unable to stop the smile that’s spreading across her face.

As much as it hurts, it’s good to have Kara back.

“So what now?” Kara asks, seemingly nervous in the aftermath of their hug.

“Now we’re going to get dinner. I’m picking,” she clarifies, “and paying, because it’s going to be fancy, and I’m going to make you eat vegetables.”

Kara’s nose scrunches.

“Fancy just means smaller portions.”

“Perks of being a billionaire, I can buy you as much food as you can eat.”

Kara’s nose stays scrunched, but she doesn’t complain further, so Lena continues.

“Then we’re going to talk, we’re going to lay everything out in the open, and we’re going to start this off right.”

“Your place? Or Mine?"

“Yours please, I left my NCU sweatshirt there last time I was over, and I want to get it back.”

“I’m sorry, your NCU sweatshirt?” Kara scoffs.

Lena raises an eyebrow.

“I went to NCU and I’m the one who bought that shirt!”

Lena’s eyebrow gets even closer to her hairline.

“You went to MIT!” Kara insists, and they face off for a moment before Kara finally caves.

“Fine, it’s your sweatshirt. That you sometimes let me borrow when it stops smelling like me and you don’t want to wear it anymore.”

Lena blushes at being caught in her scheme, and Kara grins.

“Ha! I knew it! It was always suspicious when it would randomly show back up.”

The glare Lena gives her is withering, but it does little to shrink Kara’s grin.

“Will you please take me home? Before I decide to add a plate of Brussel sprouts to our order just for you.”

“Geez, I was just joking, you didn’t have to bring Brussel sprouts into this!” Kara says with a laugh before stepping forward.

For the second time that day, Kara bends to scoop Lena up into her arms, but before she can, a thought strikes Lena and she taps Kara on the shoulder.

“Kara, before we go, I just have one more question.”

“Anything.”

“Why are you wearing the necklace?”

“Oh.” Kara’s hand reaches up to grip the pendant between her fingers. "That’s easy, because my best friend gave it to me, and then she disappeared, so this was the best way I had to keep her close.”

And Lena knows that they should probably take this slow, and they still have so much to talk about, but something about those blue eyes makes her lose all self control.

She leans forward, one hand  on Kara’s crest and the other on her cheek, and brings their lips together. She’s imagined kissing Kara more times than she’d like to admit, and she’s envisioned so many different possibilities for how it would be, but reality?

Reality is positively mind blowing.

For a moment, Kara seems stunned, but then she steps into the kiss; arms wrapping around Lena’s back and pulling her in.

It’s the best kiss of Lena’s entire existence, and as Kara’s lips move under hers, she can’t help but think that some things are worth fighting for, no matter the cost. Because not everyone is out to hurt her, and some people really do have good intentions -  at least that’s Dr. Fowler tells her. And maybe, she can start believing it too.

All too soon, Kara’s lips pull away, though her hands stay where they are - inching dangerously close to Lena’s backside.

“So just to clarify -“ Kara starts, and Lena takes a little pleasure in the way her cheeks are flushed and her breath is coming in puffs.

“Are we at the kissing stage now? Or this a one time thing? It’s cool either way, I just don’t want to overstep -“

“Kara Danvers!” Lena cuts her off with a laugh. “Shut up and kiss me.”

“Oh, wait, cause while we’re being open and honest -“

Lena’s heart rate spikes.

“- My real name is Kara Zor-El.”

“Zor-El, huh?”

Kara nods, a contented smile on her face.

“It sounds nice when you say it.”

“Well then, Kara Zor-el, shut up and kiss me."

And if she thought kissing Kara the first time was good, the second time?

Even better.

[prettytoxicrevolver]

The Past | Zach Herron

Requested? Yup! Hope you like it :)

Warnings? Death, therapy, anxiety, crying, it’s a sad one friends

Word Count: 1,979

“I’m sorry but there’s nothing else we could do.” The words ring in your ears as the worst news of your life settles over you. You watch as your dad asks a million questions but it’s blocked out by the ringing in your ears. 

