#Seriously It Took My Therapist And Two Friends Pointing It Out

[missbattyao3]

01/31/2025

The fact that acquisition of not only a ticket to see MICO, but also one to see Djo was successful fills me with a joy unknown to man kind - and the shows are like... within 2 weeks of each other.

My Teenage "Metal Or Nothing" Self is dying on the inside, but they were an angsty little brat and they need to let me enjoy things.

[mrs-kodzuken]

empty promise ⟢ kenma k.

synopsis: you notice that your boyfriend, kuroo, of almost three years has been acting strange lately. you confront him on it and then suddenly you’ve made the decision to leave him. luckily, your best friend is always there for you.

other: cheater!kuroo x fem!reader, best friend!kenma x fem!reader, angst, break up, little mention of ED, comfort, manipulation, gas-lighting, asshole!kuroo, best friend!kenma helping rebuild reader, therapy, best friend!kenma has loved reader since 4eva eventual fluff

"Kuroo, I know it’s happening again.” You sighed, knowing this wouldn't end well, just like last time didn't end well per say either. You stared at the man across from you in the kitchen decorated with picture frames of the both of you as he hovered in front of the fridge, probably wondering why you didn't cook tonight.

“What are you talking about?” He sounded snippy; his demeanor changed as he peered his sharp gaze back at you, immediately becoming defensive. His slick, black suit that he wore leaving for work this morning was hardly as neat as it was, adding on to your suspicion. 

“You’re hiding something from me, I know it.” You finally got out, your heartbeat quickening as it usually did when you would have to confront your boyfriend of three years. It was upsetting that you would have this anxious-riddening feeling that made you sick everytime you defied him. 

“Seriously? This again? You’re fucking kidding me,” He snapped, slamming the refrigerator door shut, into which you jumped at the loud, sudden noise—eyes widening. 

“Yes, Kuroo, this again. I can't set it aside any longer; the feelings are tearing me apart.” You attempted to say, “I just want trust, and—and I feel like I’m not getting it from you,” You stammered, trying to reason with the man; his expression held anger as if he couldn't believe you felt this way, especially about him.

“There you go with your crazy talk; are you sure you’ve been talking with the therapist Y/n?” He accused you, the scoff apparent in his voice as he rolled his eyes. 

Furrowing your brows, you couldn’t believe that he would ask something like that. “Yes, at every appointment, and sometimes I text—“ You were abruptly cut off, the anxiety ate away at you, making you chip your nail polish. 

"I just think you’re being dramatic. Honestly, I think you’re the one who's making this relationship go without trust,” He hammered in on his accusations. The kitchen light flickered as a few beats of silence passed between you two. 

The absolute quietude in the house was almost deafening. The living room TV wasn't on; no soft music, nothing. No noise except the small buzzing from the refrigerator that you have always, always hated.

You took a deep breath and tried to collect your thoughts, you followed the steps your therapist gave you for moments like this. 

“Kuroo, where were you tonight? You’re home extremely later than you said.” You purse your lips, wanting to know, but the ache in your stomach was becoming too much. At this point, it hurt to love him, to question him. You knew what he would say, you could probably even guess the exact words that would come out of his mouth.

His taller frame stood across the kitchen; the usual loving eyes now turned cold and hard and it was all directed at you.

“At the office, I was working.” He snarled, “Oh, you think I’m fucking someone at my job now, huh?” He raised his voice, your eyes widening at the thoughts your mind crept to, but you wanted to discuss it first. Wanted to calmly talk about it, this is what your therapist told you to do. 

“No, Kuroo, I don’t think anything; I didn’t say anything like that. "All I said was that I had a feeling and I wanted to talk with you about it.” This is what your therapist had specifically told you to do; you could feel the crease between your eyebrows becoming more apparent with every sharp word Kuroo said. 

“Oh yeah, because I’m totally cheating on you. I told you that last time would never happen again; why are you having these ‘feelings’?” He rudely said, as if you didn't notice the signs.

The late nights, the alcohol on his breath, the lack of physical intimacy with you, the ruffled, messy state of his clothes and hair. It was painfully obvious at this point. You felt ashamed for not saying something sooner. 

“..There was just one night where you came home smelling like another woman and I—I just don’t know Kuroo. I wanted to make sure that last time wasn’t happening again.” You averted your gaze, not being able to stand the hatred in your boyfriend's eyes. You felt small against his larger frame and even larger, hurtful words. 

“Ha! Isn’t that something? You’re probably cheating on me with how much you work from home.” He dryly chuckled, throwing accusations as if they were sharpened knives now. 

“Kuroo, why aren’t you listening? You saying things like that hurt me, you know? I've been faithful since we agreed to be in this relationship. I'm just worried that history is repeating itself.” You try to get his attention back on the topic; he just wasn't listening to you.

You could feel your eyes starting to water, the buildup of arguing, the ache in your stomach, and the painful incriminations he was throwing. It was beyond hurtful, it ached.

“You’re delusional if you think you smelled another woman on me. There was no one at the office; nothing has happened since last April; nothing.” The bellowing of his voice was meant to try and beckon you to listen to him. And you were finally silent; you knew your pathetic voice would waver if you said something, anything right now. 

You watched Tetsuro open a bottle of alcohol, not caring that he just openly hurt your feelings without any regard to how you might actually feel and didn’t try to console you either. 

Opening your mouth to try and say something to reason with him, you couldn’t even say a singular syllable. 

“Just fucking drop it,” He muttered before trying to slide past you into the cupboard to find something to eat. 

"I’m leaving you.” Your voice harrowingly got out, and you glared at the floor, hating that you got dealt these shitty cards. You carefully took off the promise ring that you now realize was nothing more than just an empty promise and set it on the cold counter. 

"Fine, you'll realize that you're the problem. The toxic, insecure, crazy one and then come crawling back to me,” He said without a hint of remorse; you knew though. You knew that he wasn't your caring, sweet, helpful boyfriend anymore; he was someone's. And you damn sure were not going to fight for him. 

You watched as he left the house through the back door; you didn’t bother to check Life360 as you probably knew where he was going. You were right, unfortunately yet again. 

Not being able to take the heartbreak, you decided to pack. You wanted to leave this home; you wished Kuroo made you happy like he did in the beginning of the relationship, but instead all he does is make you stressed and upset. 

You gather your at-home work supplies, main toiletries, important documents, sentimentals, and clothes to last you three whole weeks. You could replace everything else; hell, you were a working woman, not some rando he could kick to the street to make you fend for yourself.

You figured he’d clear out the rest of your things before he invited his new girl here. 

You carefully put your personal belongings in your car before leaving the key to the house under the front door mat. You decided to take a few minutes to give yourself a cry; you needed it. Your entire life of what you thought you knew was completely destroyed within thirty minutes; you had to cry or else you wouldn't be okay. 

When you pulled out of the driveway, you called Kenma from your car. Kenma has been your best friend since college; he actually introduced you and Kuroo to each other.

And look how that turned out. Although, you had hardly spoken to him in a few because Kuroo cut off your contact with anyone that wasn’t him—mostly any male. 

Once the dialing ended, Kenma picked up. You tried to gather what to say in a few short moments, watching the streetlamps pass you by as you drove.

“Can I stay at your place for a few days?” You asked before he could ever say 'hello'. You cringed at your voice, which was raspy from the argument and the tears you shed. 

“Oh, yeah, sure. What happened?" Concern laced Kenma's voice for you; he was always so observant of your emotional state. But then again, you did sound horrible right now. 

“Kuroo cheated on me again; I left him this time; I should've—I just should’ve left the first instead.” You tried to keep it together and not have to pull over and cry about the situation. 

There was silence over the phone for a few minutes except the small sniffles and clearing of your throat. "I’m sorry, Y/n. You deserve better than someone who easily breaks your heart like this.” You could tell that Kenma felt guilty because he was the one who set the both of you up on a date.

"I’m sorry that I’m going to crash at your place to get my life together; I know I’m a lot.” You sighed, parking in his driveway. His house was as huge as ever; living the rich life did suit him though. 

“No, you’re not a lot. Things happen, and I’m glad I’m someone you can lean on.” He genuinely reassured you, peeking out of the living room curtains and seeing your headlights, then ending the phone call.

You gathered your things and headed inside to Kenma's house, not having been here in a couple. It was just as admirable as the first time you were here.

“Were you just streaming right now?" You called in the house curiously; you could hear gaming sounds in the background of the phone call, they were much too familiar to listen to. 

Kenma came from around the corner of the kitchen; he was in his typical comfortable merch that he made. His hair was pulled back, and he had a bowl of curry in his hand. 

He paused, taking your form just like you did to him, except he was wary of your blotchy face and red eyes. 

"..Yeah—yeah, I was. But don’t feel bad; I was supposed to get something to eat anyway.” He half smiled at you, a small crinkle in his eyes. 

“You can make yourself comfortable in any room in the house; I'm going to finish my stream. If you need me, you know where to find me.” He turned away from you with a glance that you didn't see as you got familiar with his home again. 

“Thanks, Ken,” You mumbled as he was already gone. You were going straight for the room that has always brought you comfort—Kenma's bedroom.

Collapsing on his fluffy bed was the highlight of your night, letting the feelings of the breakup wash over you. You knew that it would be something you'd bring up with your therapist this week; she would help you and talk you through your mind process like she always did. 

Your eyes wandered as you controlled your breathing, grounding yourself with the distant memory that you last had about Kenma's room. It was always your safe space back then. You sighed and rolled over onto your back.

After lounging around and letting your emotions process thoroughly, you finally got up, the heartache from the past few hours still fresh. 

"I didn’t expect you would pick my room, but that’s okay. It brings back memories of our sleepovers.” Kenma's voice rang out, opening his black-painted bedroom door, effectively startling you, which made you jump. 

You regained your posture and gave a small, worried smile. “Are you sure? I can leave. Sorry, this just, just brings me comfort, you know?” You softly smiled, gazing around the room that you both would always share. 

Back then, if Kenma hadn't introduced you to Kuroo, you would have probably confessed to him. The thought made your eyes widen a bit, and you blinked it to the back of your mind because anything else could come of it. 

He leaned on the door frame and said, "No, it’s okay for you to stay. Were you about to sleep or something?” He raised a brow, not knowing that you planned to sleep with him. Nevertheless, he didn't care because, after all, he's missed you. 

You winced, not fond of the idea of sleep right now. “Not really. I know I shouldn’t mess up my sleep schedule like this, but life kind of got in the way." You dryly chuckled, gathering your comfortable clothes that you would usually sleep in at your now-old home. 

You sighed with despair, not being able to keep it in. The silence only egged you on as Kenma waited, his gaze only on you.

"I just keep feeling sorry for myself. How I should’ve been stronger to leave instead of being so lenient with him cheating on me so easily.” You were getting teary-eyed again, hating the situation you could've left from but didn't.

A soothing voice and an even more soothing hand surrounded your senses, trying to calm you. “That's normal. You thought you could trust again, so you tried it, and he proved you wrong. It just shows that you both weren’t compatible, a shitty thing for me to say, but I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you; you know me.” You could even hear the smile in his voice at that last part.

However, you were oblivious to the painstakingly ache in his posture due to the guilt of him putting you through that. 

“Yeah, I do. Thank you for always being honest with me. I really appreciate it, Kenma. It means a lot. You’re practically the only person I trust—to always give me the truth.” You paused at that bit, realizing how awfully true it was. 

“Always. I don't think I’d lie about anything; I don’t really see a point in it.” Kenma pondered out loud before going to light a few candles and turn on a warm-colored lamp for you since you’d be in here.

“Don’t worry about finding someplace to go yet. It’s okay for you to recuperate from life for a few days first.” He finished, his kindness for you glaringly obvious, but that's all you took it for, was kindness. You nodded, physically there but mentally not. 

