#nothing suggests this isnt cute and ethical so

[shattered-catalyst]

OCD Subtypes for the RPC

Part 1 is here

Well well well, we are back for Part 2 of the Roleplayer’s Guide to OCD.

Fellow Ocd Folks, I see you in those tags and I'm going to do my best to ensure those obsessions are represented here- BUT understand that physically it is not going to be possible to list every single one because I am one person.  Regardless its incredibly brave of you all to rb and add things in the tags, I know its hard to talk about this shit and I see you. I see you.

Resultantly I typed this out and posted it in formatting to assist with accessibility in mind; if you cannot read it still ( I tried Im sorry!) i recommend the copy and paste method or getting the chrome extension bee-line reader.

 There will be grammatical and spelling mistakes. Im sure spacing is odd some places, but you have to understand doing this is extremely anxiety provoking for me so Im just getting it done when I can.

Remember to use your critical thinking; not everyone has the same symptoms/compulsions/triggers and all that.

OCD is fluid. Its like liquid mercury. One day its a handful of subtypes another day its another different serving.

If you are in general squicked about certain topics even by mention read ahead with your own judgement. Remember us folks that have OCD have many disturbing and distressing experiences so if you are writing a character who has OCD and you can’t read about it just don’t give them that obsessive thought/ compulsion. Make sure writing is still a safe and enjoyable hobby for yourself first and foremost.

But ethically and morally I cannot and will not leave out the more disturbing bits. You have the ability to scroll by, I and many others do not get the chance to escape triggering content that our own mind creates.

So read ahead with your best judgement or at least skip around the squicky parts and educate yourself on what OCD is so people quite using it as a Obsessive Christmas/Corgi/Cat Disorder thing. Alright? Cool beans.

Okay so you made it passed post 1 and got under the read more. Give yourself a gold star for diving into this monster of a document.

Below is a crash course it is not meant to replace actual psychoeducation, personal research, or google. Honestly most of us do our research extensively but because OCD is treated so horribly by social media, media, and society in general.

I wasn’t sure where to throw these together because the education tools to learn fully about OCD are very specialized and thus very restricted. I found that many people DO have these experiences with OCD though so I will represent them throughout. I’ll also sprinkle some of my own experiences so you can get a good reference of a person who has the disorder and not just a randomly generated person.

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

So OCD is made up of Obsessions, Trigger, Intrusive thought, Misinterpretation/feared consequence,Somatic and Psychological Anxiety, and Compulsions/Rituals.

Your character may not be able to list all of these. In fact if they aren't in ERP therapy they may not be able to puzzle these things out. But YOU as the writer should know them. Your character won’t be walking around talking to just ANYONE that they have OCD. Remember a huge aspect of OCD is it’s Shame.  The disorder makes us feel intense shame regarding our intrusive thoughts, as a result OCD goes undiagnosed for years especially if it has pediatric onset.

  We won’t tell anyone what we are experiencing or why we are doing x y or z. We act like nothing is wrong because to emotionally react is to admit to yourself- and therefore the world- that you have had this intrusive thought and are therefore by virtue a horrible person.[For further information I would suggest also researching PANDAS].

It may be noticeable if your character has an intrusive thought. They may wince or grimace or roll their eyes certainly, but they won’t open up to Joe at the cafe about how their brain is constantly torturing them. I apparently have a very noticeable eye twitch.

 Depending on the nature of the intrusive thought it will get more or less of a reaction out of me. Its usually dependent on how distressing the intrusive thought is and/or if its a new one.

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

You see OCD doesn’t sit still. It never looks the same. You’ll have your long haul intrusive thoughts that are with you for years but then you’ll have weird ass ones that just appear and demand their voice be heard yelling about cars hitting people or squirrels getting eaten.

Some people have similar ones! So while everyone is different there will always be someone out there with an intrusive thought similar to yours.

 For instance; I bonded emotionally with a lady on reddit because we both have intrusive thoughts during storms that animals and the homeless are dying. We were both horribly relieved to find another person and also distressed that every snow or rain storm brings horrible images and whispers to your mind that while you are warm and snug in bed someone is freezing to death. And its all your fault.

Some days are better than others. As with all mental illnesses it isn’t CONSTANT ALARM BELLS. Some days it will be all alarms and other days it will be like a gentle whisper on the breeze. You can almost not notice it. Almost.

Obsessive thoughts run the gauntlet from ‘i will/could have/may/may accidentally harm etc’ something that you hold of value. This is any obsessive thought that you have: you think about repeatedly and not by choice, it is very anxiety provoking, it is unwanted, and unwelcome.

 Mine run the scale from ‘squirrel will be murdered’ to ‘being responsible for harm’.

Compulsions or ‘rituals’ are any behavior done to alleviate the anxiety from the intrusive thought and trigger object. In short, compulsions and rituals are not fun. they are absolutely not logical, and we know they are not logical but we are forced to do them. Thats why its a disorder. 

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

To emphasize from post 1: magical thinking and the faulty link between thoughts and actions are hallmarks of OCD.  Magical thinking can be anything from contamination to if I turn around three times or stare really hard at something the bad thing wont happen. Sounds weird and is weird and we know it is thats why its a disorder and not a delusion.

The faulty belief that thought=action is the biggest hurdle it is incredibly difficult to grasp, at least for me maybe some of you that have done further ERP can attest, that the mere concept of a thought not being the same as an action is completely and totally mind blowing.

Free will? Yeah thats terrifying. IDK about anyone else but free will is absolutely terrifying; what do you mean i could do anything i wanted?

Thats how you face OCD(WITH A TRAINED THERAPIST). You give in to ambiguity and the unknown. Its breaking that link between thought and action. Its incredibly difficult and draining. A five minute exposure leaves me in shatters for a week and two five minute ones had me ripping my nails past the nail beds with anxiety.

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

Just a reminder: Do not have your character expose themself or expose folks with OCD to a trigger to “ help us get over with”. That is literally forcing someone with a mental illness into a break down and is not helpful. In fact its worse because a person knows about this intrusive thought and they tried to make it real. More shame and some trauma. 

If you have OCD, more likely than not a family member or significant other has tried this with the purest of intentions. But it never works like that. Theres a reason that therapists get special training for this. If people want a post on ERP I can make one at some point. 

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

Actually let’s drag me with the squirrel thing as the example- fellow OCD Folks get out a pen and paper and try breaking down one of yours;

Obsession:Squirrel will be murdered

Trigger: seeing a squirrel

 Intrusive thought: Graphic images of a squirrel being murdered by a hawk/ impaling depending on the day

Misinterpretation/feared consequence: Squirrel will be killed and its all my fault

Somatic and Psychological Anxiety:intense anxiety, palms sweating, heart racing,

Compulsions/Rituals: Must stare at the squirrel to prevent bad things from happening, 

Now imagine if that is every time you see a fucking squirrel. You have somehow become completely and totally transfixed on a squirrel and nothing is going to pull your attention away or the squirrel dies- which your mind is giving you lovely images of btw.

Cute right?

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

Below are the subtypes with general information/example thoughts/ and how some of these have impacted me socially because apparently some people dont understand that mental illnesses impact their social lives?? yall...

Social: This can range from ‘ i am constantly thinking i did something wrong so i have to ask for reassurance that we are still friends’ to completely unrealistic worries. Maybe its an intrusive thought that ‘ your voice is annoying them’ . There’s reassurance seeking, internal and external checking.

 It makes friendships extremely difficult and exhausting. You’re not trying to get to know someone with an annoying frat boy egging on anxiety in your brain. This can also manifest as having strict rules for yourself and ethical codes. 

My therapist likes to say she could give us (folks with OCD) a pile of hundred dollar bills and come back and they’d all be returned. Because OCD makes you so strict and morally confined. Which ISNT fun. Like I dont get pleasure over having to memorize the entire Code of Conduct!