Your mom couldn’t be gone. She couldn’t have been. She was supposed to go in for a quick back surgery. She was supposed to come out stronger and you were gonna get your old mom back. The one who could do amusement parks for hours and stand in line with you to concerts. 

Your best friend and the one who raised you. She was supposed to come back and it didn’t make any sense that she wasn’t going to. You went through every stage of loss in about five seconds before going right back to being numb. 

Everything happens in slow motion but also all at once. After your dad has finished asking all the questions he needs to, the doctor leaves and your left in the waiting room again. You hear your dad tell you that the doctor was going to come out with her remaining things and then you could go but it all sounds like static in your ears. 

The drive home was only ten minutes but it was dead silent. It didn’t change when you got home or the next few days. You and your dad floated around each other like ghosts, only saying a few words to each other at a time. 

The funeral is when it hits you the hardest. Your father asked you to sing for her because that’s what she always wanted. It took all of your willpower not to start bawling in the middle of her favorite song but you somehow made it through. You listened to people tell you stories about your mom and you smile but inside you were sobbing. 

You didn’t break down until you got home. You shut the front door behind you and fall to your knees crying your eyes out. Your dad picked you up and helped you over to the couch and the two of you sat in silence for the longest time. 

“She loved you so much.” He said eventually. “She was so sad whenever you’d have to go back to school because she couldn’t see you as much.” 

“It’s only gonna get harder.” You said through thick tears. 

“But it will always get better.” He reminds you. 

Both of you ended up being right. It got worse for the both of you as time went on. But it eventually did get better too. After a few months and nothing getting better you decided to go to therapy. Since your mom’s death was pretty sudden it was taking longer to accept it. 

You had also suffered from anxiety your entire life and found yourself riddled with panic attacks whenever you tried to talk about it. It was probably the hardest time of your life. So, when your dad suggested therapy to help you cope, you decided to give it a shot. 

“How are you doing today?” Your best friend asks. She was the only one who really knew what was going on with you and helped you through the worst days. 

“Better.” You say before taking a sip of your tea. “I’m seeing a lot of her today but it’s all good memories.” 

“I’m glad. You deserve all good days.” 

Just as you’re about to ask her how she’s doing, you’re interrupted by two boys walking up to the table. The blonde one stops in front of your best friend and her face lights up at the sight of him. 

“Corbyn!!” She exclaims before standing and giving the unknown boy a hug. 

“Hey! What are you doing on this side of town?”

“Oh (y/n) lives around here.” She says gesturing to you. You offer a half hearted wave and Corbyn smiles at you.

“I’m Corbyn and this is my friend Zach.” He says finally introducing you to the other boy still standing next to your table. 

As cheesy as it was, when his eyes landed on you it was like the world slowed down. Your eyes connect in slow motion and you’re instantly entranced by his earthly colored ones. Your breath had been sucked out of you and it felt like you were floating. 

“Hi.” You finally say and you giggle when Zach opens and closes his mouth trying to say something. 

If soulmates were a thing, Zach was almost certain he just met his. He was also in the middle of making a fool of himself in front of her too. She was breathtaking in the most unconventional way. In the way that Zach would never get tired of looking at her. 

“Hey.” He responds and instantly wants to smack a hand on his face. That’s all he could say?

“I’m gonna go grab another drink.” Your best friend says upon seeing you and Zach fall in love right before her eyes. 

“I’ll come with.” Corbyn offers and the two head off, leaving you alone with the younger boy. 

“Can I sit?” He asks and you nod your head, still not being able to find your voice completely. “So, you live around here?” He starts. 

The two of you dive into the normal beginning of a friendship conversation, where you live, where you’re from, how old you were etc. As you start to hit it off you remember that you’re here with your best friend and you haven’t seen her in a minute. 

“Have you seen Corbyn and (y/bff/n)?” You ask Zach and the two of you search the coffee shop.

“They must have left.” He says turning back to you and shrugging his shoulders. 

“She was my ride.” You sigh. 

“I can drive you home.” 

