#which is the event that finally made my anxiety spiral enough for my mom who hates therapy to make me get a therapist :)

[liebelesbe]

Ah. Now my mom is mad bc I haven't managed to make the phone call yet. Knew I could only push it so far

[letarasstuff]

Doesn't she love me anymore?

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you like it as much as I do!

Summary: Spencer's daughter starts to question why her mother left the small family early on

Warnings: Mentions/undertones of bullying, an absent parent and descreptions of the concequences for the child, So. Much. Angsty. Feelings.

Wordcount: 2.5k

✨Masterlist✨ _________________________________

“Daddy?” Spencer turns around from the frying pan to look at his daughter. Against common belief, he is quite the cook. But this only started when he became a father, after he realized a child won’t be able to live off of a diet consisting of coffee and anxiety, just like he did at the time. “Yes, Sweetheart?”

She looks down to the piece of paper on the kitchen counter in front of her. “Why did Mommy leave us?”

The spatula falls to the ground. It’s a question the father did not expect on a Tuesday morning before school. “It’s because of me, isn’t it? She saw me the first time and didn’t want me anymore. It’s my fault Mommy left us, left you, just like Linda said.” Tears begin to stream down her face.

“No no no”, her father is quick to turn off the heat and walks around the island to hug his daughter. “None of this is your fault. I don’t know what this Linda said, but it is not true. Your mother had her own reasons to stay out of our lives, but it has nothing to do with you.”

This doesn’t calm her down. “What are her reasons? Why did she leave us? Why did leave me?” Frantically she tries to keep her sobs down in order to speak. Spencer never has seen her this upset.

“Sweetheart, are you sure you are in the right state to talk about it now? Why don’t we calm down and get something for breakfast on our way to school and talk about it after I pick you up this afternoon?” He suggests, hoping the thought of a cup of hot chocolate from their favorite bakery would help her.

(Y/N) looks up at him with bloodshot and glassy eyes. Snot runs down from her nose. Spencer is quick to get her a tissue and make her blow into it, cringing internally about all those germs. “Do you promise to tell me more after school?” Big eyes look up at him and the father hurts. It hurts him, because there are so many things in her future that will break her and all that because of her mother. He can’t shield her from all of it, as much as he wants to he isn’t able. Because there always will be people, people like this Linda, who will make the girl conscious of her absent mother.

“I promise”, he tells her and holds his little finger out for her. (Y/N) smiles while linking hers with his, knowing her father will keep this promise just like any other of his. “Good, and now pack up we got a bakery to visit!” Quickly the girl grabs the piece of paper in front of her only to shove it into her backpack.

A little later she sits at her desk and looks at her teacher expectantly, just like her fellow classmates. “Ok children, today we won’t work further on our addition and subtraction worksheets-” The teacher’s sentence is cut short by the eruption of cheerful shouts. Just (Y/N) looks at the multiplication sheet in front of her.

The teacher is quick to quiet the class again. “Instead we will continue our work on the mother’s card you started doing yesterday. Linda was so kind to tell me that you don’t have the chance to finish them at home, because your moms are there. That is why you do it here and your worksheets at home.”

With a frown on her face (Y/N) pulls out the blank piece of paper that made her feel bad ever since her teacher handed it out to her yesterday. While everybody around her chatters happily with other classmates, she just stares at the paper. It is a reminder of something she doesn’t have, something she lacks and will never get: A real mother. A hug from her mother. Not even the motherly reassurance one gets after a nightmare. Nothing.

“Hey orphan. Ya realizing your mom doesn’t love you and that’s why she left you?” Linda, someone (Y/N) later learns to call a Mean Girl, struts up to the younger one’s desk. A sigh leaves her lips before answering. “You do know for an orphan I need to have neither a mommy nor a daddy. And I do for a fact have a dad, a loving one actually.”

A more light than hard slap on the back of her head makes the girl’s body jolt. “I don’t care, but I know that your mom hates you enough just after looking at you to know she doesn’t want anything to do with you.” After that Linda goes back to her table, leaving (Y/N) feeling more miserable than before.

Some starring on the paper later her teacher passes her table. “Is there something you want to talk about, Sweetheart? You seem very sad.” That is an obvious fact. Finally the girl is able to lift her gaze. “Miss Ramirez, I don’t know what to do.” This is probably the first time ever she said this sentence in school.

“Mother’s day is in a few days, Sweetie, and this is why we all make these cards. It’s a thank you to your mom and a way to show her how much you love her. You love your mom, don’t you?” The shake of her head shocks the teacher. Immediately an alarming signal rings through her head, because this is a red flag. “Why? Did she do something?”

“Miss Ramirez, I don’t have a mommy. She- she left Daddy and me.” Tears fill (Y/N)’s eyes. Her teacher is quick to hug and sush her. “Oh Sweetie, this is not a bad thing. I’m sure your mom loves you very much, even if she is not there with you. Do you wanna go out for a bit to calm down?” Meanwhile she connects the obvious signs of a single dad in her mind. Missed parent teacher conferences, unnecessary hovering over the child and the tendency to be categorized as a helicopter parent. Yes, Dr. Reid ticks all of those boxes.

It’s the second time of the day that an adult asked (Y/N) to calm down, and frankly it doesn’t really help with the situation at hand. “Can I do my homework outside? It’s too loud in here”, she asks between sniffles. Both of them know that the class’ volume is not the real reason for the request. “Of course, Sweetheart. If you need something, just come in and ask me. Alright?” (Y/N) nods and gets her multiplication sheet and a pencil before leaving the classroom.

At the end of the school day, Spencer is there to pick up his daughter. For days like these, where are no cases, Hotch gave him a free pass on (Y/N)’s very first day at school to leave the office earlier to be able to pick her up himself. As a father and someone who works the same high demanding job as him, he knows that little things like these are often the most important. And even if there were a case today, Spencer would have stayed back. He promised his daughter the truth and this is what he is going to tell her.

“Hey Dr. Reid. Do you have a moment?” Her teacher greets him at the classroom door. Concerned about his child’s wellbeing he nods and follows her back out of the room. “I gave the children the assignment of creating a card for their mothers, because mother’s day is rolling around. Today (Y/N) told me her mother left you, is that right?” This is the moment Spencer connects the dots. This is the kick off that made her question her mother’s motives about leaving all of the sudden.

The young doctor clears his throat. “Uhm yes, that is right. Actually, I’m going to talk to her about it right after school on her demand.” Miss Ramirez nods with an understanding nod. “Thank you for your honesty, Dr. Reid. I also want to warn you, in two days we will hold a celebration in honor of mother’s day with the kids’ mothers. You are invited as a father, because this is a special situation. But I also give (Y/N) a free pass for this event. It can be very traumatic for her.”

The dad thanks her, but his thoughts are somewhere else. He is mad. He is mad for his daughter, because she will always be the one with a “special situation”. The odd one, because yeah, it isn’t uncommon for fathers to leave (which isn’t anything less sad and traumatic), but an absent mother hits differently.

But Spencer is also hurt. Hurt, because for her young age, there is already the word “traumatic” thrown around. No, it isn’t enough that her dad works a job with the risk of him not coming home from a case again, or being the target of an enemy. No, she also has to go through the experience of missing a parent, never knowing how her life would be if it wasn’t for someone like her mother.

Even with Spencer trying to fill that role, there will be a time where (Y/N) will ask herself all of the “what ifs”. He can’t stop it from happening, and that is his biggest pain right there. Because he can’t shield her from her own thoughts. At the age of six she already is a bright, brilliant and talented mind. Now in a few years or maybe just months, she will start to think about her mother being the root of her pain, bad experiences and hurt. Her thoughts will lead to a downward spiral of how a person can do something like her mother, who acted like that with the knowledge of which consequences will follow. And Spencer can’t stop this from happening.

“Daddy!” A small thud comes from (Y/N) colliding with his leg. Just by the way she squeezes it he knows that she hasn’t had a good day at school. “Hey Baby. Do you want to go to the office for a bit? I think your Auntie Penelope told me something about a new science set she got for you. Or do you want to go straight home?” Spencer asks after lifting her into his arms. Immediately she hides her face into the crook of his neck. “Home”, she murmurs. Home it is then.

“Aaaaaand here comes the little missy’s hot chocolate!” The father says in a funny voice while carefully putting the cup into his daughter’s hands. She sits covered in a blanket on the sofa, looking expectantly at her father.

Spencer sighs at the lack of reaction. “Are you sure you want to hear it?” (Y/N) nods adamantly. “Ok, but I got to go a bit back for this story

“It was about eight years ago, I worked on a case with your Aunties and Uncles back then. I was the one who had to get the last round of coffee for the night at a small 24/7 diner. As I walked in I thought I died, because I was sure an angel stood right in front of me. Well not-” “Is that Mommy?!” (Y/N) cuts him off excitedly. Spencer smiles slightly. “You need to listen to the story!” The girl shifts in her seat. “Right, sorry.”

As I was saying: well in front, because she sat at the bar waiting for her order. I nervously ordered the coffees and had to begin three times, because I kept messing up, mesmerized by her sole atmosphere. As the waiter went to put the coffee pot on, the woman turned towards me and introduced herself. After that she asked me what I was doing late at night in a small town like that and we somehow forgot everything around us by just talking. After that we stayed in touch. Six months later we became a couple, she moved to DC in order for me to still be able to do my job here.

“Two years later your Mom got pregnant with you, and it was quite a surprise to us. But we felt ready at that time and so she moved in with me and we had you. The first few months were great, we couldn’t be happier. BUt then you continuously became ill. At first just a cold, then the pocks and so on. I think it was the third night in a row where you held us up all night. I took a year off from work to care for you with your Mom. I carried you through our apartment the whole night, giving you a bottle, singing, reading, doing anything.

“Then I saw her standing in the doorway. Even though there was baby vomit on her sweatpants and I had never seen her eye bags being this dark, she was the most beautiful woman to me. I approached her with a smile, but her frown only deepened. I thought it was because she worried about you and your health. Instead she told me she can’t do it. She can’t be a mother, that she wasn’t cut for this job.” Her exact words still resonate in Spencer’s ears to this day. He knows exactly what she said, word for word, and they never stopped to sting any less.

“So Mommy left us because I was too much trouble?” (Y/N)’s voice sounds even sadder than before. “No, it never was because of you. She knew exactly what it meant to have a child. Your mother knew what kind of work it takes and what the future brought. You have absolutely nothing to do with it. Some people are just not made to be parents and it’s better when they realize it themselves and leave the situation.”

(Y/N) nods, her mind running wild. All of that makes plenty of sense but at the same time not. “Sweetheart, that doesn’t change the fact that I love you and I will never leave you. You are my everything and I’m so happy to be a dad to such a wonderful little girl like you. I want you to remember that your Mom may not be here with us, but she still loves you. And I’m here for you, for anything you need, want or don’t want. Do you understand me?”

She nods again and curls up into her father’s lap. “Can we watch something?” She asks after a bit of silence, where both of them indulged their own thoughts. Quickly the TV turned on and some kids movie plays. The rest of the day the small family spends all the time cuddled on the couch, because at the moment they need to feel the other there with them.

The next two days Spencer calls (Y/N) in sick at school and himself at work, because together they fly to Vegas. Just because her own mother wasn’t ready for the job, doesn’t mean they can’t appreciate the work her grandmother did as a mother. That and you never know how much time you have left with the people who are dear to you.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[monodipita]

Acts of Love (Yandere!Josuke Higashikata x Reader)

Word count: 4,078

Warnings: YANDERE CONTENT. GORE WARNING.

"Please, no! Don't leave me, [Y/N], I'll make everything right! Just give me a chance!" Josuke's voice was scratched raw from the crying and pleading he did. His knees hurt. His heart hurt. "I'm sorry, Josuke," you spoke softly to him while you helped him off his knees, "but I can't keep going on."

You were moving away from Morioh. As good of a town as it was, there were bigger opportunities for you if you moved to Tokyo. It was heartbreaking. You didn't have the heart to tell him- all you said was that you were leaving him. A long-distance relationship couldn't work between you two. You didn't want him to break away from school to focus on being with you, either, so this was the only way you could actively get him to stay away from you once you broke up. It was horrible, yes, and it hurt you to do it, but you had no other choice.

As you pulled him in for one last hug, you felt his arms tighten around you to the point that he acted more like a snake rather than a human being. "Josuke!" You cried out his name while you squirmed within his grip, "let me go!"

"No... I don't want to!" Josuke yelled back. When he lifted his head from your chest, you could see the tears in his eyes that threatened to spill over again, the warm streaks of tears on his cheeks. The raw pleading that left his lips echoed the desperation in his purple orbs. It was tearing you apart... but you couldn't admit the truth to him. "If you leave me, I'll--"

He never got to finish his sentence.

Your hand collided with his cheek. "That's enough!" You yelled at him. For some reason, you were angrier more than you were upset. Maybe it was the fact that he was behaving so irrationally.

His grip loosened on you, and you took this opportunity to remove yourself from him. He collapsed onto his knees again - the cycle began anew - but you couldn't bear witness to what he was doing again. You hated to see someone you knew as the confident one to begin breaking down. For good reason, but you didn't want to think that you alone were enough to make everything shatter.

You felt your hand be pulled into his. His other hand collapsed on top of it as he weakly tried to pull you down into his arms, but to no avail. You tugged away from him just enough to make sure that you wouldn't fall into him. "Please... will you let me write to you at least? Please??"

"..." if you were only breaking up with him, then why did he want to write to you? Did he not understand that you didn't want to see him anymore? But you couldn't bring yourself to say no to him. "Yes... you can send me letters... Josuke. Please, I have to go now." You began to pull yourself away from him completely. You couldn't bring yourself to say that you wouldn't be receiving any of his letters past tomorrow... the way that he looked already described how he felt about being able to stay in contact with you. There was a smile on his face that stretched from ear to ear, which created an eerie sight when you saw the tears still streaming down his face.

"Thank you, [Y/N]... thank you."

Over the next couple of days, there was a surge of letters sent to your home while you packed to leave. Each letter was stacked neatly on your desk until your desk was packed up, then moved to your seat in the moving truck. You followed your parents into the truck and sat down in your seat, then pulled the slow-developing stacks of letters to your attention. You carefully opened up the first one and took the time to read what it said. Your eyes scanned over the beautiful handwriting carefully...

'Hi! This is the first time I've ever actually written a letter that was going to be sent to anyone. You know about when they make you write to Santa or the Prime Minister about dumb stuff. Well... I'm thinking about what I should put in these kinds of letters, but for now, I'm saying hi! And Okuyasu says hi too. Maybe I'll talk about stuff like my day and how everything went... maybe you'd be interested in reading that?'

The second letter.

'I haven't seen you around school lately, and I've been wanting to go to your house to see if everything's alright.' You furrowed your brows. This one didn't quite make sense. If this was on the second day after you gave him your address, then this meant you were only out of school for a day. 'But I respect your privacy... we aren't together anymore, after all. I'm still worried about you. Just let me know that you're alright when you read this letter, okay?'

The third letter.

'I waited for a really long time this time in hopes that I would see you. I waited until the night. It's 2 AM, I'm growing nervous. Are you sick? I want to check on you but I know I can't. If you get this letter, please write me back and let me know you're ok.'

A deep sigh left your lips as you read the words before gently folding the letter and putting it back in its envelope. You stared at your name printed in beautiful letters on the front while you tried to think about how much time had passed since this letter was given in to you. Guilt began to set in. You were so busy with packing that you never bothered to pick up a pen and write back to him. How did he feel about this?

You glanced back down to your lap. There were two more letters to go. One dated from yesterday, and one dated for today.

'I decided to stop by your house when no one was home. I looked through the window and saw that there were boxes everywhere.

You're moving.

Is it because of me? Is this why you're not writing back to me? Why are you leaving me? Is there someone else??'

You could sense the desperation in his words. His emotions must've gotten the better of him, as his writing appeared to be jumbled. Ink smudged at the end of the sentence and made the last question hard to read. He found out. You promptly lifted your head up to see if you would see Josuke anywhere, in the event that he was casually waiting around to greet you before you went to move. However, you didn't see anything. So ... you turned your attention to the last letter in the stack. Like in the last letter, your name and address were written as if he was in a hurry to get elsewhere. You reached into the envelope and swallowed thickly, hanging your head and gathering your bearings before reading this last letter. You were afraid of what was going to be written.

"Do you have everything, [Y/N]?"

You looked up from the envelopes on your lap and nodded your head. "Yeah, and if I don't, the moving company should be able to give me what I've forgotten." You affirmed them with a smile on your face. "I'm good to go."

Saying those words made you feel uneasy. Everything about reading these letters now happened to make you feel incredibly uneasy. But you needed to read the last letter... so you pulled it up to your eye line.

'I'll find you'

The words were so simple. So frightening. So sobering. You regretted to notice that you were witnessing the detailing of someone spiraling into an obsession, and that signs of it dated as early as when the two of you broke up. How could you imagine that someone who seemed like a regular, devoted boyfriend, turned out to be ripped apart by obsession?

You closed the letter and folded it back up, then placed it back into the envelope. Even with it out of sight though, the words haunted you. I'll find you. He meant it, didn't he? He was going to look for you. He was going to go out of his way to find your whereabouts and where you lived...

...but the more you thought about it, the more you realized that it seemed impossible. There wasn't a way he could reach you - you were going far away from Morioh. As much as it pained you to admit that, you just knew there was absolutely no way he was going to be able to reach you anymore. At least he might've found some solace in writing these letters out to you... as troubled as they sounded, you would cherish these final letters. You could rest, even if it was only a small bit.

Months passed since the incident. Morioh was a town that was far behind you now. You were attending a new school, surrounded by new people and new friends. Though new life was great and easier to get accustomed to in a bigger town as there were people that were more like you, nothing about them spoke volumes to you like Josuke did.

Josuke...

You wondered how he was doing.

"I'll see you later, [Y/N]!" Your best friend's hand went high in the air with excitement as she waved goodbye to you. You waved in turn and headed off the bus. You headed inside and let out a hefty sigh. "[Y/N], love, were you expecting any mail?" Your mom asked as she held up an envelope. You stared up at it in half-shock before you walked over and nearly snatched it from your mother's clutches. You stared at the name and address on the front of the envelope... this handwriting was eerily similar to Josuke's.

But how?

"Is everything alright?" Your mother asked worriedly. You swallowed some of your anxiety to be able to speak to her and put a smile on your face. "Yep!" You grinned, before you hurried away from her to reach your upstairs bedroom. You locked yourself into your room and ripped the envelope apart to see what the letter inside would entail.

'I FOUND YOU'

Your eyes immediately trailed to the window as if you would see him out there, standing and staring at you once you read those words. But to your half-expectant surprise, no one was there. Still, you were anxious. This ominous letter was real. You remembered the letters because you read them on his birthday in remembrance of the memories you shared with him - and if his past words were anything to go by, then these words were real.

You tried not to let the words get the best of you, though. So what if he found you? Was he truly bold enough to act upon his findings, or was he going to stay behind and continue to send you letters, now that he knew where you were at? The latter sounded more plausible in your opinion. Josuke was a level-headed individual who had a grip on reality, at least, that was what you thought. You couldn't let your paranoia impede the date you were going on with your best friend. It was the first one! You couldn't have been more excited. It was going to be a nice day on the town to go to the mall, things that you couldn't do in Morioh, like walk through a park or shop at multiple outlets - basically, you were going to do what you could in the weekend before you had to go back to school.

Your phone rang.

"[Y/N], it's for you!" Your mother yelled from downstairs. Who could it be, you wondered to yourself as you walked over to the phone on the wall. You picked up the phone and held it to your ear. "Hello?"

"This is [Y/N], right?" Their voice was unfamiliar and distorted. It sounded like they were speaking in a room full of people. "Umm, yes?" You responded, "who is this?"

There was no response.

"Hello?" No response.

Your stomach began to flip. Over, and over. The longer they took to respond, the more your stomach began to hurt. "J-Josuke?" You tried his name, and the person on the other end hung up immediately. Dread filled your entire being. "What..." you were baffled. He even knew your phone number, but how? Who did he get this from? You were so far away from Morioh now, how was he able to do anything that he was doing?

"Who was it?" Your mom asked. You couldn't tell her. "No one," you responded, "must have been a secret admirer or something."

You couldn't sleep that night. What happened weighed heavily on your conscience. Paranoia made you close all of your windows, shut the blinds and close the curtains, so your room was disgustingly hot. Compiled on top of losing sleep to fear, you were left feeling clammy and restless when your alarm went off. Maybe a shower will do. You were going to meet your new best friend in two hours, so you had plenty of enough time to take a shower and maybe get in a quick nap.

The phone rang, startling your otherwise eerily quiet bedroom. You turned your attention to the phone on your wall. Who could be calling at seven in the morning??

"Hello?" You asked into the phone. "[L/N] residence."

"You're going out today, aren't you?"

"How??" You asked, "how did you know where I was at??"

"I searched for someone, or anyone who could overhear you talking about your plans to move. I asked everyone at school, even the people who didn't know you, the teachers, the janitors. I must've looked like an idiot, but I don't care, because I finally got into contact with you."

"Who told you??" You couldn't remember talking to anyone about it... someone must've overheard you, but then again, who would you be speaking about it with in earshot of students in the school? No one should've known but the principal... did Josuke really have the gall to ask the principal? "You don't need to worry~. Can you answer my question, please?"

