#SCREAMING i probably sound mad delusional in this post trying to make them as good parents 😭😭💥 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

longitudinalwaveme · 4 years

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Stormy Weather

Clyde Mardon sighed in exhaustion. His younger brother, Mark, had just called him and told him that he had been arrested for burglary-again-and that he needed bail- again.

“Mark, I can’t keep bailing you out like this. At some point, you’re going to have to take control of your own life.” He’d given Mark this speech about ten times before, but it clearly hadn’t sunk in yet.

“Maybe you’re right, Clyde, but I’m not smart like you. Can’t you help me out just one more time? Please?” Mark replied. Clyde groaned. He knew that Mark’s promises were completely empty, but the man was his brother, and he just couldn’t bring himself to abandon him.

“All right. But this is the last time. The next time you do something stupid, you’re on your own.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you, Clyde! You’re the best!”

“I’ll see you in thirty minutes or so. Good-bye.” Clyde grabbed his wallet, left his house, got into his car, and drove to Central City’s main police station. Upon arrival, he exited his car, walked inside, and found his ne’er-do-well brother locked in a cell.

“Hi, Clyde,” Mark said sheepishly. Clyde nodded to him and turned to the officers who were guarding the cell.

“Hello, officers. I’m here to post bail for him,” he said. The guards took Clyde to the appropriate office, and thirty minutes later, he and his brother were leaving the station together.

“What am I going to do with you?” Clyde asked his brother in annoyance. Mark smiled nervously.

“Sorry,” he said, sounding a bit embarrassed. The two brothers entered Clyde’s car as Clyde asked,

“What were you thinking?” Mark shrugged.

“Well, I lost this poker game and I really needed money….” Clyde groaned.

“So you decided to break into an innocent person’s house and steal their television set?” Mark nodded.

“Pretty much, yeah,” he said awkwardly. Clyde had to resist the urge to facepalm. “If you needed money, I could have gotten you a job,” he said as he buckled himself in.

“A job? No way, Clyde, that’s too much work. And besides, I’m too stupid to last more than a week in any job, let alone a smart person job like you have.” Clyde frowned. As much as he hated to admit it, his mother was right in calling Mark lazy and shiftless.

“Oh, Mark……” he murmured.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m a lazy bum. You’re right. But look, Clyde, nobody’ll ever be able to compete with you, so why bother trying? Stealing is much easier than attempting to find a job that could hold a candle to yours.”

“It might be easier in the short run, but if you get arrested enough times, you’ll get sent to prison and not just jail-and if you think that’ll be easier, you’re delusional,” Clyde told his brother. Why wouldn’t Mark listen? Why didn’t he ever listen?

“Can we just go to your place, please?” Mark asked, clearly trying to change the subject. Clyde decided not to press the issue further.

“Yes-as soon as you put on your seat belt,” he said. Mark complied, and Clyde drove back to his home in silence.

“Doesn’t it ever get lonely being out in the middle of nowhere like this?” Mark asked him as they pulled into his driveway.

“Not particularly. It helps me think.”

“What do you need help thinking for? You’re a genius!” Mark asked incredulously. Clyde paused, unsure of how to explain the concept to his attention-loving little brother.

“Well, as you know, I’ve never been crazy about all the attention I received when we were kids. It was nice to be appreciated, but I knew that a lot of the people who fawned over me wouldn’t have given me a second glance if I hadn’t been handsome and intelligent and popular, and I didn’t want to spend my entire life wondering if people liked me because I was a good person or because they liked the idea of being connected to a person who was always in the limelight, so I left,” he explained after a few seconds of thinking.

“You’re crazy! Why would you ever run away from everyone loving you?” Mark sounded so offended that Clyde might as well have told him that he ate small children.

“Because they didn’t love me-half of them didn’t even know me! They just liked the idea of my fame and the fame they thought I could bring to them through association.”

“I’d rather have everyone want me for the wrong reasons than have nobody want me at all,” Mark said longingly. Clyde laughed, although the situation really wasn’t very funny.

“What a pair we make. I have fame and I’d do anything to get rid of it, and you want fame but can’t get it-at least, not in a positive way,” he remarked. Mark smiled weakly.

“Wanna change lives?”

“Maybe if you clean up your act.” The brothers got out of the car and went into Clyde’s house.

“Nice place you got here. Very hermity,” Mark said, as though their conversation about fame had never happened.

“Well, it might not be the Ritz, but it has to be better than a jail cell.”

“Touché,” Mark said. An awkward silence ensued, and Clyde could only guess as to what his reprobate of a brother was thinking. Was he nervous about the jail term that he was almost certain to do? Was he mad that he’d gotten caught? Was he feeling guilty? As a boy, he had practically been able to read his brother’s thoughts, but now that they were, for all intents and purposes, strangers, he had no idea as to what his brother was thinking or feeling.

“So ...uh, what have you been up to?” Mark asked after about two minutes had passed.

“I’ve been working on a project that, if all goes well, could benefit mankind in endless ways. Unfortunately for you, the project is supposed to remain a secret to the public until I have completed it, so I can’t tell you more than that-and even if I could, I frankly don’t trust you enough to think that you wouldn’t try to use it for one of your hair-brained schemes,” Clyde replied. Mark laughed awkwardly.

“Yeah ...probably so,” he said, in a tone of voice that clearly indicated that he didn’t find Clyde’s accusations funny at all.

“I’m sorry, Mark, but nothing you’ve ever done has suggested to me that you’re trustworthy enough to give you access to such a valuable invention.” Mark frowned.

“Clyde, you’re my brother. I’d never betray you.” Clyde sighed.

“I wish I could believe that,” he said sadly. As much as he longed to be able to believe his brother, he knew that Mark had a habit of breaking promises when the chips were down. When he was desperate, almost nothing was off the table for him-possibly not even stealing from his family.

“Why can’t you? I’ve never once betrayed you before-never! I never even told mom and dad about that one time you broke curfew to go feed a stray dog!” Mark whined. Clyde frowned. It was true that Mark hadn’t betrayed him yet (unless one counted breaking his endless promises that he would never need money again), but his track record was not good and strongly suggested that it might happen someday.

“Mark, I can’t show you my invention, and that’s final. Now stop pestering me about it, or I’ll kick you out and leave you to find shelter somewhere else,” Clyde said firmly. Mark’s eyes widened in shock.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop asking about it. Sheesh.” Another awkward silence ensued, this one broken by the ring of the telephone. Clyde gratefully picked up the phone, only to wish he hadn’t when he heard his mother’s voice on the other end.

“Hello, Clyde. How are you, darling? And when are you coming back to Bridgeville? Your father and I miss you so much!” she asked.

“Hello, mother. I’m doing well here, and I’m not planning on coming back to Bridgeville in the near future. You see, I’m quite busy with a very important invention, and I need solitude to help me think and ensure that no one finds out about it before it’s completed-though I do miss you and dad. How have you been?” Clyde replied.

“Oh, we’re doing well, and we couldn’t be prouder of you. You’re every parent’s dream come true.”

“Thank you, mother. In speaking of parenting, I have someone else here who probably wants to talk to you,” Clyde said. He shoved the phone into Mark’s hands.

“Hel-lo?” Mark asked, looking confused. A few seconds later, he went pale.

“Mom? But you haven’t talked to me in years!” Another few seconds passed.

“Oh, so you were calling for Clyde. Why am I not surprised?” Clyde tried to ignore the death glare his brother was shooting at him.

“Well, I don’t really want to talk to you, either, Mom. And my name is MARK!” Mark yelled after about a minute. Then he angrily slammed the phone down. Clyde frowned.

“Did you even try to tell her that you got arrested again?”

“Why would I do that? She already thinks that I’m the world’s most humongous loser and that you’re a saint, so I didn’t see any need to make things worse.”

“She’s our mother. She deserves to know.”

“Know what? That I’m a two-bit thug? That I’m a moron? That I’ve done something else that she can use to compare me to you?” Mark screamed. Clyde winced. As much as he wished it were otherwise, his brother had a point. Mark and their mother were already about as distant as it was possible for two people to be, so it wasn’t like the secret would force them apart or damage their relationship, and hearing that her younger son had done something stupid yet again was unlikely to endear Mark to their mother, so telling her would have been pointless anyway.

“You know what? You’re right. Mom wouldn’t have done anything productive with that knowledge,” he admitted. Mark smiled, evidently pleased that he had gotten his older brother to agree with him, and then asked,

“So, you got anything to eat in this place? I’m starving.” Clyde shook his head. That was Mark for you-always thinking with his stomach. He lead his brother to the kitchen, where Mark eagerly opened the refrigerator-only to scowl in annoyance about thirty seconds later.

“What’s wrong?’

“Why don’t you have any meat?”

“Because I’m a vegetarian, Mark. If you want food, you’ll have to take what I have.” Mark made a face, but he made himself a bowl of salad anyway, which he proceeded to devour ravenously.

“You’re acting like you haven’t eaten in a week,” Clyde remarked.

“That would be because I haven’t,” Mark replied casually. Clyde’s mouth fell open.

“Exactly how much money did you lose in that poker game?”

“Every cent I had,” Mark replied sheepishly. Clyde had to resist a strong urge to facepalm. It was sometimes amazing to Clyde that his brother was still alive, given his utter lack of common sense. Mark got himself a second bowl of salad as Clyde tried to come up with a conversation topic that wouldn’t embarrass either one of them. He was about to give up when he heard a clap of thunder.

“What do you think about the weather we’ve been having lately?” Mark looked up from his salad bowl.

“It’s been wet-wet and stormy,” he said, sounding oddly pleased.

“And that’s good?” Clyde asked in confusion.

“Yeah. I love watching storms. Just imagine having that kind of power-the respect it would bring you,” Mark replied rapturously. Clyde frowned. It was definitely a good thing that he hadn’t told his good-for-nothing kid brother about his latest project, because the idea of Mark with that level of power was deeply unsettling.

“Mark, you don’t get respect from having power-you get respect for being a good person,” he said nervously. Mark laughed bitterly.

“Yeah, right, ‘cause mom and dad think you’re the best thing since sliced bread because you’re nice and not because you’re a combination of Einstein and some movie star,” he muttered sarcastically. Clyde took the words like a punch to the gut, as, if he was honest, he was fairly sure that his parents would still have worshipped him if he’d been a selfish brat (as long as he’d remained intelligent and handsome). Mark then took his attack a step further.

“Face it, Clyde, if you started acting just like I do, our parents would still like you better, because you’re clever and good-looking and I’m not. You have no room to be telling me that people don’t respect anything but being ‘good’,” he snapped. Clyde shook his head.

“Not everyone is like our parents, Mark,’ he said. Much to Clyde’s surprise, the anger drained from Mark’s face, and he sighed wearily.

“You’re right. Not everyone’s like them-because you’re not like them,” he said sadly. Clyde sat down next to his brother.

“Mark, when are you going to stop doing this to people-and yourself? You can’t use our parents as an excuse to ruin your life and hurt other people,” he said, as gently as he could given the severity of Mark’s behavior. Mark shrugged.

“I….I don’t know, Clyde. Screwing up is the only thing I’m good at,” he said. Thunder boomed, and the house shook.

“Well, with an attitude like that, of course it is.” Mark just stared at him in annoyed disbelief.

“What’s attitude got to do with it? I’m a lazy, stupid bum and we both know it. I can’t change the truth.” Clyde frowned.

“Then change who you are. If you change, the truth will change with you-and you’re not stupid. Foolish, yes, but not stupid. You have the capacity to be as intelligent as anyone else.” Mark didn’t look convinced, but he did drop the subject.

“You seeing anyone?” he asked, a smirk on his face. Clyde slapped his brother’s arm.

“No, I am not seeing anyone, and if I was, I’m not sure I’d tell you. You’d be more than likely to make fun of me until the end of time,” he said. Mark smiled “innocently”.

“I was just asking. After all, the girls were all over you when we were in high school.” Clyde rolled his eyes.

“We’re not in high school anymore, Mark. I haven’t even had a date in three years.”

“In other words, you’ve become super boring.”

“I’d rather be boring than headed to jail.” Mark shook his head.

“Touché again.” Mark finished eating his second bowl of salad as a third awkward silence fell over them. Clyde put Mark’s bowls into the sink as his brother stared out the window at the storm that was still raging outside. There was a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder, and Mark smiled. For a split second, Clyde swore that he saw his brother’s eyes spark with electricity, but when he looked closer, the effect had vanished. Clyde shook his head. He had probably just imagined it.

“Do you want to do something?” he asked after about three minutes of awkwardness.

“You have any beer?”

“No.”

“Okay. Um ...do you have any movies?”

“No. I don’t watch television.” Mark looked at him in surprise.

“You used to.” Clyde shrugged.

“I suppose I just lost interest.”

“Then how about cards? You have any cards?” Clyde smiled.

“Actually, yes. I’ve become a pretty good bridge player since I last saw you.”

“Great! Let’s play!” Mark exclaimed. Clyde left the room and returned with a deck of cards. The two played bridge for about an hour, and Clyde won rather handily.