After talking a little bit longer, you two throw out your remaining cups and head out. Zach leads you towards an all black jeep and when you get there he opens the door for you. You hop up into the car and he shuts the door before running around to his side.

The ride is mostly silent except for the soft sounds of music playing and you telling Zach how to get to your house. When he pulls up, you look at the empty house and sigh. 

Just as you’re about to pull open the door, Zach speaks. 

“Do you maybe uh possibly wanna hangout sometime?” He asks nervously and his smile shoots straight to your heart. 

“Yeah that’d be fun.” You respond. He sighs in relief and you offer a tiny smile. The two of you swap phone numbers before finally heading inside. 

It took another week for you to actually hangout with Zach alone though. You were mad that you were holding yourself back because just from the texts he sent you already liked him. However, you hadn’t let many people in since your mom passed which is something you and your therapist were working on. 

So, as sad as it was, you weren’t only excited to hangout with Zach, you were also excited to tell your therapist how much you branched out. He ended up picking you up at 4 and you headed to the closest movie theater for a quick dinner at chick fil a before the movie. 

Throughout the night, you and Zach had learned more and more about each other. For once, you felt truly happy and you forgot about the trillion thoughts that always seemed to be running through your brain. 

When you got to the movies, the two of you had decided on the new annabelle movie. Normally, you hated horror movies but Zach begged you to see it and you found out quickly that it’s hard to say no to that face. 

Throughout the movie you find yourself curling towards Zach and he smiles down at you before lifting the armrest and gesturing for you to come towards him. He wraps you up in his arms and your heart settles instantly. 

The rest of the date goes extremely well and by the time Zach pulls up to your house you wish he didn’t have to go home. However, you two plan to hangout again tomorrow and end the night with the best kiss of your life. 

After that night, and many more nights after that, you and Zach fell quickly for each other. You also became super close with all of his bandmates especially Daniel. 

However, you still hadn’t told Zach about your mom. Every time he mentioned her or brought up family, you froze. You gave him vague details and begged to move on. The other issue was that he didn’t know about your therapy. While you weren’t exactly ashamed of going to therapy for help, you were nervous for Zach’s reaction. 

“Shoot. I have to go.” You say before standing to grab your stuff that was randomly placed around Zach’s room. 

“Where?” He asks and you falter for a second before grabbing your keys from his desk.

“I have to help my dad out with something. See you tomorrow?” Before he can respond you pecked his lips quickly and then turn to rush out the door. 

Daniel walks in a few minutes later to Zach with a confused look appearing across his features. He tilts his head at the younger boy, noticing his girlfriend’s absence and the expression couldn’t be good. 

“Hey man.” He greets the brunette. “Where’s (y/n)?” 

“She dipped. Had to help her dad with something.” 

“That’s all?” Daniel asks knowing there was definitely something wrong with Zach. 

“I don't know man. She’s always leaving at this time, every Tuesday night. It seems kinda weird.” He says shrugging his shoulders. 

“You see her tomorrow right? Tell her how you feel. It can’t hurt.” 

The next day, Zach invites you over for brunch, your favorite type of food. You got to wake up late and eat breakfast? It truly was heaven. You headed over there around 10 and headed straight into the house. 

You walk in to find Zach in the kitchen, pouring juice into glasses and setting them down next to your plate of food. He offers you a sweet smile before leading you over to the table and pulling out a chair for you. 

The two of you begin to eat and make some small talk about the upcoming week and any future plans you have together. Throughout breakfast, you notice that Zach seemed a bit off and just as he’s about to get up and wash the dishes you stop him.

“What’s up?” He halts his actions and pulls a chair up to sit in front of you. 

“Where do you go every Tuesday night?” 

The question takes you by surprise but it makes sense that he would ask. Zach was smart and pretty observational so it’s understandable that he was wondering where you went. You also knew it was time to tell him. 

“Therapy.” You respond and he cocks his head to the side in confusion. “My mom passed away about a year ago. It was sudden and I didn’t know how to deal with it. Along with my anxiety it got pretty bad.” 

“(y/n) I’m so sorry I didn’t know.” 