Social Media: Its the bane of human existence some days and a lifeline the next. But what if everytime your follower count was an odd/even number it sent you into a panic attack. What if you spent all your time with intrusive thoughts that somehow someone misinterpreted a post or that someone is going to be harmed by a post you made about tapirs. 

You may be forced to block people to get your number down or keep pornbots on your blog to keep your number what you like (see there is a use for them! We sacrifice those before actual users!) You may be refreshing your page every second because ‘what if you miss a message’. It's going to look a lot like ‘check check check check reassure yourself double check your posts check check check reassure check check FALSE MEMORY check your post etc’

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

Clothing/Body Image: When its not Body Dysmorphia it can be OCD. Sometimes this looks like I obsess about a body part and therefore I choose my clothes/hairstyles to hide those.  Some personal examples: as a kid I was sure that mind readers exist ( THIS IS AN OCD THING TOO I was so relieved to find that out) and that if i didnt wear  a particular hat they would see all these horrible thoughts and it would be revealed what an awful person I was. So I wore the same dumb ass bucket hat for a year (or more I cannot remember but it was a long ass time).

I was once so fixated on being given a compliment on my eye color that I wore sunglasses (even at night) to a summer camp. And if any of those teen girls in that cabin that stood up and mocked me in a crowded lunch hall by singing ‘i wear my sunglasses at night’ you all owe me 40$.

Even younger still I had intrusive thoughts. Like say, if anyone noticed I was female that i would be kidnapped so I chopped my hair very short. I altered my appearance to be very androgynous and even switched to walking more masculine. Because omg if your hips move someones going to kill you thats just how it works. ( It doesnt help I later figured out I was a lesbian)

Your wardrobe may be impacted by OCD and yes so can your body image.

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

Also yes the fear of mind readers is also a thing; i always thought I was somehow faking OCD because yes that is also a…..

Faking: Do you value telling the truth? Do you detest lying ? Boy Howdy do I have some news for you. OCD is going to try and convince you that YOU LIED. Whether it was on a chastity pledge to get a free sandwich or in a conversation you just HAD. This links a lot with false memory OCD.

Another aspect is OCD makes us doubt we have OCD and tries to convince us we have any other diagnosis under the sun and we are obviously faking our OCD.

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

Sexual Orientation OCD; It is as it is called. Sexual Orientation OCD is what happens when your brain goes ‘hold on what if you’re not this orientation what if you are THAT’. It doesn’t matter where on the LGBT umbrella you fall you will have OCD trying to convince you otherwise. From compulsive staring at members of the same/opposite gender to compulsively reassuring or checking with yourself to ensure that ‘ no no you are in fact THIS orientation.’ 

This can range in behavior from binge watching porn, staring compulsively to check that there is OR is NOT attraction,self checking past experiences and memories, analyzing your clothing and your lifestyle in painful and intricate methods.

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

False Memory OCD; False memory OCD is basically your brain sitting you in a noir interrogation room, handcuffing you to a chair grilling you. It demands that you did *insert bad thing here*. This can range from anything from something Harm based to pretty much *anything* from other OCD subtypes. Which is quite delightful really.

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

Sensorimotor OCD; Sensorimotor OCD is obsessive body responses. These can be ‘ I have to cough really hard and really feel it right in my chest and if I can’t get it right I have to cough until I do’. This can be counting your heartbeats. Trying to check yourself that you in fact have a heart and checking and reassuring that it is still beating. It can be hyper-awareness of swallowing or even swallowing repeatedly. It is anything with selective attention; ie its an automated process but your OCD is forcing you to be aware of it.

Your OCD makes you aware of the sensation of, say, breathing, and then it convinces you that if you stop paying attention to it you will stop breathing. So now you’re horribly aware and focused solely on breathing and breathing alone. It keeps me up most nights with the pounding anxiety fueled by the pressure of ‘if you stop focusing on breathing you will stop breathing completely’ or waiting to feel that last heartbeat in your chest. 

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

Existential OCD; You ever feel existential ? Existential OCD is like having a very aggressive existential crisis that turns you into NEEDING answers IMMEDIATELY. This can look anything from hours panic scrolling the net to panic inducing anxiety because you don't know what happens after death. The thoughts are like foghorns on a misty sea.

This sounds basic and the only example i can give is as a teeny tiny 7 year old I had a panic attack in bed screaming that ‘ what if im a dinosaur and im asleep and i wake up and my whole family is GONE’.

To be fair I did like dinosaurs a lot.

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

Harm OCD; This is pretty self explanatory but I will give more details. Harm OCD is OCD demanding that you will/could/can/may have/might harmed yourself/others/any living creature and that you alone are responsible. 

This means anything from getting anxious driving over crosswalks because ‘what if you dont see one and hit someone and its all your fault and you hit someone go back and make sure you havent hit anyone’ to ‘im holding a knife so im going to accidentally stab someone’ to ‘ i didnt see my cat this morning and now im at work and think she must be dead and i am responsible for her demise.’

 It can be as simple as ‘if i use a pencil i will stab myself in the eye’ or as complex as ‘ i may accidentally say a slur’/ ‘ i am going to say this horrible thing out loud if i cannot control myself.’ It can also be images of terror or racist/sexist/ableist jokes in your mind that repeat like a broken record.

(Please note from section 1 that this is extremely anxiety provoking and not something you would do. OCD preys on what we respect the most.)

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

pOCD; Tumblr listen the fuck up because I am tired of seeing people get called shit on this website for having this mental illness. People who experience pOCD are not pedophiles, they do not get any pleasure or benefit. The thoughts and images are meant to induce harm to the person experiencing them. Children are normally the trigger for this and the resulting images can be very graphic. Again you aren’t attracted to children- thoughts of them getting harmed hurt you so your OCD makes you see them.

Know this so you can advocate for folks with pOCD in real life. Remember we are here. We are suffering and we are terrified of your children.

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

Poisoning others/or in your food; Life isn’t medieval anymore but sometimes OCD demands we have a food taster or that we obsessively worry that we may kill someone with our cooking. Personally I struggle with colorblindness so I am constantly fretful over cooking any sort of meat so it’s difficult for me to cook it.

 However this also comes as; obsessive horrible thoughts of your cooking kill someone or that you have somehow/accidentally poisoned someone’s food (even if you haven’t touched it or been within a foot of it ) or that someone has poisoned YOUR food even if no one has touched it except you. You’re going to be picking apart your food or unable to eat out at all.

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

Emotional Contamination: It’s similar to magical thinking and this terrifying prospect of mind readers. Emotional contamination can manifest as anything from intense worry over somehow gaining someone else’s negative personality traits.

 Or that somehow by interacting with any role of someone horrible will make YOU somehow also responsible for the horribleness.  There is usually a person or a type of person that is a trigger, but it can also be location based.

 This is one subtype where magical thinking and superstition are apparent.  

For instance; as a teen if a male was in my space or had physical contact;like shaking hands,giving a high five, being in my room etc. I would have to go around and physically touch all the objects that I perceive they may have also touched as a way to cancel out their presence. 

This includes wiping off myself to negate even the touch of family members. It really hurts peoples feelings, my father was especially hurt by this.

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

Physical Contamination: This goes beyond physical dirt and grime. Most of us dont have spotless homes because if you’re having a fist fight with your brain everyday cleaning falls by the wayside just like it would for anyone else. Physical contamination holds 2 things: physical contamination obsessions AND compulsive cleaning behaviors/rituals. We believe that a small amount of a contaminate can cover large surfaces.

 Oh, and did I mention its not JUST dirt/germs/viruses. The list is expansive but heres a mixed bag of what they can be: sticky substances,dead animals,glitter (FUCKING GLITTER),negative words or language,colors, numbers, surfaces in general, food, people, and activities.  There is also a hyper responsibility to protect yourself and others from ‘contamination’.