"...I'm going to hang up." You furrowed your brows. "Please leave me alone."

"You wouldn't make me force my hand just to come and see you, would you?" Josuke asked. "I know you're going out ... I just needed a confirmation. And it's with that girl, isn't it?"

"H-how do you know all these things?" Why haven't you hung up yet? The power of his threat couldn't be verified. But... you just found yourself being glued to the phone. You wanted to know what was going to come next. "Does she make you feel safe? I see how close you are with her. You're mimicking the same feelings you felt when you were with me. She can't replace me, [Y/N]. No one can replace me,"

You immediately pulled the phone from your ear and slammed it on the ringer. You began to pace, as you were far too antsy to stay in one place. There were so many things wrong with what he said... what he knew. You needed to cancel the date... you worried for her, but it was far too early to call her, and you didn't want to show up just to cancel the date, because then you'd be wasting everyone's time. What did you do? You walked over to your bed and sat down on it, putting your face in your hands. This wasn't happening, was it? You hoped it wasn't. You wanted everything to be a dream.

"-?!"

You threw your body up in a moment of panic, forcing yourself awake. For a moment you felt dizzy, but you didn't care enough to stop yourself from rushing to get out the door. You threw on whatever could be appropriate for a hot day and headed out to go meet your best friend. You were late - no shit, you were horribly late. The time read 13:21 by the time you looked at the clock on the way out. There wasn't exactly a way to reach her, so the only way you could find her was by meandering the streets in hopes that you'd find her.

You ran down the street as quickly as your tired body could permit. Panic filled your being. What if he caught wind of what time you were supposed to meet her?! What if he did something to her?!

"No!" You shouted aloud. People that were walking nearby were already drawn to you because you were running down the street, but the fact that you were talking to yourself seemed to add extra icing on the cake. You tried to ignore their stares and focused on trying to get to the nearest telephone booth. Maybe you could call her house and see if there was any way of finding out where she could be right now.

You spotted a telephone booth, thankfully, and headed into it. You reached into your bag to retrieve some yen to be inserted into the payphone, then crudely shoved whatever excess you had back into it. You dialed the number to her house and waited with bated breath as you heard it ring multiple times. Her mother picked up the phone. "Hello??"

"Hey!" You blurted, "is [best friend] around? I know I kind of bailed on her, but I wasn't having a good night." You explain and rub the back of your neck.

"Oh! No, she's still out on the town! I hope you're feeling better, [Y/N]. If she comes home, I'll call your home and let you know, alright?"

"Alright. Thank you, ma'am." You hung up. Your heart felt like it was going to implode. This wasn't a good thing - Josuke was still out there, and so was your best friend. He probably already reached her and now he was doing all sorts of despicable things to her ... no. No, you couldn't think that way, not yet. There was still hope... you just needed to find her, and the first place you should check is most definitely the mall. So, you removed yourself from the telephone booth. You exited the claustrophobic space and began your anxious trek to the mall as quickly as traffic could permit it.

Coming face to face with the mall was enough to make you collapse onto your knees and vomit up what you (didn't) eat. Your palms were clammy from the night before, and you must've reeked of sweat and anxiety. You paled before the mall's imposing stature, and swallowed thickly, before you pushed your way inside. She had to be in here, right? But the question would be where, and then who was she with, and if he was there with her...

You began your search. The mall was filled with people, young and old, weak and strong, men, women, and nonbinary people alike. The walkways were cluttered on both sides, which made you increasingly nervous. Even though people recognized you for the mess you currently were as the new student [L/N] [Y/N], you couldn't recognize them. They were nothing more but passing faces that would occasionally stop you and say that they would see you at school. You didn't care about them, you cared about your best friend. She was around here somewhere.

But so was he.

Seeing him in the corner of your eye made you feel increasingly paranoid, but every time you took a double, then triple, then quadruple take, he was there. Your eyes didn't fail you... no, he was right there. You'd recognize that pompadour-donning young man anywhere Leaning on the corner, head bowed, but you could tell those fiery purple eyes were staring at you, following your every move. He wanted you to go to him. No... you wouldn't.

However, he caught up with you before you could walk away from him. Your heart reached into your throat and threatened to choke you as your gaze went over to him.

His hand grabbed your arm and wrenched it tight, making your body flinch in place. "You're looking for her, aren't you?" He asked, "come with me. I'll take you to her."

"..." You narrowed your eyes, "how can I trust you?"

"You want to find her, don't you?" His purple eyes looked... different. They no longer held the spark of life in them, even though his voice sounded no different from what you remembered of him. You tried not to look into them for too long. "...yes."

He began to pull you along. This part of the mall wasn't isolated by any means... so you wondered... how they couldn't hear this girl gargling on her own blood. In the janitor's closet, you stumbled upon the horrendous sight. Your stomach caved in and you lost it, doubling over on her poor shoes and letting loose while Josuke's hand rested "lovingly" on your shoulder, holding it with a grip that would make abusive lovers envious. She was unrecognizable. The only way you could even tell that it was her was because of her hair, and even then, had there not been a familiar pattern you'd noticed from being around her so much in the earlier weeks of your friendship, you wouldn't have recognized her.

"Yes... I know, this looks incredibly bad on me. But I can fix things... and I will, if you just come back. All of this can disappear. She can going back to being a normal girl, you can go back to Morioh, and I can go back to being your loving boyfriend." He squeezed your shoulder. "Do we have a deal?"

"Y-you... you're a monster! Y-you can't fix this!!" You yelled at him. His eyes widened for a moment, and his brows furrowed. He lost his cool for a split second before he calmed down and sought to reason with you again. "But I can, my love. Just watch."

You didn't bother to look... merely turning your head away from this gruesome scene. Your heart was heavy, your throat was scratched, and your knees felt like they would give in at any moment now, but his grip on your shoulder kept you grounded, if that did anything to help at all. "Look at her, she's all brand new. Why don't you look at her, [Y/N]?"

You reluctantly turned your head to see what he did - and he was right. Her face looked... normal. She was no longer this amalgamation of destroyed flesh. She was your best friend, just as you'd last seen her. "And she can stay this way," his hand reached up to cup your chin, using his hand to gently pull your head to his. You were forced to stare into his eyes as he spoke again. "As long as you come back. If not, she will just have the same thing happen to her - and she'll lay in this closet until someone finds her, and then you will be painted as the killer for vomiting all over this poor girl's shoes. You don't want that, do you?"

You didn't respond. You tried to - but you just didn't know what to say in response to the atrocities he'd committed in the act of obsession.

"You don't want to watch her be subjected to relentless torture for trying to be my replacement, do you?? You don't want to hear her crying out for help while you can't do anything but watch, do you? Answer me, [Y/N]!!"

His other hand cupped your face and squeezed it tight, pulling you closer to his body. Your noses were mere inches away from each other. You could smell his cologne... and in that moment of pure lunacy, you had to wonder if you even smelled good.

"N-no..." you squeezed your eyes shut. "Please just leave her alone..."

"Hey, hey, don't cry," he pulled your face into his chest and stroked down your back lovingly, "I'm not a bad person, baby, you know that. You just have to come back to me... all you have to do is let me be your boyfriend again, and all of this will disappear. We'll go back to being together like we rightfully should be, okay?"

"...okay." You squeezed him, "okay."

[thisnoodlewritesao3]

AAA HI IM HERE FOR THE LATE EVENT😙😙 COULD PLS HAVE KAGEYAMA + WITH THE AU WHERE "Everyone is born with a unique number only they and their soulmates have" + ANGST TO FLUFF PLS 🥺🥺 THAK YOU FOR LETTING ME DO THIS LATE I APPRECIATE YOU AND LOVE YOU MWAH HAVE A GOOD DAY DARLING

Okay, so, I sort of went on a wild one with this one. And I hope you like this because ya know, it is definitely angst and there is some fluff, but it was getting so long and it’s already like nearly 2k words i think. lemme check. yeah, 1.7k words. omg. i did love this little story i made so i hope you do skjfhdskjfhsdfsdkf

----

Life, for you, was perfect.

In a world of soulmates, you were one of the lucky few that had actually managed to meet your destined other half. 

You met Fujinaga Souta when you were 8 years old - barely a second year in elementary school - you’d transferred to his school a few weeks into the year, when friend groups had been established and you were left to try and find a place where you could be.

It wasn’t like you were sitting in the seat next to him, and he picked up a pen you’d drop on the ground. It actually wouldn’t be until you were 10 years old that you’d ever talk to him.

Because Fujinaga Souta felt like he was a thousand miles ahead of you, so close yet so out of reach in everything he did. He played volleyball so beautifully, setting with ease and wonder that you couldn’t help but be captivated by him. You had a crush with a boy who didn’t know you existed, and back then it felt okay, because you could always imagine what it felt like to hold hands with him. When his blue eyes found yours, you’d melt, and feel the warm spread to your cheeks before turning away. Black hair that dangled in front of his eyes.

A small group - including him and you - were talking one day, and he started complaining about the way his hair fell in front of his eyes. Being the person you were, you offered a clip to keep it out of his eyes. Being the person he is, he accepted.

It was at that moment he finally paid attention to the numbers that traced along your jaw. 539268. The ones that matched his own perfectly. He almost screamed, pushing your head to the side so he could get a closer look and ensure he wasn’t reading it wrong (you’d complain later in life that this is where your neck problems came from, but you both knew it was from your posture). After he was done pointing and rambling, he pulled down his sock to reveal the numbers on his ankle. 539268.

You almost fainted. It was strange. Your friends exclaimed how lucky you were - because he was a popular boy, loved by so many.

You were 11 when you found out he was your soulmate.

When you told your mother, she immediately set up a celebration; you couldn’t have been more embarrassed, but Souta made it feel like the most normal thing in the world.

Souta was your world. That’s why when he started to get sick, you were by his side as often as you could be. Each day at school would be filled with messages you’d send to him about things you would do when he got out of the hospital.

Only he never got out of the hospital.

On February 16th, 2012, Souta passed away.

Ripped from your arms before you’d gotten a chance to live.

You spent so many months locked away in your room, crying and screaming from the physical pain losing him had caused you. Your only solace was the pile of shirts his mother had let you have because she recognised how painful it was to lose someone who would be the one to know you better than you knew yourself.

The first time you visited his grave made your soul weaker and you could only cry as you clawed at the dirt.

The first day at your high school - which you started months later than most - was like hell. Everyone had heard of you, of the girl who lost her soulmate. They offered empty condolences that you had to pretend made things better.

The first friend you made - a sweet girl named Yachi Hitoka - didn’t pretend she knew what it felt like. In fact, she didn’t even make you talk about Souta at all (for that, you were grateful). She filled up your world with notes and studying, a pleasant distraction from a world outside of your own.

Your friendship with Yachi remained in the classroom, but that was fine by you. She had her own worries and troubles.

A few months in, and you weren’t crying as much anymore. Your heart still yearned for his touch, but you found some love in visiting his grave and telling him about your days, hoping that, by some miracle, he could still hear you.

The first time you see someone that looks so much like him, you’re sure you’re hallucinating that it sends you back into a spiral.

Kageyama Tobio. That was his name. The one you’d silently curse when you saw him in the halls; the one that made you move further away from Yachi when you learnt she’d been tutoring him; the one that looked so much like your soulmate it opened up the tear in your heart.

It wasn’t like you had to interact with him, you didn’t, he wasn’t in your class, wasn’t in your club, you didn’t have anything in common with him. Not until you walked to the vending machine one lunch and stood for too long trying to work out what to get and heard his gruff voice, “can you hurry up?” He grumbled.

You didn’t even take the time to glare over your shoulder before you chose milk, just because it was easier - that, and it was the last carton and something about the blue on it made you think of Souta again. How were you supposed to know that milk just happened to be this boy's favourite drink? You weren’t.

That wasn’t the last run in you would have with Kageyama Tobio - much to your demise - it only got worse through your second and third years, where your visits to Souta’s grave became more filled with anxiety about your future.

It isn’t until one Summer day during your second year that you seem an all too familiar face standing next to Souta’s grave (or the one next to it).

You try your best to ignore Kageyama as you kneel down in front of your soulmate's grave, but his eyes seem to find you immediately. “Do you mind if I talk?” You ask, not looking up at him for fear you might break. He didn’t answer, so you took matters into your own hands.

You talked to Souta about this week. About how you visited his family the day before and how his mom said you were growing to be a lovely young woman. About how you hadn’t cried this week, and you were proud of yourself. You told him that nothing exciting had happened since he was gone, and that the world seemed to lose more colour with each passing day.

You were talking without realising you had someone actually listening.

“Does that help?” He asked without thinking. Maybe he made a mistake, because the light in your eyes seemed to flutter out, but you answered him nonetheless.

“I guess so, although I’m not doing it to help.” You sighed, brushing your fingers over the petals on the flowers placed there by someone. “I’m doing it because I love him, and he deserves to hear this. To talk to me. Ya know?” And he nodded as if he understood - but you knew he didn't.

That was the start of a small arrangement with Kageyama Tobio. Once a week, he’d show up at the graveyard (not just because you were there, but also because that was where his grandfather was buried). You’d both talk to your respective people, and it was nice.

You stopped seeing Kageyama as a wrong version of Souta and started seeing him for himself.

One day, near the end of your third year, you somehow end up arguing with Kageyama. “Yeah, well, you hated me for no reason all throughout my first year.” He bit back at a comment you made and you shoved your hands into your hair gripping the roots (why is the only thing you can think is how your Souta would never act like this).

“I didn’t hate you!” You cried back.

“Then what was it?” He hissed.

You wanted to explode, everything hurt all over again.

“You reminded me of him. Of Souta.” You said, hoping he wouldn’t ask for an explanation.

“But I’m not him, so how?”

That was enough for you to realise that Kageyama had never seen what Souta looked like. He wasn’t aware of the fact that he was the spitting image of your soulmate. So, as you’re rummaging through your bag for a picture you kept on you, you start explaining to him. “Because Souta was sweet, and kind, and considerate, and loving.” You say, and you can tell he’s confused. “And you’re sweet but blind, kind but dense. Not quite as considerate and loving, but you try even when it doesn’t look like you are.” You sigh, ignoring the pang of pain in your heart. “You play volleyball - a setter - and you play it so effortlessly. You remind me of him in every single way without knowing it, but I know it and it hurt me. It still hurts me. Because how am I meant to feel when I look up at you and somehow stopped seeing him and started seeing you?” You ask, though you aren’t really asking him. It’s a general question.

You manage to find the picture and pass it to him. His reaction speaks a thousand words, the way his eyes widen because this boy does look like the spitting image of him and he can see why you were hurt by him.

He explains that he didn’t understand what the big deal about soulmates was until he met you. That the reason he’d never really cared about that was because he was born without a soulmate mark (you traced the numbers on your jaw); he had to be like the many who just had to make their own soulmates, but he’d never even have the option to meet a soulmate. You almost felt ashamed. He told you you didn't need to feel ashamed.

That night, as you sat watching a movie to forget about the argument, you’d experience your first kiss with a boy that wasn’t your soulmate. You didn’t feel any guilt about it. Because you knew Souta would want you to be happy.

You and Kageyama had a rocky friendship; your relationship wasn’t any easier. But you made it work. Because soulmates normally don’t get to meet, but you can make soulmates with enough time and care. And, luckily for you, Kageyama was willing to give all the time in the world to you (as long as you didn't get in the way of volleyball, but you normally didn’t).

----

General Taglist:

@pies-writes-and-more @satan-ruler-of-hells @dekuspet @samkysnks @lucyheartfilias-wife @kaleidoscopekai

If you would like to be added to the taglist, send me a DM or an ask :D

[danganronpa-21]

Naegiri Week Day 5 - Touch

Here’s Day 5 - Touch! It’s my yearly obligatory “involves pregnancy in some way” fic. I would categorize this as a mild hurt/comfort, so thankfully, I think there are no warnings to issue. I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think! 

Fun fact: I wrote this entire one-shot in Comic Sans.

___________________________

Two minutes.

 Makoto just had to wait two minutes.

 When did two minutes get to be so long?!

 Heartbeat resting rather uncomfortably in this throat, he glanced longingly over at Kyoko. He’d hoped that she might be able to grant him some semblance of comfort, but even she looked as nervous as he was. Her whole torso stiffened; her eyes fixed intently on her own hands. One finger traced patterns along the bare skin, for once not seeming to mind the texture. Hands that looked like overcooked hamburger meat, Makoto thought. Hands that belonged to the woman he loved. Hands that belonged to the mother of his child. Children, his mind corrected. They weren’t sure which it would be yet. That’s what they were waiting on, after all. Quietly, they prayed for a positive pregnancy test.

 He uncrossed his legs, leaning forward slightly to stare at the floor. Off-white bathroom tile, he remarked to himself, as if it were anything extraordinary. It’s something he and Kyoko picked out together when their house was first being built. He remembered how much time they’d spent thinking over simple things like that, wondering what would be best. Times like that seemed miles away now, but he guessed that some parts never changed. After all, they were still sitting there, thinking too hard about what was to come next for them. He hoped Kyoko wouldn’t be too upset this time if they got another negative. The last time she’d been sorely disappointed, but the time before that, she held onto her determined attitude. The time before that… well, there had been so many times that they all blended together.

 It was funny. They had such an easy time having their first. Their little angel, a baby girl they’d called Hope, had been a complete accident. He could have laughed at how reckless they’d been; they were only a few years into being intimate with one another. Neither of them expected to get pregnant out of nowhere like that, and they were nervous about being good parents… but Hope was the best thing that ever happened to them (no joke intended). In fact, she was the catalyst for the decision to have another. Back when they first got engaged, Kyoko told him that she only wanted one child, for the sake of giving an heir to the Kirigiri family. If they enjoyed having the one, she said she might consider having another, but it seemed so outside of the realm of possibility then. When she told him that, Makoto expected to only have one child.

 What a funny turn of events it was for Kyoko to curl up in bed with him so many months ago, her head leaning on his shoulder. One look at her face and he could tell that she wanted something. Not just anything, either. It was something she wanted rather desperately. The batting of her eyelashes at him was proof enough.

 “Can I help you, Kyoko?” He remembered giggling, nudging her head with his own. In his lap was a self-help book he’d been reading as of late, meant to teach the meeker population how to put their foot down. It had been a birthday gift from Toko, as well as a bit of a jab. Perhaps a bit of unknown foreshadowing, even. “You’ve been sitting there giving me sweet eyes for the last few minutes.”

 If she had any remorse about being found out, she didn’t show it. She simply kept on enticing him with her fluttering lashes and soft smile. “I guess I was just thinking about how far we’ve come, and how lucky we are.”

 Makoto nodded. “We are really lucky.”

 “Yes, we are. After all of those years of pain, we finally get to experience a healing world. We have well-paying and engaging careers, the most considerate friends anyone could ask for, a cozy home, the best kind of love from each other, and the most flawless little girl this world has ever seen…” Makoto couldn’t help but recall how silvery her tone was. When it was all rich and saccharine like that, it felt like listening to liquid caramel. He could listen to her talk like that all day.

 “It’s comforting to see how much has fallen into place for us, isn’t it?”

 She took her turn to nod, wearing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. If he hadn’t noticed her reluctance before, he certainly would have then. “Yes, it is. Even with all of this happiness, though, I find there is something more I long for.”

 The most he could think to do in that situation was blink in surprise, turning his head to look at her. As much as he trusted her, he would have to confess that a seed of worry buried itself in the pit of his stomach at the sound of those words. For all he knew then, she could have been asking to get a new pet, to open up their relationship, to start following a new religion, anything! The anxiety of it all made him start to nibble his lip a bit, but he tried to maintain his composure for her sake. “And what is that?”

 His wife seemed to curl in on herself ever so slightly, and a deep shade of rose dusted itself across her cheeks and nose all of the sudden. Though he turned his face to meet her eyes, she’d just as quickly turned away to stare at her empty lap. “I… I… well, I…”

 “Yeah?” He supplied encouragingly, raising his eyebrows.

 “I… I want another baby.”

 “You… You do?” Excitement cut into him like a knife through a spongy cake. His heart began to thunder in his chest; a smile begged to form on his lips. While he anticipated having the one baby, he secretly wished that Kyoko would change her mind. More than anything, Makoto wanted to have a big, happy family with his wife. He’d have been happy with just the three of them, but he wanted his daughter to have the experience of growing up with a sibling, like he did.

 “Is that okay?” Kyoko asked in a small voice, the rouge colour in her face darkening.

 “Of course it is! I’d love to have another baby!”

 That day seemed like such a long time ago. Something like four months later, they found themselves in their current position: sitting together waiting for a positive pregnancy test, the announcement that would tell them that their dreams were going to come to life. All he could do was stare anxiously at Kyoko, who continued to trace swirled patterns on the palms of her hands. She had had to remove her gloves to take the test, fearing getting urine on them, and had yet to put them back on. Honestly, he hoped she wouldn’t. Right now, he just wanted to hold her hand.

 He uncrossed his legs and wiggled closer to her, hope that she might take the hint rising in his chest. These two minutes would be some of the most agonizing of their day, even worse than overseeing Hope’s failed attempts at potty training. It made the most sense to go through these next moments together, sitting as close as possible. Without thinking, he leaned his head on her shoulder. The corners of her mouth twitched upward at the action, but she refused to give him a full smile.