“How did you get so good at cards?” Mark asked.

“I don’t think I’m good at cards-I think you’re just really bad at cards.”

“Maybe so. It would explain how I lost all my money on a poker game.” Clyde sighed.

“Yes, it probably would explain that,” he said, a bit exasperatedly. Mark yawned.

“Do you have a spare bedroom, or am I sleeping on the couch?”

“I’m afraid you’re on the couch. This house isn’t very big to begin with, and my lab takes up a lot of space,” Clyde replied apologetically.

“Oh, that’s fine. After jail, I can sleep anywhere.” As if to prove his point, he left the kitchen and collapsed onto the couch.

“Good night, Mark.”

“Night, Clyde,” Mark said drowsily. Five minutes later, he was fast asleep, and Clyde was struck by how young he looked. Logically, he knew he shouldn’t have been-Mark was only twenty-one-but his anger and greed made him look far older when he was awake. He gently brushed Mark’s hair out of his face and then went to his lab, where the weather wand awaited him. Although it wasn’t much to look at, the wand was his magnum opus. He had already spent a year and a half working on it, and it would probably take three years more to complete, but he was very proud with what he had already accomplished. If everything went as planned, the ability to stop devastating floods, tornadoes, and hurricanes, and perhaps to end world hunger, would be in humanity’s grasp. The wand would do the world so much good, and it was honestly an honor that he had been selected to build it. Clyde spent the next five hours working on the wand and then fell asleep at his desk. He woke up at 8:30 the next morning, left the lab, locked the door behind him, and went to the living room, where he found Mark still asleep on the couch. He went to the kitchen and ate breakfast, then went back to the living room and gently shook his brother awake.

“Good morning, little brother.” Mark blinked a few times, as though not certain of where he was, and then replied,

“Oh, yeah, you bailed me out yesterday. Thanks.” Clyde nodded and asked,

“Do you want to eat breakfast?” Mark smiled.

“I never say no to free food.” Clyde shook his head and grinned. It seemed that sleep had done them both some good.

“There are some leftover pancakes in the fridge,” he told his brother. Mark bolted out of the living room and into the kitchen, leaving Clyde to his thoughts. How had he and Mark drifted so far apart? Sure, they were as different as fire and ice, and obviously their parents’ favoritism of him hadn’t done their relationship any favors, but that had been as true when they were kids as it was now. How had they gone from being best friends to being strangers who were barely civil to each other? What had gone wrong with Mark? And, more worrying still, had something gone wrong with him as well? Why didn’t they like being with each other anymore? The two-minute exchange this morning was the most natural conversation they’d had in years-or would have for at least another six months thanks to Mark’s idiocy. Clyde sighed wearily and went to his bedroom to change clothes. Ten minutes later, he joined his brother in the kitchen, where Mark was eagerly scarfing down the last of the pancakes. Clyde frowned-he’d wanted to eat at least one of them-but he didn’t say anything. Mark wasn’t going to be here for more than a week, so there was no point in laying down a lot of ground rules for food.

“You’re a great cook,” Mark said.

“Thanks.” Clyde sat down next to his brother.

“Maybe I should grow my hair out. It looks good on you,” he added.

“Nah, it wouldn’t fit you. You’re too uptight,” Mark replied jocularly. Clyde flicked a napkin at his brother.

“I’ll show you uptight!” With that, Clyde tackled his brother out of his chair and the two started a rather childish but good-natured wrestling match that ended when Mark accidentally punched him in the eye.

“Ha! I got you good!”

“Yes, you did. It’s a good thing that you have a lousy swing, or that would’ve been really painful.” Mark crossed his arms.

“You’re just mad that I won.” Clyde smiled.

“Whatever makes you happy.”

“What would make me happy is you admitting that I cleaned your clock.” Clyde laughed.

“You’re something else, little brother.” He lead his brother out of the kitchen and put his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Mark, I’m glad that we’re getting along so well, but I want you to tell me the truth. Aren’t you even a little guilty or worried about what you’ve done?” Mark looked away pointedly.

“Clyde, we have a good thing going. Don’t ruin it by bringing up unpleasant things.” Clyde sighed in exhaustion.

“Mark, listen to me. I’m worried about you-and, for that matter, about the people you keep trying to steal from. Just tell me the truth,” he pleaded. Mark paused for a few seconds, then said,

“Fine. I’ll tell you. Yeah, I’m worried. After I got beat to within an inch of my life the last time I went to jail, how could I not be? I’m stupid, but I ain’t THAT stupid. I’m annoyed that I was clumsy enough to get caught in the act and really annoyed that I thought it was a good idea in the first place. I already knew from last time that I’m a terrible burglar, and I do feel a little lousy for trying to steal an old guy’s TV-even if the old guy had a gun. I’m just….all mixed up, you know?” Clyde groaned. On the one hand, it was good to know that his brother had normal human emotions and felt at least a little guilt, but on the other hand, it was very frustrating to deal with someone who had gotten into such an unpleasant situation and seemed to have no idea as to how he had gotten there despite it being perfectly obvious to anyone with so much as a hint of common sense.

“If you knew it was such a bad idea, why did you do it?” Mark shrugged.

“Because I knew that I would be prepared for what was coming if I botched it. I’d rather fail in a familiar way than in an unfamiliar one.” Clyde frowned.

“Mark, you were breaking the law! You were going to steal from someone!” Mark looked at the ground.

“I know, okay? It was a stupid idea, and I’m a creep for having come up with it, but what did you expect? I’m Mark Mardon, remember-lazy, stupid, selfish, pathetic Mark Mardon!” he said, growing gradually more hysterical with each word. Clyde just shared at him. He’d known for awhile that his brother’s self-esteem tended to fluctuate wildly, but he’d never heard him sound this angry at himself. After a few seconds, he blurted out,

“And how does any of that justify what you did?” Mark laughed, and his eyes seemed to spark again. Clyde drew back in alarm, as his brother seemed less than human. How had things gone downhill so quickly?

“Oh, nothing I do can be justified, Clyde. That’s why I don’t try to justify it. I just don’t understand why you expect me to behave well when I’m-what was it that mom calls me?-oh, yeah, a reprobate! I’m a criminal, a creep, a loser! I’m bad at everything-and that includes being good! I’ll never be anything but a bad guy, so why do you act like what I’m doing is a surprise?”

“Because you’re my little brother! I grew up with you, and I know that you’re more than just a “bad guy”-or would be if you would just try! I love you, and watching you destroy your life-and worse, hurt innocent people-is tearing me apart!” At this, Mark seemed to wilt. Instead of looking frightening, he now just looked defeated.

“What did I do to deserve you?” he muttered.

“Nothing- but we’re family. You don’t have to earn my concern.”

“You’re a saint, you know that?” Clyde shook his head sadly.

“No, I’m not. I’m just a man,” he replied quietly. If he was a saint, they wouldn’t be in this mess.

“Well, whatever you are, you’re the only one who cares about me.” With that, Mark burst into tears, and Clyde was left with the task of calming him down enough to continue having a rational conversation.

“There, there, little brother. There, there,” he said gently as his brother cried into his shoulder. Ten minutes later, Mark had finally calmed down enough to be comprehensible again.

“Sorry about that ...display,” he said.

“What, the angry yelling or the hysterical crying?”

“Both.”

“I forgive you,” Clyde said, unsure of how else to reply. After a few more seconds of the now terribly familiar awkward silence, Clyde noticed that his brother’s clothes had gotten rather wrinkled overnight.

“Uh, Mark? Do you want to borrow some of my clothes?” Mark shrugged.

“I guess so. Where’s the bedroom?” Clyde pointed him in the right direction, and he vanished, then reappeared about seven minutes later in pants that fit well and a shirt that was almost comically too large for him. Clyde frowned. He’d forgotten about the difference in their physiques. While they were both 6’1”, he was rather built and looked (according to his high school sweetheart, at least) like an action hero, while Mark was slender and looked like he might be knocked over by a stiff breeze.

“Clyde, I don’t think this shirt is going to work.”

“Definitely not.” Mark rushed back into Clyde’s room and returned about a minute later wearing his wrinkled green shirt.

“It’s not pretty, but it’ll do in a pinch,” Mark said. Clyde smiled.

“Besides, it’s not like you have anywhere special to go.” Mark laughed.

“Forget being a scientist-you should’ve been a comedian.”

“Why, so that mom and dad would’ve been angry at both of us?”

“Yeah!” Mark exclaimed, a bit too enthusiastically.

“What happened to you appreciating me?”

“Oh, I still appreciate you, Clyde. I just wish that you had a reason to need me the way that I need you.” Clyde frowned. There went his brother’s bizarre mood swings. Or ...or was it manipulation? He hated to think that his brother was trying to manipulate him, but it was entirely possible.

“Mark, are you trying to manipulate me? Because that felt a lot like a guilt trip,” he asked. Mark’s blank expression made it clear that the idea had not crossed his mind, and Clyde relaxed. Of course it hadn’t been an act. Even Mark would never sink that low. He laughed nervously.

“Oh, what was I thinking? Of course you aren’t,” he said quickly, before Mark could get more upset (or strangely affectionate). Luckily, Mark seemed to be willing to avoid another emotional display.

“Even I’m not stupid enough to try to manipulate you. You know me too well for that,” he said before vanishing into the kitchen.

“Mark, do you want me to stick around, or can I go back to my work?” Clyde yelled after him.

“If you trust me enough to not be afraid that I’ll botch something up, sure!” Mark yelled back. Clyde was pretty sure that the last sentence had been an attempted guilt trip, but he went to his lab anyway. He immediately went to work on the weather wand and was absorbed in the work until he had finished one of the main components of the wand, at which point he checked his watch and was alarmed to learn that it was 6:30 PM. The idea of Mark being alone in his home for such a long time did not sit well with him, so he rushed out of the lab, only just remembering to lock the door behind him as he left, and ran to the kitchen, where he found Mark sitting at the table, covered in blood and looking bewildered.

“Mark! What happened?” he asked. Mark relaxed noticeably upon seeing him.

“Oh, Clyde! I’m glad you showed up, because I have no idea where the first aid kit is-assuming you have one, that is.”

“What happened?” Clyde repeated.

“I had a little accident with the kitchen knife.” He held up his left hand, and, sure enough, it was dripping blood from a deep cut. Clyde sighed wearily for what felt like the fiftieth time.

“I’d ask you if you washed the cut, but seeing as it’s obviously bleeding, it’s clear you didn’t, so I’ll start off by telling you to do that.” Mark obliged, and Clyde went hunting for his first-aid kit. He found it by his bathroom sink about a minute later and rushed back to his brother, who had somehow managed to get his entire shirt wet while washing his hands. Clyde decided that asking about it would probably only frustrate him more and took his brother’s hand.

“One of these days, you’re going to kill yourself in an embarrassing manner if you don’t get some more common sense,” he said as he bandaged the wound.

“Don’t I know it.” Clyde sighed and stood up.

“There. You’re good,” he said brusquely. Mark smiled.

“Thanks, Clyde. You’re the greatest.” Clyde frowned. If Mark really thought he was so terrific, why did he never take his advice? Why did he insist on ripping his heart to shreds?

“Okay, new rule. No touching sharp things if I’m not in the room.”

“Got it,” Mark replied, clearly embarrassed. The rest of the day, and the following two days, passed in a blur. Mark didn’t have any more mishaps or bizarre emotional outbursts, and Clyde worked nonstop on his weather wand. However, on the fifth day, Clyde was awoken by someone knocking on the door and he opened it to find his mother.

“Hello, Clyde darling. How are you? I just couldn’t stand to wait any longer to see you, so I decided to come visit.” Clyde’s face went white. Of all the times for his mother to show up, why did it have to be today? She knew that Mark was still here and everything! This would cause nothing but needless trouble.

“Mom, I’m glad you’re here, really, but…..Mark is still here, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to have both of you in the house at the same time,” he told her gently. His mother scowled at the mention of her younger son’s name.

“I don’t understand why you put up with him. He’s a criminal, a no-good, selfish, worthless fool. You’ve bailed him out of trouble more times than I can count, and he’s still doing the same stupid things. He’ll never change, Clyde, and I strongly advise that you cut all ties with that shiftless parasite. You’re going to be world-famous, darling, and you can’t have a criminal brother ruining your reputation. He’s utterly useless, and if he won’t stay in the house with me, then throw him out. I’m not the one who’s squandered every opportunity I’ve been given,” she ranted. Clyde realized too late that his brother had entered the room, probably to see who the knocker was, and that he had heard every word.

“Go ahead, Clyde. She’s right. Throw me out if you want-I’ll never be worth anything! Isn’t that right, mom ?” Mark snapped angrily.

“Mark-” Clyde began.

“What? Was it not what it sounded like? Was mom not trying to convince you to kick me out?” Mark asked quietly.

“She was. But I didn’t agree to do it.” Did Mark really believe that he thought of him as worthless?

“Why? What was stopping you?”