“What are you doing?” Broke you out of your trance-like state; staring at a computer screen for hours on end didn't do your eyesight any good.

“Working..” You mumbled out, knowing he was able to scold you about this. You never stayed up late to do work, to party, to drink, anything. You felt like you were boring and this was a way to combat it, especially with you feeling guilty for yourself.

“Why? You’ve had like three hours of sleep; I thought you were going to recuperate from life.” Kenma asked, he had noticed that you were knocked out earlier. He came into his room to check up on you, but you were sound asleep, peacefully. Knowing you were finally safe from harm in any way made him feel good inside. 

"I tried; it didn’t work.” You turned back to your screen, wheeling around in Kenma’s office chair. You didn’t bother pretending like you didn’t know what you could and could not touch or act new with him. 

“Have you thought about trying harder?” He snorted, but he genuinely cared about your wellbeing right now. He flicked on the above light, it was better than nothing right now, he also cared about your eyes. 

"I’m only joking Y/n. want me to stay here with you or at least bring you something?” You saw his reflection on the screen, being able to notice his change of clothes now that you were sitting in complete darkness with the only light from your computer shining. 

“No, I’m fine.” You said, earning yourself a squint from Kenma, not that you could see it as you were still typing away.

“You’ve been here at my house for almost eight hours and have yet to eat or drink something. Restricting your body from things like that as a poor coping mechanism isn’t healthy.” He scolded, being actually serious. Ironic how he learned that from his best friend in high school, however, Kenma wasn’t even sure he wanted to call Kuroo his best friend after what happened tonight.

"I—I know that, I wasn’t going to.” You stammered, trying to think of an excuse with him standing right there, taking a few small steps to further his point. “Okay, maybe I was going to, but now I obviously won’t.” You rolled your eyes, not bothering to lie to him. 

"I’ll bring you something, and then we’ll see if you change your mind about working.” He patted your head like he used to, it brought you back to an easier life, a simpler life where you were actually happy and didn’t live your life anxiously. 

Being with Kenma was like breathing, it was simple. 

You didn’t feel insecure because you didn’t have make up on, or that you cried, or probably didn't look the best right now. Kenma wasn’t Kuroo, Kenma cared. 

You knew he always had and probably always would. It was beyond palliating to know that Kenma cared about the important things like whether you were okay, if you had eaten or drank anything, if you needed someone to support you emotionally or help you vent.

He didn’t care about the other things like pressuring you to always look perfect or to stray out of your comfort zone for business parties with people who made you uncomfortable. 

That brought you back to the present. “This, my god, this is so good Kenma. I'm stuffed.” You groaned at the last bite of the delicious meal Kenma made you. The pristine glass plates that Kenma knew you loved, he plated your food on that like he always used to do when you stayed over.

"I’m glad you like it. You can have the recipe if you want it.” He offered, sitting comfortably on the extra chair he pulled up so he could make sure you ate and finished the meal. 

“That’d be perfect, thank you.” You smiled an actual happy smile, you loved when Kenma did things for you without you having to ask. 

“How do you feel now?” He took your plate in his hands, standing up and wiping off the desk with your unused napkin. You watched him and yawned before responding. 

“Kind of sleepy; I just want to lay down or something.” You mumbled, rubbing your sleepy eyes, your body finally going into relaxation after he had pulled you out of the state you were in. 

“Told you.” Kenma pointedly said, “Go on, I’ll shut this stuff down for you.” He resisted the urge to kiss on your temple, watching your figure sleepy shuffle into the hallway. 

“Thank you, Kennie.” You sleepily said before leaving, hoping he would come sleep with you too, you missed those nights. The gloamings you spent with him was comforting, you wished you didn’t trade that up for someone like Kuroo who hardly ever wanted to be away from work for you. 

That night, you went to bed sound asleep. Unfortunately, Kenma couldn’t bring himself to 

“You make me feel like my breakup wasn’t the end of the world.”

“That’s because it wasn’t the end of the world. How long have you gone without basic human decency?” Kenma asked you, already knowing the answer to that.

Between the last few days, Kenma’s been your listener, besides your therapist, to help you overcome your breakup. The way he has cared for you without expecting anything else in return was endearing, almost too endearing that it hurt your heart.

You knew your feelings by the end of the few days of staying at Kenma’s, the feelings that came back from when you both used to be close. However, even if he was ready for you, you weren’t for him. You had to go. 

Moving the conversation along away from the awkwardness that surrounded you both, "I’m glad I got a therapist a while back because between you and her, I think I’ve helped myself a good amount from the breakup, and it’s only been almost two weeks.” You surprisingly said, grateful for the fact that you mentally checked out of the relationship a while ago but still needed to process it. 

You continued, not watching Kenma but your phone to show him. “That reminds me; I’m going to start looking for apartments so I can be out of your hair soon. You’re amazing for letting me stay so long, Ken.” Smiling, you pushed the lit up screen towards his view, showing the apartments that were way nicer than you expected. It even had an elevator! You were fondly surprised at that. 

As you kept raving about all these fancy apartments you found, occasionally scrolling through the apartment list to remember the details, you were interrupted abruptly by Kenma. 

"You can stay." Was all he said, that’s when you finally looked at him. The room seemed to still as you met eye contact with him too, in his eyes…you could tell he didn’t want you to go.

He wasn’t ready for you to leave after he finally just got you back. Unable to eventually stop you from going, he had to tell you how he felt about you leaving. 

You were speechless when it came to responding to him. Of course, you wanted to stay but it would go against what you planned, however you knew what you would say. Besides, you haven’t even put a payment in for the apartment number yet. 

Kenma scratched the back of his neck, a random habit he never got rid of when you were around. "If you'd like, it's nice to have you around more often." The tenderness in his eyes was just so familiar now to you that you just had to accept his offer.

Living with your best friend who you may have a slight simmering crush for, knowing that it was requited too wasn’t the worst idea. Quite frankly, it seemed like one of the better options at this point. 

And so, you happily agreed, you finally got the taste of comfort again and you desperately wanted to keep it. Your mind felt at peace, not racing with horrid thoughts all the time about whether or not Kenma had ill will towards you. You loved, and needed, your best friend because the nights he brought you were everything you lacked without him. 

The warmth from the lamps that he turned on every evening as soon as the sun went down because he knew you loved them. Kenma would always light a small candle or two before you both got comfortable on the bed that you now sleep in with him. He even kept your Nintendo switch that he bought for you because you expressed interest in it once.

You always wondered where it went too, however, nights with Kenma dwelled on animal crossing and your favorite sweet treat. You didn’t have to worry about restricting yourself to no end because you were told to keep your shape up.

Looking up from your switch, you watched Kenma’s concentrated face, loving the little details you could see up close, especially his blue light glasses. You also adored how he kept his hair long, sporadically putting it in a pony.

The face framing pieces of hair, that you now play with every so often, were your favorite.

“Ken…thank you, for letting me come back into your life. I wish I never left.” You paused, letting him hold eye contact with you.

“It was worth it though, because now I know.” You hinted, but didn’t say anything else. Relishing in the fact that Kenma’s response was purely just to pull you closer to him. 

a/n: requests are open! hope you like & this is all my work <3

[charliedawn]

The New Patient Part 4

You knocked softly on Dr. House's office door before pushing it open. His sharp gaze met you immediately, and despite his usual cold demeanor, you could see the flicker of concern in his eyes as he took in your appearance. You had spent the whole night watching over Eddie and holding him. You looked disheveled and you had bags under your eyes that would make a dead man flinch.

“You look like you’ve had a rough night,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm but a hint of genuine curiosity. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest expectantly. “What happened ?”

You sighed deeply and stepped inside, closing the door behind you. “Bo Sinclair happened,” you muttered, making your way to the chair in front of his desk. “Eddie got provoked. I had to step in before things got out of hand.”

House’s expression tightened as you explained, his eyes narrowing. “And how bad is it ?”

You shrugged.

“Bo’s hurt, but not seriously,” you reported quickly, wanting to downplay the situation so Eddie wouldn’t be in big trouble. “Eddie almost lost control, but I stopped him before—”

“You stopped him,” House interrupted, leaning forward, his interest piqued. “What exactly does that mean ? And where is Munson now ?”

You hesitated. “I...I had to talk him down. He was close to completely losing it. Ghostface—the persona inside him—it almost took over. I couldn’t just let him hurt Bo.”

House sighed. “And do you think there was a genuine desire to cause harm in Eddie’s action ? Could it have ended in another murder ? Or was he simply protecting himself ? Because if he did want to kill that redneck, I’d have to intervene and inform the board—even though I hate that bunch of judgmental narcissistic congress of dead-brain assholes.”

You knew what that meant and you were scared they were going to put Eddie in solitary confinement. The last thing he needed was to be separated from others…But you also had to think about the humans under your charge—patients or staff members. Eddie had attacked Bo and even though Bo was a slasher and couldn’t be killed easily—that didn’t mean you could just let it slide.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, feeling a knot tighten in your throat. “He’s not himself. I can see it—he’s fighting something. I just don’t know if he’s winning.”

There was a long pause before House spoke again, his voice lower, more serious. “You’re in over your head, Y/N. And so is he. You can’t keep protecting him from himself.”

You sighed. “He is a just kid.”

He exhaled slowly then stood up and walked over to the window. His back was turned, but you could sense the weight of his thoughts. Finally, he spoke again, quieter this time. “I don’t think you realize how dangerous this is—how dangerous HE is. Eddie can’t keep this up forever. You’re not a therapist, and you’re certainly not equipped to handle whatever’s inside him.”

You felt the sting of his words, but you didn’t let it show. “Maybe I’m not, but I care about him. And I’ll keep trying.”

There was silence between you two for a long moment before House finally turned around, his face unreadable. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. One more incident like this one and it will be out of our hands.”

You took a deep breath, determined to stay calm. “I understand.”

House didn’t say anything more, but you knew he disapproved. You turned around to leave when you suddenly stopped to ask.

“How do you do it ? How do you manage to stay so perfectly detached all the time ?”

He was momentarily surprised by the question before he smiled humourlessly and shrugged.

“Simple. Because I feel…nothing. The patients are the patients. I didn’t become a doctor to make friends, L/N. I became a doctor to help myself, and to prove how superior I am to all other so-called doctors who cannot differentiate a common cold from the flu. I became a doctor in this mad house because I thought it was gonna be fun—also because I got fired from my last job but that’s beside the point.”

You blinked twice in astonishment at his explanation before smiling.

“I see…”

You then turned around, but House wasn’t done.

“And you ? Why do you care about them do much, huh ?”

You stopped before telling him honestly.

“I became a nurse to help people, but to help them you must understand them. And I understand them perfectly.”

House chuckled and shook his head in disbelief.

“Right. Maybe I should lock you up with them then, huh ?”

You chuckled, but replied only half-jokingly:

“…Maybe you should.”

You then wordlessly left the room before he could reply and Dr House sighed before sitting down at his desk. Yup. Crazy for sure…

He smiled.

…

Dinner time arrived, and the hospital's dining hall was as chaotic as ever. You had hoped for everyone to get along and maybe try talking to each other. But Eddie seemed hesitant to sit at the table, his eyes flickering nervously from Bo to Vincent, both of whom were glaring at him with unsettling intensity.

You walked over to Eddie, offering a reassuring smile. “Come on, you can sit with me,” you said gently, guiding him to a seat beside you.

Eddie looked down at his plate, his unease written all over his face, but he reluctantly took a seat, trying to ignore the hostile stares from both Bo and Vincent. You noticed how tense the atmosphere was and the way the twins seemed ready to pounce on the poor boy and turn him into their next work of art. Bo's eyes were narrow, his jaw clenched, while Vincent’s expression was unreadable, but his body language screamed hostility. It felt as if the air around them was thick with unspoken threats.