Strangely there is a magical separation between the contaminated world and the ‘clean’ one. Spaces designated as clean would be a bedroom/bathroom/workspace where you are most active. That space is where the compulsions and intrusive thoughts occur. Its not I MUST CLEAN EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME. Otherwise I would be working cleaning houses because why the hell not amiright?

A real world example from a colleague would be a young man with physical contamination OCD is struck with such intrusive thoughts about cleaning that they refuse to allow anyone in their room or any animals in their home. But they are not able to even flush the toilet, take out the trash, wash dishes, or do garbage because of their intrusive thoughts.

The most famous would be compulsive hand washing but I feel it is important to also note OTHER aspects of physical contamination because everyone sees the hand scrubbing stereotype. 

Other compulsions include intricate rituals, not touching the floor (i played X-treme the floor is lava during college. I couldnt let my feet touch the floor because it was ‘dirty’),excessive showering (2-8+ hour showers guys, 8 hour showers. Thats what we’re talking about.)

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

Relationship OCD: This comes as no surprise that yes you will have intrusive thoughts that you are somehow harming/ will harm/ may accidentally harm your significant other. Whether that be by physical or emotional means. It can look like ‘ I may have lied to her about how much I love her’, ‘ i may not actually love her and I may be leading her on’, and ‘ I must be corrupting her’. These can extend to certain physical activities with false memory OCD as a cherry on top. A great finishing garnish to leave you feeling absolutely dismayed and unable to trust your own perception.

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

Scrupulosity: Religion! Whatever that may be! Its a thing with OCD.  With Scrupulosity obsessive thoughts run all over the board from; you committed a sin and forgot about it you monster to having to pray continuously/ a certain time/ until its right. What is right?Ask OCD that’s the only person who knows. 

We are fairly certain my grandfather had OCD because he went to church for every single Catholic Mass. Every single day. Every. Single. Day.  That’s not a healthy amount of attendance(I'm calling you out posthumously because I care Robert!). This can also look like: praying a certain amount of times. Praying until you do it ‘right’. Confessing every single potential sin. Cataloguing and dwelling over ‘sinful’ things. 

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

Symmetry or Just Right OCD: Symmetry OCD is the runner up for ‘most likely recognized on tv shows’ award.

Symmetry OCD convinces you that if *insert thing here* isnt symmetrical or ‘just right’ (a magical position or number of objects that makes 0 logical sense) that something bad will happen.

This can range from the known; rearranging things. But it also looks like buying more objects until you reach the right amount and even throwing out objects if theres ‘too many’.

It can range from ‘the walls are percievably not straight so now i avoid that room at all costs otherwise i will be trapped traveling the edges of the wall with my eyes otherwise it will fall in and murder us ALL.’ to ‘ this historical bust is one inch off to the left and now all i see is visions of it breaking against the ground.’

So that is what I have time for. 9 pages on subtypes and basic information. If you find yourself wanting me information all of this is easily accessible online. So go, be free and dont ever compare people to Monk again. Write Batman and Scott Summers with OCD. Give us ACTUAL representation and not throw away joke lines. We are here. Our suffering isnt funny. We deserve representation too.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Coldwave au idea: Lens life is better (dad is dead, mom stayed, etc) micks life worse. Their 1st meeting isnt big event for Len now but Mick is obsessed. Stalks him for right moment to have Len forever. Nabs Len. Makes Len his. Dark happy ending

I am so sorry, anon. I promise I will write you something nice and dark at some point. But I tried three times and every time I tried, it got fluffier and fluffier and fluffier until you have what you see below.

ao3 link (i.e. Harley Quinn fic 2)

   ———————————————————————————–

Lewis Snart is a corrupt cop with a sideline in Family work.

He’s also an incompetent thief, relying on suggestions from his nine year old son to fix his plans, but he refuses to admit such a thing. And so it is, when Len unexpectedly falls sick with a flu that robs him of his voice, he shrugs and does without.

He fails.

The Families have no patience for failure.

Lewis Snart is gunned down in his own house, before the horrified eyes of his son and his infant daughter.

Len’s foster home - both his and Lisa’s, a kind-hearted couple who fell for her golden curls and couldn’t bring themselves to tear her away from her sobbing elder brother - makes him get so much therapy.

That’s probably what makes him decide to become a shrink, really.

And that, in turn, is what leads to -

Well.

Everything else.

“- and that’s why I need your help,” Len concludes.

The woman in front of him looks utterly bewildered. Len’s not sure why; he thought he’d been perfectly clear.

“Should I start again?” he offers.

“Please do, mister,” she says, raising a hand up and pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, wait a sec. I gotta few preliminary questions, stating off with how’d you find out where me and Ivy were hanging out, anyways?”

“Really good fertilizer has a higher toxicity rate than normal soil,” Len explains. “I got the last two geological surveys, which Gotham gets with startling regularity; this was the only place that changed. Next question?”

“So that’s how Bats keeps finding us,” she mutters crossly. “Damnit, Ivy.”

“Maybe if you suggested she start a few new gardens each time instead of focusing on just one?”

“She doesn’t want to leave her ‘babies’ alone for that long. Second question: what in hell made you think that finding me ta ask for help was a good idea?”

Len blinks at her. “Why not? I have a problem and I need assistance from a colleague, and - as I said - you have the most expertise in -”

“I’m Harley Quinn, sweetie,” she interrupts. “I’m a supervillain.”

“What, and you stopped having your PhD as a result?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve had my license revoked,” she says helplessly.

“Don’t mean you got a lobotomy and forgot it all.”

“Fair enough,” Harley says, clearly giving up on convincing him. “So, yeah, start again, I wasn’t listening on account of thinking you was nuts. What’s your issue again? And why am I the best person to help you?”

“Okay,” Len says. He wouldn’t be as good a shrink as he is if he wasn’t patient and willing to go over things multiple times. “I’m a licensed psychiatrist specializing in severe disorders among the criminal population -”

“Same as I was,” Harley agrees.

“Yeah, and also like you, I specialize in self-identified supervillains.”

“Tell me you didn’t get a job at Arkham!” she exclaims, horrified.

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Len assures her. “I work in Central City.”

“I guess that’s better…”

“Debatable. At least Gotham has an asylum, even if it is Arkham. We just have Iron Heights regular wing and Iron Heights supervillain wing. Not ideal for therapy, even once they’re out.”

“Out?”

“Iron Heights is something of a revolving door,” Len says. “Again, much like Arkham, but more urgent in the exit strategies. Honestly, in my view, it’s all for the best that they get out; most of my patients are definitely not being helped by confinement in a frankly abusive situation by people who don’t understand their particular needs -”

“No kidding,” Harley replies enthusiastically. “Even Arkham doesn’t care, it’s more about tryin’ ta keep ‘em from society than it is about actually taking care of ‘em and trying to make 'em better -”

“Exactly,” Len exclaims, nodding. He knew she’d understand. “The interaction of the superhero culture with the particular neuroses of these individuals results in -”

“- an entirely new pathology, necessitating by definition a different form of treatment -”

“This is why I came to you,” Len says, pleased.

Harley paused, flushing a little. “Well, I guess I do still take somethin’ of an interest. So you treat supervillains?”

“I actually have a rather unorthodox approach,” Len says. “Central City supervillains are often using their supervillainy to work through deep-seated issues - one is dealing with the loss of a younger brother he built much of his identity around, another is a clinical narcissist, yet another is a diagnosed pyromaniac with anxiety issues…”

“Yeah? You getting anywhere with 'em?”

“Actually, yes. In contrast to the traditional approach, which emphasizes care in a clinical setting - one that many of them reject rather, uh, forcefully due to various traumas in their pasts - I’ve taken an alternative approach of working on their issues in their own setting.”