“What’s stopping him is that he’s crazy enough to believe that you-a hoodlum who’s never given him or us anything but grief since you were old enough to walk-could change! He thinks that you appreciate what he sacrifices to save your worthless skin!” their mother exclaimed before Clyde could stop her. Mark scowled.

“Brought you nothing but grief, did I? That’s rich, coming from a woman who never stopped telling me that I was second-rate and that I should be more like my brother and comparing me to him in front of people. You’re as good at causing grief as I am!”

“Oh, so now it’s a crime to tell the truth, is it? You’ve never been anything but a parasite, taking advantage of our good will to avoid working or doing anything productive. If it wasn’t for your saint of a brother, you’d be dead by now, and we’d be happier and better for it!”

“You wish he was dead?” Clyde asked.

“Yes, I do, and why not? He’s not just useless, he’s an active threat. He deserves to die, and when he does, we’ll be free of a burden to our lives.”

“But he’s your son-my little brother. I know he’s far from a good person, as much as I hate to admit it, but I can’t wish him dead. I love him.”

“He’s not capable of love,” his mother spat. Mark’s eyes seemed to spark again, and Clyde went even whiter with fear.

“Maybe you’re right, mother. Maybe I am a monster,” Mark said, almost in a whisper. He shoved their mother violently out of the way and ran out the door. Clyde made sure that his mother hadn’t been hurt, then ran after his brother. He found him staring at the lake that his house was built near.

“I should kill you for what you did to mother,” he said angrily.

“What do you mean? I didn’t hurt her none-and even if I did, you heard what she said about me! I’m worthless, useless, stupid, selfish-I’m a parasite. She wishes I were dead! Do you know what it feels like to have your own mother tell you that she would be happy if you died? Do you? Of course you don’t, because mom loves you!”

“And why shouldn’t she? I didn’t run away from home, take up a life of petty crime, and refuse to get help! I didn’t flunk out of high school or make her worry sick about me! She’s right-I should stop helping you! The only thing you care about is yourself!”

“Clyde, she never loved me! Ever since I could walk, I’ve heard her complaining about how I couldn’t measure up to you, and when it became obvious that I never would, that I was a failure, she told me that I was a burden and never looked back. She thinks-she’s always thought-that I’m nothing compared to you, and I hate her! I hate her for it! I already knew I was a loser, but it hurts-it hurts so much-to know that she agrees. But if you think she’s right about me-heck, she probably is-I might as well kill myself, here and now. I’d be doing you a favor.” Clyde scowled.

“Stop trying to manipulate me, Mark. I’m tired of feeling guilty for something that wasn’t my fault, and I’m tired of playing your games!” Then, much to his surprise-and horror-Mark started walking into the water.

“What do you think you’re doing? You can’t swim!” Mark’s eyes seemed to spark.

“I told you. I’m killing myself. You can go tell mom that she got her wish,” he said, in a tone that was terrifyingly calm. Clyde grabbed his brother and pulled him as far away from the water as he could get him.

“Let me go! You said it yourself-I’m worthless! Nobody wants me. Nobody’s ever wanted a loser like Mark Mardon! So let me die! Between you and mom, you got me thinking about myself, and even if you’re wrong and I’m not a parasite, I can’t see any reason to go on. I’m too stupid to come up with a way to make things better and I’m probably too bad to change, and I don’t have anything to look forward to but being beat up in jail, so I might as well die. At least then I wouldn’t have to think about how my own mother hates me so much that she wishes she’d never had me. At least then I wouldn’t have to live with myself-pathetic, stupid, useless Mark Mardon!” Mark punched, kicked, and flailed, but Clyde held him firm.

“Mark, I’m...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that Mom was right about you. She’s not. I was just so angry at you for not listening to me-and that all came to the surface when mom showed up. I hate what you do to me, to other people, to our parents, and to yourself, but I don’t hate you, and I don’t want you dead. No matter what idiotic stunts you pull, you’re still my brother, and no matter how much you hurt me, I can’t let you go. I love you. I know you’re more than our parents say you are. You’re not worthless-if you were, you couldn’t hurt me so much. You’re wrong, Mark- I want you. I want you very much. Why else would I keep coming back for you?” Clyde told his brother through frightened tears. As much as part of him wished he could feel what his mother did towards his brother, he couldn’t. His brother was too dear to him. Why couldn’t Mark see that? Mark finally stopped struggling.

“You’re crazy, Clyde.”

“Maybe. But so are you.”

“Touché, big brother. Touché.” Clyde took his idiot brother back home, where their mother was still waiting.

“Why are you both wet?” she asked. Clyde sighed.

“Mother, I love you, but…..but…...Mark just tried to kill himself because he thinks he’s worthless. I know he’s a pain to deal with, I can understand why you don’t want to spend time with him-but telling him you wish he was dead is too much,” he said gently. His mother frowned.

“Well, if you want to take that parasite’s side over your own mother’s, I’ll leave. I know when I’m not wanted.”

“Mom-wait-” Before Clyde could continue, his mother stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her, and drove away. Mark winced.

“Sorry for making mom mad at you.”

“For once, Mark, that wasn’t your fault.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. That was Mom’s choice, not yours.”

Two days later, Mark and Clyde were sitting in a courtroom. Mark had just been sentenced to nine months in jail, and Clyde was no longer responsible for his brother. Before Mark was lead away, Clyde walked up to him.

“If you need me after you get out, you know where to find me, little brother. And please, learn from this, Mark. You don’t have to spend your life doing this.” Mark smiled weakly.

“You’re something else, Clyde. I may think you’re insane, but you’re a great brother. I can’t believe you’d stick beside me after all this.”

“What else are brothers for? Remember, I love you, no matter what crazy nonsense you pull. I won’t bail you out again, but I’ll always be there for you.”

“I...I love you too, big brother. Keep out of trouble.” Clyde shook his head wearily.

“Oh, Mark. Good-bye, good luck, and for goodness’ sake, keep your nose clean after this.”

“Bye, Clyde,” Mark replied as he was lead off. As soon as he was gone, Clyde left the courtroom and drove home, then collapsed on his couch. Dealing with his younger brother was like walking through a storm- and it would take some time before the tempestuous emotions Mark stirred up were quieted. However, emotional distress was not an adequate reason to stop working, and so he went to his laboratory and began to work on the weather wand once more.

Thank you for reading my story.If you (or a loved one) is considering suicide: National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-8255

You are not alone.

#flash rogues #mark mardon #weather wizard #abusive parenting #clyde mardon #trigger warning: suicide attempt #fanfic #@gorogues #dc comics

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tearbos · 4 years

Text

UPLIFTED

I originally posted this on my LJ back in 2011. I corrected a few editorial issues but refrained from making any major changes. :) This was written as a humorous fic that ended up becoming more angsty, but it still shouldn’t be taken too seriously.

This was written for Criminal Minds Kink Meme IV prompt: Reid is captured by an unsub (it's a cliche for a reason) who uses his victims for experiments. When the team finds him they expect the worst, but Reid seems relatively unharmed except for the fact that he now has wings.

Spoilers/Warnings: None, really.

The screech of tires rubbing against slick asphalt filled the early morning air as the large, black SUVs jerked to a sudden stop. The calm silence was broken by thundering footsteps as four agents hurriedly unloaded from the vehicle and converged on the small office building followed closely by a SWAT team and half a dozen DC police officers. Once the perimeter was surrounded, the team members quietly entered the front door and efficiently cleared the lobby area. SWAT and several officers came in as spread out to finish securing the rest of the building. The air was stale and dust covered every surface; the decor of the entryway was easily a decade old and gave no indication of the brilliant yet completely delusional scientist being searched for inside. The FBI agents began following the officers down a dingy, dimly lit hallway when a loud commotion echoed from the end of the corridor. They ran ahead to fine SWAT team members dragging a disheveled, protesting Dr. Brians from a small office.

“Wait,” he screamed angrily, “I’m almost finished! I just need to see if they work properly. That is the final step. Please!”

Hotch stormed over to the distraught scientist and demanded, “Where is he?”

The doctor looked up mournfully and pleaded, “Please?”

“Where?” Hotch insisted.

“In the lab,” Dr. Brians muttered bitterly.

The team members wasted no time, leaving the handling of their former Unsub to the police. As the hallway behind them had been cleared, and Dr. Brians was found in the only office to the left, the agents began checking all of the doors to their right. They found only empty rooms until they reached the last door. It was firmly locked and secured with an alarm, but a few blows with the SWAT team’s battering ram easily remedied that problem.

The space was pitch black, which made their flashlight beams reflect off of glass jars and metal tables around the room. No light sources were turned on in the front, so the team cautiously spread out as they slowly moved forward. The air was thick with tension and the quiet sounds of moving bodies. A switch was finally found near the back, and the florescent lighting crackled to life. The agents took in their surroundings in disgust. The room was a macabre cross between an Unsub’s trophy room and a horror movie mad scientist’s lab. Along the left wall were glass jars filled with ‘experiments’-both animal and human it seemed- in various stages of whatever processes to which they were subjected. The middle of the room held autopsy tables modified with leather restraints and smeared with dried substances. The right side was lined with shelves stuffed with books and a large desk piled high with lab reports, blueprints, and numerous other papers. There was no sign of the object of their search, though, until someone noticed that the back of the room was still dark behind large glass windows and a solid steel door. Applying force to the door and shining light into the glass both had no success. However, it took the considerable intimidation abilities of Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan less than three minutes to pry the security code from Dr. Brians.

Once the door was finally open and the room lit, the team stared in horror at the sight in front of them. Their missing team member was perched facing them on a pedestal about a foot above the ground. He was unconscious and supported under the arms by leather straps suspended from the ceiling. His head hung forward and his messy hair covered his face. A concerning amount of blood had formed a puddle around his feet and next to the pedestal. The blood appeared to have originated from his upper back or shoulders and flowed downward from there. After several moments of shock, the team jumped into action. Emily began searching the rooms for controls or keys to the straps and Rossi and Morgan grabbed Reid to hold him upright so Hotch could check Reid’s vitals.

“I have a strong pulse,” Hotch announced, and each agent let out a sigh of relief. While Rossi and Morgan worked on unlocking the straps with the keys Emily located across the room, Hotch moved around to check Reid’s injuries. What he found was something he never would have imagined-ever.

“What the Hell!”

His exclamation caught the attention of the others who shifted closer to see what had Hotch so surprised. They all had a similar reaction when they saw Reid’s back. Attached to his shoulder blades was a pair of feathered wings-actual, full-sized wings with real feathers that were cream with intricate detailing. They were folded up to lie flat against his back, but appeared to be nearly three feet in length and about a foot wide, not necessarily large but certainly not natural. A cursory examination didn’t reveal how they were connected to Reid, but the skin around the area was inflamed red and had obviously bled at some point. Silence filled the room until Emily finally spoke up.

“Are…these what Dr. Brians wanted to see working? He said something about a project…”

“It’s probably safe to assume this is what he meant,” Rossi replied.

“What the hell should we do now,” Morgan asked?

“Let’s get him down and to a hospital for starters, then we can figure out what to do from there,” Hotch decided. “Prentiss, let the paramedics know the situation and make sure they know to take him to the base hospital. We have a better chance of discretion there.”

“On it,” she stated as she pulled out her radio to inform the medics of the issues. With a combined effort the remaining agents managed to get Reid down from his stand and lying face down on the floor with his face propped against Morgan’s legs. They all studied the wings silently until help arrived.

-------------------

Gathered anxiously in Reid’s hospital room, the team members crowded around the x-ray images displayed on the lighted board while Dr. Alison described what they were seeing. The base structure of the wings was steel, and Dr. Brians had fused and wielded the metal to bones and reconfigured tendons until it was almost a part of Reid’s skeletal system. He had even tediously connected the nerves, and by all appearances the wings should be fully functional. It was painstaking work, and quite the scientific achievement, yet the whole idea was sick and horrifying. Perhaps the ‘test subject’ being an unwilling member of their team skewed the perspective somewhat.

After consultations with orthopedists, physical therapists, and a plastic surgeon, Dr. Alison confidently reassure the team that the wings could be removed with little or no permanent damage to Reid’s original arms and shoulders. The surgery, however, would have to wait a minimum of two weeks so that the current incisions and additions to Reid’s body could heal properly before undergoing further trauma. Reid would remain under careful observation during that time so that the doctor could monitor for infections or complications. The agents knew Reid would be unhappy with the delay and amount of time in the hospital, but the risk of serious injury was too great to avoid it. They would just have to do their best to support him until the time for the ‘wingectomy’ –as it was jokingly referred to.

Other than the obvious changes, Reid managed to escape his captivity without any major harm being done to his person. During the five days Reid was in his care, Dr. Brians had fed him and allowed him to rest when lapses in the experiment came around. The details were diligently logged in records in the lab, which was fortunate as Reid wasn’t awake to tell them and Dr. Brians was too busy mourning the loss of his project to cooperate. Neither the logs nor the physical exam by Dr. Alison revealed any further experimentation, and the team was relieved that Reid had only one serious physical issue to cope with. Only time would tell if he suffered any psychological distress from the ordeal, and Dr. Brians’ notes made no mention of Reid’s mental state during the process. The team members collectively decided to prepare for the worst possible scenario just in case.