 “I suppose you can tell how nervous I am, can’t you?”

 Reaching up to brush a strand of her long hair behind her ear, he chuckled. “I think it would be more of a concern if I couldn’t tell you were nervous after all this time. You’re almost trembling.”

 She ducked her head down, as if she were ashamed. Makoto didn’t know what for. Everybody had the potential to get nervous, even world-class detectives. Especially world-class detectives! World-class detectives who were trying to be moms for a second time even more so. “God, am I? I hadn’t noticed.”

 “It’s only a little, but I’m pretty observant. You taught me how to do that.”

 Her index finger began to reverse the spiral it had just finished tracing, still holding most of her attention. Did these little finger movements give her some sense of comfort? He’d never noticed before. She’d certainly used them to soothe him before, but did she enjoy them too? It was hard to know whether he should be happy that he could still learn new things about her, or disappointed that he still had yet to become observant enough. He’d always thought her love language was less about touch, and more about words of affirmation. “I suppose I did.”

 “Kyoko, honey… are you okay?” His eyebrows lowered, and all of the sudden he realized how sweaty his palms were becoming. In the midst of all of his happy reminiscing, somewhere in the back of his mind, his nervousness caught up to him.

 His wife swallowed thickly; her fingers motions drawing to a halt. “I’m trying to be,” it didn’t have to be expelled, but he could see the sigh brewing within her, “I don’t know what I will do if this pregnancy test is negative.”

 Makoto shrugged. “What’s the big deal if it is? Most couples take a year to six months to conceive. We’re only four months in, so it’s not like we’re falling behind or anything.”

 Kyoko didn’t answer. She just kept staring at her hands, probably thinking that it was easier than looking him in the eye. Two years ago was the last time he saw her this nervous, and it was over their first baby. In some ways, he supposed he should have expected it. Anything baby-related tended to throw her for a loop. In spite of that, he still couldn’t help but feel as if this seemed a little weird. Having to watch her in such a state made him itch to take hold of her hand.

 “Is there something else bothering you?”

 “I’m just…” she swallowed, “I want it to work this time. I know that we can keep trying, but… Every time the test comes back negative, I worry that something’s wrong.”

 “Do you think Hope was a fluke, or something?”

 She sighed. “I do worry about it sometimes. You and I never expected to get pregnant so soon, and it was almost completely by accident. If I hadn’t pushed you to um… you know…”

 Makoto’s face burned the colour of a cinnamon heart. There were several points in which it might be a good idea to recall the night they’d accidentally conceived; this was not one of them. He gulped, and tried to push the thoughts of the way she looked that night out of his mind. “You think we might not have had her?”

 She groaned, shoving her head into her hands. “What bothers me is that I have no certainty of whether or not that is true. You know just as well as I do that I have been loaded up on poison expelling medications with all kinds of unusual side effects.”

 The blush in Makoto’s cheeks deepened, and he had to fight off the urge to utter the words: “Yeah, like cancelling out the effects of birth control”. At the time of Hope’s birth, that had been their magic secret to having children.

 “We don’t know for sure that that’s having any effect though, Kyoko.” His hand found its way to hers almost effortlessly, his thumb stroking the back of it. “It’s so easy to get worked up about the chances, but we don’t know anything for sure. You’ve said yourself half a million times that life is unpredictable. There’s still a good chance that we’ll pick up that pregnancy test and it’ll be positive!”

 The detective slowly lifted her head. “And if it isn’t?”

 “We’ll keep trying, then,” he flashed her the sweetest smile he could muster, “We’re both too stubborn to give up so easily. You can’t get the reward without putting in the effort, right?”

 A grin crossed her own lips. “I suppose not. Would you… truly be willing to keep trying?” Finally, she lifted her head to fully meet his gaze, her eyes sparkling with a sense of longing. “No matter how long it may take for me to become pregnant?”

 “Of course.” As weird as it may have seemed to others, he considered it to be rather special that he could be the one to comfort her in trying times. There were a scarce few souls who got the privilege of seeing the detective at her low points, and thus, many of their friends were never able to comfort Kyoko when she felt poorly. Makoto, on the other hand, got to look after her every day. Just getting to see her gradually win back that smile won him relief stronger than jumping into a chilled pool on a sweltering summer afternoon. On a list of his favourite things, he’d most certainly put Kyoko’s smile. He was honoured to get to protect it every day of his life.

 Gently, she slipped her hand out from underneath his. At first, he worried that she might try to pull away, but the sensation of her fingers wiggling to intertwine his own made that concern ebb away. “Thank you for saying that,” at last, her voice regained its usual calmness, “Now, what do you say we see if fate is on our side today? I believe two minutes have passed.”

 Makoto could have jumped for joy. His concern for his wife had him so wrapped up, he hardly noticed the drifting minutes. The test that would confirm the first sign of their second bundle of hope could be found sitting at the ready on the countertop. “You wanna look at it together? Count of three kind of thing?”

 She giggled. “Definitely. On the count of three, we can both stand up.”

 “Bet I can stand up faster than you!” He teased, poking her tongue out at her from between his lips.

 It did earn him a laugh, but also a nudge with her shoulder. The decision to not release the other’s hand seemed to be unspoken. “Oh, hush and just start counting!”

 “Alright. Here we go.” Deep breath. Another deep breath for good measure. Alright. Go time. “One…”

 Kyoko squeezed her eyes shut and took in a big gulp of air like a child bobbing under the water for the first time. Fighting off the chuckle that brewed in his chest at that image was hard. Whatever she needed to do to get through this, he would allow her. Heaven knew he would probably need his own coping strategies to deal with his excitement. “Two…”

 Makoto’s entire body tingled. His fingertips got the worst of it, yet tiny twinges of tingles danced all over him. Only his stomach received respite from it, and even then, it took on the form of a myriad of twirling maple keys all fluttering down in a storm.

 “Three.”

 An eye witness would not have been able to tell which half of the couple shot to their feet faster. It was a soccer game too close to call. Within seconds, Makoto and Kyoko sprung to their feet and were staring at the test on the counter. A black countertop, for the sake of contrasting their white tile floors. The little white pregnancy test stuck out upon it like the strawberry slice on top of a piece of shortcake.

 One pink line, the test read.

 Not pregnant.

 It didn’t take looking at or saying anything to Kyoko to sense her disappointment. The air around here simply grew more somber to match her disappointment. He half-expected to feel her hand withdraw from his own. To have them retreat back into their shell of loneliness, just as she would do once this was over. Only… they didn’t. Her fingers stayed interlaced with his own.

 “I… I’m sorry,” it was the only thing he could think to say after he’d spent so much time comforting her, “I thought that maybe, we might-”

 She cut him off. “There is no need to apologize.” The strength in her timbre caught him by surprise. Expectation led him to believe that she would have a dash of brokenness as she spoke. That not happening caused his heart to skip a beat. When he turned to look at her, the beat skipping happened again, for he realized she wore a soft grin. “We can keep trying. We could be successful next time.”

 “You’re… Y-You’re not upset?”

 She shook her head and squeezed his hand. “How could I be? I’ve got you right here.”

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part seventeen) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±4700 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part seventeen: Unable to sleep, Y/N goes over last night’s events, until she gets an unexpected visitor. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘After My Heart + Can’t Help Falling In Love’ - John Michael Howell. Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Please listen to this song during the scene, it’s so worth it! Author’s note: I’m excited for this one, y’all! Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish and @winchest09 for helping me. You girls are awesome betas and friends.

Ride With Me Masterlist

     The bunkhouse is silent after a festive night. All the lights out, except for the one on Y/N’s bedside table. Sleep might have come limited the past week, but she isn’t ready to close her eyes just yet. The adventurous trail, combined with the unexpected news about her qualification has her riled up with excitement. 

     Not sure what to do with this new found energy, she has taken out one of her notebooks, which is filled with scrabbles. She won State Championships with a relatively simple floorplan, not wanting to overshoot, but if she wants to leave an impression with the judges at Congress, she needs to step up her game. Combinations between exercises will push up her degree of difficulty, so she decided to change a few lines. Working on her freestyle tonight wasn’t entirely according to plan, but who knows, maybe the tequila and beer will add some creativity.

     She has changed into a comfortable tank top and a pair of shorts, the soft fabric a contrast to the sandy denim she’s been clad in the past days. The temperature is comfortably warm, early October in Arizona much more like summer compared to the autumn days she’s used to in Maine.

     Strangely, she hasn’t been homesick for Freeport at all. She misses her mom and dad, her brothers, but after her time living on campus, she’s used to being away from family. Her father travels a lot for work, and Jaime, her older brother by three years, moved to the other side of the country straight out of the Police Academy, fighting crime in Los Angeles these days. Middle kid Jackson bought a house in Boston and is busy with his real estate firm, while her oldest brother, Jeff and his wife are expecting their first child. Y/N wouldn’t say they have grown apart, but now that she and her siblings don’t share a house anymore, things have changed. They’ve spread their wings, built a life for themselves.

     She checks her phone when a message from Jaime pops up, sending her a selfie in which he shows off his muscles, holding up a fist. ‘Show them what you’re made of! You’re gonna ace that ride!’ he added in the caption. She closes the text, scrolling down the list of messages from family and friends, until she finds one from Jeffrey, which is a little more lengthy. ‘Mom said I had to wait until Dad reached you, so I hope you got the news by now, otherwise I’m in trouble. Congratulations, Sis. You worked so hard for this. I’m really proud of you, and I know Grandpa will be cheering you on from above. You’re already a champion.’ She smiles at the sweet words; she should really give him a call next week.

     Redirecting her attention to the notebook in her lap, she picks up her pen, sketches a new line, crosses it and bites on the pen cap, pondering. Marcel, her trainer at the Freeport Equestrian Center, helped her with the first version. She could get in touch with him tomorrow, she’s sure he will be willing to shed a light on what she has so far. Distance will be an issue, though, and with time being of the essence since it’s only fifteen days before they head towards Columbus, Ohio, where Congress is held, she has to take a different approach.

     What if she asks Dean to help her with the freestyle, or even to come with her to the show? He has helped her a couple of times during training and she appreciates his approach. His suggestions and tips paid off; his methods really seemed to work for both her and Meadow. The head wrangler knows Y/N and her horse well enough to offer advice in bringing out their best qualities, she just hopes he’s up for it. After some drinks, Dean didn’t stick around long. When she asked Jo where he went, she said Dean offered to do the final feeding round. Y/N thought about following him, but didn’t want to draw attention from the rest of the crew; them both gone would’ve raised suspicion and she doesn’t want to put him in the spot of having to explain himself.

     When Y/N noticed his absence, her stomach made an unpleasant flip. The uneasy sensation remained the rest of the evening, not evident, but brewing nonetheless, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol. She wonders if something has changed, maybe. That coming home to the ranch caused Dean to reconsider. Why else would he distance himself?

     Doubtful, she takes a breath, her mind going places she’d rather not be. Still missing a steady foundation for them to start building a relationship on, doubt surfaces again. Deep down she’s scared that the cowboy might back out, which would cause heartbreak she’s not sure she can handle. She cares too much already, she’s too far gone. Y/N is passing the station of just being in love with Dean; it’s growing into something even more.

     Before her thoughts can spiral further, there’s a soft knock on the door. The kind that is soft enough to not wake her had she been sleeping, but loud enough for her to hear if she wasn’t. She slides out of bed, rises to her bare feet, careful not to bump her head against the top bunk like she has so many times already, and crosses her room. When she opens the door, she finds the man who has been on her mind on the other side, locking his green eyes on her. She’s pleasantly surprised to see him with it being past 11 PM already; she expected him to be in bed long ago after the exhausting past few days.      “Hey, what are you doing u--”

     He doesn’t let her finish and bridges the few feet between them, cupping her face with both hands and pulling her into a kiss. After the initial shock, which only lasts a fraction of a second, he can feel her lashes brush against his skin as she closes her eyes and melts into him, allowing him to deepen the connection. Her response takes away the restlessness that weighed on his chest like a chunk of concrete, ever since the thought of her leaving arose.

     They step into her room far enough for Dean to kick the door shut, preventing possible eavesdroppers from tuning in, his mouth never leaving hers. Instinctively, her arms snake around his torso, tracing the lines of his strong back through the fabric of his shirt. There’s a desperation in his touch that’s new to her, the way he longs for this connection is different. Eventually, he breaks the kiss and she studies him when he rests his forehead against hers. His eyes stay closed for a little longer, holding on to the moment while his hands slip from her face. 

     He didn’t want to steal a few seconds while surrounded by the crew, he didn’t want to get in line to give her a quick hug or a peck on the cheek. No, he needed to be with her, just the two of them without restrictions.

     “What was that for?” she wonders.      “Just wanted to congratulate you.” He smiles, trying to mask his concern, and sweetly presses his lips on hers again. “Personally.” And again. “Privately.” And again.      She giggles, triggering him to chuckle as well. He moves his head back to take her in.      “Congratulations, Yankee,” he says, genuine. “You earned it.”      “Thank you,” she smiles, still slightly confused. “Where’d you go earlier?”      “Someone had to feed those poor starving animals,” he jokes. “And since Bobby already had a few whiskies, and Garth is an absolute light weight, I took one for the team.”

     He was quick to take the final feeding round, not just because he was the last man standing. Doing one last check, giving the horses their hay for the night, making sure the stables are shut properly, locking up the tackroom and the cafeteria and eventually the large barn doors after switching off the lights; it offers him peace of mind. It’s a daily routine, a recurring series of actions, done so 365 days a year. Ensuring everything is exactly the way it’s supposed to be in the place where he lives and works, grounds him when he’s feeling restless. It gives him a moment alone, the horses his only company, allowing him to think things over and collect himself again. Tonight was no different, because even though he was relieved Y/N’s father wasn’t the bearer of bad news, Dean felt disturbed with his initial response. For a good few minutes, he thought he was going to lose her, and the anxiety it surfaced was much more intense than he anticipated.

     Y/N keeps watching him as the cowboy is lost in thought. He’s trying to be funny and cute, but that’s not all there is to it; his eyes tell a different story. He kissed her a little too fierce, pulled her in a little too tight. Something is bothering him, and although she doesn’t want to force him to talk, she needs to know what it is before she loses her mind herself.      “What’s wrong, Dean?” she asks, softly, moving her hands up his chest.      “It’s nothin’,” he assures, shaking his head.

     But when the concern remains evident in her expression, he sighs. He doesn’t want her to worry, or think it’s something she’s done. If anything, she’s been absolutely perfect. God, she’s so patient. Even though she needs him, she offers him space. Expressing how he feels might be terrifying, it’s about time he’s fair with the woman who’s willing to wait.      “It’s just that, uh - when your dad called, he… he sounded pretty serious,” Dean admits, looking down. “I thought something might have happened with your folks or somethin’, and that you...”      He pauses, struggling, but Y/N knows enough.      “You thought Dad was going to tell me to come back,” she realizes.

     Suddenly his behavior makes so much more sense. His complete change of demeanor when he approached her table in the saloon after receiving the call, him seeming as nervous as she was when she picked up the phone. The sigh of relief when she told him and Jo the great news, his disappearance from the celebration at the saloon. Dean thought he was going to lose her, and apparently it scared him. Y/N is as stunned by the realization, as she is by the confirming nod he gives her.

     “Well - I mean - it could’ve been, right?” he says, shrugging his shoulders almost apologetically, like he’s not allowed to be worried about a presumption as such.      “I’m twenty-four, Dean. I’m not going anywhere unless I want to,” she reminds him, hoping to offer him some consolation.      “Glad to hear it,” he responds, his hands moving to her waist as he restores eye contact. “‘cause I’d hate to see you go.”

     Heartfelt, the beautiful girl in his arms smiles. She seems to understand the weight of his words, because she crosses her wrists behind his head and urges him to come closer. Dean’s heart swells in his chest when she brushes her lips against his, tentatively at first. His mind calms, the nerves subsiding. Not only is she staying, she also understands what’s going on in his head, and in a strange and unexpected way, it’s kind of liberating. Not having to pretend and put on a mask, not having to convince anyone that everything is fine. He’s gotten so used to telling people he’s okay, the words to express himself prove to be hard to grasp. Who knows, maybe one day he’ll get the hang of it.

     Dean’s mind goes blank when she deepens the kiss, swiping her tongue against his bottom lip. Her arms close around his neck a little tighter, holding him so close he can feel the warmth coming from her skin. She smells amazing, the scent of her shampoo still lingering in her hair, a sweet smell of a flower he can’t name. He presses his fingertips into her flesh, carefully shifting them under the hem of her tank top, even though he knows very well that he shouldn’t. It isn’t going to take long before he will not be able to stop himself.

     She feels him trace her sides, rolling up the fabric of her top as he does so. Normally she would be self-conscious about it, but when she parts from him when running out of air, all she sees in his eyes is adoration and want. Both seem to be waiting for each other, unsure if they should take this further. Afterall, considering what they agreed on, this would be a poor execution of taking things slow.

     Without breaking away from her gaze, his left hand travels down, following the curves of her hips. He adds pressure, gently pulling her against him. What she feels through the denim of his jeans has her eyes grow wide. A delightful tension starts to tangle up in her stomach, sinking deeper. Somewhat surprised that she apparently has this effect on him, she takes in a shuddering breath, gazing deep into his eyes. God, she wants to go there, but is he willing to as well?      “Are you sure?” she checks with him.      Dean doesn’t have to think twice and nods. To hell with it, he’s not going to waste another second.      “I want you,” he breathes, his voice husky.

     It’s all she’s ever wanted to hear him say. It might not be the confirmation of their relationship she’s been hoping to get eventually; it’s better. He wants her. He wants her.

     Free from restraints, she crashes her lips to his and Dean doesn’t hesitate to return the kiss with the same need. All the question marks, the doubt, the thoughts along the line of ‘what if it goes wrong?’ and ‘maybe we shouldn’t do this’ go right out the window.      It wouldn’t matter if they waited longer, because if that wake up call taught the cowboy anything, it’s that together or not, it would tear him to pieces if she were ever to leave the ranch. If he’s going to spend this time with her, he better make it worth her while, and maybe, just maybe, she’ll stay with him in the end.

     Eventually, his mouth leaves hers and begins to descend, his breath tickling her skin as he ghosts down her neck. Willingly, she rolls her head to her shoulder, offering him space to leave marks on her pulse point, then down her collarbone. The hint of delicious pain has her fighting back a moan, which proves to be challenging, especially when his hands roam down to cover her peach-shaped behind. Trying to distract herself and be useful at the same time, she begins to unbutton his plaid shirt, his touch momentarily interrupted until the piece of clothing falls to the floor in a puddle of blue, soon followed by his white undershirt.

     Before Dean urges her closer again, he drags the only chair in the room away from the small table by the window, sitting down and pulling her with him. The wood underneath them creaks when she settles in his lap, her bare knees on either side of the cowboy, holding herself up and leaning into his bare chest. The denim of his jeans stretches over his erection, rubbing against her core. The sheer thought of a few layers of fabric being the only barrier between him and her, sends a surge of heat to dampen her panties. Thank God she chose the lace ones earlier after her shower, the ones she can only wear whenever she’s not spending her day in the saddle. She wonders if he can tell how aroused she is already.

     Dean can. He can feel the warmth radiating towards him and he can feel himself growing even harder, too. His breath hitches and he stifles a groan when she rolls her hips, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Ho-ly shit. This might not be how he originally imagined their first time, in this tiny room with thin walls, this one chair and a bunk bed, but it feels so good. He has enveloped her in his arms, his hands roam her body, not leaving a square inch unattended. Without tearing the seams, he pulls the strap of her loosely fitted tank top over one shoulder, the material shifting down. His fingers then reposition to cup her breast, all while he presses kisses on top. When he moves his thumb over her stiff nipple, she pulls in an audible gasp.      “Sssh…” he hushes. “Wouldn’t want to wake the neighbors.”

     Y/N can’t help it, though. The friction she feels beneath her, combined with the touch of his mouth and his fingertips, is already beginning to build her up. She begins to pant, her lungs pushing out air in quivers. Dean doesn’t stop, however, and continues to knead her breast without hurting her, smothering the sounds she makes with another breathtaking kiss. His other hand has snaked around her waist again, splayed on the small of her back now, spurring her on to move against him. Good God, if he keeps this up, she might come undone without him even actually touching her down there.

     The chair creaks louder when she moves against him, triggering Dean to cringe. The old furniture is either going to break or wake everyone in the bunkhouse, and so he pulls Y/N flush against him and stands up. Without missing a beat or breaking the kiss, she folds her legs around his waist as he walks her to the bed. Laying her down and fitting himself on top turns out to be a little more difficult than he thought it would be, the bunk bed limiting his space, but after some shimmying, he manages.

      He hovers over the woman he’s about to be intimate with, mesmerized by the sight of her laying underneath him, her chest heaving, her eyes lustful. She’s the definition of gorgeous without even trying. Dude, how the hell did you manage to hold back this long?