Harley pauses mid-nod. “I know that’s a pretty common technique for patients in regular treatment, mixing with them in their own environments and whatnot,” she says cautiously. “But for these guys - ain’t their own setting supervillainy?”

“It is,” Len says steadily.

Harley holds out a little longer, but he doesn’t elaborate.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” she says. “How’re you treatin’ 'em?”

“They’ve created identities as supervillains, and they want to be recognized as supervillains,” Len explains. “It’s important to them. They form entire coping rituals around it. So I meet with them on their own level, acknowledging and respecting them as supervillains.”

“Won’t that require, uh, you being a super, too?”

Len shrugs. “I explained my approach to the Flash - he’s our local cape - and he’s real reasonable about it. We staged a few fights, couple of thefts -”

“Wait. You’re a supervillain?!”

“Technically I’m just engaging in a police-approved therapeutic roleplay with -”

“What’s your name? Have I heard of ya? Tell me I’ve heard of you!”

“I mean, it’s possible -”

“Alias, now! I’m tired of being the only shrink supervillain.”

“Captain Cold.”

“Holy crap, I have heard of ya! You’re the - oh, man, the Rogues! The Rogues are your patients?”

Len nods.

“How?!”

“I 'rescued’ them from prison. Technically, I’m acting as a guarantee for their parole officers -”

“And ya keep 'em from killing anyone.”

“Exactly. And I work with 'em in the meantime. I’ve made a lot of progress - Pied Piper is actually transitioning to working with the heroes on a regular basis, he’s actually dating a cop now and he’s dealing with his internalized self-hatred in a much healthier way -”

“Nice,” Harley says, offering her hand for a high-five. “That’s much better; if Ivy or Ozzie asks what I was doing, I can just say supervillain meet-up.”

Len frowns. “Are they restricting your access to non-supervillain acquaintances?”

“No, no, nothing like that! We’re just dealing with a small infestation of Owls - don’t worry about it; you don’t want to get involved in Gotham’s shit. No one does. Anyway. Tell me about the problem.”

“It’s not really - he’s not - it’s not a problem, really.”

Harley’s eyebrows go up pointedly and she leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

“Mick Rory,” Len confesses. “Heatwave, our pyromaniac - diagnosed, as I mentioned, and working with a traditional shrink as well as with me. He’s working real hard on getting better, but it’s tough – it’s a long-standing issue. He’s had the pyromania and anxiety since childhood, and then his parents died in a fire and he got blamed, and then things went downhill from there, so you can imagine the rest.”

Harley nods. “Sounds knotty,” she agrees.

“He’s making plenty of progress, though,” Len assures her.

“So what’s the problem?”

“He’s – well. He’s developed something of a crush on me,” Len admits.

“Ooooh boy.”

“No, it’s - it’s not like that. It’s cute. He tries to stalk me sometimes.”

“Stalking ain’t cute, buddy. Trust me.”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s, like, he hides behind lampposts. He pretends to be reading a newspaper, like that hides his face at all. Stuff like that, it’s absurd. And if I ever tell him not to follow me, he doesn’t.”

“So you haven’t asked him to knock it off generally?”

Len hesitates.

“Yep, that’s what I thought,” she says. “So lemme stop you right where you are: no. Don’t do it. Falling for a patient isn’t just ethically wrong, it’s - well. It’s a bad idea. Trust me.”

“That’s why I came to you, actually,” Len says. “You being the ultimate expert in HQS and all.”

“HQS?”

Len coughs.

“…tell me that don’t stand for Harley Quinn Syndrome.”

“If you don’t want me to tell you, I won’t. Won’t change it, though.”

“Oh jeez. I can’t believe it. You know, when I wished on my twenty-first birthday candle to go down in the history books, I ought’ve been more specific.”

Len shrugs sympathetically.

“So what do you need advice in? How not to fall for your patient?”

“That,” Len says grimly, “or else I’m gonna need to give you a referral so that he won’t be my patient anymore.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Harley says. “You’ve got it bad.”

“Harls?” Mick says into his phone. “You got a minute?”

“For you, sweetie, definitely,” she says. There’s the ripping sound of duct tape and the yelling in the background turns into muffled shouting. “What’s up?”

“I don’t wanna bug you if you’re doing something else…”

“Nah, no business or nothing. Spa day with the Sirens, fucking up some bad guys, but the girls have got it covered. Talk to me, baby. You sound upset.”

“I think I’ve done it again,” Mick says sadly.

“Gonna have to be more specific, sparky. Lit a serious fire? Went mano-a-mano with the Flash? Decided to blow up a building?”

“I kidnapped Len and moved him into my basement so we could be together forever.”

“Mick!”

“I left the door open, though,” Mick says earnestly. “I didn’t want him feeling confined or nothing.”

Harley face-palms. Mick can hear it. “Well, that’s something,” she says. “You know he loves you, right?”

“I know he thinks he does…”

“That’s just your anxiety talkin’. He’s dating you because he wants to be with you. S’why he referred you ta me. Tell me, did you at least leave him the key, too?”

“What key?”

“…didn’t you lock him up?”

“No! You know how Len feels about being stuck and unable to get out of places.”

“So you kidnapped him, took him to your basement, and…left him there with the door open and not tied up?”

“I made him dinner, too?”

“…you know what? I’m gonna call this progress. Now, I need you to go sit down and write about what your day was like so we can try to identify what led you to this decision…”

[glowstickhaloboy]

klance roommates au

usual disclaimer: its long as hell

keith is the newly hired, up-and-coming sales rep of his office job. hes fresh out of college, determined, and as awkward as he is in real life, he knows how to make a sale because its all scripted. his boss, doris, a wrinkly old lady who brings in cookies for the office at the end of every month, adores this strapping young man with a real work ethic.

his brother, shiro, is an ethics professor at the local university, Bullshit University (BU). while shiro is glad that keith is doing really well in life for this age, he has this annoying habit of constantly asking keith if hes alright, or if he needs anything, or if theres anything he feels like he wants to do to make himself better. keith always says no.

BU has a bs program called Apprenticeship, wherein a student will be mentored/sponsored by a professor, and the ethics department is head of the program, so shiro also hand picks his own apprentice and its a Big Deal and there are so many kids who apply for it not only because professor shirogane is hot as balls, but because this program gives out credits like candy. this semester’s lucky apprentice is none other than lance mcclain.

lance, if you ask him, will say that this all went completely according to plan and he never once doubted that shiro would pick him. on the inside, he is in an eternal state of wtf wtf wtf wtf how did i do this??!?!?!!!

keith knows that this is something shiro does because shiro likes to update keith on his life, so he’ll call and they’ll chat for a while and usually there will be some mention of an apprentice and whats going on with their studies. as the school year comes to an end, keith obligingly asks shiro who his chosen apprentice is for the upcoming year.

the line goes quiet.

“shiro? did i lose you?”

“no, im still here.”

more silence.

keith says, “what is it.”

“i have a small favor to ask of you.”

lance, if you asked him, would say that his interview with shiro went very well. he would say that he had shiro eating out of the palm of his hand. in reality, there was a lot more crying about money and family matters and anxiety for the future, and when shiro offered lance a tissue lance mistakenly grabbed shiro’s tie and blew his nose into it. two weeks later, he was asked to submit a final letter of intent, which he almost didn’t do because he was too embarrassed, then stayed up all night before the deadline because he couldnt not take a shot at it.

the problem with an apprenticeship position was that it was not like a residency staff position, wherein lance could live on campus without being charged a room & board fee, and he could not be both a part of residency staff and an apprentice. (the residency staff made his decision easy by rejecting his application, but still, it was a bummer.) that being said, lance had absolutely no money to stay on campus next year, and he could not commute because he lived four hours away from the school.

keiths apartment, shiro had not failed to notice, was a convenient 32 and a half minutes from the campus.