Nearly ten hours later as the BAU team-now including Garcia and JJ- began to grow restless, Reid finally stirred. It took a few minutes of furious blinking and quiet groaning for him to become conscious, and another moment of panic before his full awareness returned. Reid smiled weakly at the sight of all of his team gathered around him with varying looks of concern.

“Hi guys,” he croaked out. “I guess I’m now officially a freak.” He spoke teasingly but the others hurried to reassure him and inform him that things could be repaired. Then, Emily posed the question that was on everyone’s mind, “Do they actually work, Reid?”

He gave a rueful grin and replied, “I don’t know yet. They hurt too much to try them before.”

“They don’t hurt now, do they,” Garcia asked worriedly?

“Not at the moment, but I imagine that one of these IVs contains some form of pain managing substance.”

“Yes, NSAIDs only,” Hotch responded.

“Good. Thanks.” Reid looked thoughtful for a moment. He held out a hand to Morgan. “Help me sit up.”

“What? Why?” Morgan took the offered hand but made no move to comply with Reid’s request.

“No time like the thoroughly medicated present to find out the answer. At least I’m already in the hospital if something goes wrong.

“I don’t think that’s…” Hotch began, but Rossi interrupted him.

“I’ll get Dr. Alison. He can supervise.” After Rossi left, Morgan carefully pulled Reid into a sitting position and JJ promptly arranged pillows to support him.

“Can you move your arms ok?” Emily inquired.

Reid tested both limbs successfully. “Interesting. They don’t move with my arms automatically. I must have to control them consciously,” Reid mused.

“I wonder why he wanted to do this at all,” Morgan stated.

“Well, an interest in flight is almost an intrinsic part of human nature. Studies dating as far back as the early…”

Reid’s mini-lecture was cut off by the arrival of Dr. Alison and Rossi. “Dr. Reid, it’s nice to meet you officially. I’m Dr. Alison and I’m in charge of your case.” He extended his hand and Reid shook it easily- one preliminary test passed.

“Nice to meet you too doctor. Are you a specialist in the surgical removal of unusual object from the body?”

“I guess you could put it that way,” Dr. Alison replied with a grin. “I must say that this will be my most unusual case to date.”

“I should hope so,” Morgan muttered to the amusement of the others.

“Do you feel up to doing a simple assessment or two?”

“Sure,” Reid answered. “What do you need me to do?”

“Well, I see that you can move your arms independently of the wings, so let’s test your range of motion.” Reid easily followed the instructions until Dr. Alison was satisfied. Finally he requested, “If you can, Dr. Reid, I want you to try to move the wings. However, you can only do so if there isn’t a lot of pain. I don’t want you to be injured any further.”

Reid focused his efforts on obeying the doctor’s orders. Slowly, the wings unfolded to their full extent. The rounded tops came just past Reid’s shoulders while the pointed tips hung over the edges of the bed. No one spoke as they took in what they were witnessing.

Dr. Alison broke the silence after a long pause. “Dr. Reid, would you mind if took a few pictures to include in your medical records and to give to the plastic surgeon?”

Reid shrugged, the wings lifting slightly as he did so. “As long as they don’t end up on the internet or the local news.”

“No worries there,” Dr. Alison reassured with a chuckle. He removed a digital camera from his lab coat and took a few panoramic shots before moving closer to photograph the areas around the incisions. After the photos he had Reid repeat the test while he palpated the areas around the shoulders and upper back, noting the way the movements affected the wings. “Fascinating,” he murmured under his breath when he felt how seamlessly both sets of appendages were connected. “This really is mind blowing work.”

“Why me though? Why do I attract the crazies,” Reid bemoaned?

The others laughed and Morgan ruffled his hair. “I don’t know Pretty Boy; maybe you give off a scent or something, some strange brand of Crazy Juice.”

“Ew,” JJ, Emily and Reid all exclaimed simultaneously.

“This is kind of amazing,” Garcia chimed in.

“Why is that, Baby Girl?”

“Because I’ve called Reid ‘Boy Wonder’ for years and now he really does have a super power!”

The room exploded with laughter while Reid crossed his arms and pouted.

“What’s the matter, Spence,” JJ asked once she regained her breath?

“I doubt that I could actually fly with them.” He seemed disappointed at the thought.

“Why not,” Rossi asked?

“They’re kind of small,” he replied. “I’m not sure they could lift my body weight.”

“Well, you don’t really weigh a whole lot Reid,” Emily retorted.

“I’m heavier than I look,” Reid stated indignantly. “Besides, it’s relative to the amount of weight they can support. They don’t seem very strong.”

“I don’t know, Reid. They are solid steel, and Dr. Brians was very detailed and exacting with his plans. I’d imagine he took your height and weight into account when he designed them….What?” Hotch asked when he realized the others were staring at him.

“Sir, your inner geek is showing,” Garcia told him. Hotch smiled at that while the rest nearly collapsed in amusement.

“I do have my moments,” Hotch replied, causing the merriment to continue.

Once things calmed down again, Dr. Alison briefly explained the plans for the next few weeks to Reid before excusing himself. Reid, surprisingly, didn’t protest his hospital stay; instead he seemed relieved to deal with this situation in the closed environment rather than in the real world. The team discussed visitation and work schedules for the next weeks while Hotch called in three weeks (minimum) medical leave for Reid as well as a few days off for the rest of them during and immediately after the surgery. Things were figured out as much as possible when JJ stood and approached the bed.

“Can I touch them Spence,” she asked hesitantly? Reid was startled by the questions but quickly acquiesced. She reached out and gently ran her hand along the edge before fingering the tip. “They’re really soft,” she stated as she continued stroking the downy feathers.

“Do they bother you, Baby Cakes,” Garcia wondered as she joined JJ.

“Bother me how? The fact that they are there bothers me, and remembering how they got there really bothers me,” he answered with a slightly bitter tone.

“Well, I meant bother as in: Are they heavy? Do they itch or annoy you? I can see why you would be bothered in different ways too though Sweetie.”

“Sorry Garcia,” he said softly. “I barely notice them unless they move, and I can’t feel you touching them.”

“Speaking of what happened, Reid, you will need to have a psych eval once you recover from the surgery,” Hotch told him. “I can have Dr. Benson come here to see you if you want to talk to him sooner.”

“Really, Hotch, I’m fine. There’s no need for an eval.”

“Its standard procedure and it isn’t up for discussion. Of course you can talk to any of us if you want to, but I do need a formal record as well.”

“I know,” Reid sighed in defeat.

“Do you want to tell us about it,” Morgan asked?

“What’s to tell? You read Dr. Brians’ notes so you what happened already.”

“That isn’t a complete picture and you know that,” Rossi said. “We don’t know what happened from your perspective. You were missing for five days, Reid; you can’t tell us you aren’t affected by that.”

Reid remained quiet for a few minutes before softly asking, “It was really five days?”

“Yes. Why,” Hotch answered?

“It…didn’t seem like that long, but I was pretty out of it for some of the time.”

“He drugged you,” Emily asked?

“Yeah, I’m not sure with what though- a sedative or paralytic or something. I was awake most of the time but not completely aware. I didn��t have as much pain while he was working as I did when he was done.”

“Did you know what he was doing,” Garcia wondered?

“Yes. He explained his plan in great detail and documented each step in the process.”

“How do you feel about this,” Hotch inquired?

“Conflicted,” he replied slowly. “I’m always interested in scientific advances and experimentation. I participated in several studies during college, but those were all voluntary and I was aware of the risks involved. I’m not happy that this was done without my consent, but the scientist in me is curious about how this ends up.”

“You could always delay the surgery and find out,” Rossi quipped lightly. Reid shot him a LOOK.

“Yeah, sure, that‘s a good idea. I’m weird enough already without adding this to it.”

“You aren’t weird,” JJ retorted at the same time Garcia blurted out, “I think they’re kind of cool.”

“Thanks, JJ, and of course you would say that Garcia,” he responded.

“You know I love you no matter what my gorgeous gray matter,” she said with a smile. Reid returned it with a grin of his own.

Just then, a nurse came in to inform them that visiting hours were finished for the evening. The team told Reid goodbye and promised to visit again in the morning-with coffee as stipulated by Reid.

---------------------------

Four days later, Morgan and Hotch helped Reid conceal his new appendages beneath his corduroy jacket as much as possible. Because there was no sign of infection, and Reid was healing so well, Dr. Alison released him to go home until the day of the ‘wingectomy’. By this time Reid was eager to get to his own apartment; hiding out in the hospital got boring very quickly. Once he was clothed the three agents signed Reid out and headed to his place. Reid fully expected to find the rest of his team members waiting for his arrival, but he didn’t anticipate a Fairy-themed welcome home party.

The ladies all had sets of sparkly wings in bright colors, and Rossi even had a set of large, hideously cheap, plastic wings strapped to his back-he didn’t seem to happy about the situation though.

“Welcome Home,” they all shouted as he walked in and Garcia bounced over and tossed a handful of glitter on his head. She kissed him cheerily on both cheeks to leave bright red lip prints behind. Reid couldn’t help but grin at the (weird) thoughtfulness of his friends. Despite their efforts, though, he still felt a little self-conscious as Hotch helped him remove his jacket. He wore his usual button-up shirt strategically modified in the back with a pair of scissors to accommodate his temporary limbs. Feeling a bit stiff, Reid cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders, and stretched his wings out to their full extent. Looking around he saw all the eyes in the room watching him in awe. He smiled nervously at them.

“You’ve all seen them before,” he stated.

“We know, but it takes some getting used to,” Emily replied as she tugged him further into the area. He gaped in surprise as he took in the bright tissue paper and shiny streamers decorating his living room.

“This is what I imagine the inside of a fairy house would look like,” Garcia commented as he slowly spun to take it all in.

“Garcia, I’m not a fairy,” he protested half-halfheartedly, knowing already that arguing with here was a losing battle.

“Well honey bun, I’m not sure you qualify for angel status so this is the next best thing!” She grinned cheekily and winked at him. He couldn’t help but smile in agreement. Meanwhile JJ and Emily fitted Hotch and Morgan with their own sets of plastic wings, and Morgan strutted over to Garcia to show them off.

“What about me, Baby Girl? Do I make angel status?”

“Oh my gorgeous chocolate god, you will always be a heavenly vision in my eyes!”

Morgan smirked and wrapped an arm around her. “That’s good enough for me.”

“How do you feel, Reid,” Rossi asked from the corner?

“Not too bad. They’re feeling kind of stiff right now but they don’t hurt anymore.”

“That’s good. Here, have a drink,” he replied as he indicated the counter between the living room and the kitchen. “There is ‘fairy punch’, whatever that is, or I brought a good scotch if you prefer.”

“Scotch is good…” Reid started, but a large, flashing glass of pink punch with a tasseled straw in it suddenly appeared in front of his face.

“You have to at least try the ‘fairy punch’,” JJ started.

“Plus I need a picture of you holding it,” Garcia added as she held up her camera. Reid groaned but didn’t bother protesting. He obediently posed for the required photos before retreating to the safety of the couch were Rossi and Hotch sat nursing their drinks.

“So, what other festivities are planned for this fairy wonderland party,” Morgan wondered.

“Not much,” Emily answered. “Pizza should be here soon, and we just figured on watching a movie or something.”

“I wanted to watch Peter Pan in honor of the occasion but I was outvoted,” Garcia broke in with a pout.

“Thank goodness,” Hotch murmured, to the amusement of the others.

“I brought board games too,” JJ chimed in, “ones that Spence can’t dominate everybody in.”

“Do those exist,” Morgan mumbled?

“Yes, Morgan, I don’t know everything!”

“I have ‘Loaded Questions’, ‘Pictionary’, and ‘Life’,” JJ interrupted before an argument could begin.

“Let’s play ‘Loaded Questions’,” Reid decided. The others agreed and gathered around the coffee table.

----------------------

Three days later Reid strolled cautiously into the bullpen, unsure if anyone could tell something was different about him. Emily wasn’t at her desk so he headed towards Morgan’s office. A few agents stopped him along the way to welcome him back and wish him well. He took comfort in the fact that none acted as if there was anything unusual in front of them. He knocked lightly on Morgan’s open door and grinned when the agent smiled up at him in surprise.

“Reid! It’s good to see you, my man, but what are you doing here? You barely started your medical leave.”

“I know, but I was getting bored wandering around at home. Besides, I’m not really sick or injured so I can at least do paperwork or something until the surgery.”

Morgan looked thoughtful. “I should tell you to clear it with Hotch first, but I could use a hand. As long as you hang out in here with the door closed you should be fine. I will claim ignorance if Hotch catches you.”

“Deal,” Reid happily agreed. “I will be very sneaky, but you know he will figure out that I helped you once you turn these in.”

“That’s true, but as long as he doesn’t catch you doing them I should be safe.” Morgan handed him a stack of files and cleared a section of desk for him to work on.