You gave Bo a pointed look, your tone sharp as you spoke—leaving no room for discussion, “Bo, Vincent. I won’t tolerate this. Sit down and eat like adults.”

Bo grunted but didn’t back down, his eyes staying locked on Eddie. "That guy almost cracked my skull in half, you know that right ?" he growled under his breath, though loud enough for Eddie to hear.

Vincent’s gaze flickered briefly toward Bo, then returned to Eddie, his posture rigid. It was clear he wasn’t exactly pleased with the situation either. Eddie shifted uncomfortably, picking at his food without really eating it, his fingers tapping anxiously on the edge of his plate.

You turned to face Bo and Vincent again, frustration bubbling up. “He’s trying to change, okay ? He’s new here. Cut him some slack.”

Bo leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "New or not, the brat has serious anger issues."

Pennywise and Freddy sniggered before Freddy quipped.

"Jeez. You the one talking about anger issues, bucko ? It’s the fuckin’ pot calling the kettle black."

Bo scoffed.

“Shut up, ya bastards. Nobody asked y’all !”

Vincent didn’t speak, but his eyes narrowed further, a low growl rumbling in his throat. You could feel the tension building, and your patience was beginning to wear thin.

"Eddie, if you want to leave the table, you can," you said, your voice calm but firm, trying to diffuse the situation without causing more chaos. "I’ll understand."

Eddie hesitated, his eyes flickering toward the exit, but then he shook his head. "No...I don’t want to be the one to walk away." He glanced around at the men glaring at him and his eyes settled on Bo. “I won’t apologise to him though.”

Bo huffed. “Ya lil’ shit better apologise to me right now or I’ll—!"

Jason and Brahms unexpectedly sat down on either side of you and Eddie, their presence as intimidating as ever. Their large frames seemed to make the table feel even smaller. Eddie, already tense, looked up at them in surprise, his eyes flickering nervously between the two of them. Jason didn't speak, his face as unreadable as always, but the heavy weight of his presence was enough to make the others think twice before causing any more trouble. Brahms, on the other hand, offered Eddie a soft, almost unnoticeable smile, though it was quickly hidden behind his mask. The slight gesture seemed to have a calming effect on Eddie, though he still couldn't quite shake the tension in the air.

You gave both Jason and Brahms a small, appreciative smile. “Thank you,” you said quietly, trying to steady your nerves. Their silent support spoke volumes, and it was clear they were here to make sure nothing else escalated.

Bo, who had been eyeing Eddie like a predator waiting for the perfect moment, now found himself at a loss for words. It wasn’t just you standing up for Eddie anymore—now, it felt like the entire table was standing with him, even if they didn’t say it out loud.

Vincent’s glare didn’t waver, but even he seemed to recognize that it was a pointless battle to keep staring down Eddie. Jason’s cold, unwavering presence could turn even the most belligerent into a more passive version of themselves.

Eddie let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he looked at Brahms, who nodded at him in a silent acknowledgment. The unspoken understanding was there—Eddie wasn’t alone, not anymore.

"Okay, maybe this isn't so bad," Eddie muttered under his breath, looking between the three men. He hesitated but then allowed himself a small, cautious smile. "I think I’m gonna survive dinner after all."

You couldn’t help but smile back at him, relief washing over you. “See ? Told you it would be fine.”

Bo, though still grumbling under his breath, finally turned to his food, accepting his defeat reluctantly. He wasn’t thrilled, but the sight of Jason and Brahms—two of the most formidable of the slashers—sitting at the table with Eddie seemed to have quelled any further tension for the moment. Dinner carried on with a quiet unease, but it was the most peace you’d seen all evening. Eddie, once tense and unsure, slowly started eating, his posture less defensive than before. With Brahms and Jason watching over him, he seemed to feel a little safer…

That evening:

You sat with Eddie in the quiet hospital common room, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the walls. He had been fidgeting with his rings all evening, unusually restless, his knee bouncing under the table. You could tell something was on his mind—something heavy.

So, you asked.

“How did you become Ghostface ?”

Eddie froze for a moment, his fingers tightening around one of his rings. He exhaled sharply and gave you a small, humourless laugh. “Wow…that’s a hell of a story. You sure you want to hear it ?”

You nodded and waited patiently as he ran a hand through his hair before leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He seemed to think about it…how could he put it without you thinking he was crazier than he was ? He sighed in defeat and closed his eyes before asking.

“Okay. You ever heard of the Upside Down ?”

Your brow furrowed at the strange name and you shook your head negatively. “No.”

Eddie let out a long breath. “Okay…so, imagine another version of our world—only twisted, rotten, like some nightmare version of reality. It’s dark, filled with monsters—real monsters.” He glanced at you, making sure you were following before continuing. Your heart clenched at the way his voice cracked.

“I played my guitar,” he continued, a distant look in his eyes. “Metallica. ‘Master of Puppets.’ Best piece of music in the world. Thought it was badass at the time. Kept those things we call demobats off my friends so they could get away.” His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “But those things—they got me. Tore me up. Thought I was gonna die right there.”

He stopped and his eyes were glassy—as if he was about to burst into tears. You squeezed his arm, silently urging him to go on. It showed how much he was suffering—no matter if what he was saying had truly happened or not. You offered him comfort and an attentive ear as he rubbed a hand over his face���terrible and painful memories coming back to him…

“But then…something happened.” His voice dropped lower. “Something saved me. Pulled me back. I don’t know what it was. It wasn’t one of those bats or any creature we had faced so far. It felt…different. Wrong. So damn wrong.” His hands were shaking now and you grabbed one of his hands and squeezed it.

“When I woke up, I was back in Hawkins. Alive. No one could believe it. But that thing—it came with me. And it started talking to me. Whispering. Threatening.” His breathing was uneven, his eyes distant, like he was trapped in the memory. “Told me I had to kill. Or else it would go after the people I love. My uncle. Dustin. Max. Mike. El. My band—Corroded Coffin. Everyone.”

A shiver ran down your spine as you realised how hard it must have been for Eddie.

Eddie swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to. I swear I didn’t want to. But I couldn’t let it hurt them. So…I did what it wanted. I picked a mask, made it look like some stupid slasher flick. Thought maybe—maybe if I was careful, no one would catch on. Maybe I could find a way to stop it.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Didn’t work out too well, huh ?”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. This wasn’t just some twisted desire for violence—he had been forced into it. Manipulated. Haunted.

“Eddie…” you whispered, searching for the right words. “That’s not your fault.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Tell that to the people I killed.”

Your chest ached at the pain in his voice.

“I don’t know what that thing was,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s still out there. And I don’t think it’s done with me yet.”

You squeezed his hand, holding it tight. “Then we’ll figure it out,” you said firmly. “Together.”

Eddie looked at you, his wide brown eyes filled with something fragile, he was so scared. That thing —whatever it was—terrified Eddie…and to be honest ? You felt as if for the first time you were up against far bigger than you had bargained for…Maybe Doctor House was right. Maybe you were up against bigger than yourself…

The next day:

Eddie sat on his bed, twirling a guitar pick between his fingers, his knee bouncing restlessly. He hated these checkups. The whole “How do you feel today ?” thing always felt like a trap. If he said he was fine, they’d assume he was lying. If he said he wasn’t, they’d poke and prod at him like some kind of specimen.

The knock at the door made him groan.

“Yeah, yeah, come in,” he muttered.

Dr. House stepped inside, leaning against the doorway with his usual unimpressed look. “I see you’re still alive. Guess that means no one’s pissed you off too badly today.”

Eddie snorted, rolling his eyes. “Gee, Doc, it’s always so heartwarming when you check in on me.”

House limped further into the room, his cane tapping against the floor. He eyed Eddie like he was scanning him for weaknesses. “I heard you had a moment with Bo Sinclair. Real bro moment.”

Eddie tensed, his grip on the guitar pick tightening. “Yeah, well…he was asking for it.”

“Most people are,” House said dryly, sinking into the chair across from him. “But that doesn’t mean you get to turn their faces into modern art installations.”

Eddie scoffed. “Oh, come on. He was being a dick.”

House raised an eyebrow. “That’s kind of his default setting. If everyone who dealt with him acted like you did, this place would be on fire.”

Eddie smirked. “Sounds like a party.”

House sighed, running a hand down his face. “Look, I’m not here to lecture you—well, maybe a little. But mostly, I want to know what’s going on inside that head of yours. The outburst, the attack…was that you, or was that it ?”

Eddie’s smirk faded. He looked away, his fingers tapping anxiously against his knee. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s getting harder to tell.”

House watched him for a long moment, then leaned forward. “You told Y/N that this thing—whatever hitched a ride back with you—wants you to kill. That it makes you kill.”

Eddie swallowed. “Yeah.”

House’s gaze sharpened. “Has it talked to you recently ?”

Eddie hesitated. “Not since I got here,” he finally muttered. “But that doesn’t mean it’s gone.”

House nodded slowly. “And do you want to kill ?”

Eddie’s head snapped up. “No !” He shook his head, his voice firm. “I don’t. But sometimes, it feels like…like my hands move before I can stop them. Like it’s in my blood or something.”

House exhaled. “Then we have a problem.”

Eddie clenched his jaw. “No shit.”

House tapped his cane against the floor. “Here’s the deal, Munson. I’m not gonna pretend I have all the answers. But I do know this—whatever is messing with your head, it’s not unbeatable. You fought it before, and you can fight it again.”

Eddie let out a bitter laugh. “And if I can’t ?”

House stared at him, his expression unreadable. Then, with a shrug, he said, “Then I guess we’ll all have a very interesting next few months.”

Eddie blinked. “Jesus, man.”

House smirked. “Just trying to keep things exciting.” He stood, gripping his cane. “You’re not beyond saving, Munson. But you’ve gotta want to be saved. So…do you ?”

Eddie looked at him, his throat tight. The voice in his head was quiet. For now.

“…Yeah,” he whispered. “I do.”

House nodded. “Good.” Then, turning toward the door, he added, “Try not to attack anyone else this week. It’s bad for your report card.”

Eddie snorted. “I’ll do my best.”

But as House left, Eddie sat there, staring at his hands. Because even though he wanted to be saved, a small, nagging voice in the back of his mind still whispered:

What if it’s already too late ?

…

The halls of St. Louis were silent that night, save for the occasional hum of the fluorescent lights. Most of the patients were asleep—or at least pretending to be. But Eddie wasn’t in his bed. He moved through the corridors like a shadow, his steps unnaturally smooth, his breath slow and steady. He wasn’t awake. Not fully. But something else was.

The door to Joker and Five’s shared room creaked open.

Inside, Five slept soundly, his small form curled beneath the blankets. Arthur sat on his bed, flipping through an old magazine, occasionally glancing at his roommate with mild curiosity. The boy was a mystery to him—far too sharp for his age, far too aware of everything around him but sometimes he really sounded and looked like a child. But overall, the boy was indubitably crazy. Arthur liked that about him.

But as the door swung open, Arthur’s eyes flicked up. Eddie stood there, his face blank, the dim light casting shadows over his features.

Arthur’s brow furrowed. He had seen Eddie before, loud and cocky, full of life despite the darkness clinging to him. This wasn’t that Eddie. This Eddie was wrong.

Then Arthur saw the knife.

Eddie was holding a knife in his hand.

Eddie moved forward, knife glinting. His breath was still steady. His expression was still void. His hands, however, were precise.

Arthur’s eyes darted to Five. The kid hadn’t stirred. He could have stayed quiet. Could have let the scene unfold. But despite his madness, Arthur had never been one to enjoy senseless killing. And besides, he liked the kid.