     The trail of kisses he presses on her stomach has Y/N arching her back, her eyes closed in delight as he travels down. Gently, he opens her legs a little wider, feather light touches electrifying her skin, sending currents towards her center. His hands leave her then, teasingly letting her wait in suspense. She listens, trying to pick up on any sound of him breathing or moving, her senses operating on full capacity. He’s testing her patience like he has done for the past few days. A chill runs down her spine as seconds tick by, but then Dean palms her heat through the fabric of her shorts. She bites her bottom lip at the unexpected connection, her fists clenching the comforter and a moan escaping her throat. This is happening. This is really happening.

     Y/N feels him tracing the waistband of her shorts, before hooking his thumbs underneath the hem. He’s about to drag them down and move in, when they hear a door handle being pushed down. Her eyes shoot open in time to see Dean jerk back and sit up startled, hitting his head hard against the top bunk. The collision of his skull with the solid wood creates a loud bang, followed by a strangled groan. He curses through gritted teeth, trying to make as little noise as possible, while outside the room a door shuts. Horrified, they both stare at the other end of the room, not moving a muscle as shuffling footsteps cross the hall, opening another door and closing it again. A toilet seat is lifted up, the person whistling to himself softly. There can be only one person who needs encouragement to relieve himself: Garth.

     “For fuck’s sake,” Dean hisses.      Y/N is unable to stop a snort, sniggering silently, even though she tries not to.      “You okay?” she checks, trying to sound concerned. Not very convincing, apparently, because Dean shoots her a glare, while rubbing the sore spot on his head.      The toilet flushes loudly and obscenely, triggering the woman underneath him to giggle unstoppably. When he shushes her, frantically holding his finger to his lips, it achieves the opposite, causing him to break character as well. Doing their best to keep it down, she clasps her hand over her mouth while Dean presses his lips together, trying to compose himself.      “You need to be quiet,” he whispers.      “I c-can’t”, she hiccups, tears streaming down her cheeks.

     Garth heads back to his room, either sleep walking or he’s deaf, because he doesn’t pick up on any of the action happening on the other side of the hall. His door closes, the springs of his bed creak as he gets back in, and silence returns.      “Would you stop?” Dean chuckles, poking Y/N’s side when she fails to control her laughing fit.       “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” she returns, struggling to keep it down. “How’s your head?”      “It’s alright,” he claims, ignoring the slight bump when he runs his hand through his hair. “Moment’s gone, ain’t it?”

      She wipes the tears from her face, breathing in now that she’s capable again. Comforting, she reaches for his hand. As much as she would like to continue, the circumstances aren’t exactly ideal. Their first time together shouldn’t have to be clumsy and uncomfortable, in a bed that’s too small in a room with paper thin walls.       “Rain check?” she proposes.      Dean leans in to leave a kiss on her lips. “Rain check. ‘Sides, wouldn’t wanna have to hold back because you can’t keep it down.”      She pokes him in his stomach now. “Don’t get cocky.”

     Dean scoffs, sliding from the bed without hitting his head this time. Grinning mischievously, he turns around, pulling her to her feet as well. The cowboy takes a second to really look at her again, glad to notice the lack of insecurity in her composure. Her hair is messy, strands escaping the loose bun at the base of her neck, ready for bed in her pajama shorts and a comfortable top. She could have felt self-conscious in this situation, especially since their moment together came to an abrupt and slightly awkward end. But she isn’t, she feels at ease when she’s with him. A small smile forms on the cowboy’s lips.

     “You should get some sleep. We’ll skip the afternoon siestas, now that the temperatures are droppin’, so we’ll start an hour and a half later tomorrow. I figured you might wanna train Meadow first thing in the morning?” he suggests, picking up his shirts from the floor.      Y/N agrees, glad that she’s being given the space to focus on Congress. “Dean, about that…”      He glances back, patiently waiting for the follow up.      “I was wondering if you could maybe help me out with my freestyle?” she asks, a little shy.      “Yeah, of course,” the head wrangler responds without hesitation.       “Great,” she breathes, relieved. “And there’s this other thing.”      Dean steps closer, laying his shirt and flannel over his shoulder so that he has his hands free and can lace his fingers with hers. “What is it?”      “I was hoping you could coach me,” she says, looking up at him. “Not just at home, but when I have to compete in Columbus, too.”

     Humbled, he gazes back, the corners of his mouth curving up. Coaching such a skilled rider as Y/N would be an absolute privilege, and with the trainers he knows she’s had, he’s surprised she’s asking him. Sure, the connection they have personally is there on a much more professional level as well, but they are talking Congress here, the biggest show of the year, and possibly the most important one of her career. Apparently, she has as much faith in his abilities to guide her as he has faith in her talent.        “It’ll be my pleasure,” he states.      “Really?” Y/N responds, thrilled.       “Hell, yeah,” Dean says, excited. “I’ll have to check with management if I can get time off for Congress, but I have plenty of days left. Plus, I think Ellen is kinda rooting for us.”      She chuckles, but then does a double take. “Wait, what? Ellen knows we’re together? I - I mean, not together together, I get that we’re not an item--”      “-Ellen knows,” he grins, squeezing her hand when he interrupts her nervous train of words. “I think basically everyone knows by now, except Garth and Bobby.”

     A little uneasy Y/N glances from their hands up into his eyes. Wait… Is she reading too much into his words? He didn’t correct her when she used the term ‘together’. Why didn’t he? Is he worried he might upset her again? If anything, she doesn’t want to push him to oblige to something he’s not ready for.      “Dean, I know we just… I didn’t mean--” She pauzes, collects herself and starts over. “I know you’re not ready for a relationship and that’s fine, we had that conversation already. I’m not trying to rush you.”      “You’re not rushin’ me,” he assures, calmly. “I just needed a wake up call in order to pull my head out of my ass.”      The woman before him hesitates, “W-what do you mean?”

     The wrangler wets his lips, taking a second to choose his words carefully.       “When your old man called, for a minute I thought you were about to hop on a plane and that I was never gonna see you again,” he admits. “And - uh, it kinda freaked me out, to be honest.”      He huffs, barely able to believe what he’s about to say.      “I’m not gonna keep you waitin’ any longer, Yankee. I know I said I want you, earlier, but truth is…” 

     Y/N watches him glance down at their hands again, running his thumb over her knuckles. Nerves close off her throat, because she has a hunch that he’s about to break it to her; he doesn’t want the commitment. 

Tears begin to prick in her eyes, but not from laughter this time. She knew it was going to be difficult to get close to him. Dean keeps to himself, probably because he cared too much in the past and learned his lesson the hard way. The possibility of her leaving spooked him today, and now he’s done. He doesn’t want to risk that kind of heartbreak, he doesn’t want to rely on anyone. Dean Winchester would rather fill his world with a hundred shallow and meaningless flings than with one solid partner, and this is him setting her free, before things get out of --      “I wanna be with you.”

     Her racing mind, which was breaking the speed limit, hits a brick wall. Shocked, she pulls her eyes away from their entwined fingers, gazing at him almost dumbfoundedly. Did he just say he wants to be with me?      “W-what?” she stammers.      “I mean, if you’ll still have me,” Dean adds, a little unsettled by her response. “Look, I know I’m not exactly an open book and that I behave like a dick sometimes when you try to get through to me. I’m stubborn as hell and my communication skills need some work—”

     Now it’s Y/N who cuts him off for a change, closing the gap and kissing him passionately. He eases into her, smiling against her lips and leaves a peck on her hair when she embraces him and buries her face under his chin. Relieved, he allows the breath he was holding to leave his lungs.      “So, what do you say?” he asks, cocking his head back slightly to be able to look her in the eye again. “Up for a challenge?”      “Are we talking about us training together for Congress, or us as a couple?” she checks, regaining her footing again.      Dean frowns and chuckles at that. “Both.”      She doesn’t need time to think. She knew the answer to this question long before Dean was ready to ask.      “Yes,” she beams. “Hell, yes.”

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part eighteen here

[inkdheart17]

One thing I hate most is being judged, accused, and/or scolded without being confronted. I know the things I've done weren't always great, but i also know that I've never done anything so bad I would later regret it.

Yet, it seems that more and more people seem to think that my silence means I'm guilty. It definitely doesn't. If I decide not to speak of an event, then it's probably because I was the victim, and I'm still hurting.

The most recent big event that's causing a lot of issues for me is a falling out with a person I used to think of as a best friend. I had trusted this person with... Well, everything. I always went out of my way to help them feel comfortable about who they were and tried my best to boost their confidence. I felt that it was necessary, as a friend. I thought all friends did that to each other. Little did I know that very few did that to me.

I didn't need it as much, thankfully. I have my sister, who's my own personal hype man. My mom also supports me. We may be closer than most families i know, but my mom and I aren't close enough for me to come out to her. About anything, actually. Still, i trust her with most things. So, I never needed my friends to truly be there for me. Except once.

I had just broken up with my first and to this day only boyfriend. I had been extremely cautious on who I accepted to date because I was acutely aware of how toxic people could be. My own father and his family being a prime example of that. I had already given up on trying to date someone when I noticed my feelings for my ex. We went out and after the honeymoon phase, I began to notice how similar he was to my father. I became anxious. I tried to reach out and instead was cut off.

Many of the people around me don't know the details. Not sure if I want to share them anymore either. But I'm writing this to vent and hopefully help someone else that went through a similar experience.

You see, the break up didn't hurt so much because he left. It hurt because I lost so much because of him. I lost his family. Whom I had gotten very close with as he refused to ever visit my family. So, we only ever went to his place. I lost my friends, because some of them refused to interact with me after he left. And I lost my peace. My anxiety was once again in control and I was fighting hard to keep everything together once again.

This was the one time I begged for support from those around me, and I quickly found out who to cut off from my life.

At the time, I had moved in with friend A and coworker B, who was dating another guys friend of mine at the time, C. They all faked being supportive at first. Telling me I should just ignore my ex and forget everything. He was never worth my time. Things like that. I had actually called C the night my ex broke up with me. I thought of C as my brother and all I wanted was for my bro to come over and comfort me. He didn't. He had things to do early the next morning and was in bed with B. So, neither of them were going to be there for me. It was only A who kinda distracted me with a drive, but she was so quick to add venom into me. Almost as if she wanted me to hate my ex. Which I did for a while. But it wasn't until I spoke with my still best friend, J, that I found the support I needed.

While all this was happening, i was struggling to finish my final semester before graduated with two bachelor's degrees. You can imagine the kind of stress I was going through as I was also fighting with the University to keep my scholarships for one last semester so that I could graduate. The funny part is that J knew exactly how I behaved. He knew the difference between the times I kept our talks short because I was busy, and when I kept our talks short because I was in distress. He asked me to hang out with him for a day. A day he could've easily filled up with catching up on school work, or being with family, or even spending time with his girlfriend. I still feel very touched remembering how he decided to try and help me instead. All because I didn't react like usual.

He didn't push me to say anything, but my ex came up in conversation and I had to tell J that we weren't dating anymore. That then spiraled into how pressured I felt with school and how unsupportive my roommates and C were being. I told him how A would react aggressively when were alone. Straight up calling me a bitch for ignoring her when I had homework to finish, but would then cry and say I was the abuser as I had blocked her on everything whenever B and C were around.

I told him how I had turned to B in hopes of getting advice, as she shared a room with A and would probably know what was going on with A. Instead, B had told A about all the negative things I said in a fit of rage and never once mentioned how I did want to fix our relation, but A had really destroyed my trust in her and had (has) yet to apologize. I told him how my ex would ignore me on dates and would only pay attention when we were physical with each other. Which made me want more physical interactions despite my general apprehension due to past trauma. And how my ex unceremoniously texted me that he was done because I got mad he wouldn't pause his game for like 5 minutes just to hear me out during an anxiety attack.

J calmly took all this in and advised that I move out. Not back in with my parents, but that it may be inevitable for me at the time. Then he warned me not to bottle up my hatred for my ex cause it would make me hate men in general. And I tried not to, but that hatred started with my dad. So, when C blocked me out of the blue, with no confrontation what so ever, I lost all the trust I had left. I mean, if the guy I thought of as a brother would rather listen to two women who know nothing about me just cause he's dating one of them, then how low were my standards? Why was it so easy for me to get betrayed? It happened with A, it happened with B, it happened with C.... And now he's happening with another friend, D. Who has yet to respond to any of the text messages I've sent her and has now started to hang out with A.

I once again turned to J. Asking if it was normal to feel hurt when a friend was still friends with someone who hurt you. J agreed it was painful but that ultimately I had to remember that they were their own person and that they were going to make their own decisions on what relationships to keep.

I felt discouraged but knew he was right.

As I type this up, I've had to pause a few times to wipe away tears. I think they sting when you feel a bit if anger when crying. Not sure.

Anyways, all this is to say that you'll never be free of selfish assholes. You'll live with them, you'll work with them, you'll move in with them, you'll befriend them, and nothing I say will help prepare you for the pain you'll feel when they reveal their true colors and destroy some part of you. Still, you should never change because of them.

I've given up on dating and friends because of these new experiences topping old traumas. I've been groomed, molested, raped probably, psychologically and emotionally manipulated and abused, all before entering seventh grade. I can't remember my childhood thanks to dissociative amnesia. So, instinctively, I no longer trust humans. It's a lovely existence and despite having won this battle before, I'm looking at suicide once again and am having to remind myself that I've already been through hardships. That all will be fine again. It's just a matter of time now.

But, fighting suicide is almost impossible without help. Without support. So, if you find yourself stuck with toxic people, with selfish assholes, with treacherous friends, cut them out.

We don't need them. They're a cancer that feeds off your good intentions and then blame you when they've dried your soul. It'll hurt a lot at first, but eventually, all will feel better. You'll find peace again. Maybe you'll connect with an old friend who'll always be there for you, like I did with J. Perhaps your siblings will be your own hype man like mine is. Maybe your relationship with your parents will get better like mine is with my mom. You'll finally start feeling better about yourself and try things that cancer wanted to steal from you. I've just gotten through a job interview and hopefully I'll be working at the office I've been trying hard to get into some time next week. Perhaps you'll also take the next step in your career?

So, to by fellow disappointed-in-humanity victims, sometimes it takes swimming in shit before being able to relax in a healthy mind. Take off those rose tinted glasses. Harden your heart and cut out people you know are hurting you. Don't listen to them, and if they take others with them, know that they also aren't worth your effort.

I would much rather be alone than be with a friend who believes I abused another person without ever talking to be about it. That's a person who'd rather believe your abuser than try and figure out why you would ever dare hurt someone. You don't need them.

I probably should like a bitch. Trust me, I get it. I often feel like I'm too harsh and that I should just unblock people to settle things down again. But you know what? I was very complacent and unmotivated when I had the people I blocked on my life. And now that I cut them out? I'm taking my first steps to establishing a career here in my town. Which is arguably a very hard town to settle in as a non-retiree.

Free yourself. Cut them off before they bleed you out

[milesheizclub]

Ramshackle Head - Chapter One

Before The Mystery Enda

Summary: On a person's 18th birthday, their soulmark changes to the color of what kind of life their soul mate will bring them. What do you do when all you prepare for turns out to be everything you didn't expect?

- or -

Alex is resigned to a life of being mateless, and things have to change.

Un-beta'd, as usual. Oh, and I take requests now!

Word count: 2271

Read on AO3

Another wind-knocking blow to the gut – another sign that maybe it should’ve ended for him last year, and that he shouldn’t have even been around anymore. There was nothing to look forward to, nothing waiting for him. At least that’s what the events of the early morning seemed to mean for him.

Alex walked into school by second period that day, a little more distraught by the earlier discovery than he thought he’d be. He took his usual seat beside Zach’s chair with a tired huff as he plopped down after a half-hearted scolding directed at him once he entered the room and a mumbled apology.

Zach’s obnoxious grin came into his line of vision after a couple of minutes, the boy expecting Alex to humor him and spill. “Happy birthday,” he whispered through his teeth, doing that annoying Z-Man elbow nudge with only the teasing, slinky lilt of his voice. Alex raised his eyebrows in thanks, the straight line of his mouth still firmly intact, and Zach scrunched his face, accepting the challenge.

He dragged his chair right up next to Alex, the feet screeching loudly across the classroom floor, earning more disapproval from Mr. Orman, and Zach explained it off as ‘needing to help Alex.’

“Happy eighteenth birthday…” Zach said, letting the silence do the nudging for him. Alex rolled his eyes in return, less in annoyance than in frustration and absolute hurt. He looked over at Zach’s smiling, expectant face, and he brought his hand to his right jacket sleeve, lifting it up to reveal the very-much-skin-toned design on his wrist. Zach’s eyes grew as he stared at it, and Alex quickly shoved his sleeve back down.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Alex said, heat climbing up his neck to his cheeks, and he started fiddling the edge of his table. The shame had almost consumed him right at that moment, but he’d only let it show through the flush that spread across the skin on his face and the betrayal in his eyes. Zach didn’t dare move or talk, staying only to monitor. It was only when Mr. Orman gave another pointed clearing of his throat that Zach conceded and scooted his chair back to its regular place, but never once breaking from observing his best friend.

Alex didn’t quite understand. He’d heard that it might happen, but everyone had always said that it was so rare – practically unheard of - that he’d never had any reason to second-guess it. The only question anyone ever considered was what color their marks would be once they turned eighteen.

Through the first half of the period, all Alex could do was to ruefully stare at his mark, lightly tracing his finger over the raised skin again and again. If he squinted, he could see the embossed skin twirling around his wrist and creeping up the back of his hand and up his palm like a glove of vines and small, lush leaves. Over the years, he’d imagined it in all different colors, and the kind of lives they would bring with them – the dark purple of wealth and nobility, or the blood red of fire, passion, courage, or the balance and, finally, peace of a hue of green or blue that could finally ease the constant anxiety that had found a home in Alex’ chest. He couldn’t help it.

It was actually never something that he looked forward to until recently. It had never been something he even particularly wanted. He almost loathed it – the idea of being predestined, of belonging to someone or someone belonging to him, no choice, rhyme, or reason. But after everything that happened within the past couple of years, after almost not being here for this day, it’d been something to hold on to, maybe even look forward to.

Alas, no dice.

Alex hadn’t noticed at first when his hands started to tense, but his fingernails began to dig harder into his mark, and he’d shaken himself out of his trance long enough to stop before breaking skin. He stared at the portions of his wrist where flat met raised and the dashes of dipped skin that were made from his insistent nails which caused violent itches and made Alex want to reach and scratch. The tenseness transferred to tight, tight grips on the sides of his table, knuckles turning a dangerous pale, beads of steaming sweat trekking from his scalp down to his temples, red hot cheeks, grinding gritted teeth, blown out beady pupils and eyes getting drier by the second but he couldn’t seem to blink them shut. He whipped his head with raised eyebrows to Zach, whose attention was caught immediately by the sudden movement, and Zach, momentarily paralyzed by the look of complete terror on his friend’s face, shot his hand straight into the air and shouted at their teacher.

“Mr. Orman,” he rushed, “Alex is a fucking tomato, and I’m taking him to the nurse’s office.” Tears begun to spring in Alex’ eyes as Zach moved swiftly, commoting and practically knocking his chair over getting both his and Alex’ bags and dragging his friend off of his chair. “Alex you need to come with me, okay?” he said, and Alex could only nod in return, his jaw wired tight, and they made their way through the worried faces of their classmates and out of the room.

-

The two, of course, did not go to the nurse’s office and instead ran to Zach’s car, They both understood by now that whenever Alex got worked up just like this, he needed someone to be right there for him, but at the same time he needed to be left alone. It hadn’t happened in a while, but their procedure was complete muscle memory at that point – Alex in the passenger’s seat and the speakers playing Alex’ current flavor of the month, Zach simply keeping his cool in the driver’s seat while waiting for the attack to subside and for Alex to calm down.

Alex reached to turn the music off a few minutes later, feeling too low and proceeding to recline his seat, his head suddenly feather light and his body fighting the urge to take a quick nap.

“To be honest,” Zach said, reclining his chair along with him, “I didn’t think you’d be so affected by something like this.”

“I didn’t think I would be either,” Alex replied. He sighed and gave the car door beside him a weak punch and started thumping out a soft rhythm against the leather padding.

“But I guess I’m more shocked that this even happened,” Zack continued, “like… what the fuck is that about? Like what does it even mean?”

“It means they’re probably dead already. Or they aren’t even born yet. But most likely dead.” Alex flashed back to earlier that day, to his parents with him at the dining table in the dark of the morning, readied with an ice pack and a stress ball, the excitement and anticipation in their faces slowly turning to confusion and disbelief when the burning sensation his mom always warned him about never came and the wait for his mark to reveal its color turned fruitless. They’d been optimistic – convincing themselves that the time on Alex’ birth certificate had been off, and that maybe they were off for as much as half an hour.

No one knew quite what to do other than wait, and Alex finally decided to call it a night and left for bed with a broken voice, the most dejected his parents had seen him in almost two years. And as much as he tried, Alex had not gone to sleep, the dark feeling in the pit of his chest pushing him down a Reddit thread spiral of memoirs, personal accounts, and support groups by people whose marks had never turned and whose soul mates they’d never met. The more he scrolled through the stories, the sweatier his fingertips while swiping at his phone screen which grew increasingly hot with relentless use, the colder his blood turned.