Reid worked in Morgan’s office for nearly two hours before he called Emily in the bullpen and recruited her to be his look out while he went to the break room for coffee and a trip to the bathroom. She gladly complied, and Reid brought her and Morgan coffee as a thank you. He would have made it the whole day without getting caught if Emily hadn’t gotten stuck on a phone call around 3:30 and failed to warn Reid of Hotch going to Morgan’s office. Morgan was in with Garcia checking on missing information from a case file and Reid was huddled over his corner of Morgan’s desk engrossed in an autopsy report when Hotch knocked lightly on the partially open door before entering.

“Morgan when you get a chance can you…” he trailed off upon seeing Reid-looking up at him in surprise-rather than the person he expected. “What are you doing here? You are supposed to be on medical leave,” Hotch stated pointedly.

“I, um, just came by to help for awhile. I’m fine, Hotch, really. There’s no reason why I can’t do paperwork.”

Hotch studied him before deciding to just let the issue go. “I don’t want to see or hear of you doing anything strenuous Reid. You know what Dr. Alison said about infection and tissue damage; he wants you to take it easy before the surgery. Paperwork only.” His tone made it clear that no arguments would be accepted.

“Yes, sir,” Reid responded gratefully.

Hotch handed him a thick file. “I was going to have Morgan work on this, but since you are here you can do it instead.”

“No problem.”

Hotch turned to leave, but he paused and said, “You can work at your desk now if you want instead of hiding in here.” He left without waiting for a reply.

Reid finished the day in Morgan’s office despite Hotch’s approval; both of them were glad for the company on an otherwise boring work day, and they didn’t get to spend much time together unless they were on a case now that Morgan had his own office.

Garcia declared it to be ‘Team Dinner Night’ so they all gathered at Reid’s apartment again, this time with Greek take-out. The evening was fun and relaxed as the agents talked and laughed together. Once the food was gone, Reid got everyone’s attention.

“Guys, I’m ready to try an experiment.” The identical looks of concern and confusion amused him greatly. “I’ve done some calculations and I believe that the wings will be able to support my weight for a short flight.”

“Really? That’s so great,” Garcia exclaimed. “I can’t wait to see this!”

“How short is a ‘short flight’,” Rossi inquired?

“Approximately three minutes, could be as much as four or as few as one-and-a-half depending on wind conditions.”

“So, where are we conducting this experiment,” Emily wanted to know?

“I was thinking the roof…”

The room exploded with protests.

“No way man!”

“Not a chance, Reid!”

“You are not jumping off of the roof!”

He held up his hand to regain control of the conversation. “I’m not planning on jumping off the roof,” he insisted, “just jumping around it some.”

“Why the roof Spence,” JJ asked?

“I determined that I could get the most ideal wind and space combination there.”

“Ok, we can do this. I do insist that you will be connected to a repel line first,” Hotch declared.

“Oh. That’s a good idea. I guess we can try this tomorrow then.” His tone was dejected, and both his arms and wings slumped in defeat.

“No, we can do it now. I have a kit in the truck.”

“Why do you have that, Hotch,” Morgan wondered?

“In SWAT you learn to prepare for anything. Some habits are hard to break I suppose,” he replied with a shrug.

“Ok, let’s go then. Aaron, grab the supplies and meet us on the roof.” Rossi took Reid’s arm and pulled him toward the door. The others quickly followed, Garcia pausing to pick up her camera.

An hour later the team trudged back into Reid’s apartment somewhat disheartened. Reid had managed to get a decent amount of lift, but he lacked the control to keep himself airborne for more than 30 seconds or so at a time. They had tried several different maneuvers, but they were all met with limited success.

“If I had a more time to practice…” Reid sighed wearily as he plopped down on his couch. “I’m sure I could figure it out in a couple of days.”

“I bet you could, Boy Wonder, but is it worth the effort of constantly cleaning up things you break or knock over because you aren’t adjusted to the wingspan?” Garcia questioned. She bounced down next to him and stroked his feathers soothingly.

“I don’t know. I’m finally starting to get used to them.”

“You do realize that you can keep them as long as you want to,” Morgan pointed out. “The surgery can be rescheduled.”

“That’s true, but the longer I put it off the long it takes to get my life back to normal. I will have to be laid up for at least a week regardless; postponing the surgery won’t avoid the downtime.”

“Reid, sweetie…” Garcia began carefully, “do…you actually want to have them removed?” Reid, along with the others, looked at her in total shock. “We all just assumed that you’d want them gone ASAP, and you thought the same thing at first. Now that you’ve had time to adjust and think, you could have changed your mind and that’s perfectly ok.”

“I can’t keep them! How will I work or…or do anything? I just…it wouldn’t be logical,” Reid said decidedly.

“There are always was to work around things, Reid. You were at the office all day today with no problem.” Hotch sat on the coffee table facing him and looked Reid in the eyes. “It is ok if you want to keep them-for a few days or indefinitely. The choice is yours and you shouldn’t be pressured into making it. At least consider your options; you won’t ever get this opportunity again.”

Reid swallowed forcefully and met Hotch’s gaze. “Thanks. I think I’ve already decided, but I will think about it a little more. I am learning to work around them and, scientifically, they are fascinating. I’ve continued to keep Dr. Brians’ logs just to have records. This really is the study of a lifetime and I’d hate to leave it unfinished.”

“Plus, plus, I still think they’re kind of sexy, and you have to take at least one shirtless pic with them for me before you get them removed,” Garcia enthused. Reid flushed bright red but nodded his consent to her demands.

“That would be pretty cool,” he admitted begrudgingly.

“Oh! I could play with lighting and color tones and even some costuming!”

“Let’s not get carried away, PG,” Emily warned.

“So it’s settled, then,” Rossi declared. “Reid will do some thinking tomorrow while Penelope does the photo shoot. That should help with the decision-making process!”

“I’ll say,” Reid groaned while the others laughed at his predicament.

-------------------------

The following evening, the team members convened in the conference room to view Garcia’s picture presentation and to hear Reid’s decision. Everyone was thoroughly impressed with her work featuring black and white, sepia tone, and different backgrounds and props. She’d somehow even managed to convince Reid to accessorize for a few- in one he had a sparkly boa, in another, Mardi Gras beads, and in others various hats and scarves. He had, however, steadfastly refused the plastic halo Garcia somehow obtained-much to her disappointment.

Finally, Rossi asked the question on everyone’s mind, “So Reid, what’s the verdict? Are we spending next week camping out in a waiting room or giving flying lessons?”

Reid smiled and looked around at each person. “I called Dr. Alison and discussed the options with him. He didn’t see any harm that could come from postponing, so we rescheduled for one month with the option to make it sooner if I decide I want to do that. As a scientist, I just can’t imagine not seeing this through.”

His statement was met with approval all around the table.

“I’m glad you decided that, Reid,” Emily stated as she dug through the papers in front of her.

“Why is that?”

“Because I’ve been working on some diagrams to get you better air time.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #Criminal Minds #spencer reid #angsty yet humorous #not to be taken seriously

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belshka · 5 years

Text

Complex // JJK (1)

January 16 2019

(y/n)’s POV

The clock strikes 7:00 PM. The soundcheck raffle announcement will be out soon. Why am I so excited? I must have saved the entire planet in my previous life if I got the soundcheck pass. Who am I kidding, the chance is 1 out of what, 35000? This is insane. No, this is madness. This is BTS.

It pops! The announcement post is here! My hands are cold. I saw my section, and.

And my ticket number.

My ticket number.

Should I scream? Shout? Faint? No, I take a seat on my couch. Just sit there, for 5 minutes straight, before I am able to call my friend, to break the news.

January 19 2019

This is it.

I walk into the venue, I can see the stage, and the Love Yourself World Tour banner. This is so unreal. This is massive. In just a matter of minutes I will finally see them! My heart hurts, my stomach hurts, my head hurts, yet I’m numb?

Fuck! I can hear Namjoon says hello from the stage followed by all the screams. As they walk to the extended stage where most of the soundcheck will be, I can’t help but to be mesmerized by every one of them. They’re legit god. Any arguments are invalid. I don’t know how long I’ve been zoning out until a hand shakes my shoulder from behind. “Hey are you okay? Do you need water? The security have water, I can ask for you?” Says a girl behind me. “Oh! Yes yes I’m totally fine, thanks though!” I smile back at her and bring my eyes back to the stage. Have I told you how good Jimin looks? Cause boy he looks so damn good, I actually forgot that my baby is Jungkook. They’re all my babies don’t get me wrong, even when I’m younger than the youngest but they’re still my babies. It’s been all fun and crazy how I’m able to see them like this, without make up, without the fancy clothes (although their casual clothes are still fancy). Until I notice HIM. Jungkook, with his huge ass camera, right in my direction. I -

Wait, why there is a sound of bell ringing? Am I being delusional?

Wow, I think Jungkook’s camera caught my confused and shooked face. I surely will be a meme in the BTS group chat. I try to push the weird feelings aside. You see this is weird, there is no such thing as soulmate bells or red string stuffs, or matching tattoos. I have been reading too much of fan fiction this is driving me crazy. The soundcheck ends and we are all being ushered to get back to our actual queue for the actual concert. I am so so speechless because come on, I just saw BTS! And probably gotta end up being a meme in their group chat. As I walk to find my friends, all I can think of is to call my sister, she’s also queueing but kinda far from me and my friends. “Hello?” “Oh my god, hahaha the stage is super super huge, and fuck!!! They are all so hot, sis omg, this is so unreal, I cant even believe my own eyes!” (I can’t believe my ears either) “Hahaha you had fun?” “Yes! Of course, where are you? Queuing already?” “Yup” “Okay then, I’ll see you inside!” The call ended as I spot my friends. I tell them everything, except my delulu self that heard the bell rings.

Jungkook’s POV

Another concert, another fun day. I can’t wait to see ARMY! Although I am tired from all the practices and flights, but I live for this, for the thrill, most importantly for those smiles. That I surely know are made for us, and because of us. In just a couple minutes I have to go up the stage for a short soundcheck, this is my favorite part of all because I can see them very clearly, the soundcheck was our idea, it is more intimate, although it seems unfair for those who’re not here, but this is the least we can do to get closer to our lovely ARMY. As Namjoon Hyung says hello, the crowd screams back, and I can already feel my lips forming a huge huge smile just knowing that they are here for us. I have my camera with me during every soundcheck, I feel like I have to capture every moment so I wont forget any details. The soundcheck goes well as usual, Hoseok hyung is having a little talk with ARMY as I shoot a video of him, then I move my camera to the crowd. I -

I hear the sound of bell ringing! What?! I cannot help but to find those eyes, and I finally found them, looking straight into my direction. She looks so confused, yet so beautiful. I bet she knows, I just hope she won’t go crazy. But, she closes her eyes and shakes her head. As if she does not want to believe it. I keep my eyes on her for awhile, my camera still recording her area, but I know for sure I have it zoomed in to her. She looks away first. She doesn’t believe in soulmates. I can see her head down for awhile, but I try my best not to look so obvious because I have been taught how to act if by any craziest chance I will find my soulmate like this. Which is to pretend it did not happened. To stay normal. But is it normal to ignore the existence of your soulmate? How soulmate works is weird, I don’t think the world notice it but when it comes to soulmate, you’ll never know. Every body has one, but the process is different, I don’t know about others, but surely mine is the bell.

We’re back at the waiting room, to get everything done, the make up, the script, the hair, outfits, and all. But I am still stuck. Starstruck? Is that the word? I never thought that my soulmate will be a foreigner? And an ARMY? Yes, ARMY. It feels like I’m living the best life. But also the saddest and tragic one, because I can do nothing. In this line of work, I have to stay like this. To give the best out of me. To sacrifice things. I hope in the end it will be worth the wait and sacrifice. “Jungkookieeeeeeeeeeee, why are you so saddddd?” Jin hyung asks from the couch while having his food. “Nothing hyunggggggg, just sleepy” I say as I walk into his direction and take a seat beside him. “Yah, be honest. Are you really sleepy or you found the one?” Jin hyung whispers. I can only look him in his eyes and hoping that he can read me. “Ayeeee I knew it. Which section?” He asks again. “Right side.” “Our right side or their right side?” “Ours.”