“My boy. It is time to wake up.”

Five’s eyes snapped open.

It took only a second.

One second for Five’s sharp mind to register the warning in Arthur’s voice. One second for his gaze to lock onto Eddie’s looming figure, the knife gripped tightly in his hand.

And then—pop.

Five vanished.

Eddie’s knife sliced through nothing.

Arthur let out a slow chuckle, swinging his legs off the bed. “Whoops. Missed.”

Eddie’s head turned toward him, but his eyes were unfocused, as if he wasn’t truly seeing him. Arthur tilted his head, studying him.

“Huh,” he mused, tapping his chin. “Sleepwalking, are we ? Or is it something else ?”

Eddie didn’t answer. He just stood there, the knife still poised, his breath slow and measured.

Arthur grinned. “Y’know, you might actually be crazier than me.”

Eddie twitched and was about to attack Arthur next when Five suddenly reappeared and took the clown by the collar. They both vanished and Eddie’s knife came down to lodge itself in Arthur’s pillow.

Five and Arthur appeared outside the room and before Eddie could get out—they both slammed the door of their room and locked it from the outside. Five then huffed as he looked at Arthur. “I’m going to kill him. I can’t even get a good night’s sleep without some psycho killer trying to get me in my sleep.”

Arthur snorted. “Oh, sure. Try that, and I’ll be the one laughing while watching you face a slasher on your own. Really smart idea.”

Five narrowed his eyes. “He tried to kill me.”

Arthur shrugged. “And you’re still standing, aren’t you ?”

Five huffed. “I’m telling Y/N.”

Arthur smirked. “Go ahead, my boy. Should be fun.”

And with that, Five vanished again—off to report the incident. Arthur leaned back, shaking his head. Things were about to get very, very fun around here.

…

You sat at your desk, fingers pressed against your temples, trying to think through the situation. Five had told you everything—how Eddie had nearly stabbed him and Arthur at night and how he had locked the young man up in their room. Eddie hadn’t meant to do it. You were sure of that. But that didn’t make it any less dangerous.

Your thoughts were a mess. You couldn’t just leave this alone. What if it happened again ? What if next time, no one was there to stop him ?

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over your desk. You looked up.

Michael.

Notebook in hand, he flipped to a page and held it out to you.

"He sleepwalks. Like I used to."

You blinked, looking up at him. His dark eyes were steady, unwavering. You knew Michael’s history—how he had suffered from relentless nightmares, how his mind had pulled him into violent sleepwalking episodes before he was locked away. You knew firsthand since you had spent night chasing after him when he had those kinds of episodes. He knew exactly what Eddie was going through…

Michael turned the page.

"I don't sleep. Let me watch him."

Your breath caught in your throat. Michael wanted to be Eddie’s roommate ?

He was right—Michael didn’t sleep per say. If Eddie had another episode, Michael would stop him. No hesitation, no risk of failure.

You swallowed and looked back up at the giant. “Michael…are you sure ?”

He nodded once.

You hesitated. Then, finally, you sighed. “Alright. But if anything happens, you let me know immediately.”

Michael didn’t need to answer. You knew he would. He turned and left without another word, already heading toward Eddie’s room.

And just like that, Eddie Munson had a new roommate.

That night:

The night was silent, save for the faint creaks of the hospital settling. Michael sat in the chair beside his bed, watching Eddie. He hadn't moved in hours—not even a twitch. But Michael knew better than to let his guard down.

Then, it happened.

Eddie shifted. His breaths became uneven, his fingers twitching against the sheets. A low murmur escaped his lips, something unintelligible, something not his own.

Michael didn’t move. He waited.

Eddie sat up abruptly, the moonlight casting sharp shadows over his face. His eyes weren’t his own—glazed over, distant, but filled with an eerie intent. He swung his legs over the bed, feet silent against the cold floor.

Michael still didn’t move.

Eddie reached under his pillow and pulled out a piece of glass—something he must have hidden earlier. He gripped it tightly and crept toward Michael, his movements stiff, unnatural.

He raised the blade.

Michael caught his wrist before the sharp object could even get close. A sharp inhale, a pause in the air—like the thing inside Eddie had not expected that. Michael tightened his grip, his strength overwhelming, but he didn’t hurt him. He leaned in, his voice a low, steady whisper as he rasped an order.

"Enough."

Eddie’s body jerked, his entire form seizing as though something inside him had just been shaken. A shudder ran through his frame, and then—

His legs gave out.

Michael caught him effortlessly, the piece of glass slipping from Eddie’s fingers as he collapsed against the giant’s chest. His breath came in sharp gasps, like he had just surfaced from drowning.

For a moment, Michael held him there. Silent. Still. Then, with careful ease, he lifted Eddie back into bed, pulling the blanket over him.

Michael picked up the piece of glass and tossed it across the room.

He sat back down.

And he waited.

He would wait all night if he needed to. That boy wasn’t leaving this room. Not while Michael was watching over him.

[thelaurenshippen]

Hello! As someone who loves the Bright Sessions and also loves writing stories I wanted to ask some questions.

What was the process of coming up with the Bright Sessions? Was it something you've worked on for years before seriously committing to it, or was it more recent? Also, did you know it was going to be a podcast when you began? Finally, do you remember who the first character you came up with/named was?

great question and one I actually have a very solid answer for!

the first character I came up with was Sam and she was Samantha Eleanor Barnes pretty much immediately. she was the start of the whole idea - I wanted to make something of my own that I could act in (I play Sam in the podcast) and I also wanted to write something about the experience of having panic attacks. I love sci-fi, so pretty early on, I decided I wanted her to time travel whenever she had a panic attack.

that's all the the idea was for a while - just Sam having panic attacks and time traveling. pretty much simultaneously, I knew I wanted to make a podcast and I can actually give you an exact timeline on this - in the end of March 2014, I was shooting a short film up in Angeles National Forest and the drive to set was long and before the sun rose. so I thought it was the perfect time to check out this show that tumblr had been talking about, Welcome to Night Vale. I fell in love. and I thought, well, I can't make a film or a web series, because I don't have a camera or know how to do that at all, but I bet I could make a podcast.

it took me another few months of mulling to figure it out. I was driving down Santa Monica Blvd one evening, trying to figure out how to tell Sam's story - I don't want to do single narrator, because WTNV does that so well, and I don't think I can pull it off, but I don't want a huge cast either so she has to be talking to one other person. maybe her neighbor? we can't time travel with her because I can't sound design that. so she's just sitting in a room telling someone about this?

oh. OH! she's in therapy. she's talking to a therapist.

and then the world opened up - who's this therapist? who are her other patients? I wrote the first script - Sam's first session - in June of 2014 and then..........

I just didn't do anything with it. a friend read it and gave me notes, but I was trying to act, going to auditions and trying to get whatever job I could, working at a sandwich shop and doing a million side gigs to pay rent, and writing more scripts felt so daunting.

and then in March 2015 (March, huh? every year it is a Month) I got very sick (a longer story that involves scarlet fever lol) and it sort of derailed my life in a huge way and I had to figure out a work from home gig and that summer, exactly a year after writing that first script, I felt it was sort of stupid to be afraid of trying something. so I wrote eight more scripts. I wrote the character of Chloe for Anna (one of my dearest friends (she drove me to the ER actually and brought me a box of donuts that they wouldn't let me eat :( )) and then asked Julia and Briggon to take a chance on me.

the first episode came out in November of 2015 and by that point, I'd already started writing season two.

[theangelinasolace]

Leo wasn’t normal. He knew that. There are things he can’t control, and he hates it. Like his friend, Jason’s, death. He had gotten over it, but, still, he felt like some of it was his fault. So, when Thalia, Percy, and Nico went on that quest to the underworld, he just knew something was going to be brought back, that shouldn’t be.

Leo was walking casually, talking to Drew Tanaka as he waked. Drew used to hate Leo. Now though, she’s gotten used to his antics. When the two got to the big house porch, Leo saw him. That stupid blonde hair, his eyes like lightning.

“Hey, Leo.” Jason waved at him from the porch. Nico was there, a glass of lemonade sat untouched on the table.

Right then, Leo broke into a sprint. He tackled Jason right there on the porch. Jason hugged him back in silence. Leo heard Nico get up from his chair.

“I’ll leave you two alone. But, Leo, Solace wants to see you.”

Once Leo had calmed down, he headed to the infirmary. He was still wiping the tears from his face when he opened the door.

Will Solace was head medic. You could tell because: A) He always had scrubs on and B) the way he stood. Will was kind, and he was used to helping people. Which meant, he was also most of the camper’s therapist too.

“Ah! Leo! Good to see you! Sit down, and I'll be there in a sec." Will took off his gloves, and sat down in the chair across from Leo. "So…" Will laced his hands together. "Jason's back. Nico told me. How are you holding up?" Leo had to process what Will had just said.

“I’m doing good." Leo said, plainly. "Was that the only thing you wanted to talk about, or…" Will sat forward.

"Actually, that wasn't the main idea…" Will scooted his chair forward more, so he could get closer to Leo. "Leo, no one besides your siblings , and a few Aphrodite kids have seen you for days. I'm starting to get worried. As your doctor, I'd say that you need to get out more. Start seeing other people, besides Drew and the rest of your siblings."

"But, as my friend?"

"I'd say, that I'm worried. We all are, and not just me. Annabeth is worried, so is Percy, Hazel. Hades, even Nico is worried about you! I know what it's like to hate yourself, Leo. I know what it's like to feel like everybody who dies, it's your fault. I know what it's like to find ways to… cope that aren't good for you. But please, don't go down that route. It sucks, and I would know." Will started sliding the bracelets off his wrists. Leo could see… so many scars. Not from monsters, but self inflicted.

"Will… I don't know if I can promise you that I won't… do that. But I can promise I'll try." Will nodded, and slid all of his bracelets back on in one swift motion.

"Good. Now, let's go eat. I'm starving. You want to sit at the Apollo table?"

"I thought people weren't allowed to sit at other tables?"

"Eh, if Mr. D lets Nico sit there, then you can too." Will held out his hand. Leo took it, and together, the two walked off to the Dining Pavilion.

Hoping to put this on Ao3 at some point???? idk tho

In all seriousness, if anyone is struggling with SH, whether it’s you or someone you love, please get help. 🩷

[nerdieforpedro]

Doing Nothing vs. Nothing You Can Do

Chapter Two of Therapy for Well-Adjusted People

My entire masterlist and blog are for readers 18+ MDNI. I do not consent to my work being used in AI, recommended on TikTok, borrowed or plagiarized.

Word Count: 1975

Summary: Imani makes an emergency appointment for an incident at work with Dr. Julep. Marcus receives some concerning news and talks to Dr. Mint about it.

Warnings: Mention of death, Death in a workplace, PTSD, anxiety, depression

Notes: I recently had a death at work of one of my coworkers so I’m working it out in my writing. 👀 Given when I’m posting this, it was in April of this year. I still wonder at times if I’m sane but I also think that the definition of sanity can be subjective at times. Point is, Nerdie is self-indulgent as always. She’s all up in her own writing. 👏🏽

Main Masterlist/ Marcus Pike Masterlist/ AO3 Link

Imani Coleman arrived at her last minute appointment with Dr. Julep. It was urgent that it needed to be today. She honestly wanted one yesterday but the office was closed by the time she got off work. It was insane that she’d finished her shift. All of them finished their shifts like that didn’t just happen.

There was an emergency number she could call but she didn’t feel it was necessary but she still needed to see her therapist, just to get the feelings out. To have someone listen. Had she not been so frazzled by the event this week, she would have noticed that a tall, handsome man in plaid held the door open for her. She smiled, but it was polite, she didn’t pay any attention to the man other than the red flannel. That stuck out to her but as she sat down in the waiting area, the idea floated away.