“Fuck, I have no idea what to say,” Zach said with a sigh and a slide of his fingers through his hair. “It can’t be some kind of fluke, right? Like maybe all this time we got your birthday wrong and it’s actually next year? Or maybe this really is the color of your mark! Has it ever just been bone white before? I mean it could happen, right? Or what if it’s some kind of weird Mayan thing like how they got 2012 wrong or whatev-“

“Stop, please,” Alex said, defeated. Zach huffed and brought his seat back up, wanting to say more, but ultimately giving Alex his time. “You know those points in your life when you tell yourself, ‘well this might as well happen?’” His lips curled up with a menace. It was an expression Zach had been all too familiar with, and it never failed to scare him, knowing what Alex was capable of doing, to others, sure, but mostly to himself. “I’m just trying to keep myself the fuck together and make my peace with this.”

Zach looked on at him in pity, Alex’ eyes still fixated on the black leather lining of the car’s ceiling, so pristine he could almost make out his reflection on it – that of sad, tired eyes and resignation. But he decided it was better that he couldn’t, tired of looking at himself and determining what else could be different, what about himself should and shouldn’t change.

Alex felt his eyes start to drift closed but he was jolted awake by the sound of a starting car and the gravity beneath him suddenly shifting. He pulled the lever from off to the side and his seat immediately shot up to the sight of Zach driving out of the Liberty High parking lot, and quickly gaining speed.

“Um, what the hell are you doing?” Alex asked, pulling his seatbelt across himself.

“Well, it’s still your eighteenth birthday, Standall, and I sure as hell am not gonna let you drown in all this bullshit that’s happening to you because you’re better than some fucking mark on your wrist and some piece of shit dead person who’s missing out on a great guy. So I’m treating you to the best goddamn burger you’ve ever had in your fucking life, and we’re gonna make today a fucking fantastic day for you, okay?” By the way he impassioned his speech with the steely focus in his eyes, Alex would have thought he was driving 80 miles per hour. But it brought a smile to his face, however small it may have been. “Text Tyler and Charlie, too, tell them to meet us.”

“We can’t just skip class, Zach,” Alex said, grabbing his phone anyway and quickly texting the two.

“We’ll be back by the time lunch ends, I’m not dumb.”

“You’re kind of dumb, let’s be real,” Alex said, chuckling. Zach seemed pleased with this development and eased his pressure on the gas pedal.

He got a reply from Charlie almost instantly with a series of emojis that vaguely resembled affirmation and what Alex presumed to be a joke about Tyler being dragged along on a leash. It sent calm so quickly through Alex’ chest that he could feel his eyelids swiftly start to betray him. Looking forward to it, he finally settled on replying, his lazy fingers having to retype more than once.

“I think soul mates are overrated anyway,” Zach said. “They could’ve just been a waste of time for you, don’t worry Lex.”

I didn’t deserve one anyway, Alex thought. He looked over to where Zach’s hands gripped on the steering wheel and admired the design on Zach’s right wrist, a simple red bracelet of thick, dashed lines. He thought about the amazing person who’d eventually get to share his soul and who that might be. He recalled the one point in his life when he could’ve sworn he knew exactly who it was, and decided he was much too tired at that moment to fight the urge to just admit that –

“You know, for a second there I thought it might be you.”

Zach didn’t respond at first, and Alex leaned back, lowering his backrest once again.

He kept his eyes closed, feeling the slight nausea coming back, not used to being in this position with the motion of the car and the lack of music. He kept his silence again, taking the opportunity to berate himself, not for confessing, but for burdening Zach with the responsibility of having to tread lightly and say the right thing in fear of anything happening. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything,” Alex said. “Please don’t think about it anymore. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Zach said without missing a beat.

If Alex had been honest with himself, he’d known all along that it could’ve never been Zach who was meant for him. Zach was much too loyal of a friend, and Alex had only been too lonely. Again, he repeated to himself, he was a burden, a responsibility. And Alex’ truth was that Zach was much too full of life for the decaying shell that Alex had become.

What kind of soul mate was Alex expecting then? Was it someone who would bring him back up from six feet under, someone he’d never accept, for their sake? Or was it someone who was as much of a disaster as him, someone to share the casket? Maybe that’s what the world thought he deserved in this life.

[eponymous-rose]

This isn’t a post I really wanted to make, and I feel kind of shitty making it because parts of it aren’t my story to tell, but not talking about it isn’t working, so hey. Weirdly comforting internet void, please don’t reblog this. 

There’s discussion of mental illness below, but not (directly) firsthand. This is mainly discussion of the impact mental illness is having on my family. Please avoid this post if this is a topic that is likely to cause you pain or discomfort. I think I just need to have it out there.

About a year ago, my brother was diagnosed with Bipolar I. His seeking out a diagnosis was the direct result of the way his mental health was horrifically mismanaged when he lived in the US in his late teens: he was misdiagnosed as schizophrenic and, a few months later, a pharmacy error cut him off anti-psychotics cold turkey. It was absolutely horrible, and he wound up leaving school and moving back in with my parents for a time just to recover. That diagnosis was still on file for him almost a decade later, but recently his job finally had decent enough benefits that he could afford to go in for a barrage of psychiatric testing to rule things out. Bipolar I wound up being the diagnosis that fit.

And I think, for him, there was a sense of relief that came from that initial diagnosis, because a lot of things started to fit. Our immediate family is very close and very loving, but also almost comically controlled and disciplined and logical and isolated. As a kid, he would frequently spiral over something small (I clearly remember being baffled by the fact that my teenage brother would still have full-on tantrums), and my parents and I would just be staring wide-eyed in silence because strong emotion??? what do????? He was comforted and loved, and outright tells us all the time that he loves us and feels really lucky to have had such a supportive family, but I can’t help feeling like we were just... overwhelmed by inertia and kept thinking “this is probably healthier and more normal than the way we repress our emotions”.

I suspected depression was always there, and I’d reached out to him a little about that based on my own experiences, but mania hadn’t even occurred to me, even when he was sending us e-mails at 5 AM about the new opera he stayed up all night writing. It’s incredible what starts to feel like normal when you’re in denial like that.

Regardless, that’s where we were last year: he called us up when I was visiting my parents and we chatted for about an hour about what we all knew about this illness and how he’d be going forward. We all assured him that we loved him a lot and were here for him in whatever way he needed us.

And then, in typical us fashion, we repressed it. My dad yelled at a server out of nowhere for bringing the wrong drink that afternoon; this is the most empathetic man I know, who’s raised his voice maybe three times in my life that I can remember (he called the server over afterwards to apologize and tipped hugely for having to put up with him). My mom’s anxiety spiked. I stopped sleeping well. It took us a few months to realize we were all struggling because we were so worried.

My brother tried a few different meds, none of which had a really strong impact. We all got together for the holidays, and when he arrived, he was furious in a way that felt familiar, like back in high school when he’d be so angry it was like he wasn’t fully in control of his body, wasn’t hearing the things he was saying. It was weirdly a bit of a relief, because I realized then how much he must have been putting on an act before: after high school, he’d always been extremely quiet and positive every single time I talked to him (always for short visits with big chunks in between). He was finally comfortable not being perfect around us. 

The precipitating factor for this particular blow-up was one of his coworkers e-mailing him and asking for one more article even though he was on holidays: dick move, sure, but in no way deserving of flinging his luggage around and teary-voiced ranting at the restaurant we took him to for dinner. We made sure he knew he was being heard and understood, and we sympathized with him, and we set up an hour that evening so he could just sit quietly in his room and work out how he was going to reply to the e-mail. And then things were fine again. He told us stories about how great that same coworker was the next day.

My parents stayed at an airbnb, mainly because my place is a little small for four, and he and I stayed here and just had a wonderful time. I realized how much I’d built things up in my head in a worrying way: this was still my brother, who I love very much, who’s sensitive and feels things deeply and sometimes gets upset, but I knew how to talk to him and I hope I could help him feel better; he certainly helped me feel better. We watched old cartoons and played NBA on the Switch and got milkshakes and ordered in pad thai and had a fantastic time just chilling and talking about whatever crossed our minds. I never once felt nervous or weird around him in the three weeks we were here, and I very clearly remember thinking, “Hey, future self, remember how natural this felt next time you’re catastrophizing: this is one of the few people in the world you’d happily have as a roommate.” We get along so, so well, and some of the new initial tension between him and my parents (that awkward combination of “well-meaning” and “absolutely out of their depths” made for a couple of baffled moments before they hit their stride) just never bled through to our friendship.

It came out during that trip that he’d accrued some pretty hefty credit card debt (overspending being an extremely common thing when you’re in a manic phase... and also in your twenties living alone in a big city when a big chunk of your job involves socializing every night); my parents very calmly and supportively told him they’d help him pay it off on the condition that he cut up those cards and take a serious look at the gaps in his budget. He was more embarrassed than anything, but my mom’s no-nonsense, logical attitude broke through and soon they were happily sitting down and setting up a budget.

He went back home, and things started getting worse. His landlord was an asshole who wouldn’t let him and his roommate control the heating and insisted on controlling it from off-site, so he’d come home to a sweltering apartment every night and couldn’t sleep. He took a sleeping pill to help him get some rest, and that triggered a major depressive episode. Through a series of accidental events (mainly getting stuck on hold with a crisis line for 45 minutes and calling 911 out of desperation), he wound up getting picked up by the cops one night and brought to a mental hospital, which he said wasn’t his intention, but he was glad it happened in the long run (the hospital, not the cops, obvs).

He was only there for one night, after which point they set him up with a social worker and amazing outpatient care, including psychiatrist visits every week and a new set of mood stabilizing meds, and I cannot stress enough that this would have been a much shorter story if he’d lived in the US. With my parents’ help, he wrote a letter to his landlord threatening to go to the city if he didn’t fix the heating situation, and his landlord caved (thank goodness, because there’s no way he’d be able to pay rent anywhere else in that city). Things stabilized, a little.

Now, though, it looks like he may lose his job. He disclosed his illness right after the diagnosis, and after some initial missteps, they started putting in effort to work with him on it---in my brother’s e-mails to us, the HR person went from an obnoxious jerk to a determined ally, if only to avoid liability issues. But on his new meds, while he feels great in the mornings, he’s exhausted by the afternoon, and he often has minor depressive episodes in the evenings, so clearly the dose isn’t right yet. He’s up to missing a couple days of work a week, and they’re clearly trying to lean on him to switch to contract work so they can let him go without running afoul of legal protections. It doesn’t help that what started as a wide-open, exciting startup (he still says the first eight months were his dream job) has turned into an ad revenue-grabbing mechanism where all his colleagues are white homophobic tech bros who ignore him at best and resent his “special treatment” at worst.

A lot of his friends happened to move away around the time of his diagnosis as well, and now a lot of his remaining friends are distancing themselves. A common factor in his last few jobs toward the end was people telling him, “You just looked miserable all the time,” and it sounds like it’s starting to impact his personal relationships. His time online is spent in the deepest of “cancel culture” discussion, where being mostly good but fucking up once is almost more reprehensible than being wholly awful (he quit Facebook for a while, but wound up reopening his account to let people know about his hospitalization... and now he’s just back there again). He and his boyfriend broke up. His friend who initially suggested he apply for this job now ignores him at work.

It’s that awful combo of “people are being assholes about my illness” and “my illness makes it hard to believe that someone who initially reacts poorly will ever come around, so I’d better shove them away first”.

My parents are understandably so worried for him. They’re going out to visit him for three weeks starting tomorrow, staying at an airbnb nearby and occupying themselves with their own retirement pursuits so he can come visit if he likes, or ignore them if he needs space. They’ve told him that, if he’d like, he’s welcome to come stay with them for a few months (they live on the other side of the country); they’ll cover his half of the rent while he’s gone, and he’ll have a bit of an opportunity to just heal, considering he went straight back to work the day after his hospitalization. They’ll also help him strategize about whether he wants to switch to part-time on his current job and see about picking something else up. I suggested they bring up the possibility of going back for a master’s---I know it’s an absolute minefield for mental health, but in his particular case, a flexible schedule plus project-based creative work with specific deadlines has always been a pretty good fit, and he excels academically.

They’re also preparing for the possibility of moving him out to stay with them on a more permanent basis, but they obviously don’t want to disrupt his care (his current appointments are at the best mental health facilities in the country). They can’t afford to live in his city on their pension, but they’re also talking about giving up their retirement condo and buying out his roommate’s half of the rent, and just being there to help him out when he needs it. I don’t think he’d go for that unless things really deteriorated quickly, but a few months away from the city definitely sounds like what he needs.

And I’m just... so angry. I’m pissed off that so much of the stress weighing on him (and so many others!) right now comes from him being nearly 30, in debt, without a hint of a way to start saving for retirement, with these little one- or two-year gig jobs with two-hour commutes full of toxic people stretching out into eternity. I’m pissed off that this awful disease has made it so my parents probably aren’t in a place where they’re going to be able to do their big retirement trip, and they may be giving up their idyllic retired life for good. I’m angry with myself for that little burrowing resentment that, because my parents are older, I could wind up a financial, medical, and emotional caretaker for them and/or my brother at a moment’s notice, and I don’t feel ready to take all of that on. I’ll never feel ready.

(As a bonus, bipolar I has a genetic component, and now I’m thinking back to that one time I stayed up all night determined to save the world by learning all of biology in eight hours, or the time when as a grown-ass adult I started crying like a ten-year-old because I felt left out from an activity friends were doing, and I’m thinking, is this it? And then it’s not those extremes, it’s every normal human emotion that was previously muted by my own situational depression years ago. Is this it?)

I feel so, so entitled to the life we should have had as a family, and so frustrated at all these external factors that’ve brought it crashing down. More than anything, I’m scared for my little brother. I know bipolar isn’t something that magically disappears, and that things are likely to get worse, but I want those external stressors to go away and just leave him alone for half a minute so he can heal and find the right combination of meds and maybe, maybe get to think about thriving rather than just surviving. I’m so grateful to my parents for finding the right things to do and say to help him recover. And I know that, if something goes horribly wrong, I can try to fill those shoes.

I’m still losing sleep, but only every now and then. People at work occasionally comment that I don’t look so good, but that’s much rarer than a couple months ago, and the people I’ve confided in are very kind and check in on me even when things seem to be going well.

After the move this fall, I’m going to find someone to talk to professionally about this. In the meantime, just typing this all out makes me feel a bit better. I am finding better ways to cope; I had to mute him on social media because my overwhelming tendency to overthink his posts was very dangerous (turns out that famous self-deprecating millennial sense of humor is terrifying when you’re trying to work out if someone’s in danger). I have a generally positive attitude about this, and I can now usually catch myself when I’m starting to spiral. I send my brother goofy links, and he sends me funny stuff in return. I’m going for runs and eating better and playing video games and hanging out with friends... 

... and I’m genuinely very happy a majority of the time (not just content, but happy), which wasn’t true even a couple months ago.

I’m scared and angry and coming to grips with it being okay to be both of those things, as long as I’m also supportive and loving. This is my little brother. This is my family. They’re the best. 

And all we can do is take it one day at a time.

[nekoabi]

On the Verge of a Heartbreak - Chapter 26

Time for some double dating shenanigans!

Pairings: Moxiety, OC/OC Words: 4011 (oops) Warnings: High levels of anxiety, food mention. If there’s anything else, let me know!

Summary: Double dating at the theme park.

Virgil was an absolute mess the night before the theme park double date. He was still utterly scared at the prospect of being forced onto rollercoasters that would terrify him even more than he already thought they would, which would then cause him to look extremely childish, which would then cause Abigal to laugh and treat him like a little baby, and would cause Reggie to suggest they leave him behind with the child day care if he couldn’t handle something so easy, and would cause Patton to then see that Virgil was absolutely not the person he thought he was and then Patton would leave him and ditch him forever because he couldn’t handle rollercoasters!

The teenager groaned and rolled over, crushing his face into his pillow, hiding from the morning light that was trying so hard to enter his room through his closed, blackout curtains. “It’s official. I am going to die alone.”

“What’s got you all upset, honey? I thought you’d be excited to go out with your friends today.” His mother had entered his room almost silently and the sound of her voice startled Virgil a little bit. He caught his breath as she walked over to the curtains and pulled them open.

As the morning light was finally allowed to shine into the room, Virgil groaned again, shoving his face further into the pillow, “Mom… Why are you in my room…?” He mumbled into the pillow.

There was a soft laugh before Virgil felt weight being added to the edge of his mattress and a hand coming to rest on his back, “I wanted to make sure you were getting up in time, sweetheart. Please, tell me what’s wrong?”

Virgil sighed heavily and sat up, leaving the covers pooling around his waist as he leant against the headboard. He talked about what he’d seen on the website for the theme park and how he felt about it all, how many of his thoughts had spiralled over the last couple of days as the time got closer, how he wasn’t sure how to bring this up after Patton was so excited for it.

“Oh honey…” His mom said, moving closer to wrap him in a loose hug, “Patton would understand and so would your other friends. I know it must be hard for you to open up to them about these things, but I think you should at least let Patton know.”

“I can’t.” Virgil muttered, his face buried against his mother’s shoulder, “Patton would stop himself doing things he wanted to do if I told him… That’s not fair on him…”

His mom pulled away and brushed his hair away from his face, “Well, I just want you to promise me that you won’t push yourself too hard today, okay?” She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead when he quietly agreed to her statement before she got up and headed to the door, “Get up and dressed quickly so you can have some breakfast before you go.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Okay mom. Be down in a little bit.”

It took him much more time to get ready that morning than usual as he still was trying to delay the inevitable. He spent far longer picking out his outfit, changing his mind several times before deciding, he redid his makeup at least four times to make sure it was ‘perfect’, he triple checked that he had all the things he needed in his pockets before even thinking about reaching for the door handle. Virgil looked aimlessly around his room, as if searching for one more thing to try and occupy his time before he finally left his bedroom.

Virgil trudged down the stairs at a sluggish pace, his brain racing at almost three times the speed of that trying to think of excuses he could use – not that he’d actually use any of them and leave Patton on his own like that. Eventually, he reached the kitchen and slipped into the free chair next to the door, across from his mom, who smiled at him warmly before going back to reading the article she was deep into.

His dad placed a plate with some toast in front of him along with a drink, ruffling his son’s hair as he took seat in the final chair, “So, worried about today, huh?”

Virgil shot a look over to his mother, who simply ignored it but took an extended and loud sip from her morning coffee to hide the small smile, “Thanks mom.”

Jason laughed, “You’ll be fine. There are lots of different things to do at theme parks that don’t involve rollercoasters and thrill rides. Everyone has different things they want to do, so they’ll listen to you, especially if they’re your friends and if they’re Patton.”

The teenager let out a deep breath, “But I don’t want to force anyone to do anything… or have them think I’m a huge wimp or a baby…”

His dad’s face turned serious, “If they think that and make fun of you for it, then they’re not very good friends, Virgil.” Neither said another word as Virgil began to finally eat through the toast in front of him.

Virgil knew that both his parents were right, but it was hard to believe when his thoughts were so fixated on being loud and obnoxious about all the insecurities he had. He needed to just keep their words in mind and trust his friends. He did trust them, especially Patton.

As he thought that, there was a knock at the door that had Virgil’s heartrate doubling.

“That must be Patton. I’ll get it, you just finish eating.” Jason patted his son’s shoulder in a way to silently tell him that it was okay if he couldn’t. Virgil nibbled and took small bites as he heard the front door opening and the sudden cheery voice of his boyfriend.

‘Everything will be fine.’ Virgil chanted in his head. He stood up, leaving his breakfast half finished. He downed the last of the drink he’d been given before stepping out into the living room.

“Hi Virgil! Are you excited?” Patton asked, immediately running towards him and grabbing a hold of his hands. He was bouncing up and down on his toes, being utterly adorable in every way. Virgil couldn’t destroy that.

“Uh, yeah, totally. So excited.” Virgil plastered on a fake smile.

For a brief moment, it seemed like Patton was concerned about Virgil’s response, but he must have imagined the sudden expression change as Patton was still excitable and bouncy when he left his side.

Virgil got the disappointed Dad look when he slipped out of the car later, but he attempted to ignore the guilt that rose up in his stomach when he saw it. “Have a good time, boys! Let me know when you two would like to be picked up!” Jason called out of the window before driving out of the car park outside the theme park.

The two teenagers headed towards the front gates, looking around to see if they could spot their other friends that were supposed to be meeting them there. As they reached the pavement just outside, Patton’s phone started to ring. He fished it out of the bag he had slung over his body and picked it up, “Hello?”

“Hi Pat! So so so sorry! We’re running a little bit late! We’ll be there as soon as we can!” Abigal’s voice came through the speaker, loud enough for Virgil to hear it from where he was standing.

Patton giggled, seemingly having expected this turn of events, “It’s okay! See you soon.” With that, he hung up and turned to Virgil with a large sunny grin, “I guess you heard that?”

Virgil let out a soft breath of laughter, “Yup. Guess we’ll be out here for a little bit.”

They both moved closer to the wall, standing in a small part that was free of posters or gates. Patton was making light conversation, while Virgil pulled out his phone and was scrolling through social media at the same time. It didn’t exactly register to him, but his nerves had died down quite a bit. It was almost as if just being around Patton calmed him down.