“you want me to what?” keith asks shiro, paling, staring into his categorized fridge. he knows where everything is. he decides where everything is. he is not sharing his living space with some kid.

“hes not some kid,” says shiro. “hes 20 years old and he needs this. i really want to make this opportunity work for him, but the school wont let him stay with me. please, keith. i think this would be good for both of you.”

“what is that supposed to mean?”

“can you honestly tell me that you arent lonely all by yourself?”

“no, im not. im comfortable and in control of my own life. i dont want one of your projects from the projects ruining everything ive worked to get, and i think its bull-headed of you to assume that you know whats best for me, like you always try to do, and i think its rude of you to invite someone to live in my apartment.” 

“he likes mus-”

keith hangs up on shiro mid-word, fumes for a few hours as he gets some work done and eats dinner, then goes to sleep.

the next day, keith feels guilty, sure, but he stands by what he said. shiro would call him in a few days and initiate the apology, and they would both put it behind them without mentioning it again. until then, he would throw himself into his work and pretend that everything was fine.

at 6pm, doris knocks on the side of his cubicle, smiling down on him in all her wrinkly glory. shes 60 going on 80 with graying hair and a cozy southern drawl. “darling, why are you still sitting at that desk? its a friday night. youre young, youre cute, you must have a sweetheart you wanna spend it with, or some friends at least.”

keith smiles politely. “thats alright, doris. id rather work, honestly.”

“you sure, honey? i admire a good worker, but if youre working good for the wrong reasons, thats nothing to be proud of. dont you have a nice girl to go home to?”

keith isnt even going to touch the last part of that statement because he doesnt know doris’s political views and doesnt have the time nor patience for a lecture from her in case her warm hospitality is all a condition of keiths being a Model Young Man. he grimaces and says, “no, i dont. and if i did have someone to go home to, it wouldnt be the start of a night going out on the town, it would be someone to have a relaxing night in with.”

“that sounds nice,” says doris, with a minor suggestion behind it that keith should get his coat and get the hell out of here.

“but id really prefer to work,” insists keith. doris clicks her tongue and tells him to suit himself.

meanwhile, lance is panicking. here he has this amazing opportunity, and no way to make it happen. hunk, allura, and pidge all live on campus, apartments nearby are way too expensive, and nobody on the forums is responding to his roommate pleas. he has made it clear that he will take literally anything, and still, no bites.

“im sorry,” shiro says at the start of their meeting. “i tried to set something up, but it fell through. there are a couple of scholarships you can try applying for, but their awards arent given out until december, so youd have to find a way to make ends meet until then.”

“and i cant be a part time student working,” says lance, “because part time students arent eligible for the internship.”

shiro sighs grimly. “thats right.” for a moment, he does nothing but frown at the wall, and lance has nothing to say so he doesnt interrupt. slowly, without explanation, shiro picks up his desk phone and dials. after a moment of patience, he sets it back down and pinches the bridge of his nose. “i want to figure something out for you, lance. do you have any ideas?”

lance shakes his head, shrugging. “i asked a couple of my friends to get an apartment with me, but two of them are residency staff, and the other one takes too many classes a semester to be able to work enough to afford an apartment.

shiro is about to say something, but the phone rings. he snatches it up. “keith? i thought you were ignoring me. oh. no, thats not it. actually, um, i have him sitting in my office with me. i was hoping you had reconsidered.” there was a very long pause. “i understand that,” says shiro. lance’s organs are all mixed up. his heart is beating in his throat and his stomach is somewhere near his feet. “i understand that,” he says again. “im sorry for what i said. you know i didnt mean it that way. i worry about you, thats all, because im a worrier. im not trying to influence your life at all, i really am just asking for a favor. ive exhausted all my other options. keith, youre all ive got.”

he covers the speaker with his mouth and looks at lance. “are you comfortable talking to him?”

lance balks. “who is it?”

“my brother, keith, the person im trying to get to let you stay with him. he wants to talk to you.”

lance holds his hand out for the phone, and shiro passes it over. lance says, “hello?”

“give me one reason why i should let you stay with me,” says a voice that is not exactly what lance is expecting, but still intimidating. “its not a trick question or a test, but it is pass-fail.”

lance’s mouth is so dry, he isnt sure he’ll be able to speak. “i,” he starts, then decides that he cant, then realizes that he has to. “i dont know what im doing. everyones trying to tell me what i should do, or what i have to do, but your brother--um, professor shirogane--is the only person whos asking me what i want to do. that means a lot to me, and so does the fact that he chose me to be his apprentice. so i want to give this my honest to god best shot to repay him, and because i need to know for myself what im capable of. so, um, sir, if you can give me my foot in the door, i promise i would be grateful for that, and if it doesnt work out, then you can kick me out, and i’ll still be grateful that you gave me the chance. um, thanks for giving me the chance to talk.”

there was a long beat of silence. shiro’s mouth was covered with his hand, so lance couldnt tell if he was smiling, but his eyes were definitely shining.

keith said, “shiro always does make people want to be the best version of themselves. dont tell him i said that. put him back on the line.”

lance shakily handed the phone back. shiro put it to his ear. “keith? uh huh.” he chuckled. “i know.” he closed his eyes, the tension seeping out of his shoulders, and lance couldnt help but feel his hopes soar. “thank you, keith. i promise i’ll pay you back for this, and you wont regret it.” he hangs up. “lance, you have a place to live next year.”

come the end of august, keiths career is running itself. he clears out the storage room in preparation for a temporary guest with the help of shiro, whose job it is not only to set up the room, but to pay lance’s half of the rent if lance should default.

two days after the bed and desk are built, lance mcclain moves in. hes weighed down by bags when keith answers the door, looking boyish and disheveled. “whoa,” he says, and stumbles back, almost loses his balance, then manages to catch himself.

keith prickles. “what?”

lance’s eyes swoop up and down keith a clean once.

“youre shiro’s younger brother,” he says, blinking in surprise. “i didnt expect you to be so... you sounded older and mea-- um, on the phone. i thought i was going to be living with a forty year old dude or something, but you’re. um. hi, im lance mcclain.”

he sticks out his hand, strapped down by bags. keith shakes it.

“keith kogane. your room is down the hall and to the left. the bathroom is the first one on the right. my bedroom is the door at the end of the hall, the one thats always shut.”

lance nods. “right,” he says, sounding choked. “i’ll just put this stuff away then...”

he gets inside his room and calls hunk, freaking out about how the guy he has to live with is a lunatic and might also be a serial killer. how else did one explain his bathroom being so freakishly clean? hunk tells lance to calm down and that its just first-day jitters. everything will feel normal once lance gets the routine down.

but lance does not get the routine down. if keith isnt telling lance not to move the milk in the fridge (lance needed somewhere for his blueberries), then he was shouting through the bathroom door to shut up (lance sang in the shower! big deal!). lance was positive that keith hated him, which, between getting his ass kicked at school and feeling like a burden at the apartment, made for a hellish first month on lance’s part. he and keith never talked to each other, because keith was always leaving for work in the mornings before lance woke up, and lance would get back sometimes at 9pm or later, when keith was already showering and getting ready for bed. on weekends, lance booked it out of there to hang out with hunk and pidge, but keith was usually still awake when lance got back, either reading or watching something on TV.

the best way to describe the tension was frigid. keith didnt acknowledge lance so long as lance kept to himself. and the biggest mistake lance made was to break that tension while keith was home.

of course, lance didnt know at the time. he was pretty sure that keith was out, but too scared to check because the door at the end of the hall was daunting, and lance was pretty sure that keith was the only one who could pass through it without damaging his soul permanently.

lance had assignments, okay? he was a music major. that involved some instruments being played from time to time. usually, he was able to work around keith’s schedule, or quiet enough that he could do it when keith was sleeping, but when he wasnt worried about it, he wasnt worried about it. which led to a high pitched scream from a certain college student as keith banged on his bedroom door.

collecting himself, lance went to open it. “sorry, i-”

“what the hell are you doing?”

lance sighed. “look, keith, im grateful that youre letting me live here, but that means letting me live here. i have assignments, and music relaxes me. so if i can put up with your alphabetical cereal boxes, i think its fair that you let me get some work done.”