“It’s okay. I’m doing better, I can talk about her without crying which is a step forward.” You take his hand in yours and carefully run the tips of your fingers over his decorated rings. “I have you to thank. You’ve helped me a lot.” 

“I have?” He asks and you nod. 

“You were my light at the end of the tunnel.” His face breaks out in the smile that had your heart since day one. He leans forward and connects your lips, while placing a hand on your leg and giving it a light squeeze. 

“And you’re mine.” 

[doubledoublezero]

So this has become my new place to vent since no one really uses this app anymore and I can’t afford a therapist lol.

Today I realized my ex has finally gotten around to blocking me on facebook, the last form of social media we were connected through. I’ve unfollowed him for a while and mute his posts, but it just feels different knowing that now there is literally nothing holding any sort of bond at all between us anymore.  I also know that I shouldn’t care and if anything, I should’ve been the one to block him after spending 3 years using me for sexual exploitation. But even then and even now, I’ll always see the good in him. He is a good person, just in a wrong situation. I guess it just feels weird knowing that it’s actually completely over and there is no going back at all. I think the thing that I miss most is having a best friend I can always depend on and talk to. Someone I can just go randomly get fast food with at 1am no questions asked. But that’s gone now and it’s been gone for some time now. It’s just an adjustment to really close this story of us for good.

Meanwhile, a few days ago at a halloween party, I finally told my crush for over a year that I had feelings for him. I knew it wasn’t mutual. I mean, we originally started as friends, then hooked up a few times and I always hoped for something more, but we were never consistent. Then on one of his many trips, he caught feelings for someone else. He never told me and our friendship dynamic changed quite a bit afterwards, but I eventually caught on that there was someone else involved. I just wished I had confirmation that first time I was going to tell him how I felt about him. I ended up deciding against it and kissed him goodnight instead. Then we went weeks without seeing each other. And they ended up not being consistent either. They’re currently on pause or over or something and I finally got the courage to just say it so it was out in the open. I knew he didn’t feel the same and I was willing to accept that. What else could I do? We agreed to remain friends and not let my feelings get involved. As a result, we haven’t spoken in about a week. This isn’t anything unusual really, we typically go spurts without talking. But I think this time is different.

I’ve learned when it comes to feelings fo another person, trusting my gut is always the right choice. When I first met my ex, I always has a feeling it was just for sex, but I let it slide because I was falling for him. I always knew the truth. With my crush, I knew he didn’t feel the same way for me. Last year when me and another friend were seeing where things go, I knew there was something off and I knew the distance we were wouldn’t help with that at all. And with my first boyfriend, I knew we were going to break up eventually. It was only a matter of when. I’m never surprised when things don’t work out. I already know the end result because my gut has super natural foresight. It’s just for once I’ve wanted to be proven wrong...I wanted one of these guys to prove me wrong and be there for me in the end...my gut is always right.

And it’s not that I’m upset or mad at my ex for wanting to not see me on any social media or hurt that my friend doesn’t have feelings for me in return, it’s just knowing that there isn’t that one friend who I can depend on, turn to, or be close to enough to really rely on. I’ve always been the one to do the most for them, never the same in return. I just always wanted that one friend that I could potentially have as a partner.

When it comes down to this and as I am typing this all up in my studio apartment alone, I’ve come to realize that maybe this is just it. I’m not looking for any words of affirmation or for any sympathy. I just think that maybe I’ve loved all I could and that there’s just nothing left. Maybe I’m not meant to be with anyone because there is no one out there meant for me.

Ever since I could remember, the one thing I’ve always wanted in life was to love and be loved in return. I always wanted to have a best friend I could do everything with, talk to about anything, and share all my life experiences with. I wanted to grow old, raise a family, and enjoy life as a father and a partner. I’ve accomplished so much in my life that I wanted to but that has always been the thing I wanted the most out of everything. But as I’m getting older, as I go out and meet new people, I just don’t see that anymore with anyone. I typically don’t develop deep feelings for people. I usually meet someone, build chemistry, see how we connect, and if things go great even give the ol’ se thing a try. But 9 times out of 10 I don’t feel anything more than friendship for that person. Some of them just really genuinely nice guys who deserve someone who makes them endlessly happy...but for some reason it’s just not enough for me. I feel nothing romantically for them. And as someone who discovered their demisexuality, sexual feelings fade away as well.