At first she’d spread out, ‘claiming her space’ as her friends and even her therapist told her to do, but she checked her phone. All the people messaging one another about the incident today, how it affected them, remembering how many people came together afterward. Imani closed herself back off and held her belongings closer to herself. However silly, she felt safer that way, for a few moments, it felt like she was being watched. Looking up at the front desk, Vernon was focused on his computer screen. No one else had come in. Imani chased that thought away. Unless some patient or family member was watching her to try and critique what she was doing, no one was looking at her that intensely.

Thankfully, Dr. Julep emerged from her office, greeting Imani and having her follow her to her office. She nodded and walked silently, out of character for her as she usually had a joke or two on the way and even after getting settled on the couch. The doctor sat at her tall stuffed white chair which made her black button down shirt and pencil skirt with red heels stand out all the more. Dr. Julep had scarlet hair with purple rimmed glasses that she put on for reading and when she took notes during sessions. She was a few inches taller than Dr. Mint, making her 6’3” without heels, long, well-defined, muscular legs were crossed and on display. Their cinnamon tone is bright from the natural sunlight from the windows. Some might say she has transitioned, others would claim that she was a man diving head first into their feminine side. What could not be disputed, was track record as a therapist with people and communities who didn’t feel served by many mental health and therapists at large. It’s why Imani came here for this practice. It was the only one that took her seriously.

Dr. Julep is watching Imani carefully. She’s set her belongings down, but hasn’t sat. Instead, the nurse is pacing, pressing her hands together in alternating fists. She doesn’t think she’d become violent or anything, but something is eating at her. The voicemail wasn’t clear and just stated that it was imperative that she talk to her.

“Imani. Dear, if you don’t want to sit yet, that’s okay, but please talk to me.” Still fiddling with her fingers, she gazes in her direction and takes a shallow breath. “I can’t help unless you tell me why you needed to see me today. It’s very clear it is something.”

“I couldn’t scream. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shake things and just sit in a corner and cry, but that’s not professional. Doesn’t help the patients.” Imani finally stops, but just stands. She doesn’t sit yet. She’s looking down, rubbing her palms together in a circle. “I mean, it’s a hospital. The patients are our priority, but it’s also a job. So serious but also not so serious. I went with the others to pay my respects. I…I…had just spoken to him that morning. I said good morning. He was sitting and I was getting some ice or drink or something. He was sitting there in the refreshment room. I thought maybe he just needed a break like we all do, you know?”

Dr. Julep can tell that this isn’t like her at all but lets her continue. It’s a jumbled mess, but from what she can gather, it involves possibly a patient or this man she’s talking about. “Okay. We do all need a break. Was he on a short break?”

Imani nods, it’s then that the tears start flowing. “He never made it from his break. One of the staff members came to get me to check his blood sugar. She was able to and it was okay, so was his blood pressure. We told him, his manager told him and other people told him to go down to the emergency room (ED). He just kept saying that he needed to rest. I just kept working. They’ve been on us about having the vitals and stroke assessments timely and I can see that damn woman tapping her watch with her finger telling us our assessments are late. Plus my stroke patients both have NG (nasogastric) tubes and the one, a ninety-two year old man is in bilateral wrist restaurants which requires documentation every two hours. And that’s just two of my patients, I had three more. But it’s still no excuse…none at all.” Finally she plopped down on the couch, her vision bleary from her tears.

The good doctor stands and takes a box of tissue off her desk and sits next to Imani on the couch, she gives her the box and she blows her nose. “It’s no excuse for what Imani? What do you feel you didn’t do? It sounds like there was plenty to do just with those two patients.”

“There were people going back and forth, trying to get him to go. I saw a friend of mine bring a wheelchair to him, but then everyone said he fell and hit his head. They presume after trying to stand up. They worked together to lift him on the stretcher and get him down to the ED. They said he was scared and they were trying to comfort him by telling him he’d be okay. But I remember how sick he was when he was a patient at our hospital before. I took care of him for a few days. I thought he was better. Another friend went down to check on him but they called a code blue on him…when she said they were still working on him. I knew then…The longer a code goes, the less chance you have of getting the back. He died. He came to work that morning, was working and was dead. I paid my respects to him with the others…at least he looked peaceful I guess. But then we all…just continued working. They had a 30 minute grief thing but then we all finished our shifts. I cried just like I’m crying now, but it’s especially when things like this happen where I wonder if I've been fundamentally desensitized.”

“My dear, is it alright if I hug you? Feel free to say no.” Dr. Julep opened her arms and Imani hugged her. They sat in silence for a few minutes as she sobbed. The appointment ended with no words spoken other than Imani thanking her for taking her call and making an appointment for her today. The nurse left once she had another appointment set up for later in the week.

Marcus found himself at the offices of Dr. Mint and Dr. Julep a second time that week. He hadn’t planned on it, but he’d gotten a call from his supervisor, stating that those two hot dogs were trying to press charges against him. Marcus showed restraint in not calling Patrick Jane and Teresa ‘hot dogs’ over Zoom call, but he was assured by his supervisor that they didn’t have a leg to stand on because in addition to Pike telling Jane not to interfere in the pursuit, so did the squad leader and field leader as well. They had already written their statements along with the other agents who were there and those who’d been in the office. Marcus spoke with Dr. Mint about the fact that the Janes had the audacity to even try to bring charges against him. For an accident, one that would have been prevented if he had listened to any of the three people that told Patrick to stay put.

After his session with Dr. Mint Marcus had his leather jacket draped over his left arm as he was making a follow up appointment with Vernon who was chatting him up about a Wizards game he was going to see later. “They usually lose, but I’ve got floor seats with my husband. He loves them for reasons I don’t understand, but he’s cute when he’s excited like that.” It was then that Dr. Julep walked Imani out to the waiting area. The statuesque therapist was wearing a tan dress with black ankle boots. She patted the nurse on her shoulder and went back to her office.

Marcus recognized the woman who’d been wearing a blue dress when he first saw her. He smiled and stepped back to allow her to be at the front desk and make her follow up appointment too. Today she was wearing a pale yellow cold shoulder top with ¾ sleeves, black capri leggings that displayed her caramel calves. She had on simple black flip flops with white nails, likely from a mani-pedi. She had on pink lip gloss and was chatting with Vernon about the Wizards game too. Marcus waited and hoped it wasn’t weird, well too weird. The elderly gentleman grinned and nodded his head in Marcus’ direction, whispering to Imani, “You have an admirer dear.”

Imani didn’t turn around yet, Pike can hear them, they both suck at whispering. It’s endearing though. “Do I? If he’s here, it could be a huge red flag or a green flag.”

“Green flag dear. He’s got a leather jacket and one of those…henley’s I think.” Marcus laughs and Imani looks back, turning to face this tall, broad and handsome copper toned man who was indeed wearing a red hanley, holding a black leather jacket, wearing dark wash jeans with black nikes.

“Hello…” Imani cleared her throat and swallowed some saliva that had gathered. She placed a hand over her chest and then placed back on the desk, leaning on it to appear more relaxed than she was. This was her admirer? Here’s to hoping Vernon’s right and he is in fact a green flag.

“Good afternoon. I’m Marcus. A walking green flag apparently.” Pike took two steps forward, but kept a foot away from her so as to not invade her space. “You two are very funny and yes I am an admirer.” Imani chuckled and extended her hand, he took it and shook it while they gazed at each other.

“How long have you been an admirer of mine, Marcus?”

“Long enough to where Vernon’s kept track of it but not so long that you should feel weird about it Ms. Imani.” They let go of each other’s hands and didn’t know what to do with them. Imani fiddled with her purse and Marcus went to his pockets.

“Hmm.” She used her index finger and thumb to grasp her chin. “Maybe we should get lunch, I’m a little hungry. Are you? And please call me Imani.”

Flashing a bright smile at her suggestion, he nodded. “I think I could go for some food. Where do you want to eat?” Imani waved goodbye to Vernon as Marcus opened the door for her and they left the office in search of lunch.

Peeps who have secret admirers (green flags) ✅: @megamindsecretlair @jessthebaker @avastrasposts @jeewrites @josephquinnswhore

@survivingandenduring @readingiskeepingmegoing @bishtrouille @morallyinept @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings @rosecentaur1916 @westside-rot @rulexofxnines

@inept-the-magnificent

Chapter One. Chapter Three

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not wanting to interact with my mom all that often?

for context, my mom tends to act in ways that are often a little manipulative and dependent - she's had a rough life, so i can understand some of her actions, but in some ways she scares me a bit. when i was growing up, she'd often talk about how she wished i was the grownup and she was my daughter, sometimes asking to roleplay a bit. she's trauma-dumped quite a bit on me as well, leading me to play therapist. (when i brought up actually therapy once, she said, word for word, "why have a therapist when I have you?") in more recent years, she's asked for us to sleep in the same bed, and sometimes continues to ask even though i give her a hard no because it makes me uncomfortable.

in all honesty, she's not a bad person, and she's worked really hard for my sake, but she also doesn't have a lot of meaningful connections - her friends are more work colleagues and she's not close to my dad at all. and I'm honestly not the nicest to her - i really don't like to talk her, which I've made clear in a pretty harsh way, and we get into arguments a lot. but she also tends to be petty and immature; whenever i say im not in the mood to talk to her, she claims that i dont really care about her and that i have to listen to her because she's my mom. whenever i try to raise a concern i have with her, she often spins it in a way that makes her the victim and me the disobient child, and when she doesn't, she just doesn't listen.

there's also the whole ordeal where she kind of outed me to my (Very queerphobic) dad - i was able deny enough that the whole thing calmed down, but she never really tried to understand why she was wrong. she never really made an attempt to understand how much trust i put in her when i came out - about two years after, i 'took it back', in a way, telling her that she didnt have to use they/them at all. at that point she revealed that she thought it was some kind of phase that she never took seriously. it was like this in the past, too - she still pesters me about what i said when i was 9 and styling myself as a 'tomboy' - which was 'coming back to her when i was a teenager' which i never really did.

the gist of it is that she views me in a idealistic way that centers mostly around herself and her ideals for me - she doesn't let me cut my hair too short and always pesters about wearing dresses, and she still thinks that i can act as her therapist despite me telling her, multiple times, that i was not equipped to handle her problems. but i always feel really guilty whenever i end up rejecting her, since she doesnt have many people to turn to. AITA for constantly rejecting interaction with her?

What are these acronyms?

[babyarmybabbles]

Run ARMY! (Meet Part) a1 d4 +155 Words

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Reader won the opportunity to film a spin off of Run BTS! celebrating the boys return from enlistment, called Run ARMY!, over the course of seven days.

Word Count: 1,250

Notes: Our first official addition! I wanted to do additions in intervals of 1,000, but I'm on the fence of just completely rewriting this entire fic. I'm really unhappy with it and it's fighting me at every turn. I think I focused too much on the little things between point A and B and establishing Reader's voice and character. Might keep like the first bit of the Arrival part and a couple bits here and there. I'll sit on it. Marked the addition with []

Took Inspirations from Run ARMY! series on Tik Tok by _yamanika_ and Guess The Bias! by HelloMyAlien7 on Ao3

Warnings: Reader is p anxious lol. Sort of panic attack? Anxiety attack? idk man. Just anxious Reader.

Masterlist Link <3 | Prev Part Link c: | Next Part Link :D

By the time the SUV is pulling into the underground parking garage to meet the band in you’re sweating buckets. Not literally, thank the stars, but you feel near to it. Hannuel smiles kindly at you from the driver’s seat, obviously able to see your nerves. You’re pretty sure a satellite could see your nerves right now.