“im trying to get my work done.”

“youre not even at work!”

keith pinched the bridge of his nose, a very shiro thing to do. “i dont have a problem with the music,” he said at last. “but we better not get any noise complaints from the neighbors.”

lance saluted him and shut the door, breathing a sigh of relief.

after that, tension melted a little more every day. lance’s outburst seemed to have triggered a chain reaction wherein keith and lance actually learned how to live with each other. after respectfully asking lance to remember to take his beauty products out of the bathroom when finished with them, he realized that what lance really needed was his own shelf, so he adjusted. when lance left on saturday mornings and saw keith taking his usual post at the coffee table with his stack of files, lance would ask if keith wanted anything from mcdonalds before coming home. slowly, surely, they became roommates.

until one day lance came home and saw keith watching his favorite show. it was a tidal wave of loud that keith had never had to experience before. youre only on the first season okay scoot over can i put my feet up im going to who do you like best so far what do you think of the villain isnt the actor who plays jack so hot-

they both freeze a little, lances face going red. “um,” he said. “its not like im going to be bringing any guys home, so we dont have to-”

“im gay,” keith says bluntly, because it looks like lance is about to have a heart attack. he feels a little like doris in that moment, although he doesnt know why. “yeah, hes hot.”

lance melts into the couch. “that makes that easy then,” he says. “that makes this the gay-partment. actually, we cant call it that, because im bi for real, and gay-partment doesnt sound good anyway, but you get what im-”

“i get it,” says keith, a mercy killing. he presses play with finality.

shiro checks up on keith frequently enough, but he never asks about lance any more than “is everything okay between you guys?” keith suspects that shiro does not want to push, and is waiting for keith to be the person who actually brings it up.

keith doesnt. even when he waits for lance to get home from classes so they can watch an episode together before keith goes to bed (because the last time keith watched it without him lance threw a fit), or when lance’s awful car craps out on him so they have to share for a week while the mechanic handles it, which involves a lot of carpooling and, as lance calls them “jam sessions” where he blares his horrible music and sings along (but isnt actually so bad because sometimes he improvises lines to the songs and he can be funny when he wants to be). 

keith realizes over the six days that lance is gone for thanksgiving break, not even a full week, that the apartment feels too quiet without him, and at the ripe old age of 23, he might have found his first genuine friend.

after thanksgiving, the barrier melts more. keith is cool with lance having friends over as long as he gets a heads up, and lance invites keith to his occasional open mic night performances at BU.

one day, lance comes home and sees keith hunched over some files on the kitchen table, tie loose on his neck, a half-finished bowl of leftover pasta abandoned near him. lance realizes that he has no idea what keiths job is.

“sales,” keith informs him. “i convince people that they need to buy eco-friendly plastic cups in bulk for their business or school.”

“sounds boring.”

“its not.”

“do you supply cups to my school?”

“theyre not one of my clients, no.”

“if you cant sell cups to your own brother’s school, how good of a salesman can you be?”

keith rolls his eyes and--hey, finally--looks up. “im the best in the department,” he says. “because i take my job seriously, lance. as seriously as you take your apprenticeship to shiro, which is the only reason i agreed to let you stay here.”

“wow,” says lance. “thats harsh. all work and no play makes keith revert back to his old angry self, i see.” he leaves. keith sighs, decides he can no longer focus, and packs up his files. he cleans up his wasted dinner and knocks on lance’s door. lance doesnt answer, so keith persists. when hes ignored again, he grits his teeth and says, “oh, real mature.”

he turns to go back to the living room and sees the bathroom door open. lance steps out, shirtless. “who are you talking to?” he asks, shirtless. he scratches the back of his head, shirtless.

“are you hungry?” asks keith. “i was thinking we could order a pizza and watch an episode or two.”

lance considers keith for a moment, shirtless, then rolls his eyes, still shirtless. “if thats the best you can do for apologies, mullet, then you have a lot to learn. i was going to take a shower.” he reaches around keith, shirtless, and pulls a towel off the inside of his bedroom wall. “call and order, i’ll be fast.” before he shuts the bathroom door again, he says, “i don’t are what else is on it as long as there are green peppers.” and then he’s gone, shirtless.

keith wakes up and wonders why he blacked out for a second.

the pizza arrives, and lance gets out of the shower, clothed, and one or two episodes become six or seven, with keith continuously having to pause because lance is talking and getting carried away because hes getting so excited. its thursday and keith has work tomorrow, he knows, and yet hes denying it. his stomach is full of warm pizza and lance has just stopped talking about the way it rained when they filmed this scene, but keith hasnt reached over to his play yet.

“you would be a good salesman,” he tells lance. “youve got the charisma for it.”

“keith, that is literally the meanest thing youve ever said to me. no offense, but to suggest i would spend my life sitting in a cubicle is unforgivable. to each their own, though. when all the little kids in your third grade class were saying, i want to be a firefighter! and, i want to be a princess! what made you snap up your suspenders and say, i want to sell eco-friendly plastic cups!”

“i dont wear suspenders.”

“thats not the question i was asking.”

keith shrugs. hes laying down more than hes sitting up, which as a rule, is frowned upon when using couches in this apartment. lance has been a bad influence in this regard. “its practical.”

“did you have to take business classes and everything?”

“i took them, yeah.”

lance throws his head back and groans, pokes keith’s thigh teasingly with his big toe. “man, i cant imagine going to school to actually learn a useful life skill. whats job security like?”

staring up at the ceiling, keith is unsettled to find that he knows the answer. “boring.”

lance sits up. “huh?”

“its too easy,” says keith. “every day, its just selling cups. a moron could do it. and my boss doris is a peach, but this morning she stood at karen’s cubicle across from mine for a straight hour talking about plants.”

“plants are so practical,” says lance. “you have a house plant in the corner.” he points at herman.

“his name is herman.”

lance’s eyes blow wide. “dude! no way! you named your plant! i didnt think you were the type!”

“ive never said his name out loud with another person in the room before.”

lance covers his face with both hands and wheezes. “you talk to herman when no one else is in the room.”

lance does not say that he had been calling herman shelby.

“theres a smaller one on my desk at the office named sherman,” says keith.

“not judging, dude, but why would you give so much of yourself to this job if it isnt what you want to do?”

keith shrugs again. “its practical.”

“im a music major and i dont buy that shit. why dont you do what you love? like, how does the time that you spend not doing whatever it is you love not a giant waste?”

“because...” keith feels like a robot. “its practical.”

“if practicality didnt matter, what would you do?”

keith considers lance, considers himself. he finds the answer but decides that its too scary right now. 

“i’d sell cups on the moon.”

lance busts a gut. the seriousness of the topic derailed, keith presses play, and they go back to watching the episode. lance doesnt interrupt for the remainder of the episode, and when keith looks over, he realizes its because lance has fallen asleep. with his legs spread over keith’s lap. when had they gotten there? keith couldnt move now. he had work in the morning.

he was also already in his pajamas. and the sofa was warm enough, and the heating was on in preparation for winter. and keith was already up later than he normally stayed awake...

he woke up with sunlight streaming peacefully on his eyelids. that was usually a luxury saved for the weekends. SUNLIGHT? keith’s eyes popped open, and he remembered all at once talking with lance, falling asleep, lance. last night had been a lance-heavy night. his toes were underneath keith’s shirt, his face smushed into the cushions.

keith clawed his phone out of his pocket as he extracted himself from the couch, from lance. 9:08. shit shit shit shit. 2 missed calls from doris. he ran into his room, where his alarm clock had been screaming for two and a half hours now, and threw on a dress shirt, pants, and shoes, then he rocketed out the door, his phone already pressed to his ear. hi doris sorry sorry sorry i overslept im leaving now i’ll be right here this wont happen again.

his coworkers dont let him live it down. all day its, how ya doing, keith? hows that perfect punctuality youre always harping about? crazy hook up with your take-home pile, was it? doris is the only one who is understanding, and, luckily, her opinion of the situation is all that matters.