I’ve used sex in the past as just a coping mechanism. It was how I dealt with extreme loneliness, sadness, heartbreak, and just to fulfill my need for intimacy. For me, sex has never been about sex. Just having another person you connect with in some way shape or form sharing an intimate moment with you is all I’ve ever craved. It wasn’t the healthiest vice in the past, or safest. Especially because I wasn’t aware of why I was even doing it or why I was so empty and depressed during and even more so after. Now that I am more of aware of my sexuality (or lack there of) and where my head and my heart lie, I’m more susceptible to just enjoying time alone. I love being alone honestly, its just when I feel lonely, things become too much for me to bare.

The honest truth is I don’t think I am capable of falling in love again. I’ve loved a a handful of times and have only been IN love three times. I just don’t have those feelings anymore and I don’t connect with people deep enough to have those feelings surface. And to be completely candid, I don’t think I’m right for anyone either. I’m not implying that I’m not good enough or a terrible potential partner, but I don’t think my chemistry is compatible with a lot of other people’s out there. Let me explain even more: People typically are drawn to like minded or familiar presences in their life. Similar interests or hobbies or dreams, etc. and personalities. Or sometimes people are drawn to the complete opposite from them because its so vastly different and they feel some sort of completion. A significant other is supposed to be an extension of yourself in some way. With my personality, it’s a mix of a bunch of things and contradictions. I’m highly social, but introverted. I love talking and entertaining, but I love just listening in silence. I love romance and Love, but I usually love stories where the heroes don’t end up together. I’m already and have already been my own extension. I’ve been my own completion. I’m my own significant other. Those few people that I have met that really made me feel something deep in my heart were the rarest of exceptions. Pretty much the DLC packages to my love life. Those feelings are so few and far between, however. I don’t think it’s impossible, but for me to really develop serious feelings for someone is really rare.

It just suck when I’m with my self and feel the loneliness. Missing the touch of another person. Being able to call and just talk for hours with someone about nothing at all or everything in the universe. Getting Wendy’s at 1am because it’s a Tuesday. But I can’t force feelings on to someone or on myself to feel anything for anyone. It has to happen naturally. It has to be real.

Anyway, I’m loved by so many people. I have such amazing and incredible friends, my life is...eh, it’s getting somewhere lol, and I really am thankful for everything I have in it so far. I might not be in love, but I still have so much of it in my life. And for all those I have loved, I just want to thank them and hope that they are all continuing to be happy and getting the best out of life. 

*I Wrote this to vent as my own therapy. As much as I appreciate the kind words that come with this, please don’t be worried about me. I’m doing fine*

[josephinemontilyace]

Personal Post

Trigger Warning: Depression, Suicide

These things are important to talk about. So here I am, hoping that someone can relate.

I am not actively suicidal, but a shit ton of issues have popped up in the past month - primarily a medication switch that led to a baaaaaad reaction - leaving me plagued with suicidal thoughts. They come and go over months and years, but over the past few days they have been constant.

Depression is not me, and it’s not you either, if you’re suffering from it. Mental illness IS physical illness - there is a physical, chemical imbalance going on in that brain of yours, but it does not define you, just as cancer doesn’t define the cancer patient. It requires care, just like a broken leg needs mending.

I find it easiest to talk about my experience with depression by personifying it. It’s like the cartoon angel and demon on either shoulder. The depression is the demon, obvs, but I have angels - when I had a breakdown today I had friends who embraced me with open arms. They didn’t ask any probing questions (been there in the past) or look at me like I was broken (has also happened). They held me and I hadn’t felt that loved in a long time. Like yeah, I hug my parents every day, but they’re, like required to love me, y’know? It’s in their job description (I know that I’m very lucky in this regard). My friends though? They chose to accept me. It’s an incredible feeling. I absolutely adore them (one of them has a tumblr - hi! ❤️).