As he was thinking about the boy, Virgil turned and looked at his boyfriend. He was suddenly struck with how odd they must look to some outside observers. Virgil leaning up against the wall casually in his ripped jeans, emo band hoodie and dark makeup, black headphones dangling from the shirt collar as he scrolled through his phone that had a self-made MCR phone case, while Patton stood next to him, looking extremely innocent by comparison. He was stood just in front of the wall, rather than leaning against it, which allowed for the pastel-coloured skirt he was wearing to flow in the soft breeze along with the bright shirt that had some sort of motivational saying on it that made Virgil almost puke at the thought – he’d had way too many of those back with an old therapist. His hair was pinned back with a simple butterfly clip and was looking all around extremely approachable.

Two completely opposite looking human beings not just standing next to each other, but clearly being close. At one point in the conversation, Patton moved closer and grabbed a hold of Virgil’s hand, swinging it lightly and looking entirely smitten with the dark emo. It made Virgil smile, because he knew he must look the same.

“PATTON! VIRGIL!” A loud shout and the sound of someone running broke their little moment as both of them turned to see Abigal coming towards them at full speed. She skidded to a halt just in front of them and panted, “I am so sorry. It was all my fault. I couldn’t find the thing I needed. And then my dad wasn’t answering the phone. And then I-”

Virgil clocked out of Abigal’s ramblings as he noticed that Reggie wasn’t currently alongside her. He looked behind the girl to see the other teenager in question slowly heading their way, taking his time rather than running like his girlfriend had done. They made eye contact as he got within speaking distance and the two greeted each other a little awkwardly – at least on Virgil’s part.

Unlike Abigal and Patton who had known each other since Patton had started high school, Reggie and Virgil were still relatively new friends, and really hadn’t had any time to get to know one another outside of their large friend group meetups. Virgil had this feeling that he should get to know Reggie, that maybe they could be friends as a lot of their humour lined up, but he just didn’t know how to go about it.

While Virgil was thinking all of this, Abigal had finally caught her breath and was done listing off her rack of apologies. She grabbed Reggie’s arm and pointed to the gates, “Time to go in and have the time of our lives!”

Patton squealed in joy and dragged Virgil along behind him as he followed the other couple up to the gates. They stood in line, chatting happily and laughing as they waited to reach the attendant. When it was their turn, Abigal stepped up and dug around in her bag.

“Abi?” came the voice from inside, causing the girl to look up.

She immediately broke out into a large grin, “Oh hey! I didn’t realise you were working today!” Abigal and the worker started an extremely casual conversation, which didn’t seem all too out of the ordinary. She was a very outgoing person and would probably have a few friends that none of them were aware of. The strangest thing happened at the end of the conversation, “So, I have three friends with me today, okay?” They all watched as Abigal passed over a card and the attendant barely checked it before handing it back.

“Have a good time!” The attendant smiled at them all, looking at them for the first time. Abigal thanked them and grabbed a hold of Reggie’s arm and Patton’s free hand before dragging all of them along with her into the park, through the turnstile.

All three of her friends were a little stunned, Virgil also feeling some form of pure terror. They’d all just walked in without being asked a single question, without any of them paying or doing anything that they should have to do in order to gain entrance to somewhere like this and it was not sitting well with him.

“What was that?” Reggie asked once they were all a fair distance from the entrance.

Abigal turned and looked at him with a slightly confused smile, “What do you mean?”

“You just dragged us all into a theme park. You knew the person at the entrance and you just had to hand over a weird card thing that they didn’t even have to look at to let you and your friends in.” Reggie rattled off all the events, almost deadpanning the whole thing.

“Ohhhhh, I hadn’t told you guys?” Abigal gasped and looked between each of them, falling on Virgil last. He was acutely aware that he was probably showing a lot of his anxiety right now, especially as he had to fight so hard to keep control of it. Abigal bit her lip before apologising, “I’m sorry, I thought I told you all that my dad owns the park…”

“WHAT?!” Patton screeched, drawing the collective attention of almost everyone, “That’s amazing!”

His reaction perked Abigal right up, “I know, right?! It’s freaking awesome! Though I am super super sorry about not telling you guys, I didn’t mean to scare you like that…” Virgil knew that was aimed mostly at him, but he was appreciative anyway. Knowing they weren’t breaking the rules and were definitely not about to get thrown out or arrested was most certainly a good thing for his nerves as they almost immediately dropped back to their normal levels.

“So, where first? You know all the best places, Abi! Where should we go?” Patton was almost vibrating from excitement. Abigal brought him over to a map and pointed to several of the rides around the park, indicating the order that she thought they should all do them in. Virgil tried to not pay attention, instead looking for something that was more his kind of thing. He noticed there was an arcade put at the centre of the map and that sounded like a much easier and better thing for him to do, now it was just bringing it up… which he just couldn’t do.

Abigal and Patton led the way, chatting and laughing as they walked in front of their significant others. They walked at a decently fast pace, which meant that Virgil’s nerves were upping at the exact same rate. They were getting closer and closer to that first rollercoaster and Virgil was having a hard time keeping himself calm. He could do this, he could definitely do this. It was only one rollercoaster, it didn’t really matter all that much. He was too busy trying to calm himself down that he didn’t notice someone was watching him the whole time.

Next to him, Reggie was clearly noticing Virgil’s anxiousness and was trying to figure out what was causing it to suddenly rise like it had. It made sense that the initial scare of being pulled through into a theme park without being told how they were able to just walk in would put some stress on the poor kid, but all they were doing was walking through the park.

“Ah, there it is!” Patton excitedly pointed towards the sign in the distance for the ride and Reggie saw that Virgil immediately tensed even more. It was suddenly all clear.

The two at the front of their group immediately headed for the entrance, but Virgil and Reggie stayed back, not getting close to the line. After a moment, Abigal and Patton realised that their boyfriends weren’t following them and returned to their sides.

“Hey, what’s up? You guys not coming?” Patton asked, sounding concerned.

Abigal smirked playfully, “Are you two just too chicken?” To anyone that wasn’t Virgil, it was clear she was only messing with them.

But Virgil was sadly himself and this was just Virgil’s worst fears coming true. Patton being upset with him not wanting to go on the rides and ruining the whole day for everyone. Abigal thinking he was a wimp and a coward and thinking less of him because of it. He was just beginning to wallow in his despair when Reggie scoffed exaggeratedly beside him. He looked up to see the boy flick his long braids in a show of sass.

“Excuse me? You think I’m going on that? With this hair? Honey, no. I am not ruining perfection for some cheap thrills that mean nothing to me.” Reggie pouted and crossed his arms in a show of defiance before continuing, “You two go enjoy whatever you want, ruin yourselves as much as you like. Virgil and I-” He looped an arm around Virgil’s shoulders casually, leaning into the emo a little, “-are going to go have our own fun, alright?”

It was clear to both Abigal and Patton that Reggie was covering for Virgil, who they could easily see was extremely nervous about the ride. His eyes kept flicking up and looking at the signs and at the tracks that looped around in the distance, he visibly flinched whenever there was a loud screaming from the rides around him. Ever the good friends, the two didn’t bring it up.

“Okay, babe. You two go have your fun and we’ll meet somewhere for lunch, I guess.” Abigal popped up onto her toes in order to press a simple kiss to Reggie’s lips before she stepped closer to the ride, waiting for Patton to join her.

“Yeah! I can’t wait to hear what you two get up to!” Patton kissed Virgil’s cheek and grinned before joining Abigal.

The other two waited until their significant others reached the line before heading off back towards the main section of the park. They walked in silence for a bit, Virgil still trying to calm his nerves back to their usual levels.

He looked up to the older student who he was now apparently going to spend most of his day with, “Hey… Thanks for that…” Virgil mumbled, returning his gaze back down to watch the paving stones as they walked, “You didn’t have to, you could have gone on the ride with them…”

Reggie simply smiled, watching the shy boy next to him, “I didn’t make anything up back there. I do not need this perfection going to waste on some rides, besides it can’t be fun to just wait for everyone else on your own when you’re freaking out.”

Virgil felt a soft smile tugging at his lips, “Yeah, it’s kinda the worst thing.”

“See? I’m just being the nice person I normally am.” Reggie grinned as Virgil gave him a disbelieving look.

“You? A nice person? That’s a pretty funny joke.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Do I have to bring up the first few years of high school?”

Reggie stopped dead and stared at Virgil with an open mouth, making various unhappy gasping noises. After a few seconds to think, Reggie walked the few paces to where Virgil was watching him with an amused grin before he spoke, “That is unfair. You don’t bring up a past like that.”

“Uh huh, whatever you say, Princess.” Virgil couldn’t help laughing as Reggie made more insulted noises beside him.

The two ended up at the arcade and spent most of their day in there, playing various games. Virgil had far more skill at almost every game they played, except for when they played any of the dancing games the arcade had set up. Virgil went first and did fairly well on medium difficulty, but he could not have been prepared for when Reggie got up there and absolutely demolished a song on the hardest difficulty without even really trying. The older boy went through a few different songs, drawing in a curious and impressed crowd within just the first two. Virgil watched as he thrived from the attention, especially at the end when some of the crowd – mostly the parents with young children – applauded his efforts.

Reggie hopped down off of the machine with a confident grin and an ego that could barely fit inside the building, “So, what’s next?”

Virgil snorted and headed over to a completely different game, “I kick your ass and bring your ego back to a manageable size, so we can all breathe.”

After an hour of absolute domination, Virgil deemed Reggie’s ego thoroughly beaten and they took a break to sit outside on a bench. They were both more comfortable with each other, joking around a lot more and just generally talking about stuff that neither of them would have considered talking about in the past. Virgil learned more about Reggie’s family and why he was currently living on his own in an apartment in America and Reggie learned a lot more about Virgil and his anxiety and his past with Patton.

On the other side of the park, Abigal and Patton had just come out of the final ride they’d wanted to go on. They were still giddy with adrenaline and were giggling together.

“I guess we should go find our boyfriends?” Patton asked, becoming happier and even more giggly as he said the final words. He went to reach for his bag in order to pull out his phone but found himself interrupted by Abigal.

“Yeah, I think it’s time to get food. I am absolutely starving!” Abigal grabbed Patton’s arm and pulled him along behind her as she ran back to the central area of the park. It was only for a few seconds, but it managed to divert Patton’s attention away from getting his phone and meant that the two ended up simply wandering casually to the centre. Once they got there, they quickly noticed their two boyfriends chatting happily on a bench outside the arcade.

Patton immediately felt his heart bloom with warmth as he saw Virgil smiling and being so relaxed. He’d been worried ever since seeing the emo that morning since the boy really didn’t seem all that excited about coming to the theme park, but all that worry was now a distant memory. Patton joined Abigal in slowly walking over to them.

What he didn’t join in with was her sneaking up to the back of the bench and surprising Reggie by wrapping her arms around him and calling directly into his ear, “Boo!” She grinned as the boy in her arms turned sharply to look at her.

Virgil turned around to see Patton standing just to the side of him, also grinning. He moved over on the bench, giving Patton just enough room to perch on the end. Virgil’s arm wrapped around his boyfriend’s shoulders, giving him a gentle hug.

“Soooo, how about we talk about everything we’ve been up to over some lunch?” Abigal suggested. Everyone was more than happy to go along with that plan and they headed over to one of the restaurants inside the park to eat. They happily recounted their mornings and had an overall good time. The last part of the day was more relaxed, as they all spent the time together and went on easier, chill rides and did other activities.

Virgil was exhausted but feeling really good as he and Patton climbed into the back of his dad’s car later in the afternoon. They’d said their goodbyes to their friends and were heading home. Everything was so utterly perfect and Virgil could not have been more pleased that he’d made the decision to go out on the double date to a theme park with his friends.

Last Chapter —– Next Chapter

My other stuff: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/myworks Mobile Accessible Masterlist: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/post/181954641376/fic-masterlist

Abigal and Ayana belong to me. Reggie belongs to @not-so-innocent-bi-sander Daniel belongs to @doces-e--tuga Ana, Em and Asher belongs to @fangsandrainbows Sophia belongs to @notalwaysthevillian

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[universal-kitty]

.: NatsuShio: The OC/Canon Ship That Ruined My Life :.

(In the Best Way)

@supernatural-cat98, get buckled in.

   Let’s start with how I started. An Okami OC.

   Her name is Shiori, but her full name is Shiorigami, a brush kami OC for the game Okami. Once an adoptable from DeviantArt, I made her into a fully-fleshed out character fit for the game. Sure, she’s an usual hybrid (nekotori; cat body, but with tail feathers like a small peacock), but she’s the kami of Poems and Literature. She’s got social anxiety and a thinly veiled reference to autism, as she is stunted to everyone, including her extensive family...but writing is where she blooms.

   Fiction, biographies, history, poems of all kinds... If it’s writing, she’s happy. It protects her and makes her happy, even when she fears she isn’t a good enough brush kami. Even if her powers are an inky echo of her mother’s.

   She once had short hair. She once loved a Lunarian named Kazuki... A scholar of the Moon Tribe, during a period of tension and war between his people and the Celestials... Shiori’s people. Despite it all, they truly did love each other, despite never admitting it out loud. He was gifted a scroll of poems he inspired her to write. He gave her a golden necklace- almost collar-like- with the symbol of the Moon Tribe engraved on the back.

   ...He would end up dying in a slaughter done by the evil the Moon Tribe had summoned. Those who fled to the mortal world to escape the war becoming the only survivors. Kazuki was gone...and left Shiori not only with a deep depression, but also with a fear to care for anyone who was mortal.

   Who could die and be ripped from her grasp, just like Kazuki had.

   Her hair grew out over the years (faceclaim: Suiren Shibazeki from Hibi Chouchou), protected by her mother to ease her pain of the death of the one she loved most...and in the years after the events of Okami, would stay either in her room on the Celestial Plain or occasionally live on the mortal world, in a small house to herself among a forest not too far from Ryoshima Coast.

   And so. It would be this starting point for a fateful meeting...

   Natsu Dragneel. Specifically, burningheartdragneel, my roleplay partner. (To my Shio, @goddessof-poems.) He met Amaterasu first, having somehow...gotten himself a little universe-lost. Befriending her was easy; both liking to fight, both loving to eat... It was easy for them.

   Yet he poses an interesting challenge for sweet, quiet Shiori. Little bookworm, easily forgets to eat at all, and isn’t much one for the adventuring scene, like her mother or Natsu.

   ...However, it’s because of her Natsu learns the joys of reading; specifically, an adventurous story of fiction Shiori had written some time before. He makes a small, but decent meal for the forgetful Shiori, ensuring she eats...and even motivates her to get out of her home, taking him to show off Ryoshima Coast and her own Water Tablet that Amaterasu gifted her.

   It’s our current roleplay and a still on-going one, but we came up with so much more as we talked over Discord. They will slow burn their way, but us? We know how the path goes....and we ended up falling in love with a pairing of our own creation.

ExoticGeneral: Ah gods I love this! Especially since Shiori isn't the kind to stop her work to eat or anything Natsu would at some point bring snacks with him and probably feed her (and he hardly likes sharing either) because somebodies is gonna have to be watching over her. But if he woke up with her all beside him, he'd be pretty flustered about it. Plus as an added bonus he always oddly warm, which makes for good cuddling in the winter/chilly days. :3c Yeah, he'd probably be more careful with her because even if she is a brush good she's just so fragile. He'd probably bond with her relatively easy though since he's always been a cat kinda guy? But yeah, demon hunting would be a big no-no while she was around. No need to try and scare her away. But I thought about that heat headcanon thing would be funny cause I can't see either making the first move ever! xD

Aki: Oh gosh, yeah. Shiori's the type for "skinny love" situations, where it's almost painfully obvious she loves the person, but if nobody acts on it, then it's this firm stalemate. Tbh, she'd likely only "confess" if he got really hurt and she was scared for him....but even then, it's confusing for the oblivious bc-?? Was that a confession? What if it wasn't????

ExoticGeneral: But god a confession like that would be hilarious cause it might just go over his head! He'd probably just grin like an idiot, being all like 'Thanks that means a lot' and playing it off as completely platonic possibly. He may be bold in everything else, but love is something he's actually insecure about considering his first girlfriend died, his mom, like three of his dads and his brother wants to murder him.

Aki: Ommmmggggg. She'd probably laugh a little and keep trying to tell herself it's better this way, bc like...... (And this is what kills me) She'd rather have a friend in him than nothing at all bc of rejection so she'd start spiraling down and try to keep upbeat even though she keeps thinking about it and getting guilty bc what if he only wants them to be friends???? What if he didn't like romance at all?? She doesn't want to push him away from her..... She'd rather suffer years of not having him love her back then lose him. (And re-reading this..... Ouch on the death of the first girlfriend. Shiori knows that pain.... Except slightly more painful that she also never confessed to the guy and lost him to the slaughter of the Moon Tribe.)

ExoticGeneral: AKI DONT They'd both end up suffering because they're shy potatoes who can't convey their feelings properly for the life of them! It wouldn't even get better cause she'd only start going down hill after a while and he'd more than likely notice but not realize he's the problem in a way and FUUUUUUCCCKKKK

Aki: HAHAHAHAHAA, YOU'RE TOO LATE; MY POWERS HAVE BEEN REALIZED She'd actually manage pretty well for awhile, being oblivious, but then the feelings would start and that very emotion would be her downfall. Because then what are you supposed to do when you want to hug your "friend" for no apparent reason and just...stay there? That you wouldn't mind if he stayed over all the time and got to sleep with him, because that's when the nightmares kept away from her? (And even if they did show up, he was there to comfort her...) She's an absolutely wreck after awhile and keeps spacing out and begins to screw up and she's like a black hole collapsing in on itself and it hurts so bad to watch

ExoticGeneral: STAHP YOURE HURTING MY SHIPPER HEART BEFORE THE SHIP ACTUALLY EXISTS That blackhole though, like how do you even fix that??? Because the closer you get to her the more it's probably hurting her and you could confess but getting closer is what caused it to progress. HOW DO YOU PROTECT YOUR SHIT WHEN YOU'RE THE PROBLEM!?!? Your making me emotional and it's only like 8 in the morning, I don't want to start my day sad already!

Aki: Shiori finally breaking down in front of Natsu though. Like, it was a little trip over a tree root or something and she says, "O-oh, n-no, I'm fine...." But Natsu's just-??? No you're not, you're crying. Why are you crying? What hurts?? And from there she starts bawling and Natsu is awkward but tries his best. He also has little to no idea what she's saying pass those sobs of hers, but oUCH PAIN EVERYWHERE. Then- awhoop- right out of that sobbing mess comes a pretty clear confession, whoo boy--

ExoticGeneral: But HOLY SHIT when a confession happens he'd get flustered. To the point of constant figgeting and just a permanent blush would cover his face. He'd probably end up staying silent, then just start crying and fuck me up. The first confession of his life??? hE WAS NOT READY FOR THIS BUT IS TOTALLY ACCEPTING OF THIS! She'd get to see an entirely new spectrum of him though when he gets all soft-hearted and actually reveals his romantic side???

Aki: Shiori's equally as flustered and waiting to please just collapse in on herself and cease existance....and then once she realized she didn't fuck things up, she's crying with him and so much affection????? Oh no, the cutes. Cutes everywhere. Also Shiori is a huge sap and she's going to love that. But now he has to deal with his cute new goddess gf blushing whenever he smooches even just her cheek. Or holds her hand. Or snuggles up to her..... When he breathes LMAO, Jk...~

ExoticGeneral: THem crying together. THat thought just gives me life cause they're just two mushy emotional destroyed people atm. Just I don't even know who would actually recover first at that point, maybe Natsu, and just give her the longest most affectionate hug he's got in him. This relationship ain't gonna last long, give it like a week and he'll probably die from a cute overload. He'd try to pamper her a bit (though he wouldn't know how really) and just take her out to star gaze and do some silly things. But holding hands??? Like that's really lewd ya know.

Aki: Yeeeaaaahhh, he probably would. Shiori's trying to calm down, but those silly tears won't stop~ But she'll still snuggle close when he hugs her and hug him back. AH. AAAAAAHHHHHH. Natsu coming back to her place after that little event and suddenly, her new greeting is, "Welcome home," with a bright smile. Natsu kneels tf over bc cHRIST DID HE JUST HAVE A HEARTATTACK?!?!?!??

   Oh yes. We had a LENGTHY talk about their confession... But is that all? Of course not!! We’ve also had conversations about...

   Sleeping habits:

Aki: Oh man, and if she woke up to that racing heart of his.... All sleepy and concerned and it's right out of a romance novel and someone help Natsu bc death is rapidly approaching

ExoticGeneral: And the thing is that's one of his quirks. Like his way of saying 'I think I like you' IS sleeping at there house a lot more often. TO the point where it's just an everyday exerpeince and it's only weird if he DOESN'T show up one night.

Aki: !!!! Natsu being late one night and he's surprised bc it's late as fuck but there's Shiori, obviously tired and ready for bed, but unable to sleep because she'd gotten used to sleeping with Natsu and his warmth. (He has to pull confidence and fake cheer before he's allowed to start dying in the darkness of her room; that was so fuckin' cute and she was holding onto that little cat plush and she looked so lonely jfc whAT THE FUCK that level of cute is illegal in all the states and all of the worlds and timelines, bYE)

ExoticGeneral: But I can totally see that! He just kinda pushes open her door and it's like 2 in the fucking morning. The conflicted feelings he must have though knowing that when he walks in there he's gonna suffer for a few hours or more but is like 'fuck ing worth it.'  (She needs to tone it down because if the guy who lives to fight wants to SNUGGLE then there's a problem. No one man, goddess or not, should be allowed to have so much power!)