“whatever kept you,” she says, “i hope you had fun.”

keith is exhausted by the time he gets home. he unknots his tie on the way to his room, and as he passes lance’s door, he hears the soft tones of music from inside. he pauses. knocks. lance calls, “come in.”

keith pokes his head inside. theres lance, several instruments sprawled across his floor, and him in the center of them, a ukulele in his hands. keith smiles. “sounds good,” he says.

lance gives him a sympathetic eyebrow raise. “you look like shit.”

“thanks.”

“come sit down.”

grateful for the invitation, keith obeys, unraveling his tie all the way. he likes that lance doesnt make him say anything. he goes back to playing music, singing, a soft song that has keiths eyelids fluttering shut and his shoulders relaxing before they can help it.

the next week, lance’s semester ends. he heads home to swap the old year for a new model, see his family, catch up with neighborhood friends. theres the weirdest disconnect he gets where he turns to make a comment to someone, expecting them to be someone else, and gets frustrated.

keith, meanwhile, has resorted to calling shiro at night to somehow break this god awful silence. they get together on christmas, which helps. hes ready to spend new years alone with the LGBT section of Netflix when, at 10:14 PM, his phone rings in a way it doesnt usually. He presses accept, and suddenly Lance is grinning at him in a room full of shouting Cubans.

“Keith! My man! How’s it hanging! No, shut up Marcia, I’m busy. Hey, what’s up!”

Keith is a little bewildered. “Um. Hey.”

“hold on, its super loud in here. let me get to my room so i can actually hear you.”

“why did you call?” asks keith.

lance gives him a look as he enters a much more quiet space. “because my spidey senses told me that you were sitting alone on your couch like a loser right now.”

keith frowns down at his comfortable pajamas. “i am not a loser.”

“of course not,” lance agrees. “thats thanks to me, by the way, and my amazing ability to be in two places at once, thanks to facetime.”

“hows home?” keith asks, aware that suddenly they were chatting, and that the frown he’d been carrying around for days had magically lifted itself off his face. lance is as excitable as ever, even when hes miles and miles away, and keith wonders at the idea of all this distance theyve lived with between them suddenly closed. its an interesting thought.

he doesnt realize how long lance has kept him talking until 11:59, when lance brings his attention to the countdown clock. the inside of keith’s chest feels warm and calm knowing that lance didnt want keith to be alone on new years, and that he cared enough to sit in his room for two hours talking at a screen, and that he was choosing to spend the passover to midnight with keith.

at midnight, keith clinks a glass of champagne against his phone, as does lance, and they drink together. then, lance sombers.

“hey, um. i wanted to thank you for everything you did for me last semester,” says lance. “im still trying to put things together for the spring, but if you want, i could let you know how it goes. i mean, i dont want to stop talking to you, or knowing you.”

keith is utterly lost. “what are you talking about?”

now lance looks confused. “the end of the semester,” he says.

“what about it?”

“my apprenticeship.”

Apprenticeships only lasted a semester!

keith actually slapped his forehead. “lance!” he said, sitting up and clutching his burning phone tighter. He’d had to plug it in an hour ago. “why didn’t you remind me? are you trying to tell me you left? that you literally left to go back home without saying goodbye?”

“you didnt say goodbye!” lance defends, voice getting shrill. “i thought you werent the type!”

“i thought you werent leaving! or, i mean, i thought you were coming back right after!”

“I literally packed out my whole room, keith.”

“people need things when they go home.”

lance shook his head, dumbfounded. “i cant believe we’re having this conversation. what are you going to do without me? yes, keith, im back home and scouring the forums for a new roommate next semester. im trying to have a bonding moment where i thank you for everything youve done for me, but youre ruining it by being an idiot.”

“damn it, lance. you dont have to move out. youre more than welcome to keep living here. lance? did you freeze?”

“what? no. i just. i kind of thought you hated me.”

hate? the literal opposite. keith had to fight not to be sarcastic. “i dont hate you. i want you to stay here. not as a favor, but because this place feels weird without you here now. its as much yours as it is mine. we can put you on the lease if you want.”

“keith, that is the grossest, most adult thing youve ever said to me. of course i will legally sign a binding contract with my name next to yours.”

did lance just... keith’s smaller face went red next to lance’s bigger face. keith sat up a little straighter. “um, cool. cool. when you get back, then. so, you are coming back?”

“yes,” said lance. “and thank god it means i dont have to live with smelly jeremy and his flea-ridden dogs. just your flea-ridden mullet.”

keith narrowed his eyes and hung up.

he got a text from lance saying, see yr flea-tastic self on january 25th, then marked the day down in his phone. afterward, he opened the door to lance’s room, which was indeed empty. keith’s heart went a little spastic at the thought that january 25th could have come and gone, and he would have had no idea that lance had not been planning to return. he called shiro and berated him for not talking about the apprenticeship more often, so keith would have been prepared.

lance comes back and brings the sun with him. keith, who has been this close to quitting his job every time he walks into work, could not be happier. they move lance’s things in together, which involves a lot of stopping and making fun of lance’s possessions on keith’s part. lance grins and goes for the mullet, and somehow they end up wrestling on the floor.

keith thinks, i cant not kiss him.

and then his phone vibrates against his leg. he remembers that lance is living here because he has nowhere else to go, and that putting him in this position if he doesnt feel the same way about keith is a horrible thing to do. he untangles himself, guilty.

“where are you going?” demands lance. “i was winning!”

“its doris,” says keith. “gotta take it.”

speaking of doris, she notices. at 6pm the next day, she stops by keiths cubicle. “been a while since we last met here, sugarcake. trouble at home?”

theres no one else in the office, and keith is close to a meltdown. he swivels to face doris, hangs his head, and says, “i think im in love with my roommate lance.”

her face doesnt betray an ounce of shock, but rather, shes giving him the same look shiro used to when keith would talk about nightmares. keiths heart shatters from being touched by kindness. he doesnt leave the office for another hour, not because he was working, but because that night doris lets him tell her everything.

lance is still in class when keith gets home, eats, showers, and gets ready for bed. he almost doesnt know what to do with himself now that theres a whole other conscious entity living in this house--his fucking emotions. he has his hair pulled back, his pajamas on, and hes just getting ready to call it a night when the front door opens and lance tosses his bag in its usual spot under the window.

“hey,” he says, surprised to see keith up. “dont want to miss the early bird special tomorrow. what’re you doing up?”

“can we play?” asks keith.

lance is clearly doubly surprised, but he guides keith into his room. its as blissfully messy as it was before lance left for break. “you said we. do you play?”

keith picks up a lap-sized keyboard. “i used to.”

“i didnt know that. why didnt you say?”

“because you wouldve asked me to play with you.”

“thats true.” lance picks his ukulele, and they start to improvise together, each learning how the other plays, adjusting. “you werent kidding, you really play.”

“i wasnt kidding,” says keith.

suddenly, lance stops. “hey, is everything alright? youre acting weird. dont tell me youre regretting asking me to move back in.”

“no,” keith says immediately. “no, im just wondering if maybe... are you happy here? or is this just a roommate situation?”

“what do you mean, is this just a roommate situation?”

“you know what i mean.”

“no,” says lance. “i dont.”