Back to depression though, my old friend who has been kickin’ it with me for almost 13 years now. This is what it’s like, having suicidal thoughts but not being suicidal. I hope that by sharing this I can either help people understand or make someone out there feel less alone, that they aren’t the only person dealing with this.

——————————-

SATURDAY

Me: *standing at crosswalk, minding my own business, trying to get to work*

Depression: Hi.

Me:

Depression: See those cars? They’re awfully fast.

Me:

Depression: If you stepped out there... a couple feet...

Me: No. That would hurt.

Depression: Only for a minute. Then you’d be free. No worries, no stress.

Me: OR I could survive and be left in immense pain, paralyzed, and cause intense emotional distress to those I care about.

Depression: They’ll get over it.

Me: Shut up. I’m going to work.

SUNDAY

Me: *playing Sims, listening to podcasts*

Depression: *slides in beside me on a swivel chair* Wasssssup?

Me: Good lord. No. Let me design this house. Let’s see, I think I’ll build the twin’s room over -

Depression: Carbon dioxide poisoning is supposed to be painless. Or is it monoxide? Eh, either way, you just have to go to the g -

Me: I’m not doing this right now. I’m busy. I’m happy. I’m content. Bye.

Depression: You’re content now, yes. But later? Things could get worse. Hit the escape hatch!

Me: I don’t want to. I like my life. Sure, I wish I made more money and didn’t have such a sucky commute but overall things are the best they’ve ever been. I have friends. I belong.

Depression: Well, I’m here to liven up the party. *throws skull-shaped confetti* Hey wouldn’t it be cool if Sims could commit sui-

Me: Holy shit! What the hell? No! Where did that even come from? That’s horrible? Get out of my head, NOW! You don’t even get an eviction notice. You’re disgusting. Leave. Now.

MONDAY

*went to therapy, acknowledged these issues, cried in front of therapist which I have NEVER done in the 10 years I’ve been going to therapy, basically shut down for the day*

TUESDAY

Me: I have work today. I love my job. Things will get better when I get there. I’ll have other things to focus on, friends to make me laugh.

Me: *walking into work from parking garage*

Depression: Wow, look! This has quite a few levels. You could easily walk right up to the roof and fall down. It’s pavement below, you’d feel nothing! It would be so fast!

Me: No. I don’t want to die. I want to live. I love my life, but I hate you. Plus, I don’t want to cause pain to the people I love. Or, you know, survive that fall and end up worse off.

Depression: Aren’t there stairwells in your building that go up to the roof? It’s even higher!

Me: No.

Depression: Yes.

Me: No.

Depression: Jump.

Me: No!

Depression: Go on, walk up the ramp, the stairs, the elevator, so many options!

Me: I said NO. STOP.

Depression: Go up there and jump.

Me: NO STOP.

Depression: DO IT. JUMP.

Me: NO!

Me:*I make my way into my building, where there’s a high balcony overlooking the lobby*

Depression: You could jump from there?

Me: No no no no no.

Depression: Or those stairs over there?

Me: No no no no.

Friend: Are you okay?

Me: *is numb on the outside bc this shit is rambling in my head*

Me: *wants to tell them what’s happening but also doesn’t want to burden them and wants to get through this on my own, I can do this, I can do this*

Friend 2: You okay sis?

Me: *silent*

Me: No no no no!

Depression: *echoing its demands*

Friends: *being genuinely incredible human beings*

Depression: You’re such a drag on them -

Me: No! No! Get out of my head!

Me: *runs and locks self in bathroom to try to calm down*

Depression: You could try drowning yourself in the toilet...

Me: NO GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!!!!!

————————

... and that’s when I lost it and had to leave.

Those weren’t my thoughts. I had no control over them. It’s like staring at a keyboard and watching it type for you even though you aren’t touching the keys or even thinking about what to write, it just happens.

Again - I am not actively suicidal. These thoughts do not have control over me. They do, however, take a toll, as it’s a constant battle.