“You’ll be fine.” She soothes as the car descends. “The boys are super nice, and they’re excited to meet you. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” You suck in a deep breath in response and let it out. It doesn’t help much.

“I’m more nervous about ARMY not liking me than BTS not liking me.” You admit with a nervous laugh, consciously switching to twisting your rings around so you don't pick at your nails in your anxiety. Having bloody fingers while meeting your favorite group would not be a good look. “Also they intimidate me.” You add quietly.

You hear Hannuel stifle a snicker and your head shoots up to glare at her in affront. She’s supposed to support you, not laugh at you! She must see your mulish stare in the rear-view, because she quickly defends herself.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m not laughing at you, I promise. It’s just that they’re so silly sometimes, it’s hard to find them intimidating after having known them.” You easily concede the point to her. You'd seen enough behind the scenes content to get that impression. It’s a bit soothing to hear from an actual staff member though. “They’re the sweetest, really,” Hannuel continues, “You’ve genuinely got nothing to worry about. They’ll take care of you.”

You groan and let your head thump against the seat. “That’s part of the problem!” You complain, “It’s my first time on this side of a camera, it’s my first time meeting BTS, it’s my first time being in Korea, It’s just a lot! What if ARMY sees me fumbling and the boys helping me and decide they hate me? I can’t be hated by ARMY! I’d die!” You dramatically slump sideways, coincidentally timed with a turn that scootches you that much farther over.

Score one for dramatics.

Hannuel laughs gently at you, and you continue somewhat more seriously from your slumped position. “I mean, ARMY is basically my home. I don’t know what I’d do if they hated me.” You murmur into the leather cushion.

Hannuel hums musingly at you and the two of you lapse into silence for a moment.

“Well,” She starts, “First of all, you probably already know that you can never please everyone.” You nod miserably, aware that she could no longer see you. Both your therapist and your friends had told you as much many times. She continues, “But ARMY loves to see the boys interact with other ARMY. It’s another way they get to know them and feel connected. If you ask me, you’ll have more people projecting onto you than judging you. Not that they won’t judge, but” She shrugs, “People always do.”

You slowly sit up and shoot an admiring look at the woman. “Woah,” you mumble, “How are you so wise?”

Hannuel barks out a surprised laugh. “Life experience, mostly.” She replies amusedly.

You settle back into your seat and finally notice that Hannuel had stopped the car before what you assume to be the final turn before the boys would be in view. You feel a rush of gratefulness for her.

You hadn’t known her very long, but Hannuel had already been an incredible help and a very soothing presence to you. You should buy her something nice before you leave if you get the chance. See if you can send a gift basket through Hybe for her if you don't.

She starts the car rolling forward again as you reappear in the rear-view mirror, fully over your momentary theatrics. You take another deep breath and let it out again. It helps more this time.

“It’s not like my socials are public or anything either," You soothe yourself aloud, "And my friends already know me, they’re just excited. Everyone else is secondary.”

“Exactly” Hannuel affirms. You startle just a bit and then try to pretend you hadn’t forgotten she could hear you. Luckily, she’s too busy driving the car to notice. “Like I said, you’ll be just fine.”

Unfortunately for Hannuel’s encouraging words, you’d finally rolled close enough for you to spot seven men standing near 3 other SUVs just ahead and you were suddenly incapable of hearing anything anymore.

Static fills your brain as you study them. You register the casual clothes, watch them nudge each other excitedly as they notice your vehicle, even note the camera crew nearby, but not a single thought makes it past the haze of panic. Distantly, you wonder if this is what an adrenaline rush feels like. You suddenly can’t remember.

Your heartbeat thuds in your ears as the car comes to a gentle stop.

You absently bring one hand up to the pulse point under your jaw to measure your pulse and raise the other to your chest to make sure you’re still breathing. Hannuel is repeating instructions for your benefit in the front seat, but you simply cannot engage your brain enough to listen. All too soon she's exiting the car. You manage to tear your hands away from their comforting positions as she comes around and opens your door for you.

Hannuel helps you down as you duck out of the car and gives you a brief sympathetic smile as she takes your trembling hand.

Excited exclamations meet your arrival and you hastily paste confidence over your every mannerism as you lift both hands to wave back with equal excitement. Hannuel is the only one close enough to be able to see your hands continuing to shake, or note the fact that you stop breathing as you approach BTS.

You hope your smile isn't too tight and that you look appropriately excited. Hopefully whatever the cameras are seeing right now can be explained by excitement and reasonable nerves. You'll take your near panic-attack to the nearest private space, thanks.

["Hello! Oh my goodness, hi!" You release your held breath and end up attempting a sort of half-bow-half-handshake combo with RM that looks and feels incredibly awkward.

You’re mentally screaming apologies to him and despairing your lack of social graces as you move to greet the next member, one Kim Seokjin. You're not sure you can recover from this. You may just have to perish right here right now.

Blessedly, the man takes the lead for the interaction, opening his arms for a hug. You hesitate for a moment, double checking that he was giving you permission to hug him, before gratefully diving into the embrace.

The hug is a standard, friendly thing. Just a bit of a lean in and affectionate tap-tap-taps to eachothers upper back. It relaxes you immensely.

It helps that he more passes you to the next member down the line than let's you completely reset for a new interaction. No chance of awkwardness in pre-established patterns.

In this manner, you gain a hug from most of the other members as well. Yoongi is the only one who declines, offering a handshake that goes much more smoothly than your initial one with RM.

Once you're done with greetings, the PD introduces you, prompting you to wave and bow at them. You're sure it looks awkward because you feel awkward, but at least it gets done. ]

[aprillikesthings]

eh fuck it one more episode :D

s4 ep6 Princess Scorpia

SCORPIA'S PARENTS and bb Scorpia and also that is a squishmallow if I ever saw one lolol

she sleeps in her uniform?!

oof, relatable

LOL I KNOW I JUST HEARD A WILHELM SCREAM

*rewinds it* I FUCKING DID!! LOLOL

I know this is Double Trouble and they are REALLY trying to start something

I mean actually that was you bb but okay

oh god Horde goes on this rant about how he has to be Victorious and Worthy when Horde Prime arrives and

Catra spent all this time clawing her way to the top (literally and figuratively) and I think it's MAYBE starting to sink in that she is not, in fact, anywhere near the top; and that Hordak is doing the exact same thing Catra's been doing--trying desperately to prove his worth to someone who doesn't give two shits about him

Either that or she's just (rightfully) a little scared of Horde Prime, and she hasn't even met him yet

Anyway Hordak is looking for Entrapta's recordings of her notes so he can work on his fancy weapon

Scorpia and Emily (the robot) do a cute little game and it reminds me so much of one me and Mal do ;_;

LOLOLOL

yeah I know I took this one just for my collection of "She-Ra's captions accidentally make it look like they're talking about sex"

sure bb you keep telling yourself that

Lonnie tries to point out to Scorpia that Catra doesn't give a shit about any of them and it's falling on closed ears

I keep meaning to point this out? But I just really like the way She-Ra looks from behind, with the huge hair and the cape and the wings of the tiara.

Also I know the whole point is that She-Ra is insanely strong even compared to Adora (who is plenty strong) but watching her do some of the physical shit she does without expending any visible effort is still o_O

Yeah Double Trouble's thing is working but also, why would Flutterina even BE on these missions? I have a feeling she (well, they; since that's actually Double Trouble) just kind of begged until they gave in?? But she's not actually helping at all?

Once again Bow is the only one here with any emotional intelligence

(But Adora's I'M FINE it's FINE is too relatable)

BUT Adora points out, Why is Glimmer okay being so friendly with Shadow Weaver "after everything she's done to us?"

Bow mediating their disagreement is making me edit a scene in my WIP lol (do you think Etheria has like, therapists the way we'd think of them? 🤔)

LOLLLLLL

Was digging around old stuff from a discord and found comments from a livestream from shortly after the show ended, and Nate headcanons that Scorpia took back the Fright Zone and her and Perfuma made it full of plant life again ;_;

Today in "things that are horrifying IRL that are played for laughs because it's a cartoon"

(like seriously how often has she been concussed when shit explodes)

Scorpia: "I'll bring the cocoa if you bring the tiny mugs" Entrapta:

me: do I ship this????? 🤔 (yes I know friends also say this)

Poor Emily. The recordings can't be removed without dismantling her.

;_;

Emily just like "NO do not send me to the mean lady who lied about Entrapta!!" by showing the video of Catra being shitty and blaming Entrapta

ANYWAY Scorpia gets the chip out of Emily herself--but damages it in the process. And Catra is pISSED

Ugh these scenes hurt to watch, I think it's just too close to shit I've heard people say to me

YEAH SCORPIA, FUCKING TELL HER

OH IT DOESN'T FEEL GOOD DOES IT, CATRA?? DOES IT???

--and so she lies to protect Scorpia

Catra is saying this and gdi that old vine of "why you lyin', stop fuckin' lyin'" popped into my head

ANYWAY Catra's little speech to Hordak is like....are you trying to convince him or yoU

but also it's wild to watch her go from like, weirdly desperate

to Mean Bitch again

SERIOUSLY THO are you talking to him or yourself????

mmmmmdon't like that

oh ho the chip thing Scorpia gave Catra was fake anyway

yay they leave to go find Entrapta

Oh man tho this is such a huge thing for Scorpia. She's prided herself on her and her family's loyalty to the Horde for SO LONG. I also love that she doesn't give some long speech to Catra about the whole thing--just that "you're a bad friend," and then fucking LEAVING

And that's the end of the episode :D

Also that's ep 32 out of 52. Twenty left!

[linkseasonmaster]

“To Sir Donald Trump, the two-faced bastard of bigotry. You are arrogant and out of touch with the needs of the American people. Your campaign of greed and hate makes you unfit to lead a nation. Thus we have decided to make you confess all your crimes and expose the coward beneath all that orange. From, The Phantom Thieves.” The above image is a fan-made calling card I found online, one written in the style of those delivered to all kinds of horrendous villains by the heroes in a video game franchise near and dear to my heart. And if Donald J. Trump were to find copies of this calling card plastered to every visible surface of each and every property he claims ownership of, I unashamedly would scream with joy, for he would deserve every single one of them along with the change of heart that follows, confessing to all of the awful things he has ever done and demanding to be thrown in prison. After all, Trump and his supporters are just like the corrupt authority figures from the games, indulging in revolting behavior and hiding behind their power base. I have felt this way for years, and now I shall explain why.

Back in 2015, when there were still more than 10 candidates in the running to be the Republican candidate for President of the United States, I was on a cross country road trip with two members of my family. One of our stops was in a town in Illinois attributed to being where Abraham Lincoln, a man famous for making the practice of slavery illegal in the USA, was born and raised. This was at a point in time between two specific derogatory remarks made by Donald Trump, each targeting a different demographic, namely Mexicans and Muslims. That evening, after spending the afternoon learning more about Lincoln than I ever learned in school such as his efforts to combat antisemitism, I would have one of the worst nightmares of my life.

In my dream, Trump made the proclamation that “Abolishing slavery was a mistake!” at one of his political rallies. That comment gets him the presidency, and once he is in office, he begins setting up concentration camps for countless minorities. If you were a person of color, belonged to a religion that wasn’t “Christianity,” had a non-neurotypical brain, possessed any form of mental health issue, or whose gender identity, sexual orientation, and romantic preferences went outside of narrow expectations, you were to be rounded up and imprisoned or executed within the walls of hellholes like those of Nazi Germany.