“i mean,” says keith, “do you actually like living here, or do you live here because im your only option?”

lance sets down his ukulele. “i like living here because the bathroom tiles are cold when i get out of the shower so i hop to the rug by the door and pray to god i dont slip and break my neck. and because the sunset turns the kitchen wall purple while i make pasta. and because im the only one who can put my feet up on the coffee table. and because the cereal is arranged in alphabetical order and the plant’s name is herman. i like living here. here feels like home.”

keith kisses him. he stands up and backs away just as quickly, guilty, unable to believe he had just crossed the line like that. god, he’s going to have to tell doris about this. she would rip his head off so politely.

“what the fuck?” says lance, blunt and surprised. keith winces, about to apologize, when suddenly he’s being crowded up against the wall of his storage room, of lance’s bedroom, and kissed like his lips leaked chocolate. he melts. lance snakes one hand behind keith’s neck and the other around his waist, and keith tugs lance closer by the hips. the hand at keith’s neck digs into his hair and pulls out the hair tie. the hair tie disappears. keith pulls lance closer. 

lance pulls back. “finally.”

“you had the option to make the first move, you know.”

“nah, not me, i’m a coward.”

“yeah, right.”

they kissed again, with keith holding tighter and lance staying longer. keith thinks, doris isnt going to believe this one.

that night, the taboo on keith’s bedroom door breaks when keith invites lance to sleep on a queen sized mattress. it takes lance a full five minutes to stop laughing at the clear cowboy paraphernalia keith inherited growing up in texas, but he doesnt mind curling up to sleep by the potted cactus on the nightstand, whose name he politely asks for.

keith stops killing himself working to sell eco-friendly plastic cups, and with all his spare time, he and lance start writing songs together. shiro, in a display of good sportsmanship, never points out that he was right.

[angel78]

another failed attempt at seeing a new therapist

its literally pointless to try anymore. its honestly not even about “getting better” anymore its about the fact that i just want to be figured the fuck out already. i want to get it all out i want to understand i want to know what happened to me and what the hell is wrong with me... but i guess i’ve always done that myself anywhere. 

i have learned everything i have come to understand about myself in writing and art, mainly my own because that is where i am sorting myself out, but of course with others’ work as well. 

i was never allowed to see a therapist growing up, my parents didnt believe in mental illness and thought i was just crazy or dramatic or whatever else ive said it here before plenty of times. once i left renfrew i tried one or two but one i couldnt afford and the other made me uncomfortable. i had one therapist in wvu that didn’t help or understand at all and just made me feel like i was psycho and straight up would ask me if i paid before i sat down ???? when i finally came back to jersey, i tried to see another therapist in february and she turned me down entirely and said she could not help me or see me because i needed higher care and she couldnt be responsible for that. then finally i began seeing a therapist at my school who saw me for a few months who i thought i might finally be able to get something out of, maybe, but she told me she had to stop seeing me because i was too sick too and needed a higher care and i told her i refused to go to anything inpatient so she straight up said she cant help me anymore but we could have an appointment to find a good program for me and i never went because fuck you for that. right when things started peaking again she just didn’t want to help me anymore. i understand the “ethics” behind seeing someone who you deem “too unwell” to only be attending an hour long therapy session once a week but for gods sake she knew all of the reasons i couldnt do that and some of them were kind of bullshit in her opinion like me refusing to put school on hold again but some of them were fucking valid like money and not having a car at the time to even do an outpatient if i tried and my parents and just everything. 

then finally a few weeks ago i started seeing a new therapist, literally like the day after finding out my boyfriend has fucking cancer, and i saw her three times, spent the first two times having an insurance/money battle in the beginning, and the second time waited for her for 7 minutes after my appt was supposed to start and she still cut me off right after the allotted time was up technically not giving me the appropriate 45 full minutes ???? but not only that she called me by the wrong name ???? only says elementary shit like “so how are depression and anxiety” and just nods and doesnt offer any feedback when i talk. she didnt try at all to get to know my circumstances like i always had to fish for things to talk about because she couldnt even start asking me questions of her own since the first session which like how is that supposed to help me i came here because I NEED HELP and then even though the insurance sent me a document with this therapists specializations and eating disorders WERE LISTED AS ONE OF THEM she says that she doesnt know much about eating disorders and isnt trained in them so she doesnt know how to really help and she then went on to tell me she thinks i just need a higher care and that we could have our last session (the following week from last thursday which would have been tomorrow) so we can find a program together that i should start ???? yeah nice way to say see you never and take another $50 from me when you cant even rememebr my FUCKING NAME WHEN ITS SITTING ON YOUR COMPUTER SCREEN IN FRONT OF YOU AND YOU LITERALLY LISTED EATING DISORDERS IN YOUR SPECIALIZATIONS WHEN YOU APPARENTLY KNOW NOTHING ABOUT THEM ACCORDING TO YOU sorry im livid but anyway now im back to no therapist and that makes a consecutive three suggesting i needed a higher care but i guess at least this one was just a complete idiot and didnt say she refused to help me anymore 

so i just wanted to post a rant update about that and i guess from here i will just continue

i started class and my last week of training for my new serving job yesterday, i had class at 8:00 after not sleeping all night and have three more classes and then training again, i look cute today but no one lked my selfies on twitter so that was very nice also, im speeding frivolously, and ,,,,

my mom and i got into two big dumb fights over the last week over something so stupid but as always she had to go on and curse me off and tell me she doesnt want me in “her house” which is really funny because how can you call it your house when you 1) dont even have a job therefore do not pay bills 2) my dad, as much as he hurts me, just had to get a second job again to support my family when my mom doesnt even have one and doesnt even love my dad anymore but she’ll reap the benefits of having a man willing to do that for her 3) she literally left us like two months ago to live with her friend then decides to come back because “it was hard driving back and forth and i couldnt see the kids everyday” which honestly, to me, translates to it was too hard coming here every day just to bake cakes 4) she told me whenever she does get money (somehow???) she has full intentions of moving out and getting her own place so even if she did have money i guess making this number 5) she would be PUTTING IT TO GETTING HER OWN PLACE AND NOT THE HOUSE ANYWAY SO I REST MY CASE DOESNT LOOK LKE YOUR HOUSE TO ME BITCH and i left sunday night and went to be with vincent and i get to sleep with him all week and then yesterday my mom tried to send me a meme so i would respond and laugh and we could pretend nothing happened but im tired of doing that im tired of acting like just because im their child i dont deserve an apology like fuck if i dont even deserve help on my medical bills ???? i think i at the very least deserve an apology every now and again ???? especially since they are a signficant part of the reason I AM THIS WAY and then yesterday my dad texted me asking where ive been and i told him what happened and actually tried to have a mature conversation and tell him how i felt like an adult and why i dont think my mom acted fairly and he literally left me on read so thats how my family life is going

otherwise eating is impossible unless its in capsule form and and im overly paranoid and i cant drive without imagining a parallel universe every car that comes into my vicinity somehow crashes into me and not even in the suicidal way literally in the twitching at the sight of an approaching vehicle and shaking my head and closing my eyes while driving because all i can see are these traumatizing visions of things that have never happened to me and im really depressed and i have no friends 

and i really sound like a whiney bitch right now but i havent posted much about whats going on in my life lately and clearly !!!! i dont have a therapist to tell !!!!

i keep wanting to write and have fragments of words but it doesnt feel right yet and i know that

i have no money and my phone and car bills are due next week and i wont be making any money until next week MAYBE

literally the only good thing right now is that vincent is doing pretty well, its really hard to see him this way a lot of the time but its getting easier because im getting used to seeing him bald or how little he eats or helping him when he’s sick, as far as we know the chemo seems to be doing what its supposed to do, he is doing well, i hope it stays that way because he’s literally everything to me and the only thing that makes me want to be on this earth