During the opening speech I try so hard to spot her, but I cant. The lights are blinding, and the size of the venue is not helping at all. I keep taking off my in ear just to talk to Jin hyung, praying that maybe he can help me spot her. As we’re about to sing Magic Shop, this is my chance to actually look for her in the pit so I walk slowly to the right stage while scanning the crowd, and I almost burst out laughing because I can see her running from nowhere into the back barricade. She’s something else. I look at her few seconds and I can see her very clearly because she is just by the barricade with her Army Bomb and her phone obviously recording ME. So I took my chance to go a little closer and I can see her friend slaps her right arm and screams something that I can’t really hear. But she’s unbothered. She’s so focus that I can tell her phone is not recording properly. Gosh she’s so funny, I can’t help but let a small giggle out while I shake my head, and walk back to the main stage. I can see her during Euphoria, I can’t really focus. She does not has her phone, I don’t know if she’s crying or not but she is standing in between her friends who are hugging her. It’s a beautiful view. Euphoria is the last time I saw her. Jin hyung spotted her during medley and Run. I’m so desperate to see her, this is my last chance. I keep on getting to the right side of the stage just to find her, until Anpanman, I can see her! I CAN SEE HER! I am so excited I can not contain my smile, I keep on dancing and hanging around the area. Last, it hits me during the closing, Answer : Love Myself, I have my in ear off and just so sad that this may be my last time seeing her. I try fight back my tears, I don’t think I sing properly, I hope no one notice. As we all walk back to the main stage, I look everywhere in her section hoping that I can see her for the last last time, shit I can’t see her. After the final bow I still give it a try, I walk a little bit to the extended stage but I still can not find her. I give up, giving my last smile before I walk off stage. And there my tears fall freely, I sit by the stairs to calm myself down because this is all too much, I have to fly to another country, leaving her, without any information. Without her knowing that I am her soulmate. My heart breaks even more, until Jimin hyung come to me and comfort me. He is truly the fairy. “Its okay Jungkookieeee, the chance will come sooner or later. You are soulmate, you’ll end up with each other. So don’t worry okay, you’ll find her. We will find her. Okay? Don’t cry, besides you did very good today!” All I can do is to let out some sniffles as we both walk back to the waiting room to meet the others for concert photo.

(y/n)’s POV

The pit is crazy, I decided to stay at the back so it will be easier for me to run around to wherever Jungkook is heading. Bitch be running wherever her bias is heading, that bitch is me. Oh fuck, this is my song. Magic Shop, I literally scream each and every word out of my lungs. When I realize where Jungkook is heading, I literally run for my life to the back barricade and thank God it’s still empty. His legs ugh, he is sweating like crazy it makes him glow even more. I have my useless Army Bomb with me, and my phone, trying to record and capture Jungkook as much as I can because who knows, this may be my first and last. But luck was not on my side, I forgot to press record. I cannot scream, but Jungkook is too close, he is too close and my friend fucking slapped my arm. I could not careless all I see is him, too close, too close. Jesus bless my pure soul cause Jungkook just giggled? Why is he so funny.

Before the concert, days before the concert. I did my research very well, I know the whole setlist and where will they perform it. The stage and all so I know right after Just Dance, will be Euphoria at the main stage. I kinda make my way towards the stage with my two friends. “hey (y/f/n), can you please record the whole performance because I don’t think I can record it..” With that being said, the lights dim a little and I can hear the intro. I got goosebumps all over my body, I can’t believe that I finally able to see it live. Woah my body will collapse soon, my tears start to fall very quick. My friends notice and laugh but they have me in between them. Most of the time I stay at the back because I want to focus on the performance, plus I’m super tired I have not eaten anything yet today so I was at the back with water from the security. But I gained my energy back during medley and encore. Anpanman! Oh my god, I can see Jungkook again! Very clear because he is always on our side. I recorded his little cute dance. The 2 hours concert feels like a minute, they are at the extended stage for Answer : Love Myself, but boy is holding back tears. I feel a pang in my heart, and my lungs are lacking of oxygen. It hurts, my eyes are burning. I know this song will always have that effect on me but I don’t know that it will be like this. They walk back to the main stage for the final final bow, I smile through my tears and when the lights bout to turn off, Jungkook walk back a little for another goodbye while scanning through the crowd. This boy, he loves army that much. He smiles before it turns completely dark and the lights back without the boys on stage. I stay for some pictures with my friends, and my sister.

I say nothing about my weird feelings and the sound of the bell cause what kind of a crazy and delusional fan am I. So while waiting for the crowd to die down a little, I sit on the grass outside the venue while looking through my videos briefly, talking about the concert. The crowd somewhere goes crazy because apparently BTS is leaving for their hotel, but I could not careless because heck I’ve spent my entire day standing and waiting, I need to sit and rest my legs. And my crazy heart.

January 20 2019

Jungkook’s POV

Today is my last day here and I have no chance to explore because I have to fly back to Seoul.

(y/n)’s POV

Today is my last day here, I explore and shop a bit at the city before heading to the airport because I have to fly back home. Thank you (country), for the unforgettable night.

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brokebecauseconcerts-blog · 7 years

Photo

Father

John

Misty

Where oh where do I begin? I try not to pick favorites, in anything I do. I think picking favorites sets people up for failure. I figure there will be one day another candidate outshines the favorite, resulting in disappointment. But fuck it, Father John Misty is my favorite. And I trust it because there is virtually nothing he can do wrong that would take that title away- and he does a lot of textbook things “wrong”.

Josh Tillman stole my heart when I heard “I’m Writing a Novel” on WFUV Radio when I was in college (around 2012) Not knowing much about him personally, I started listening to “Fear Fun” and fell in love with his music. “Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings” and “Everyman Needs a Companion” landed every mixed CD (yep, still made CDS in 2012) and I decided to dig a little deeper and actually check the dude out. WOAH he’s hot! WAIT he was in Fleet Foxes? OMG he has the exact the type of humor that I adore, equal parts witty, snarky and dark. Fuck, he has a girlfriend. I’m absolutely done, they’re getting married. I can’t remember a time I fell so hard for an artist post-emo/punk/highschool days (Think Gerard Way and Travis Barker).

However, I’m really fucking glad he was and is in such a beautiful relationship because thats how his sophomore album came to be. i wasn't sure If I’d ever love an album as much as “Fear Fun” but lo & behold: “I Love You, Honeybear” took & continues to take the damn cake. Has there ever been an album (albeit, Rumours) that has described love so honestly? It talks about the honeymoon phase in depth, the ga-ga feelings and pedestals that we put our partners on in the beginning. The way new love helps us start to feel creative again, or creative in a new, fresh way. And then after time, how love can start to get a little paranoid and jealous. It’s messy, it’s raw and it sort of made me hate his beloved Emma (who eats bread & butter like like a queen would have ostrich and cobra wine. Listen if you don't get the reference but also stop talking to me: https://open.spotify.com/track/2eg2gvPXuwZ9FyrPaLgrXi) Could you I-M-A-G-I-N-E having someone write you a love song such as that? Fun fact, I heard this song for the first time freshly after ending a 4 year relationship. Bad timing? Nah, it actually was so beautiful and uplifting that the song gave me hope and made me feel secure that I haven't found the right person yet and that I didn't just lose that person (burn). It gave me hope that I’d eventually meet someone that I could picture having a satanic christmas eve with or dance around to a mariachi band with. Spoiler Alert: FJM did help me find love. I will get to that at the end. Any who, this album ruled and continue to rules my world. The title track “I Love You, Honeybear” is about taking on the shitastic world we live in with someone you love. “Bored in the USA” is about the absurdities within our pop culture and the bullshit promise of the American Dream gone wrong. The album as a whole is romantic and existentialist and I am 100%AboutThat.com

And then we were gifted “Pure Comedy”. I write that with a sigh. Not because I am disappointed but because It’s heavy. It highlights our current political and social climate and it does so in a very dark, darker than usual way. When he realeased the video for title track, “Pure Comedy” a few short months after the election I wept at my desk. The song itself is so eerie and fantastical with the baritone sax wailing the fuck off as Donald Trump’s face slyly pops up. I Think FJM is making the point that everything happening right now is so fucking ugly and wrong that it’s absurdly funny. Not haha-funny, just...funny. As in “something smells funny”, as in our country. He attacks religion, pop-stars (gotcha, Taylor Swift), environmental issues, the delusional lifestyle of LA inhabitants, you name it. But, in true Josh Tillman fashion, and we know theres a big beating heart in there, he ends the album in a hopeful way with “In Twenty Years or So”. In the song, Tillman addresses the cosmic indifference of the universe and the existential fear that comes with it. In the first two verses he sets up the great comedy: That despite all our grand gesturing and philosophizing (with the character of Father John Misty as the embodiment of this behavior), we ultimately don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Then in the second verse he starts to assign a little more meaning to the chaos.

That in twenty years More or less This human experiment will reach its violent end But I look at you As our second drinks arrive The piano player's playing "This Must Be the Place" And it's a miracle to be alive

I *think* he’s saying, “Look, the world is fucked, we’re only getting worse, it’s too much to handle, but thank god I have you to navigate it with. And we have music, and it really all is amazing, isn't it”. I’m sorry it sounds like a basic Audrey Hepburn wannabe annotation of his beautifully written song, but It comforts me. It’s like a really elongated and philosophic way of saying “All you Need is Love”, but The Beatles beat him to it.

All in all, “Pure Comedy” takes us through a (trippy) walk of life thats starts out as that scene in Willy Wonka where they’re all taking a boat ride through the tunnel of hellish images, to a calm setting where all you want to do is hug the people you love and be left with the simple yet complex thought, “it’s all going to be okay”. Bravo FJM for creating such a mature and powerful album. I think melodically it is not for everyone, as it is much slower that what he’s done. But give it a good listen through and really listen to what he’s saying. If 2017 had to sound like anything (besides screams and tears) it would sound like “Pure Comedy”.

Kk thanks for reading.

OH WAIT, yeah I forgot this is a concert blog. Well! I saw him last night at the Kings Theatre in Flatbush, Brooklyn. A tremendously stunning place to see live music, in my opinion. He played most of “Pure Comedy” straight through, without any speeches or commentary. Nerd moment- I fuuucking love when artists do this with newly released albums. it shows they care about it, it shows they're not just trying to appease the crowd with favorites. It’s saying here is the art i just created and worked on for mad amount of time. Sit the fuck down and experience it. He did every song except the 13 minute “Leaving LA” (good call IMO) and the last two songs, yanno, the uplifiting ones. Then halfway through he broke out the oldies, a couple from “Fear Fun” and a bunch from “I Love You, Honeybear”. The whole theater was standing and dancing and watching HIM dance and holy shit I love when tall lanky men swivel their hips. Probably one of the best parts about seeing Father John Misty live is watching him break it down. He was even slow dancing with himself at one point during “Strange Encounter” and i was both turned on and hysterically laughing. One interesting point to make was that he was oddly quiet. He’s known for long on-stage rants, whether they're actually anger driven or just a comedy bit- they usually always show up on Pitchfork the next day. This was my third time seeing him and i’ve had the pleasure of hearing some of those rants and raves. This time he was quiet, appreciative and...mature? IDK I really liked it. I think it mimicked the seriousness of his newest album and demanded that you pay attention to the music and what it’s trying to say. I noticed a bunch of Brooklyn bros at the end of the show making comments like “he wasn't that funny!” “I thought he was going to talk more” and thats fine, but maybe consider why that is. After he came back on for his encore he played the last two songs on “Pure Comedy” and ended on a very special and postive note with a v sweet sun and moon setting in the background. Father John Misty is giving us hope.

Also I felt this deserved it’s own paragraph but his band absolutely blew me away. I would 100% go see them live without vocals. He had an entire orchestra + five piece band. Another additive to the experience compared to past Father John Misty concerts, as he’s always played with just a 5 piece band. It made the album come alive in the most spectacular way.

All in all, he is still my favorite. I hope to see much more from him in the future because I think he has a really really good thing going on on all levels. So back on the topic on Father John Misty and hoping to find love. JOSH, BABE. if you ever see this, I owe you some thanks. If it weren't for you and if it weren't for Tinder syncing my Facebook page likes, I never would have matched with my current partner whom we both share a massive and almost grotesque love for you & we wouldn't have anything to talk about on our first date, or a an album to makeout to for the first time. so really, thanks. At the risk of sounding like a cheese dick, It’s amazing to me that your song, the one that gave me hope and an idea of an ideal partner, led me to so much happiness. Awwwww.

Steam “Pure Comedy” & go through an existential crisis, today! https://open.spotify.com/album/3CoFoDt6zt5EKxmTpOX32b

#father john misty #pure comedy

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hearshegoes-blog · 7 years

Text

Do [No] Harm (Part VI)

The Post-ILY Story Continues…

Read it all here or catch up at AO3

Molly had been away for three weeks and home for little over twelve hours. Jet lag was descending quickly as she rode the Tube from Barbican to Baker Street. John’s text took great pains to give her an out tonight, bless him.

…you’re probably knackered after the trip and Bart’s. Don’t feel obliged to attend the reno party. But we’d love to see you. ALL of us would.

She’d promised Mrs. Hudson. No one disappointed a landlady capable of taking down six foot tall smack heads with nothing more than a cuppa. It warmed her to know such a woman even existed and that Molly could call her a friend.

They’d left the door off the street unlocked for her. From the foyer Molly clearly heard laughter and the pop! of a Champagne cork. She wasn’t far off when she’d called Sherlock a lodger rather than a tenant. Molly couldn’t recall a time when the door to his flat was ever closed. Baker Street boasted a special kind of congenial, open-door privacy where the flat at the top of the stairs was concerned.

As if to prove the point, music floated down to where she stood, the sound confident and effortless. Like the musician who made it. The thought of Sherlock’s hands mostly healed and playing his beloved violin made Molly smile. She heard him restored in the notes, his right hand relaxed as it drew the bow. The crook of his left thumb maintaining its curve as the fingers applied just the right amount of pressure to each string.