I tried telling my traveling companions about my nightmare the following morning, but they brushed me off, saying Trump would never win the nomination. I spent so much of the rest of 2015 warning everyone I could about that awful dream, but even come the 2016 November election, only two people ever took me seriously: my therapist as well as a family friend who all but fled the deep south years earlier and was just as terrified as I was. The day after that malignant narcissist was elected the first time, young children at the after-school program I worked at came up to me, frightened for their lives as well as those of their loved ones because of Trump’s rhetoric. But when I was rendered speechless in my attempt to respond, the site director yelled at me for not reassuring them, even if it meant intentionally lying to them. And when Trump’s administration started abducting people crossing the borders, separating families, and locking kids in cages, coworkers would insist it was made up. Yet considering these same coworkers openly complained about Jews and liberals, all while trying to hurriedly assure me I was “one of the good ones” whenever I pointed out I was Jewish and a liberal, there’s no doubt in my mind they knew it was real and just didn’t want me calling them out on it. And all too often, when my family gets together, they’ll all start complaining about the news and current events, yet continue to make it difficult for me to make any sort of contribution to the conversation. With all of that, I just started to feel like it didn’t matter whether or not I talked about my views on Trump and his cult. I’d get told off for saying nothing, and no one wanted to listen when I actually spoke. So why bother? Well, considering the sheer number of people who voted for Trump this time around, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever get another chance after he’s sworn into office again. Because whether or not he knew about the creation of Project 2025, Trump and every single person who supports him either actually want to see it come to fruition or have no problems selling out their fellow citizens if it means potentially putting a tiny, short-lived dent into their believed rising inflation rate for goods and services. From trying to thrust their interpretation of Christianity down the throats of children all around the country, all while ignoring that the religion’s namesake was himself a Jewish rabbi who preached about providing aid to the impoverished, to punishing any teachers trying to educate children about how their bodies change over time or the history of slavery and racism in the US, these hateful adults have made their wishes crystal clear.

In my eyes, everyone who has ever voted for Trump, be it now or back in 2016, from those who actually agree with his rhetoric to those simply not wanting to rock the boat, are blood-drenched, puss-filled, urine-soaked, vomit-coated, diarrhea-covered, sweat-stained, mucus-caked, wretched abominations masquerading as sentient beings. It doesn’t matter if I am a stranger, an acquaintance, a blood relation, or someone considered to be a loved one. By supporting and enabling Donald Trump and every single bigot in this nation, you’ve all but shown that you would enthusiastically see me and everyone even remotely like me enslaved, locked up, exiled, or dead. But I guess I shouldn’t expect anything else from those who could witness firsthand Trump raping, killing, and eating one of their own children yet would rather ask the person next to them to pass the popcorn than raise an objection. I can only hope that one day, be it in this life or the afterlife, all of these awful bigots experience a punishment right out of a Danganronpa game: personally tailored, horrifically brutal, and utterly humiliating.

Oh, and if you are wondering if I’ve had any other dreams about the future since Trump was elected in 2016? I’m honestly confused as to why you suddenly decided to stop treating me like Cassandra from Greek mythology, an oracle cursed to accurately predict the future but to have no one ever listen to her warnings. But since I’ve already come this far, I might as well tell you. During Trump’s first term, I dreamt on two separate occasions of dying in an atomic blast. Once, the bomb was dropped right on my house, and I died in my own basement. The second dream took place at an elementary school, and I could only watch in horror as myself and the children I was supposed to be looking after all disappeared in a flash of light. And yet there’s one other premonition I began to receive as soon as Trump was first elected. There’s a single phrase I’ve echoing in my head ever since that night, even eight years later, and when I share it with people around me, it almost always renders them silent.

Blood. There will be blood.

I’ve heard those five words promising future bloodshed repeating in my brain every day since the outdated electoral college decided to let Trump win instead of Hillary Clinton. They didn’t stop when white supremacists killed a counterprotestor in Charlottesville. They didn’t stop after the Parkland High School shooting in 2017, nor the mass shooting in Uvalde in 2022. They didn’t stop when protestors were killed during the George Floyd demonstrations of 2020, nor when COVID took the lives of countless people around the world. They didn’t stop when Trump whipped his fanbase into a frenzy following his defeat to Joe Biden in 2020, or when said followers tried to usurp the United States government in an assault on its capital and Trump refused to condemn the attackers. They didn’t stop when China stole the freedom of those who live in Hong Kong, or when Putin began his invasion of Ukraine. They didn’t stop when Hamas brutally murdered and kidnapped Israeli citizens, or when Netanyahu used said attack as an excuse to bomb Gaza and invade Lebanon, civilians and hostages be damned. And a day after Trump won a second term in the White House, following the Supreme Court’s decision earlier this year that anyone who holds the position of president is above the law, that phrase hasn’t quieted in the slightest. So if none of these incidents and others have been destructive enough to satisfy that premonition, it can only mean one thing at this point: the worst is yet to come.

But I refuse to just roll over for these blatant oppressors. I won’t sink to the level of these bigots and mistreat others because of their heritage or orientation, even if all of Project 2025 comes to be passed into law. After all, it’s because of people like those who penned that accursed document, the cops and armed forces who have gotten away with attacking and even killing protestors, the Supreme Court that has gutted key protections against women and minorities, and countless others that I have long since stopped viewing the law as a means to ensure that those who do wrong are punished and those who do good are protected. So long as the wealthy and corrupt are allowed to hold power over the government, the law is nothing more than a tool for those holding all of the chips, with Trump and his ilk having done nothing but try to rig these twisted, unjust games in their favor. They care nothing for the intended spirit of the law, only how to twist the word of law to their benefit. It is for these reasons that I hope I am never put in a situation where I have to choose between doing what is moral and what is legal, because I am sure I will become an outlaw should that happen. And an outlaw worth their salt never goes down easy, no matter what happens to them. 

So go ahead, you fascist creeps. Try to rob me and those I care about of our futures. We’ll continue searching for ways to create our own destinies, if for no other reason than to spite those who see themselves as gods. And even if one day my own journey ends before true justice has prevailed, I know that there will be someone, someday who can carry this torch onwards through the harrowing night and towards a brand new dawn.

[farfrompleasant]

Happy Freyja Friday!!! 💖🎉😘

It's almost your actual one year anniversary with the freyby! What a beautiful journey and union you two have had 💞💞💞 to many more!!!

TWO sheds in two months?! Miss Thing is back to doing the most I see! How are you two faring these days? How's school treating ya?

Philly actually planted a lot of honey locust for beautification/urban green planning, and I've read/seen that you can take the seed pods and boil the sweet um goo (??? I'm not a scientist lol) out of them to make a natural plant-based sweetener! But, obviously all the seed pods I see have been crushed by cars and feet and rained on and peed on etc etc so that's a no go 😢

One day, my foraging dreams will come true lol have you seen Alexis Nikole Nelson's (aka the Black forager) content on social media? She's super awesome.

A feeble attempt was made to revive the book club but it's still pretty dead lol at least we have this 😘

I made a dog fort out of our bed when it was really cold last month and Nova was hogging it the other day 😂

Happy Freyja Friday!!!

I’m actually on time chdhhdhdhdjskendbjdjf, absolutely insane!💀 it will be an entire year I’m just two days and I can’t cope! It feels like we’ve been with each other for a much longer time, and I’m just baffled at the fact that she grew to love me in just a year😳 it’s giving fall in love at a certain amount of time trope, if you know what I mean then you know! (I hope you do…) but still, thank you friend… you’re the sweetest evers!🥺❤️ and I want you to know that with every union, you’re also apart of it as you were there during the early days of my journey with this scaly girl c;

I still can’t get over the back to back shedding, and apparently neither can Freyja. Her beard has been dark during the process😅 anywho, I am doing okay. Between school, work, and having minor health issues going on I think I’m tackling things rather well. As for our girl, she’s a lot happier these days; we’re expanding her diet, and gathering accessories for her enclosure in hopes of sprucing it up! And she’s always warm despite the bitter winter biting us all in the rear before it’s officially spring. Seriously, thank goodness for ceramic heating!

Honey locus? I have to look that up, friend! I didn’t know that was a tree 🥺 very mesmerizing tree with a cool base and warm, autumn favored leaves… I want to see more of those! Philly has good taste. Got me romanticizing a type of tree 🤭 wait— so you’re saying that with this sweet goo that is extracted from these pods, you can make an organic sweetener?! That’s amazing 🤩 I hate that there’s no real opportunity to do that given that you’re living in a city where plant life/resources aren’t necessarily considered(?) Like, if it was cleaner and plants weren’t looked at as embellishments, then that it would totally be doable imo 🥺

I can’t wait to witness your foraging, I just know that it would bring me so much joy as a) you are doing your hobby and b) you’re sharing it with me and teaching me a few things along the way c; I can’t say that I heard about Alexis Nikole Nelson or any of her work but I’ll check it out whenever I can find some time ☺️

And 😭 rip to our bookclub! It was initially productive, and I loved being apart of it along with just hearing everyone’s perspectives on the material c: not to mention I totally bragged about it to my therapist at one point 🤭 it’s a flex, okay! I feel that there may be a revival period if someone finds a really good read 😂

That is soooo cute friend! A doggie fort sounds so cozy and I know for a fact that some cuddles took place 🥰 and of course Nova is basking in the comfort of it all, I really love that for her❤️ I hope Abbie and Lizzie are getting their turns whenever they can lolol and that Wallace and Heller are experiencing great comforts as well in their own feline way c: I feel like they probably squeeze their way into certain nooks and crannies that would incite a war if bothered or removed 😂😅

And of course, I hope Philly weather is being kind to you my good friend 🥰 hope you are feeling well and will continue to prosper in any way you see fit!

This is a day after her second shed, she’s obsessed with resting here again for whatever reason c:

[the-blessed-damozel]

i guess this is a diary now

it's so weird. now i've had several doctors and my therapist all agree that when i was raped that I was drugged. like nearly certain based on the symptoms i had. like to think two people i considered friends of YEARS did this. and then turned everyone against me.

like i thought it was just a universally bad decision and couldn't really make sense of why i blacked out, and figured that since i did that. idk. the five seconds i remember must have not been the whole story. like maybe they stopped?

then i had to learn months later it was planned. they didn't stop. in fact the girl decided to critique my performance and i had no idea how to react. i got scared that if i told her i didn't want to have sex with her (and never did) that i'd be insulting her somehow. idk the brain does weird things. i was on major copium.

and now coming to terms with the fact that i was drugged? and today i was still saying "possibly drugged" in my therapy session and my therapist just. gave me this look and said, "[name] you were drugged." bc ofc they're in communication with my doctors and stuff. idk. and the two ppl who raped me KNEW i was on a lot of meds for epilepsy/heart problems/etc. and yet?? they introduce something that could have killed me? like way higher chances of seriously hurting/killing me? for what? the threesome they wished they could have but i was hesitant about when asked about it.

i had a whole other thing typed up but it doesn't even fucking matter. i know there's no point theorizing on WHY they took the ultimate action of getting everyone to cut me off. i just know i wish i hadn't have stayed quiet.

[kittykatinabag]

Well the tangible dread of having to go to work in the morning has kicked in, even with the easier work tasks and more relaxed team and me being medicated again.

Time to somehow convince the nurse practitioner that I talk to about my meds to not only up my dose a bit but also beg her to find someone in the practice that does weekly therapy because I feel this ship I'm in is starting to slowly circle and take on water. Good thing my appointment is this week.

At least this time it took approximately 2 months for it to kick in compared to last time I was working where it kicked in just before 1 month of working. It kicked in a lot worse back then too, present day I am annoyed at the wake up time and frustrated that all my energy gets sapped by the time I get home so I can't even do much beyond veg out on the computer.

Hopefully now that it's been a few months on meds the nurse practitioner will take my energy and sleep concerns seriously instead of kicking it down to the road because I "just started" on the new meds (and then the holidays came and I was too distracted with traveling and stuff).