If anyone who has read this needs help, you can always reach out to me. I am not a professional, however, so I would recommend a crisis line: 1-800-273-8255

Thank you for reading. Really, thank you.

[callboxkat]

Quiet (part 20)

 Author’s note: This is the end of Quiet! Technically. I still have future stories planned within my college AU, as well as a one-shot planned in the spirit of Halloween, which will take place about a month after the end of this story. Thank you to everyone who read this story of mine and everyone who enjoys my college AU! You’re all awesome and I appreciate every one of you.

Warnings: selective mutism, college, references to past fights, food mention, reference to poor family relationships, talk of therapy and mental illness 

Word count: 1621

Masterpost!

Virgil went back to class the next week feeling uncharacteristically optimistic. Everything seemed to be coming together now that Roman and Virgil had made up (Logan and Patton really deserved some good karma for their part in that). He was in a pretty good mood for once.

His Monday classes went well. Virgil was actually able to answer a question out loud (gasp) in his Spanish class, and as always, he found the material in his chemistry course easy enough. He liked chemistry. He was pretty good at it.

Tuesday afternoon, Virgil returned to American History, looking forward to seeing his friends. Logan gave him a warm smile when he walked in, and Patton cheerily hugged him. Joan and Talyn walked in a little after he did, talking about something or other, but they both paused to greet him.

Virgil wasn’t too worried about the fact that Roman wasn’t there yet. He tended to wait until the last possible moment to show up for class.

And, as expected, Roman did in fact show up just in time. But what happened next wasn’t as expected.

Roman walked in the room at 12:59, as the professor was getting ready to pull up the slideshow he’d made for that day. The older student sauntered up to Virgil’s desk and slapped something loudly onto it before going to sit in the back.

Virgil jerked his head up, a little startled, and looked back to see the goofy grin on Roman’s face. He shook his head in an exasperated fashion before looking down at his desk to see the crisp $5 bill that Roman had left behind.

Virgil’s face turned slightly pink, embarrassed about what had just happened and the result of having the entire class’s attention briefly focused on him. He could see what Roman was trying to do. He was still trying to make things right, doing so in a way that kind of made light of what had happened, turning it into a joke. Virgil might have been mad about that, but he knew that Roman was trying.

What a dork, he thought.

…

Virgil packed up his things after class. He was a bit slow, and as usual, was one of the last few students in the room.

“Would you mind if I talked to you on the way out?”

Virgil looked up to see Logan standing in front of his desk, his backpack on and textbooks pinned against his chest with one arm. The freshman frowned, a little uncertain about the request.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise. I merely had some thoughts I wished to share with you.”

Well… okay, then. Virgil shrugged and nodded, shouldering his own backpack.

The two of them started out of the building, Logan seeming to take a moment to choose his wording. It made Virgil nervous.

They got to the top of the stairs just as Logan opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by a small popping noise. Logan rolled his eyes.

“One moment, please.” He took off his backpack and knelt on the floor. The clasp that held the bag shut had come undone on its own, his backpack hanging open in result. The young man put his text books on the floor at his feet and redid the clasp.

“You—you might want to get that replaced,” Virgil said, watching.

“Agreed,” sighed Logan, putting he backpack around his shoulders once again. “However, that is a problem for another day.” He looked up at Virgil as he scooped up his textbooks. “I wished to speak to you about your… speech issue.”

Logan got up, and the two of them started down the stairs. Virgil didn’t say anything in reply, but Logan seemed to take the fact that he didn’t sprint away from him as an invitation to continue.

“I did some research over the weekend, and I wanted to talk to you about some options.”

Would you just spit it out already?

“I wondered if you might be open to the possibility of seeing a therapist.”

Virgil stopped in the middle of the staircase. Logan looked back, taking in his clearly offended expression.

“Virgil, seeing a therapist is not a bad thing. The way you described your issue leads me to believe that it is not a physical problem, but rather a psychological issue. There is no reason that you shouldn’t be able to improve your condition with time.”

Virgil chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I’m not crazy,” he snapped, finally.

“Of course not,” Logan said. “Plenty of perfectly sane people see therapists to help them work through problems in their lives. I believe that you could also benefit from this.”