A sudden vision of those slender, pale phalanxes on skin assaulted her, the intensity of it knocking Molly back to the wall. She closed her eyes until the image faded and her heart slowed. But she hadn’t let go that memory since that night, that morning he’d slept in her bed.

She held onto it firmly with both hands…

***

Tea most certainly wasn’t a good idea. Molly seriously considered it, however, if only to keep him puttering about in her kitchen. Sherlock stood in the exact spot she’d occupied only hours before, his enormous black Belstaff hanging open, hair a bit ruffled, hands sporting the angry bruises of a boxer rather than a genius. Although, he had a tendency toward uncooperative behavior, to say the least. As battered as he looked, he restored a sense of rightness to the space. A slightly mad priest who’s mere presence could exorcise evil spirits - while fiddling around with the kettle.

Sherlock came around to her side of the counter and paused, as though about to speak. His eyes, normally so active, were soft and ringed with exhaustion. His smile forced. He nodded once and walked down the hallway, heeding her instructions to ready for bed.

She should’ve said something but couldn’t find the words, the release code, to retract her order. To make him stay.

Instead, Molly watched him go in silence, her unhappiness mirrored in the lines on his face. She’d been on the receiving end of that expression before and it broke her heart as much now as it did then.

Much like their first meeting at Bart’s, Molly remembered absolutely everything about the day they spent together solving crimes. He’d made mention of her engagement ring. She’d rambled on about normal and nice and decent Tom and their normal and nice and decent life together - complete with dog. She wanted to scream, tell Sherlock she loved him, not normal and nice and decent anyone! She fought back tears and anger at her own emotional cowardice. At his emotional impotence.

Sherlock saved her from making her declaration of love, that day at least. He listened patiently to her nervous recitation of “life with Tom,” his face muscles flexed in the general approximation of a smile. Those iridescent eyes crinkled a bit at the corners. His mouth kicked upward a touch. His nearness enveloped her, blocking a draft from the entry door. She recalled the faint scent of his posh soap when he bent down to wish her well. “I hope you’ll be very happy, Molly Hooper. You deserve it.”

The brush of his nose against her skin, the press of his lips on her cheek, were whisper light. It was the most melancholy congratulatory kiss in the history of mankind.

Those agonizing minutes were the best part of her engagement. She gave Tom the dog.

The muffled roar of the shower brought Molly back to the present and the all too immediate realization that just beyond the closed door to the loo was a man she’d dreamt about for the better part of 9 years.

Not a man. The man. The only man that mattered.

And this wasn’t the scenario she’d imagined. Ever.

What woman in her right mind over-analyses an I love you from the one man she’s loved for close to a decade? “Two I love yous,” she corrected herself, from a man who admitted, just hours ago, that he’d meant what he said.

“You do, Molly Hooper” she muttered. “if you know what’s good for you. Especially when those three words come from Sherlock Holmes.” She was a professional woman with a healthy, if uninspiring, dating life and a conference to prep for. He was a crime solving hobbyist with substance abuse issues. Addict.

She did know what was good for her.

But Molly wanted what was bathing just down the hall.

She was completely horrible. To even consider using his forced confession against him, to take some measure of physical intimacy from it - just for tonight - to bandage her own wounds, was unconscionable.

His voice still rattled around her heart. “If it’s true then say it anyway…” His willful blindness cut more deeply than any other blade he’d wielded over the course of their friendship. Just one night together would stanch her bleeding. She didn’t care about tomorrow or the next day. How could he not know? Everyone knew. Hell, she’d even tipped her hand in front of Mycroft, for goodness sakes, asking after Sherlock’s intimate knowledge of the naked woman on the slab.

Still, she wanted him. All of him. Even the addict, god help her. Sherlock wasn’t the sum of the parts he allowed the ordinary people to see. He was hidden away deeper than that imperious cover. She saw it. Or was she delusional?

No. She wasn’t. John. Mary. Mrs. Hudson. Greg. They saw Sherlock, too. And they loved him. They couldn’t all be delusional.

He meant that second I love you.

Molly may have been wrong about other men, but she’d never been wrong about Sherlock. Watching him was like reading a book. Everything was right there in black and white. His facial expressions spoke in full sentences. His body language told stories. It was remarkable to her that John saw very little, relying instead on his gut feelings - the soldier’s intuition - rather than the plain-as-day evidence.

Molly heard every nuance of his tone. She’d heard the truth in his second I love you. He’d known. Sherlock knew she loved him. Sherlock also knew he loved her. He just didn’t understand how to live with what he’d finally admitted. And Molly couldn’t make him want the same things she wanted from that second I love you.

That’s not how it works.

He’d have to figure it out for himself. So here she stood listening to the water run, imagining it traveling over the plains of his body. And feeling like a traitor to their friendship. She should be readying the sofa. The least she could offer him was her bed - a silent act of contrition for wanting to be in it with him.

God, she wanted him, deep in her bones.

“Stop it.” Molly let the ache linger one more moment before walking into her bedroom and fetching the linens. Then she let it go - as she had numerous times before. As she knew she would again and again.

The door to the loo flew open as she made her way back toward the sofa. The rush of steam and maleness surprised her and the linens toppled from her arms.

“Oh! Shite!”

“—Molly! So sorry! Here, let me help you.”

“No, it’s fine I got it. See?” As she straightened, her eyes inadvertently roamed his pajama bottoms, the fine cotton fabric clinging to parts of his anatomy that were not completely dry. The hard length of his tibia, the graceful curve of his vastus medialis. The tautness of his adductors…

She jerked her head up, concentrating on his face and praying it was the steam making her face feel warm. Tiny droplets tipped the ends of his eyelashes. Rivulets from his damp hair slid down his face, collecting briefly in the well of his clavicle before slipping under the collar of his gray t-shirt.

His clavicle. Of the parts of his body set off to glorious effect by the damp cloth, it was Sherlock’s clavicle that made her falter, “I, em, I’m getting the linens. Hi! How…How was your…Hi!”

He didn’t say anything for an impossibly long moment. He just stood there, looking into her.

“Hello Molly Hooper,” he breathed, “What are you doing with the linens?”

The heat surrounded her, fogging her brain. “What am I…what? Oh! The linens. I’m making up the sofa.“

“Oh.”

Was that disappointment in his voice? Surely he…he would’ve kissed her or indicated…by now? He was a man, for goodness sakes. What was wrong with him that he didn’t try wheedling his way out of the conversation they needed to have and shagging her senseless? Like an ordinary man!

“I’m kipping there, Sherlock, so you can… You need more sleep than I do considering…“ She trailed off, unable to complete the thought.

The full weight of his gaze fell on her, heavier than normal. Molly wondered what would happen if she dropped the linens once more and reached for him instead.

“I can’t take advantage of you like that, Molly,” his voice low and heartbreakingly sincere. Had he read her thoughts?

Dear god, she welcomed his transgression! Couldn’t the man who saw everything see that?!

Apparently, no.

An ambulance siren whined somewhere. Neither of them moved as the sound peaked, then trailed off, lost to the morning rush.

Molly exhaled a breath she didn’t know she was holding and let the linens fall. She reached for his face, stretching up on tippy toes.

Sherlock met her in the space between them, the invisible demarkation line neither had crossed in their nine year acquaintance. His hands, strong and sure even after the battering they took, clasped around her hips and steadied her. His head coming down to hers.

And connecting with the bridge of her nose.

“Oooowwwwwch!” Pain jolted through her entire body. She crumpled to the floor, eyes closed and one fist balled up in his shirt. The other, feeling blindly for something to wipe her watering eyes.

“Molly! Are you…I’m so sorry…I…”

He knelt next to her, cupping her chin in his hand to look up her nose. “I’m so sorry!” Worry replaced the soft tone he’d used moments before. “You…you seemed to be losing your balance. I tried to keep you from tripping over —“

“— I think I’m going to vomit…” she gasped and let go of his shirt, not knowing if she was concussed or simply sick from embarrassment.

He sat her upright, rubbing her back in firm, almost painful circles. “I’m so sorry…”

“Sherlock,“ she breathed. "Sherlock! You can stop with the back rub. I’m queasy, not suffering from hypothermia.” She immediately regretted her annoyance.

“Oh. Yes. Of course. Sorry, again. I…I…” He looked at her as if she’d just kicked his dog. “I’ll, em…do you need a glass of water? Ice for your nose? Want anything?”

Did she want anything? Yes.

“No.” As an afterthought, she added, "I just need to get some sleep.”

[DEAR READERS: Please note that the story continues…with an “E” rating on AO3. If you’d prefer to know what happens without the explicit…moments…before Part 7 is published, message me & I’ll send you the mostly PG-13 rated version. Otherwise, AO3, baby!]

#sherlolly #sherlock x molly #molly hooper #molly hooper is STILL a BAMF #sherlock and molly

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anothergirlrecovering · 7 years

Text

Lynn 34

I just love her. When I got in she asked how I was doing and I said that I was doing good and I asked her how she was doing. She also said she was good and asked me how my week has been. I told her that I had started my monthly cycle and that three nights ago I had started feeling sad and I decided that next morning to go ahead and try the Prozac. She asked how I was feeling and I explained that I was surprised but I had actually felt better within like an hour after taking it. She pointed out that she had looked at studies where it showed literally that the brand flow is different during the cycle and home the Prozac had really changed the brain blood flow. I said that made sense. She explained home she often has these conversations with clients in with people and how she has seen it be really helpful for a lot of people, her self included. She brought up that it is similar to help with postpartum depression hormones really affect women and that our hormone changes are constantly affecting our mood. I said not that I was glad that I’m having issues with my. But that at the same time I’m glad that she had recommended me trying that because she made me feel so much better about doing it and now I know that if I were to get postpartum depression I wouldn’t be as hesitant to try medicine at that point if I needed it. Granted I would try acupuncture and herbs first, but if it was getting to the point where I am that wasn’t enough, I would be willing to try and antidepressant. She agreed and said that it made sense and home when you have a baby you want to be able to really enjoy your time with your baby and not be crying all the time and feeling upset.

I told her about how I had talk to my husband yesterday and that he had validated that my childhood was probably a lot harder than he had realized because he spent time with my parents two weeks ago. I also mentioned that last night was the first and that he had said anything positive about anything church related and that he had commented joking about me going to a supportive group of women at my recovery group at church. I told her that I’ve also been trying to be better with my husband about how I respond to him when he’s upset and not just pushing that he go to therapy. I explained that he had been freaking out about his hair loss which he’s not even losing his hair but that he’s really anxious about losing his hair and that I had actually just tried being nice about it and validating that I was sorry that he was feeling so bad about it and I had asked if anything else was bothering him that might have been making his anxiety about that more intense and that we ended up talking about his job and he mentioned feeling like he’s not sure he wants to live in this area long term which is something that he hasn’t really brought up in a while and would we consider ever moving to Nashville. I said no and I really feel like that would be a lateral move for us and I wouldn’t want to give up the good things that we do have in this area for that but that it used to be that a big reason for why I didn’t want to go to that area was because his family is there. Regardless I really just don’t like Nashville, I know that’s an unpopular opinion but there really isn’t anything that really sticks out to me as anything that I just really click with or really enjoy. I told her that when I had done that and talk to him that he actually asked me why I was being so loving and I realize that maybe I haven’t been very loving with him when it comes to these issues and that after that he asked if my therapist had told me to do that, which she left and I explained that I hadn’t and Lynn had not told me to do anything. She said that maybe continuing to be supportive but also dropping hints everyone’s in a while and giving kind of a tough love, like do you know when he stressing being like you now therapies kind of the only thing that I know what to do for it, so I’m sorry you’re feeling bad but you know I don’t know any other way to treat that so either resume and you’re probably going to be stuck having to deal with that. She asked me if I thought that showing him case studies are letting him read getting past your past would help him to see that he could really benefit from EMDR. I said I didn’t think that he would read it but maybe if I found something really similar. She showed me one of the books on the shelves and said that it’s a really good one and has a lot of good case examples involving anxiety and she thought there may be one that would connect with him. I took a picture of the back and said that I would order it and see if there were any that really Applied to him and see if he would give it a shot.