Aki: She's just more than happy to see him bc dang it, she couldn't sleep without him...and the second she's comfy and curled up against him? Boop. Out like a light. (Plot twist: her real power is being cute as hell. Her cuteness so strong, who needs weaponry?? Flutter those lashes, tilt her head... If she has the ears and feather tails out? B y e. You're dead now. Sorry, don't make the rules.)

ExoticGeneral: JEEz THOUGH! Not being able to sleep without him! Now all of a sudden he becomes like a necessity for a proper nights sleep, or any at all really. (But that's one way to competely get to him. Sexy? Pfffft, he can ignore that most of the time. Cute, fucking slay him okay? Just 'Here lies Natsu, rest in pieces' and fuck she's a cutie!)

Aki: I mean.... He could be a mean little one and let her pass out once it becomes too much, but there's also the huge implication that Natsu actually sorta gets her on a sleep schedule?? Something she usually doesn't have at all???? When Natsu's getting snuggled up in the futon, it basically becomes a sign of, "Oh, time to stop for today and sleep." Reverse alarm clock, Natsu is. Getting a certain poetry goddess to bed rather than waking her up (or keeping her up, as is). (Shiori perfected the cute ability. Cute traits that'd be passed down for generations. Flirting-but-not-flirting, the ultimate technique. How will poor Natsu ever survive?!?)

   Dinners with Mom Amaterasu:

Aki: Meet the parents? More like, "Forget that formal stuff! Let's go out and eat dessert before dinner!!!!" Because Ammy doesn't really do formal anymore and why not just....use the time for the better?? Like eating???? Not to mention, then she can embarrass the two like, "Now you gotta feed each other. Do it, do it, do it~!!" Ammy is a gr8 mom, as you can tell

ExoticGeneral: Well I don't think it could happen. I think Ammy and natsu met because he tried pelting her with water ballons. There is no need to be formal after that! But I can see Ammy rigging everything somehow. Just like ordering milkshakes for all three but 'accidentally' forgets one so she gets a whole one while Natsu and shiori share. with coincidentally two staws.

Aki: "Hmmmm, would you look at that.... Strange." Casually drinks at her own like NBD--  And that's true!!! No formality exists here; there's only the two dorks and the shy poet, who's more than happy to be the little side-line cheerleader for their antics. (Unless they're questionable. Then she's worried and trying to get them off of the idea. Probably crit. hits Natsu by being cute.)

  The time I almost wrote in our RP that Shiori was gonna kiss his cheek....and they’re not even CLOSE to dating, oh boy:

Aki: .....It suddenly occurs to me that I want an aesthetic made of NatsuShio.............

ExoticGeneral: I'm laughing. This isn't a pairing (Yet) and you're like grabby hands

Aki: Hey. Hey. Compare this to the time I almost wrote in Shio kissing Natsu's cheek waaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyy too early, and a little aesthetic ain't that bad~

ExoticGeneral: You know if you had wrote that slip up I would have went along with it too. It would have been a hilarious mess.

Aki: LMAO. Even Shiori would be confused like, "......I have never before in my LIFE ever done that.... Why did I do that now?!?" This is the Sims and I am the tru god and their lives are my pLAYTHINGS

ExoticGeneral: He would have stopped everything for a solid 5 minutes then continue like it didn't happen. If you don't react it's like it never happened, right? I mean that's how we do it anyways. We make them suffer cause it's fun

Aki: Plot twist, though...... Isn't even freezing considered a reaction?! So by freezing he thinks he didn't react, but the act of freezing up is a reaction in itself......!! YOU'VE BEEN PLAYED, NATSU!!! They aren't suffering yet, buuuuut..... All in due time

   Memes, of course:

ExoticGeneral: Ammy: So do you and Shio call each other pet names? Natsu: Pfffft! No! Of course not! Ammy: What do bees make then? Natsu:....Honey? Shio, from the other room: Yeah, sweetie? Ammy: Don't you ever lie to my face again.

Aki: tHIS WOULD HAPPEN, F U CK-- I AM LOSING IT

   And the moment we acknowledged how we know this ship was The One; our OTP forever and always: (featuring the best rant I’ve ever written for this ship)

ExoticGeneral: It's literally freaking insane how you just start having ten billions of ideas running through you're head! Like okay time to put then through some angst hell, then recovery fluff, little slice of life, smooches and some bonding/ development??? Like Im getting way too far ahead of myself here??? But the ideas/drabbles keep on rolling anyway. This is how you know this is the one.

Aki: Yes!!! And like.... Honestly, I pride myself on doing "realistic" stuff? Having my characters contradict themselves sometimes, do something that would hurt....cause humans are like that. Hell, it's why I also brazenly went for Shiori's emotional breakdown when she heard the news that all Lunarians had died..... Including her dear Kazuki.  Being able to imagine and know how that breakdown went in my head, where nothing she tried worked, until she went crawling back to her mother to grant her wish to not exist...take the pain away......  Boi. B o i. When it comes to big time storywriting, I get hELLA AMPED. I'm ready to show them every corner of the world, good or bad. Perfection or deep flaws. Give me that angst where they will realize that it hurts, but having someone to hurt with makes the pain ease a little. It doesn't fix everything, but having those assuring words and someone who cares deeply makes it harder to be upset. Let them have those slice of life days where Shiori wakes up in bed for once, stomach not aching or feeling like a void, and ready to start a new day. Have him drag her out to explore and shake up her old, rigid life. Let them, in the future, kiss and hug and wonder why....but know that if waiting so long meant finding love and getting it this right, then it was worth the wait. Let them develop so much, that we look back to where we started and cackle with joy, cause they friggen made it. Wow, a sappy rant from me, yEEHAW

ExoticGeneral: Damn right sister! Preach it! Like sometimes I just sit there with some bsckground music on and its so fitting that you just throw out 20 paragraphs like no problem. I just need those days with them where they argue over something little and it gets so blown out of proprtion and convoluted that they just forget what is was about? Just random nights of stargazing then falling asleep? Or literally doing nothing and either of them thinks of their s/o and gets super flustered for no reason? The day they actually become a couple but still trains his tush off and shio doesnt ask how he got strong, but why he did cause heckie is that gonna be one wild ride of a story. But the simple, final answer is to  protect her. Not because she's the daughter of Ammy, but because he failed to do so with his dad and elder brother and doesn't want to lose her too. Like I want weakness that comes with trust? Fear that comes with love? But also the fulfilling satisfaction of contentness. That you wouldn't trade this for anything else, its a unique feeling that only they can deliver. Ya feel?

Aki: Right??? Good heavens, mention music and now I need to go look up Shio's number one mood music........ Can't think Shio romance (especially where it's "skinny love") without remembering the song, sO-- Right?? Well, more likely her trying to fight back but she angry cries and just gets frustrated and shuts down. Won't talk. Won't feed the flames anymore with replies, but doesn't seek peace, either. It's a night where it alternates between dead silence in the home once more or quiet, strained sobs of someone who's already used to being hurt; she's just finding it harder to keep that pain quiet.    But it's..... It's home. More than it's ever been. From a family she couldn't quite connect with some days, to her own home all to herself... A place her own and where her life fit.    Last thing she would've ever expected is to find- in many ways- her opposite....and yet someone she'd find herself falling for all the same. Where it's funny to imagine her home used to be quiet and peaceful. Now there's some training dummies outside and even if he strays from home, she can hear him making noises out not too far away. There's footsteps of another person in her home now. This home....it's his home, too.    Something they're both happy to have. Company, understanding, and just.... An imbalance that makes it a balance by not being perfect.    She slows him down. He speeds her up.    They learn something from each other.    It hurts sometimes. His life will likely be long....but to what length? Will it end? Does she want to know? Should she ask?    And understanding what her mother saw in mortals from that.... Just because they cannot match in eternal age, doesn't make it all any less. The memories shared? Still memories made. Love was still had and wasn't it sweet? To love someone so completely, to have fought and made up, loved and lost...    It's scarier when it's you who can be hurt; this isn't watching someone's life play out like a movie. This is her life now and his and theirs together and it breaks her heart to know she could potentially lose him, but..... He's going to teach her so much. And she would understand what her mother does.    He'll be loved all the more for it.

ExoticGeneral: I literally have absolutely no words for this. I cant believe you would make me cry like this at midnight. This was the most hurtful, true, heartfelt yet heartbreaking thing I've read. I freaking forgot you did poetry is you spare time like holy.

   ...They just. Work together. It’s the perfect “opposites attract” relationship while still maintaining a balance between who they are alone and what their relationship is. The bolster of inspiration and motivation that they get from each other... He motivates her to leave the house more (often with him on a little adventure) and gives her that experience. As said, she slows him down and gets him to read more. Even try writing for himself, writing Shiori a small poem that he [slams down onto her desk and runs off in a hurry] gives her.

   Broadening their horizons with each other. The support and pure affection and how they do their best in their own ways to support each other... It’s perfect. Made a home in our hearts. And we sure wouldn’t want it any other way.

   As a final note... Have one more silly little meme we came up with:

Aki: So I'm re-reading our chat [again] and I just thought of this...... Natsu: I live to fight, so Imma take you down!!! Shiori, in her sleepy-whiny voice: Natsuuuu...... I wanna cuddle.... Natsu, already leaving: .......Someone else lives to fight and will take you down!!!

ExoticGeneral: You know that old saying goes, he who runs away lives to fight another day I'm glad I'm the only who just goes back and re-reads this entire message board of gross romance and heartbreak

   So yes, ship NatsuShio. Your heart will thank you...after it dies for 2 hours because of the angst that tails this ship in bittersweet flavors.

[lobsters-on-their-heads]

OB Rewatch: To Right the Wrongs of Many

I’m not crying, you’re crying

You can read my first watch review, which hits a number of points I left out,  here: https://lobsters-on-their-heads.tumblr.com/post/164138983111/to-right-the-wrongs-of-many

I loved

Sarah’s flashback scenes flow with the storyline, and inform Sarah’s current character. We learn more about her, and get answers to a question that hadn’t occurred to me to ask - why did she decide to keep Kira? 

Siobhan! Being the loving nurturing mother we’ve seen her be for five seasons. Quite different than the woman we meet in episode 2, who was DONE with Sarah’s bullshit.

Sarah rummaging around the basement boiler room, fussing over Helena to get her the things she can, keeping her head cool and her voice reassuring.

Art: “Are you alright?”

Helena: “Most excellent.”

And the back and forth between Sarah and Helena bearing their children, with Sarah repeating the lines Siobhan gave her... I... *sniffles* ....

The shot of the twins

Art and Sarah delivering Helena’s babies. They were, after all, the first two members of Clone Club that she interacted with. Sarah was absolutely the best person to do it.

Helena’s stick figure mobiles

Cosima and Scott helping Sarah practice for her GED. Hell, Sarah practicing for her GED! Which she will eventually take, I know she will.

Siobhan’s portrait. It’s her, a cup of tea, and her shotgun. Perfect.

Donnie is adorable with the babies. It’s a damn shame we didn’t see more of him being a father during the show (probably due to the availability or desire of the child actors). 

The parallel with Season 3′s opener

I loved the entire fucking baby shower. My favorite thing ever is whole Clone Club events like this. I also really hope that those judgey “friends” of Alison’s from Season 1 (you know, the living ones) saw all these random people streaming into her house, including a gay couple, a lesbian couple, awkward nerdy guys, a black guy with his daughter and a disabled girl, and a perma-drunk from the vague South. To say nothing of how those neighbors must feel about Helena.

Cosima taking Purple from Felix and immediately handing him to Delphine.

Love, love, LOVE Cosima’s dress. Which was surprisingly difficult to get a good screenshot of while she’s standing.

Finishing the show with the Sestras together. Okay, so the very final scenes didn’t have them together, but you know what I mean. This scene was wonderful. Yes, they are going off and living happily ever after, but pain remains. Pain that is perhaps related to their fights, but not always. No matter what, though, they always have each other. 

*cries again* 

Helena’s story about letting the babies eat sand! “Where does this sand come from? I don’t know, so I let them eat it.” We all know it comes from the bodies buried under her apartment.

I liked 

The camera circling around Sarah while Westboreland taunted her.

Sarah: “Ah, shut up!” and then she smashes his head with a oxygen tank.

Kira being supportive and understanding of her mom. I like it because Kira’s sweet, but I don’t love it - Kira’s a kid, and she shouldn’t have to worry about her mom.

Helena offering Kira a jam burger and Kira backing up quickly. I hope that was improvised. 

The contrast between the sunny family time of the baby shower and Sarah’s darker solitude as she approaches and enters the house.

The parade of people asking Sarah “How was the test?” I like it for the comedic aspect, but also because every single person there supports and roots for Sarah exactly where she is. None of them show any judgment that she’s taking her GED test instead of, say, her GRE.

I’m as lesbian as they come, but I do melt when I see tough guys holding babies like this.

Sarah’s face as Helena starts sharing her book.

I didn’t like

The placement of Delphine’s condolences to Sarah about Siobhan. It’s been months, and Delphine has almost certainly seen Sarah before now. It’s a nice moment, but it’s out of place. It’s also one of the few times we’ve ever seen Delphine and Sarah alone together, and I believe the only time it’s happened since the first episode of Season 3. Delphine’s sentiments regarding Siobhan are spot on, but it’s odd to hear her emoting like this to Sarah. Even in the rewatch, I was just as uncomfortable as Sarah was.

That Rachel couldn’t come in. Obviously she wanted to, despite her claims to the contrary, and she needs the redemption that the sestras give each other. 

Other notes

I see now that it wasn’t the tray table Helena smashed Coady’s face into, but the stirrup / footrest at the end of the bed.

Westboreland drones on about “I made you” yadda yadda, but he did pretty much jack shit in the creation of the clones except maybe finance and protect. The Duncans did the work.

Pretty sure that’s Sarah’s first kill.

Somewhere in the second half of my first watch of Season 5, I had this fic idea of Donnie and Helena going to the island to rescue Cosima and Charlotte (and Delphine). In that fic, Delphine delivers Helena babies, which is kind of what everyone on Tumblr wanted. Anyway, having Sarah do it here was actually a much better idea.

There was definitely infodump with Alison talking to Donnie about his new job, but I’ll kind of allow it since it involved pouring concrete floors, and... well. That is something he knows about, isn’t it?

As cool as this board is for the show, I’m not sure why it’s set up this way for them. They could store the info in a spreadsheet (Delphine already has it in the computer). The pictures are fun, but don’t serve much purpose for their research. Like, they already know they’re all played by Tatiana Maslany, so they’re not trying to figure that mystery out. But maybe Cosima just likes to look at them?

The birthday card Sarah finds is tucked into the same book that Cosima read to Kira at the end of Season 2. Was the card in there then, or was it tucked in later by Siobhan or someone else?

And I’m totally with with Felix on being upset about the boxes and the for-sale sign. Even if he’s not living there, a lot of the stuff was probably his once, just as much as hers. He deserves to have a piece of his mother to hang on to without Sarah throwing it away (which she totally would).

Évelyne’s probably doing an awful lot of this these days

According to IMDB, Lauren Hammersley is 5′9″. See, this is why Tat always looks so short. She’s surrounded by really tall people.

Sarah had nothing to be sorry about when she snapped at Alison, who was pushing way too hard at completely the wrong moment. 

Most of the Lyft and Uber drivers I’ve had would not have sat silently in the front seat like Yusef did. Rachel probably scared him into submission.

With a number like 274, I think it’s safe to assume that there were originally 300 Ledas, and 26 were either killed by Helena, by clone disease, or by something else. 

Of course Évelyne speaks Spanish. Two dialects of French, English, and German weren’t enough. 

Interesting that the babies are Arthur and Donnie, rather than Arthur and Donald or Art and Donnie. I wonder if a certain US president influenced that decision.

I have questions

Why does Coady follow this asshole, again? Why does she do things that she, herself hates, like killing Mark? What does she get out of it that she couldn’t achieve on her own or with a different crackpot? What is left for her here? What’s in it for that other doctor, too? 

(really disturbing note - had the abortion gone through, would Kira’s magical healing abilities have, uh... ? you know what, let’s not explore that too much)

Why does Sarah struggle so much with school? She’s obviously intelligent and able to focus on and achieve goals when she wants to, but academics seem to elude her. It seems logical to me that her attitude problems and academic struggles would be related. Then there’s her anxiety (called fear, but really) and terrible self-esteem, and everything spirals, but it didn’t always.

A few episodes ago, Scott or Cosima said they had 144 doses of the inoculate ready to go. In this episode, Scott’s worried about expanding the cell line any further. Does that mean they’ve used 144 doses? I doubt it. Does it mean they’re just making shit tons of it? I don’t know how any of this works.

Where is Felix living now, by the way?

Is this realistic for a glass eye?

I would’ve liked to have seen

What happened to Enger, and Art seeing it happen. More than that, though...

I think this ep could have been a solid two hours if they’d committed to it. The extra hour could include

Sarah, Helena, Art, and the twins getting out of Dyad, accounting for the dead bodies scattered around in there, and wrapping up what’s left of Neolution 

Delphine’s return from “France” and finally starting a real relationship with Cosima. I want to see them getting ice cream together.

Also Delphine taking rocks away from the babies

Helena moving into the garage

What’s the plan for Charlotte?

How Felix and Colin became a couple

and still leave us wanting more. Plus, that Delphine / Sarah scene could have found a better spot.

[sisterhood-sanity]

Who am I?

That is a great question.  The easy answer is I am Missy. I am a mother of two, a stepmother of three, a high school English teacher of 25 years, a divorcee, a sister to three sisters, five sisters-in-law, and two brothers, an aunt to 17 nieces and nephews, a daughter, and most recently and importantly a newlywed.  

Those are my titles, but I am also a compilation of events that when written out are unbelievable.  I love the TV show “This is Us,” but I have often wondered if the writers had been secretly taping my life.  I was married to a man for 20 years whom I had loved deeply and for a long time. However, he was bipolar, and ultimately, the disease was too much, and it was killing the kids and me.  After 20 years of marriage and survival, I filed for divorce.  Ironically, the day I filed was also my 44th birthday and the day I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (I warn you it sounds like a bad Lifetime movie). As crushing as those events could be, I wouldn’t let them.  I knew God had always given me a board long enough to cross the chasm.  And I did.  And then a year and a half after the divorce, my ex-husband ended his life.

His death was so soon after the divorce, it felt like I was burying my husband, not my ex-husband.  I spent the first three months like the walking dead.  It took all I had and advice and support from the man that I would eventually marry to pull it together.  The kids and I spent two years in therapy dealing with our loss of the family and their father.  During this recovery time, it became rapidly apparent that my son was on a serious downward spiral.  One day he walked into the house clearly stoned, and I did what the therapist and I said I should do (which I had also warned my son I would do); I called the cops.  In our little Norman Rockwellian hamlet, four squads came screeching up the driveway, drug dogs in tow and a lot of hard reality for my son.  Later that evening, the lead detective called me and asked if I could keep my son home from school because he was the final piece of evidence that they had been looking for.  Turns out my son didn’t just get high with the local pothead, no he chose to spark it up with the regional drug dealer.  (Seriously, this isn’t a movie script...this is my life.)  That night my son began talking about killing himself because it wasn’t worth living without his dad, so I did what any mom would do; I called a suicide hotline.

By 2PM the following day my son was admitted into a ten-day inpatient program.  I hugged my son and crossed my fingers.  There was no way I was going to lose another man that I loved.  When my son was discharged on Christmas Eve, the psychologist said that his real struggle was his Autism.  What? My son isn’t Autistic, or was he? Boy, that would make a lot of sense.   So, again, I did what I needed to do. I found a 30-day inpatient evaluation program.  I would know finally if my son suffered from Reactive Attachment Disorder or if he was Autistic.  Turns out he is Autistic.  This diagnosis opened doors for him and helped me know how to help my son.  (That’s another long tale that I may get into another time.)

Because of my ex-husband's death and my son’s troubles took so much of my attention, my sweet girl was left to find her own way.  Fortunately, she has turned into a strong self-sufficient young woman.  Unfortunately, it means she is strong-willed and opinionated and very reserved about what is going on with her. But, we are finding our way and our language.  She is a survivor, and I am immensely proud of her. This blog is as much for my daughter as it is for me and all of you soul sisters.

I met the man of my dreams and prayers two weeks before my ex-husband took his life.  (He actually came to the funeral).  Seeing Kevin at the funeral made the horror bearable.  There is so much to say about this man who helped me save myself and my kids.  Through Kevin’s constant and steady patience and advice, the kids and I fell in love with him, and we married him last July.  Both of my kids and I were over the moon!  They had learned it is ok to trust a man to be there when you need him, and I had learned to trust a man to say what he means and that the other shoe isn’t going to drop at any minute.  I had prayed for Kevin to come into my life and he did.  However, the marriage called for leaving my job of 20 years, moving an hour away from the only home my kids had known and learning how to live with a new family.   And, all this time, I didn’t know that the MS had caused damage to my brain.  Yes, I have a bilateral cognitive deficiency which wouldn’t have been a problem if I had stayed at my job, but the intense demands of a new school, new curriculum, and new expectations ultimately developed into severe anxiety and depression.  So what is a girl to do...I left my job to get healthy...and write...and live...and love.  