Virgil started walking again, faster now, shaking his head and hunching his shoulders.

“I understand why you may not want to see a therapist, and I can not and would not force you into doing something you did not want to do. It was merely a suggestion. It’s clear to me, to all of us, that your speech problem causes you a great deal of trouble. I only wanted to help.”

Virgil stopped at the base of the stairs, waiting for Logan to catch up to him. Virgil had taken the stairs rather quickly in his agitation. Logan preferred a slower pace.

“It’s just something you may want to consider.”

Virgil knew that Logan was just trying to help. He knew that Logan had probably already spent several hours researching on the computer. He guessed that the nerd probably had a folder full of notes and therapist recommendations in his bag, but Logan was so far refraining from pulling them out in an attempt to not overwhelm his friend. But Logan still seemed to be ignoring a glaring problem.

They made it to the front of the building in silence, Virgil using the time to work himself up to speak. Logan seemed to guess that this was the case, and he stayed quiet until Virgil was ready.

“Logan, even if I wanted to see a shrink…. They’re not cheap. And—and besides, how the hell am I even supposed to talk to them if I can’t talk? I can—I can still barely talk to you half the time, and we’ve known each other for two months.”

Logan opened the door to the building pensively. “I believe the college has resources available. Perhaps you could try one of them. That would take care of the monetary issue.”

Virgil shrugged.

“You could bring a note to give to them at the first meeting, or perhaps a friend to help facilitate communication, if you would be comfortable with that. I would be willing to attend, and I know Patton would as well, if you would be more comfortable attending with him.”

Virgil let out a long sigh.

“I’ll think about it.”

Logan seemed satisfied with that answer for now. He put a hand on his shoulder warmly, before the two of them parted ways. When he was gone, Virgil’s shoulders slumped.

There was still another problem with Logan’s idea, but Virgil hadn’t particularly wanted to bring it up. Nevertheless, it was a major obstacle to the possibility of him seeking professional help.

Virgil was still seventeen.

Logan probably assumed that he was already eighteen, as would normally be the case for a freshman, but Virgil was an exception. He had skipped kindergarten.

And because he was still technically a minor, his parents would most likely have to be told if he started seeing a therapist, even if it was one of the counselors that the college provided. His father would know, which would be embarrassing and probably result in him hurrying all the way over here in concern, a situation Virgil very much wanted to avoid.

But even worse, his mother would know. Virgil would rather not give her any more artillery to add to her collection. She already had enough opportunities to come after him when the mood struck.

…

“Have you considered my suggestion any further?” Logan asked.

It was noontime on Thursday. Virgil and Logan were eating lunch together before their next class, alone at the moment, but not for long. Patton, Roman, and the others were still getting their food.

Virgil poked at his salad.

“Is something wrong? Have I upset you? It wasn’t my intention.”

Virgil shook his head. No, it’s not you, Logan!

Logan watched him calmly. Virgil rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

Virgil mumbled under his breath, but of course, Logan didn’t understand him.

“What was that?”

“I’m seventeen, Logan,” Virgil admitted, just barely audible this time.

Logan was quick to put together the problem. “I see.”

Virgil shrugged.

Logan had the grace not to ask why Virgil wouldn’t want his parents to know about him seeking help from a therapist.

“When do you turn eighteen?”

“December.”

“That’s not so far away. Perhaps in the meantime I and the rest of your friends could try to help you. A  strong support system can go a long way in helping anyone, not only those who struggle with some degree of mental illness.”

Virgil wanted to argue that he wasn’t mentally ill, but he supposed the evidence was against him on that front. Mentally healthy people didn’t usually pass out from panic attacks, or find themselves unable to speak half the time.

Virgil poked at his salad again, looking down. Patton and Roman came into view, each carrying a food-laden cafeteria tray. They were still out of earshot, but Virgil lowered his voice anyway. He was starting to realize that his friends wouldn’t judge him for this--perhaps they even knew of Logan’s research into the topic. But Virgil was still shy.

“Thanks, Logan.”

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