I told her that I was really surprised because Mother’s Day was this past weekend and that it was honestly the first Mother’s Day that I really didn’t get depressive and angry when seeing peoples Facebook posts. I explained that it could come from multiple things but that you know them whether it be because we been processing it or because I’ve had support or because I’ve met other people with mommy issues so I don’t feel so alone in it anymore or because I reached out to the pastor, I don’t know it probably comes from all of the above. She agreed and thanked me for reaching out to the pastor and said that was really cool of me to do that. I said that was empowering and that I had realized that I’m guilty of getting really angry with pastors and churches for not handling mental health related issues well, and forgetting that not everyone has the same sort of knowledge or experience is that I do and they may not be aware of these issues and I can’t be mad at them for something that they simply aren’t aware of. It would be different if I had emailed to people and they still chose to be insensitive, but if I never give them the opportunity and they aren’t aware, then I’m kind of being unfairly mad at them. I told her about how the church that my husband had gone to in high school had very stupidly made the church repeat after him and the pastor said I’m too blessed to be depressed and that I ended up getting so mad and cursing and saying that literally there are thousands of people in that church and there are probably hundreds with depression or sitting there feeling shamed and that the depression is their fault and a lack of recognition for how blessed they are but that the pastor is a complete jackass and it’s likely that if I had emailed that pastor a complaint he probably would’ve just ignored my email or argue that it’s OK to say that because Jesus heals depression. I explained that the pastor at my church is really wonderful and really receptive to things and he had even asked for in a valuation of how things had gone on that Sunday. I told her about how normally I get really angry and upset when I see that people have all of the stupid Facebook statuses about how their mom is their best friend and their hero in their role model and blah blah blah and she was laughing and I was like your kids did it too right? She laughed and said two out of the three, and that one of her kids joked and said they were the bad kid but that she believes her daughter does that as a way of sort of rebelling against the dramatic ways of her siblings and it sets her apart from them and she’s always done things like that. I laughed and said so she knew what I meant about the Facebook statuses but that this year when reading them I actually didn’t really get upset and there was one in particular that I saw the next day where it was a girl I know and she was writing about her mom and how her mom is her best friend and her hero and she could spend hours upon hours talking to her, and all I could think of was you I would never want to spend hours upon hours talking to that woman and when I realized it was because this woman is a very vocal evangelical Trump supporter who has very different opinions than I do and is very adamant and delusional and really just represents everything that I hate about the evangelical Christianity, and then I kind of recognize that to an extent my mom is similar to her, not that my mom is a vocal Trump supporter because really my mom avoid all conflict and won’t talk politics with me because she knows we feel differently but that my mom and I are so different and I recognize that maybe part of the issue is that I can never have that kind of a close relationship with my mom if I don’t have to compromise who I am because my mom just isn’t an open-minded person and we don’t share the same values.

She asked me if I wanted to do any EMDR and work on it, and I said yes. She said that she was glad to hear all of this and that it sounds like really that I’m healing. She asked me to notice what is feeling hard or keeping me stuck and preventing me from letting go. I noticed that it feels hard to completely let go of that desire to want to be close to my mom because I feel guilty because it feels like if I don’t care about whether or not I’m close to her then it means I’m a bad daughter and that realistically I felt like a bad daughter for a long time because I know that I’m very different than the type of person that my parents wanted me to be. I went through a bunch of different memories, noticing that I thought about how Lynn had asked me to think about how someone like me had ended up at the college that I ended up at the last session and how it came with a lot of fighting and me being adamant that I was going to run away and go there and never come back and I didn’t care what they said and it would be a lot of screaming fights and I would slam the door and say I was going anyway and they were opposed because they really wanted me to go to Valley Forge Christian College because they really wanted me to be a music teacher because I was given a music scholarship for singing and guitar there and they’re bigger issue was that they wanted me to go there because there was chapel every single day and with my issues going on they really thought that if I just had more traveling more Jesus I would be better. Lynn laughed and said you did run away and you didn’t go back, I laughed and said I guess that was true and I noticed that she really was right that I really had gone and I really didn’t go back and I guess I had never really thought of it like that but I realized that I had made the best decision for myself. Lynn pointed out that I had good intuition and I knew when I needed. I noticed that my parents have tried to control my career choice also and that I had gone to the doctors appointment with my mom and had had so much anxiety getting my physical done for college and by that point I had already confirmed that I was going to my college and we were sitting down and Wendy’s and my mom had asked if I really wanted to deal with people like me for the rest of my life because I had said I thought I wanted to be a counselor and that I wished I could go back in time and tell my mom the answer was yes I do want to deal with people like me and I want to be able to help people like me and my grandma and people like me and my grandma are OK and that’s not bad but that at the time I had felt so awful about myself and like there was something so deeply wrong with me and so disgusting. Lynn check her head and pointed out that I was really hurting and needed help. I noticed that I had chosen the best career choice for me regardless of what my parents had thought because it was what I wanted and then I was confused and didn’t really know what made me want that. I noticed that maybe it was my competitive nature because really I had thought I would also become a youth group leader and minor in youth ministry because when I thought about people who made a difference in my life, I knew howgood it felt when Candace had listened to me and been there for me and how awful it felt when she abandoned me, and I wanted to really be able to do that for other people but not leave them. The only thing that I figured with counseling was because maybe because my first therapy experience was so bad with that one Therapist literally making me pull my pants down, that maybe I was competitive and thought I could do a better job at that but I don’t know. She pointed out that counseling give me a sense of purpose and then I saw that even then and to notice that. I noticed that out of all of my terrible negative cognitions about myself, something that has always felt true and was positive was that I’ve always been really resourceful. I explained how as a teenager I had ended up on the phone with the Harvard dream specialist because I was having a recurring nightmare and how I wished that Google had been more prominent when I was younger because I feel like I would’ve been able to understand things better about myself and it really could’ve change things. I pointed out how a lot of times my parents really didn’t do things to get me help and part of that was because I didn’t always tell them when something was wrong because I was afraid they would minimize it because they had done that so many times before, and so like even with the Hartford dream specialist I didn’t tell them about that. She asked about the recurring dream and I explained that it was a nightmare of a pair of man’s hands were going to grab mean like up by the throat area and that I would wake up in a panic attack. She asked what the guy had suggested and I said that he told me to go to therapy I think the only reason he called me was because he was probably intrigued by the fact that a teenager was reaching out. I told her about how if we were to look back at my high school email account we would see that the majority of emails in the sent box have a subject line of question because I was constantly emailing random people asking questions and trying to understand things better and get knowledge and how I had always email the authors and wrote authors and I didn’t know that that wasn’t normal until like a few months ago during bookclub when I said I was going to email the author and everybody else thought that was weird. She said she always finds recurring dreams interesting because she wonders what it is about them that is so scary that the brain triggers repeating it. I said I don’t know them and she pointed out that with the hands going to grab my throat area she wondered if it had to do at all with being constricted or not having a voice and that given everything going on in my household she could see were either of those things could be true. I agreed and said I didn’t know and she apologized for getting off on a tangent LOL. I noticed that things are better if I don’t talk with my parents about things that I know we don’t agree on and that maybe I need to except that maybe we can be close but in a very different way and that’s not my fault but just they aren’t open to anything different than themselves. I also noticed that with resourcefulness comes a desire to understand why and how and that in a way that goes against me because I’m always trying to figure out why things are the way they are and that maybe I need to except that I can’t go back in time and I can’t figure out why things happen the way that they did and I’ll never know if I really had a sensory issue when I was little or if I was just truly picky or what. She pointed out feeling that I have A stubborn temperament and that kids react in whatever ways they have to do to get control and to have a voice and that may have just been my way of doing it. I said maybe but it seems so odd because it goes against primal nature. I noticed that I’ve always had so much anxiety about not being able to reuse things that even as a kid, lotion perfume stickers coloring books whatever, I would end up not ever using them because I would have so much anxiety that if I would use it then I wouldn’t have anymore to use. I pointed out that that was similar to hoarding and that it’s very fear-based but that one looking back I wonder how much of that has to do with not having enough food. I noticed that even with my secret stash, I would chew the same piece of gum over and over and over to the point where I would literally dissolve in my mouth after several months of chewing it, and that I would often have food in my secret stash but not eat it because I was so afraid that if I eat it then I wouldn’t have anything there to eat if I really needed it. I pointed out that I seem to have such a strong will and when I was a child because when I think back to it, I was able to refuse food but somebody like my husband would’ve had a plate and food in front of him and been told if you don’t eat it you get nothing and he would’ve eaten the food because he was hungry. I explained that I have a hard time with wanting to figure out why I was able to avoid eating even when I was so hungry to the point that I was ordering food. I pointed out that when I had anorexia obviously that was very intentional with starving myself because I wanted to lose weight and to control things in that way. She pointed out that I obviously have the temperament and predisposition towards those types of issues and with controlling food as a means for controlling things. I said I just always want to know like whether or not I had an eating disorder as a kid or what because I know it’s not normal when I look back at it. I noticed then also that I felt really sad because I remembered that I would often lick my plate or lick my ball and I’m on the my parents yelling at me and telling me that it’s not good manners and feeling sad because I was probably really hungry. Lynn made a very sympathetic face and said that I was just a little kid and I was probably really hungry. Lynn randomly asked me if I had done any of the workshops on EMD ER and eating disorders and I said no and she said that she thinks that could be a really cool niche for me and she was sorry because I was off topic but I was professional thoughts that she was just thinking. I told her I would look into it more. I told her that I was think it’s so bizarre and frustrating when I consider the fact that me as a child was so so very different than me as an adult. I explained that I was really really outgoing and friendly and that my report cards would say that I talk too much in school and that I would make friends with kids at the supermarket and that I was adamant that I was gonna become famous and I took acting lessons because I thought I would do acting and I was very much a bossy independent leader, whereas now I’m very much in Indiana not a chief. I explained that I know that transition for me in seventh grade and a lot of that maybe had to do with changing schools and that not going well, but it just seems so crazy that my entire personality would change so much because I didn’t have all of the social anxiety as a kid. I told her that I’m going to a bridal shower and bachelorette party this weekend and that I have so much social anxiety about it and that I know I have the propranolol and there will be alcohol and I’m sure I will get through it and it’s not even a long time but that I keep trying to avoid thinking about it because when I do you think about it I start obsessing over feeling anxious and like I won’t fit in and that I’m ugly and won’t look good while I’m there. She pointed out that to some extent because of our jobs, it’s possible that we may be less inclined to do more social things because we get drained more easily. She pointed out that a lot of times after a long workday, she doesn’t want to go out to a party or see people she really just wants to chill in front of the TV. I said I got that LOL. She pointed out that also with being sensitive people, sometimes we are more aware when situations can be more draining. She explained that she is having to go to a lot of graduation parties right now and that there was one in particular that she was dreading because she knew that it was a neighborhood friend and the parents just got divorced and there was gonna be a lot of negativity in the air and for people like us sometimes we just don’t want to deal with that. I laughed and asked if she is sensitive and she said how can you not be in this job. I said I feel like a lot of therapists are insensitive and there are a lot of bad Therapist and she laughed and said that I was right about that so she guessed that made sense but that she feels like part of why we are good at our jobs is because we are sensitive and intuitive and can read what’s really going on even when people aren’t saying it. She said before I go this weekend, but I should consider practicing mindfulness. I told her that the problem with practicing mindfulness when I’m upset is that my brain automatically starts obsessing over feeling ugly or fat and I can’t stay present. She said there are multiple types of mindfulnes, laughed and said she wouldn't advocate that someone like my focus on bodily mindfulness, and that I should consider focusing on gratitude mindfulness and put my energy into being mindful of my gratitude of the relationship with my friend. I said it’s hard because realistically if I think about that, then I will go down a rabbit trail of thinking about our friendship and how we were best friends in college in that part of why it works so well was because she’s very similar to my mom in that she’s very avoidant of any conflict and very aloof and avoidant of issues and so we literally never talked about my being sick. Lynn laughed and said no wonder I don’t want to go this weekend. She brought up trying to focus on the general gratitude for my friend as far as being grateful that she’s getting me marry someone she loves and that I am there to celebrate with her and to focus on even generally that I’m going to spend time with her and then I will meet new people and that maybe I will need a new friend. I must’ve made a face that said I wasn’t super on board because she laughed and said that I could always give it a shot.

She asked me how things were going with private practice and I said they were going good. She said that it seems that clients come and go in waves and that the summertime things seem to always pick up. She said right now she’s getting a wave of people that want to come in and do EMDR. She said she usually cuts back on her work hours in the summer though and that she’s already pretty booked for next week. Luckily though we were able to work out a time for Thursday. She said that with their new location, they are right by all these restaurants so they are doing Thursday lunches with each other so that they are intentional about connecting with each other as Therapist’s. I wanted to laugh and point out that they literally moved like five minutes away from their old office but I held my tongue and figured I didn’t think she would laugh and find it funny even though it really is only a five-minute difference so I don’t know why they are all of a sudden so much closer to all of these cool restaurants LOL. I said that it was nice though that they are doing that and taking the time to connect with each other which is one thing that is nice about being at an agency is that you do you still stay connected with people. She agreed and said that private practice can be lonely if you’re not intentional about connecting with other people. She made a copy of my insurance card and she said who knows how insurance will change in the future. I said that in this current moment with the healthcare change that has already happened, my friend Josh actually talk to our state representative and said that they are leaving it to the states to decide whether or not they want to require insurance is to continue covering mental health issues and that our state is saying that as of right now they want to advocate that insurance keep mental health issues because there is such a big substance abuse problem and to remove that coverage would create a lot of issues for people. She said that was good and she hopes that it stays. She said that Blue Cross Blue Shield actually just cut back on their rates and we both agreed that that’s super annoying and sucks.

On the way out, she told me good work, as always and I laughed and jokingly said and good work for you to Lynn as always and she laughed and said she would pat herself on the back.

#emdr

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