So who am I? I am strong!  But if it hadn’t been for all of the support I had received this year and all of the subsequent years, I never would have survived. I gained my sanity through the help of my sisterhood. I hope this is a place to help you be strong and survive and live and love and find sanity.

[thestoryofme13]

Saving Me

Prequel to Saving Me: The Spiral

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

This chapter is really dark

Warning: self-harm (Freezing water and cutting), intrusive thoughts, panic attack, trouble breathing, uselessness, hopelessness, suicide, thinking of death, minimal blood, anxiety, crying, failure, body image

A/N: This is my attempt at an AU, but please look out for the warnings before each chapter, this is going to be triggering and I am going to do my best to tag all of them but I will need your help to make sure I don’t miss anything. I want you as readers to be safe. This was inspired by @ilovemygaydad and their fic Friends in Dark Places, which I highly recommend, you can see the all the chapter links and my thoughts on the story as a whole here.

It had been two weeks since the first post-it note. Every day it would be something new but always written on the electric blue paper. So far Virgil’s favorites were “PUPPIES,” “BOYS,” the day after boys he got one that said, “GIRLS,” then the following day he got, “Or whoever you’re attracted to or no one at all!” These notes while very cute and silly, helped a lot. Virgil had started a collection of notes on the inside of his closet door and anytime he felt like self-harming he would look at the notes. Sometimes this worked and other times on particularly bad days, it didn’t work, and he would slam the door closed. At least with the door closed he wouldn’t feel like such a failure. Virgil knew that whoever was writing him these notes would be disappointed anytime he relapsed so anytime he did, the closet door would have to be closed, “out of sight out of mind,” right?

There was one particularly bad day, nothing really stood out to make it worse, but it was probably the worse he has ever gotten. Virgil had started to count on those post-it notes, they were his lifeline, obviously, he knew that was stupid and that he couldn’t count on them forever, but it was all he had for now. Then one day a note didn’t show up, he figured the writer, had finally given up on their project and decided that Virgil was a lost cause. He would have to agree with that, if he was holding onto sticky notes from stranger to get him through life then maybe he was a lost cause.

That day when he got back home after not receiving a note, no amount of looking at the wall of sticky notes, was curbing his urge. He finally gave in and went to go take a shower. He had told his mom that the cold water was being fickle after the first time he was unable to get the temperature he wanted, she had called a plumber and they took care of it. While the freezing cold water worked in his shower, today it did nothing for him in helping to quiet his mind, no amount of time under the water that pricked him like needles was helping. Once he figured out that his usual tactic would not work, he stepped out only after about 30 minutes under the freezing water.

Usually, the freezing water turning off his brain would give him energy, but this shower seemed to do the opposite. Upon exiting the shower Virgil was completely drained, he opted for sitting on the floor in his towel, much to his intrusive thought’s delight there were nail clippers within an arm’s reach. Virgil grabbed the nail clippers, his heart rate steadily increasing, his breathing becoming more ragged, his hands shaking, every part of his mind and body giving him signs that he should stop but his intrusive thoughts were “louder.” Without even thinking about it he moved his fingers so that the metal nail file connected to the nail clippers was exposed, his mind was beyond reason. Auto-piolet had kicked in, it felt like someone else was in charge of his movements, as he moved the towel up to expose his thigh.

All the words that Virgil could think of that made sense to carve into his porcelain skin were too long, “useless.” “worthless,” and “hopeless,” all of these words while very fitting were compromised of too many letters. Virgil also knew his pain tolerance was very low, so maybe just one letter for each time he failed. The tip of the nail file was dull, which meant he would have to apply more pressure, but if this would stop his thoughts and dull his pain for even just a moment, then it was worth it.

Slowly, his hands shaking from adrenaline or maybe anxiety, but eventually, the dull tip made contact with his pale thigh. The tears fell silently from his face whether it was from fear or possibly regret, even Virgil couldn’t tell. His breathing hitched at the exposure to the cold point of the metal. He hesitated for a second as the tip of the file made contact with his skin, but without overthinking his action he forcefully pushed down and began to carve a “u,” once he finished that letter he could barely breathe. The breathes were coming in rapid and short, not quite filling his lungs, or giving his brain enough oxygen.

The carving didn’t draw much blood, it hurt and would likely scar but luckily for Virgil the blood was minimal, or at least a lot less than he thought. Somehow the intrusive thoughts that had urged Virgil to this display, had forgotten the fact that the sight of blood, made him dizzy. His shortness of breath combined with the minimal amount of blood, caused black spots to form at the edges of his vision. Virgil dropped the nail clippers and placed both hands palm down on the cold tile floor hoping that it would ground him and bring him back to reality.

He knew that he should place his head between his knees, but he could not bring himself to be in that close of proximity to his failure. Failure was a good way to describe this new mark. He had failed the person who gave him notes because obviously, they were under the misguided impression that Virgil was somehow worth the space he took up. He failed his mother, by not living up to her expectations and if she ever knew, she would likely be more disappointed than worried. He was her only child, and he was meant to be this perfect child but no he was just a fuck up. Virgil guessed he had also failed himself in a way. He was supposed to be taking care of these feelings he had but no he couldn’t deal with them, so he found ways to escape just like the coward he was.

Those sticky notes in his closet seemed to mock him as if to say “haha, knew you couldn’t do it.” What was the point in having reasons to live when he would disregard them in search of relief from his? From his place on the floor, Virgil silently cursed the sticky notes, it was their fault, he was like this! The notes had such high expectations, they were suffocating him. Those damned notes were asking too much of him, they wanted him to stay alive! He wasn’t even sure he wanted to die! All he wanted was for his life to go back to normal. He wanted his best friend and confidant back, the loneliness was starting to get to him. While Virgil knew there was no good reason to self-harm he knew damn well that a lack of a person in his life was not a good enough reason. Virgil couldn’t help it though, he needed this escape, probably more than anyone would ever understand.

The series of events and emotions masked the pain and the hell that his life had been, even the panic that he felt now was a much-needed break from the thoughts. Through the panic was a nagging voice that urged Virgil to take care of his new failure. While he wanted to be numb and stop thinking, he didn’t see any reason that it should have to get infected.

He had to be rational, he had to take care of himself. He could not give in to the part of him that said to give up. He may have made some bad choices but he wasn’t ready to die, not yet! Although the part of him that said, “give up,” was much louder than the part of him that said, “continue on.” Even though everything sucked right now and his life had pretty much always sucked, he wanted to live, right?

Tag list: @fandomsandanythingelse@justanotherpurplebutterfly @nyxwordsmith @michealawithana @fanfictionsideaccount@bubblycricket @moose-1967  @electricdaisycat @sanders-sides-fic-archive

[soyybeanboy]

The truth about how I found out I was gay

When I’m telling my story about finding my sexuality and coming out, I waaay oversimplify it to make it fit in with everybody else’s experience. I make it sound like a linear struggle with a happy ending, when it was really a whole lot of back-and-forth for years. I don’t even really remember coming out, at least officially. I just kind of dropped hints until me and my family were on the same page. Even with my friends. It was never really dramatic or emotional, and because of that I feel like I can’t relate to a lot of other LGBTQ+ people and like my voice in a lot of community issues doesn’t really matter, because I “don’t get it.”

So, here’s the real story. Pure truth, and if I can’t remember exactly how something happened, I’ll say so.

I was in sixth grade when I first remember it coming up for me. I was sitting at my lunch table and decided to tell two girls, one of which I didn’t really know, that I had had a crush on a girl before. I don’t know why. I don’t even think I’d had a really memorable girl-crush at that point. Maybe I though I’d be seen as cool or unique for it. Which I’m very ashamed of to this day.

This was received well by one of the girls (who happened to be my best friend) and the other girl went and told two other girls in my class, who weren’t as okay with it. Specifically, I remember coming back from lunch and one of those girls stopping to ask,

“Is it true? That you’re...”

And because I knew what she was going to say, I answered, “Yeah.” To which she proceeded to make a face like she’d just smelled something bad, and then walk away. And that really upset me, because I was sensitive as a kid. I don’t really remember the timeline of events for the rest of that day, but I remember that it ended with me going home crying and “coming out” to my mom as gay. But I don’t count it as a real coming out, because I honestly still didn’t think I was gay. I wrote all of it off as me being dumb and childish and hoped that everyone could forget about it so that I could just go back to being straight, like a “normal person”. But it didn’t, because apparently actions have consequences or something. The girl who stopped me in the classroom must have told her brother about everything that went down. And so, he suddenly decided he hated me. He stopped me out my way out to the buses to tell me that people thought I was a lesbian, but at the time I didn’t actually know what lesbian meant. I don’t really remember anything else from there except that I learned what lesbian meant and that he made fun of me for the rest of the school year. I was not happy about it, but I mostly managed to avoid and ignore him. During the rest of that school year, I realized that I was developing a crush on my best friend, and yes, she was a girl. And it was weird for me, because despite everything that was happening, I still didn’t see it as ‘wrong,’ necessarily. I don’t really remember how I felt about it, honestly, except confused. Mostly because I wasn’t sure if it was actually a crush, or what. (Spoiler alert, it was. Past Sage, you are GAY.)

Enter seventh grade. That year was, in a lot of ways, better than sixth grade. For one, all that sixth grade drama was pretty much gone. We were all in a new school where we barely ever saw our old classmates, and even though I was still pretty embarrassed about what had happened, it wasn’t as big a deal. I didn’t have a crush on my best friend anymore, either. So, things just kind of went back to normal, kind of. But I was still kind of trying to repress it? I don’t know, it was always just something in the back of my mind. And I went through boy-crushes and stuff too, so it was kind of easy to just keep it down. And so, seventh grade was pretty uneventful, all in all.

Now, the summer before eighth grade. I had just moved overseas, and between culture shock and the loneliness of being in a new place, and frickin adolescence, my anxiety was going CRAZY. And, though I’m not sure exactly when it started, I began feeling a whole lot of anxiety around if I was gay or not. Everything that reminded me of anything related to being gay caused me so much anxiety that I had a physical reaction. It would give me that feeling of adrenaline, but kind of different... I don’t know, it’s hard to explain. But it didn’t feel good. And deep inside, I’m sure I did know, but I wasn’t sure. And that was the scariest thing about all of it. I like knowing things. And so when it’s like I’m supposed to know something about myself and I don’t, I just become terrified.

One day, my sisters and I were on the computer in the living room watching random music videos on YouTube, and they wanted to watch Katy Perry’s “Firework” music video. Now, in that video, there’s a scene where two guys kiss at a party. And when I saw it, I started internally freaking out. So, between that and spiraling thoughts of what might happen to me if I kept all of it bottled up, I went to my mom and started a very awkward conversation. I told her that I was worried about being gay or trans or something like that, and she told me that no matter what, she and my dad would love me. And I don’t know if it was how it satiated my fear of rejection or even just the relief of someone else finally knowing, but I started to feel better. And even though I had a ton of other things going on in my busy brain, my sexuality wasn’t something I really worried about anymore. I still was really anxious to have a fitting label and finally figure out who the frick I was attracted to, but it was less stressful than before.

The next year or so is kind of a blur, honestly. Eighth grade went by really fast, and I don’t remember much about it, sexuality-wise.

The beginning of ninth grade is when things started popping up again. I was still so insecure about my sexuality, but I still really wanted to come out to people (because at that point, I was kind of sure that I wasn’t straight, but I was still DEFINITELY in the questioning phase). I honestly don’t know why I wanted come out so badly. The same reason I did in sixth grade? My insane lack of patience?I don’t know.

The timeline of events I’m about to talk about might be completely out of order, but they all happened at some point, so I guess it doesn’t matter that much.

I came out to my group of friends more than once. First to all four of them as a group, very soon after we all met. Then to the two of them I was closest with. I came out to them separately because I wanted to make sure that they got the message and I wasn’t sure they had the first time, since I’d done it with a really out of the blue joke. Anyway, I actually told those two friends twice because my memory was so awful that I couldn’t remember that I’d done it before. Both times, they were super chill about it. Really awkward, but chill. But then, I started having a lot of anxiety over whether or not I was lying. Which is so dumb, right? But it was this huge internalized fear about whether or not I was deceiving people about this really serious thing. Part of it was because I came out to other people before I’d fully come out to myself, and figured myself out. Because I did this, I wasn’t sure if my label was going to change or if the label I’d told everyone I was (bisexual) was even really true. And so even though I lived with that fear, my lack of impulse control led me to come out to my aunt and one set of my grandparents before I was ready. Luckily, they were all really accepting and super cool about it, but then my fear only got worse. I thought, “If I end up figuring out that I’m straight, I’ll be in way to deep to ever say it!”

Spoiler alert, old Sage, YOU ARE GAY. CHILL OUT. But old Sage didn’t know that, and so she dealt with serious self-doubt and anxiety for the next year or so.

The next part of this story takes place online. I don’t really know when this happened exactly, but it was sometime during ninth grade, and maybe even part of the summer before. I joined a social media called Discord and made a lot of friends on there, one of which was a gay girl who I was really close with for a couple months. She asked me what I identified as, and I told her biromantic as almost a cop-out. Like “Haha yeah, girls are cute but I’d only have sex with men haHAA.” She was so cool about it, and through a bunch of conversations and a specific interaction involving her prompting me to draw my dream girl, I told her that she’d helped me reach my epiphany moment and that now I knew I was bisexual. But I was still unsure and I was still afraid of accidentally having lied to everyone, all because I had come out before I was ready and before I was sure.

And so, the anxiety continued. I started feeling anxious whenever I was attracted to a guy, maybe because I thought I wasn’t ‘gay enough’ and I had to only be attracted to girls or mainly to them in order to count. Anything other than gay was ‘cheating,’ I guess. I knew that attraction didn’t have to be 50-50, but it felt like it had to be that or more leaning towards feminine-presenting people in order to be valid. And it doesn’t! But I didn’t know that, and so anxiety stayed.

After that, things get blurry again. I slowly started meeting more people online and just gradually getting more comfortable with myself, and the anxiety kind of started going away a little bit. But then, I met a girl. And I honestly wasn’t sure what I felt for her. I couldn’t differentiate platonic from romantic love, and I was just confused, but because of my desperate need to be ‘gayer,’ I decided that I had a crush on her. Good choice, too. Because turns out, I did. (Guess my anxiety finally did one thing right.) And we started dating. Still though, early in our relationship, I was unsure of my feelings for her and felt even more anxiety because she was so affectionate and if it turned out that I was straight, I would have to break her heart, and I didn’t want to do that. Because as confused and anxious as I was, I knew that I cared about her.

This continued all the way up into February of 2018 where we met in person, and even beyond that. After we met in person, I was more sure of my romantic feelings for her, but all those years of doubt weren’t just going to let it go, so I kept worrying and I kept doubting. After that, it’s another blurry haze.

Now, as I’m writing this, it is July of 2018. It has taken me years, but I’m finally mostly comfortable with myself and the label I’ve chosen. I still have feelings of doubt, but they’re not as loud as they used to be, and it’s nice to finally be pretty much sure of something. I am pansexual, sometimes I say bisexual. I can choose which one I want or even flip back and forth, because I decide what my labels mean to me. I am attracted to people regardless of gender. My attraction to one gender in no way invalidates my attraction to another. I recently attended my first pride, and spent a day with other people like me. We have all struggled, and we’ve all had different struggles, but we all have one thing in common. And that is that we have pushed through, and that we’re going to be okay.

So, that’s the honest story about how I found myself. I left some things out that weren’t super important to the story, and condensed some details that would have made this way too long, but everything that I wrote is true and as I remember it. So, how about two rapid fire things that didn’t really fit anywhere in the story?

1. My parents and family are extremely accepting, and they do a lot to educate themselves, learn from me, and support me.

2. After I realized I was A Homo, I also realized that I have potentially had a gay crush before that I was too young and too uneducated to recognize as one. You never realize how ingrained into our heads heteronormativity is until you look back, honestly.

And that’s it. It was long, it was weird, it was confusing, and it was way more complicated than the simplified version that I normally tell people, but there it is. If you take anything away from all of this, I’d want it to be that it’s okay to be unsure, it’s okay to question for however long you need to, and you are under no obligation to come out to anyone. Do things whenever you’re ready, and don’t forget that no one knows you better than you do.

So, yeah. I just needed to get that all off my chest.

Thanks for reading.

[mistyeyedpea]

I've been feeling so stuck lately.

I ran a fever today, which honestly isn't unusual for me since I get low grade fevers from time to time. My body likes to freak out on me. Because I dont have a ln actual diagnosis for what I go through I feel like it drives me a bit nuts. I tell doctors what I can remember, but honestly I've lived.my whole life thinking most of the things I felt and experienced were normal and doctors are so uninterested, unmotivated and unwilling it makes the mundane task seem so painful. Its even more painful when you tell them for years you have these symptoms and they only write down what they think is necessary enough to explore. The rest is dismissed as being anxious, paranoid, dramatic... its ironic isn't it? How you go to get help and these very people continue to perpetuate the pain and suffering you go through. I wouldn't go down such spirals if I had answers.

The craziest part is when you have been doing research all your life, and having lived experience with chronic physical and mental conditions... but because I appear fine on the outside, to someone who doesn't know a this about me.... to deny me is absurd. I wouldn't designate a label that isn't meant for me, but this ableism in the medic field... it needs to stop. The stigmas need to stop. Doctors need to understand that its okay to not have all the answers. Whats not okay is harming them further by gaslighting, invalidating peoples lived experiences. Where is the compassion?

We as patients, as people, can be highly aware of our issues where as some arent. I happen to be someone who's highly self aware. I observe everything from sensations to what and how I feel... I monitor my own person. I once saw a post that said "having anxiety is being hyperspace of your own existence" and they really hit the nail on the head there. I feel my anxiety stems from be being highly sensitive to what I feel and my surroundings.. I feel anxiety is just a symptom of other conditions...

It drives me crazy that I am only realizing how many signs were missed. How did people not notice? I had to learn to adapt all my life on my own... immersed in it day by day I learned to survive. It hurts me almost everyday. Im learning to let go of this feeling. This feeling that I was a victim of the system that couldn't understand me, rejected me. It made it harder to understand myself throughout the years. But now I understand..

I know that as the years go by and im alive i learn more, and I know that doctors do too.

Despite all I have been through, and still continue to go though, I push through this painful existence hoping one day, ill actually be seen. And that ill be in the hands of a doctor who won't judge me when I tell them my concerns... cause I have many.

I literally stayed up all night the other night cause I couldn't sleep.. trying to remember to document articles of research I find trying to keep them saved on favorites. I often forget how to find the favorites page so I started a notes with the links.

I started doing this in the event a doctor tries to get smart with me... I truly don't have the patience or bandwidth for it anymore. They dont do it in a nice way. They do it in a condescending way. At least the people ive dealt with..

I am a person who was born female so naturally... this is fucking oppressive as is.

I tried talking to my mom about me being Autistic and having adhd, and how im finally accepting it because for years I had "episodes" which i now know, were fucking meltdowns.

I could go on about it, but I dont want to get off topic.

My mother asked me "wow so you finally got diagnosed?"

The last time I went to an Evaluation the man I met with was a total douche who told me I was a hypochondriac had conversion disorder and my anxiety was what was causing everything... He also went off my previous diagnosis and asked me very broad questions about their symptoms to which I replied yes or no... I met with this man for less than 20 minutes and he literally went off my old diagnosis.

He knew nothing about me other than what we talked about and my previous medical records. He made stigmatizing statements when I told him about my body pains and how its possible fibromyalgia, he said he doesnt diagnose women til their thirties.

When I mentioned that I suspect im autistic he basically laughed in my face and told me im not autistic and if I want to see "the autism room" so I can "see" what "autism looks like"

I didn't contact these people back for a long time after that because it took so long to process.... medical gaslighting is real. And gaslighting in itself is insidious as it makes our imposter syndrome so much worse. We question our own existence and realities which attributes to even more mental and physical anguish... psychologically so damaging and these people have no idea.

I think I may have a case with them.. but anyways...

I learned to live in this mind. In this body. In this life to the best of my knowledge and abilities. I have to remind myself its not my fault im chronically overwhelmed or feeling behind. Im coming to terms to the fact that I am disabled. I hate to limit myself, but I have to acknowledge this in order to accept myself and release the internalized abelism.

I have to accept that I never was and never will be like other people and that's okay.

I also need reminder that being diagnosed doesn't make you (autistic). Being (autistic) makes you (autistic).

I put autistic in parentheses because you can literally change it out and tweak it to fit almost any medical condition and it holds true.

Anyways im signing off. I think I've done enough ranting for the night.

Perhaps I'll rant again and plunge deeper. I try to not give to many details but as a neurodivergent person I can't help but go on tangents at times. I'll forget what I thought if I dont write them down, so letting my brain puke words is the best mental exercise I can give myself.

If I do end up seeing a therapist, it makes it alot easier to sort myself.

I have also been trying to orient my mind with art. I try to think of the art I can make .. but when the time comes, im blank. All these ideas for my mind to run into a wall...

Sometimes I wish I had a therapist as a friend.. or a psychiatrist.

It would be good to have someone invested in you the way a friend would ... signing off