I'm just so tired of having to take like 36 hours of my weekend to just recover, and then immediately have to do housework and then it's basically 9pm and everywhere I want to go for fun or just to get out is closed or closing soon. Plus it's winter so the cold weather makes it hard to get motivated to go outside for long periods of time. Plus I have no friends here so I'm doing everything alone, which is fine but it's a bit lonely sometimes. I won't get into the wonderful paradox of me being alone and lonely yet every time I spend more than an hour or two with people I seem to cease functioning the moment they're gone for at least 3 hours, sometimes more depending on the activity and conversation and vibes.

It's just the same story as 5 years ago, only this time the anxiety is a lot lower so I'm not panic attacking about how directionless and bland my life is anymore. It's just a bitter depression now. The only answer I've come up with is quitting my job and becoming a NEET again. Hell I'd even go back to school (again again) if I had the money to. I liked being in class back in Ireland, at least until they wouldn't renew my meds and my therapist ruined a lot of the progress I had made in my mental health to that point. But I don't have the money to do that anymore. And this job while easy doesn't pay enough for me to suck it up and save until I have enough money.

So yeah. I would like to get back to therapy if only to talk to someone that's not my coworkers on a weekly basis.

[user5726816393]

Please Do Not Read Unless I'm Dead - Seriously

This is going to seem dramatic, but even with being more attentive and changing my diet, my body still feels awful. Its only been like two days or so, but I get this sinking feeling its only gonna get worse and I've had to really consider my mortality. This really could be it. No matter how seriously I try to turn my life around, my liver might just fail me outright, and that's curtains. Show's over.

I'm not gonna just give up and die. Dying fucking terrifies me. There's so much left I want out of life. But I'm also definitely not going to be happy if I act like I know I'm gonna get through this and then abruptly kick the can. I don't think anyone's going to the trouble of regularly checking up on this 'whenever-I-feels-like-it' online journal. But if I do bite the dust and you're reading this, please share it with the rest of my loved ones.

To Mom: I'm sorry I went on ahead. I'm sorry for all the time I spent not taking life more seriously. I'm sorry I didn't take my health more seriously. I'm sorry for saying sorry so much. We didn't always see eye to eye growing up. And honestly, you weren't always right. Even now, I can confidently say that you were wrong some of those times. But I understand that almost everything you did for us, you did out of unconditional love. In the end, it was to have us live happy and fulfilling lives. I look back on my childhood really fondly. Growing up, I had been kind of embarrassed, thinking we were poor and didn't have much. But looking back on it now, I understand that you gave us everything. Truly, we wanted for nothing. Big family trips, Christmas morning, pets, allowances. We had it all because you worked your ass off for it. From before we got up, until after we got home from school, and through the weekends at times. You provided, you showed us so much love, and I had a great life and turned out a pretty good person because of it. Thank you, so much. Love you omma.

To David and Karen: I was a pretty shitty brother growing up, and I think I spent my adult life trying to make up for that with you guys. I don't know if I have. It's not really up to me to decide. I hope now that I'm gone, you guys could find it in yourselves to forgive me, or whatever else properly gives you closure. If shutting the door on our relationship and forgetting me accomplishes that, then do that. I'd just like to act like a big brother one last time, if this is the last thing you guys hear from me. Be good to mom. Go read her portion if you wanna see why. It took too long into my adult life to really appreciate that. She loves and is proud of us, all of us, unconditionally. In the very truest meaning of that word. I promise you that. I wish I spent more time with y'all. I wish I was a better brother. But I'm gonna do one last selfish thing, and ask that you guys be a force for good in the world. It's hard. Everything is fucked up. But I hope you can bear it and push on through. I love you guys. Live happy, fulfilling lives.

To the Boys (and Girls): Y'all, I done fucked up. Joking about my health bit me in the ass after all. I was ready to go into this making a bunch of jokes, because at some point in the past few years, I'd come to terms with the fact that our friendship was just about having fun. It was wrong to expect y'all to be my therapists and have rather heavy, vulnerable conversations with y'all. Our friendship wasn't really about that, and that would have been more stressful on the group anything meaningful or productive. But it doesn't mean that our friendship wasn't meaningful. You all showed your support and that you cared in other ways. Sometimes, the best things friends can do is just be there, being present and showing you cared. And I felt that. I knew if shit were to go down, y'all would have my back. I think fist fighting another group of assholes would have been a good bonding moment for us. I had some of the best laughs and most fun in my life with you guys and gals. Pour one out for your boy from time to time. Non-alcoholic though, cause you know, bad liver and all. Also, please wipe my browser history and destroy my hard drives, thanks.

To the Temple Fam: You guys weren't like a second family to me, you were my second family. Y'all are so blindingly bright and positive and good hearted people that I was embarrassed to be standing next to y'all. Honestly, it kind pissed me off how perfect you guys were. Lowkey kinda pissing me off thinking about it even now, haha. But despite all of that, I have never felt more welcomed and uplifted by others in my entire life. You were the warmth, and joy, and love I wanted to emulate into the rest of my life. I was a pretty angry, bitter teenager growing up and I genuinely think that if it weren't for the overflowing love, support, and sense of belonging you guys so generously shared with me, I wouldn't have turned out as good of a person as I think I am today. Never ever change, you guys.

To Everyone Else: I can't do personalized notes for everyone. Its too much. Honestly, it would be too much to even just name everybody. But I hope I carried myself as a person who appreciated the bond I had with you. I'm ultimately a really reserved person, but I really appreciate the shared experiences I have with people, even if ever so briefly. Every little bit of kindness, of mentorship, of just relating to me as another living being, with a world of complex thoughts and emotions has had a part in shaping who I turned out to be in the end. And in a sense, I hope some tiny part of me lives on through you all.

Thank you all for everything. I wouldn't say that I have no regrets, but I lived a very good and happy life thanks to you. I would gladly live this life with you all over again. Live well.

[dontcallthislovee]

Throwback to that one time...

That my two apartment mates (I'm going to call them roommates) were talking about me, not including me in things on purpose, plotting against me, etc. behind my back several years ago. I'm not sure if one of the people who did this to me still follows me or not and if they do, if they are even active on tumblr right now, but this is not meant to be directed at them or to make them feel any type of way. It's just something that's been on my mind a lot lately because I never was fully able to get over it. I consider it to be the worst betrayal I've ever experienced, and I've had a lot.

So several years ago, I moved across my state to move in with two of my best friends, or at least I thought they were at the time. I had been friends with one of them for a couple years already and she met the other one when she moved to that side of the state and became friends, so I became friends with her through my friend. I genuinely did my best to be as friendly as I could to her other friend, but it always felt like no matter what I did, I was the bad guy and she was this poor, sweet victim. No matter what happened. It got very frustrating and I should've more carefully considered this before picking up and moving my entire life across the state to live with them.

The first few months of living together was really great. It was everything I thought it would be, being able to live with friends. I had never got to experience it before so it was something I was really looking forward to. But then soon after, I started feeling like I was being left out of things by my two roommates on purpose, like they'd suddenly stop talking when they heard me coming towards the room, etc. It felt like they were plotting to just leave me behind quietly and hope I don't make a fuss. I started bringing it up to them and they played it off as, "Oh, it's just your anxiety." "You're just paranoid." "It's all in your head." So after several months of this continuing, I'm starting to think maybe I have some severe mental illness that's causing this paranoia. Maybe I have schizophrenia? I had been having some minor auditory hallucinations, so this is why I went there. Like I don't even know. Just any other explanation other than what I'm thinking is happening being true. I was seriously considering checking myself into a mental institution because of this. (They both also have depression and anxiety, so they understand what saying these things to me meant.)

Finally, over Christmas break, they both went home to their families and I stayed in our apartment alone. I just lost it. I broke down and I went into one of their iPads and read their text messages. And I was right. I was fucking goddamn right the entire time. There was months of text messages of them saying they'd always choose the other over me if it ever came down to it. And I'm sitting there wondering what made them think it'd even come down to it at some point? I had asked them frequently if anything I did bothered them so I could change it if necessary and they never said anything. So I'm sitting there seeing these things, realizing they gaslit me this entire fucking time knowing goddamn well what they were doing to me. It literally felt like someone took a knife and stabbed me in my heart. I have never been hurt so deeply as I was when I discovered this.

When they came back home, we didn't speak to each other for I think it was at least 2 weeks. Living in rooms directly next to each other, in the same apartment, I did not speak to them and they did not speak to me for at least 2 whole weeks, if not more. I spent some of the time at my boyfriend's place at the time because I was just a wreck. I was weeping for hours a day. I was so anxious about everything that I was seriously trembling, my entire body. I ended up going to see a therapist and she pretty much immediately knew that she could not offer me the amount of help that I needed right then. I was on the verge of being suicidal and seriously struggling to not start cutting again, though I may have, I don't actually remember. So the therapist referred me to a partial hospitalization program. Go during the day and go through classes to help you learn how to cope and deal with the stress and the things that got you there. It was there that I learned that the minor auditory hallucinations could be caused by increased stress, like thinking you're a nutjob.

It was at some point during that program that I was assisted in getting up the nerve to have a sit down with my roommates and see if we can talk this out. They were very cold when I spoke with them about it. From my point of view, they had no reason to act this way towards me. It was a complete blank as to why they'd act like this as I was under the impression they would not have known that I read their messages yet. I, however, was wrong. Thank you, Apple for screentime and ratting on me. I was planning on telling them anyway, but it made that time in between unbearable. Literally no one said anything to either side when they got back home. I had removed all of my belongings from the common areas and put them in my room. I wanted to be as separate from them as I possibly could since I already was, but I was just the only one who hadn't known it.

When we sat down to talk, it was me that had to lead the whole thing. I had to nudge everything forward. We could've gone the last 5 months living there without speaking if I hadn't asked to have a sitdown. I can almost guarantee it. They are not very confrontational people and will avoid it if they can, which is why I'm assuming they never told me what I did that made them dislike me so much. I still to this day do not know. I apologized to them for going through their things and that it was wrong and I shouldn't have done it. And I'm not trying to excuse it by any means, but what I found as a result kind cemented the fact that it was necessary for my mental health. I literally thought I had lost my mind until I found the proof I was right. And they were letting me. I tried explaining my side of things and then they spoke and basically, if I remember correctly, just doubled down and made me feel like I was the only person in the wrong because I had invaded their privacy, which I still feel guilty for despite the fact that it probably saved me from a psych ward stay. They made me feel like they didn't see or understand my side of things at all and that what I found didn't matter because of the way I found it out. Which is so fucking stupid because that'd be like a dude trying to tell his girlfriend it doesn't count that she found out he cheated because she went through his phone without his permission. Like, this isn't the law or the courtroom, you can't claim fruit of the poisonous tree. You are not innocent just because of how the proof was found. You're still fucking guilty! And it just never felt like they knew this. They never apologized for anything because they felt that they never did anything wrong. They even tried to deny gaslighting me when I KNOW it happened because I wrote in a journal sometimes and there were multiple entries recording when they told me I was just crazy! Sitting down with them ending up being almost entirely pointless since they essentially continued to gaslight me. They're the only ones who got something out of it, they got an apology where it was deserved. However, I did not.

So, since I never got an apology and never got them to admit they even did something wrong, I've struggled for like 5 years now, I think that's how long it's been. How do you get over or through something that you never got ANY type of closure on? And that you most likely never will. I don't really talk to them anymore and I'm perfectly happy with that. I haven't been able to really trust anyone since then though. Even when someone says they're my friend or they like me, doesn't matter, I just don't believe them because x, y, and z all betrayed me in super hurtful ways and the only common denominator is me in all of it, so I must be the one that has something wrong with them, right? My therapist says no, but it's kinda her job to make me feel better so I'm not sure I completely believe that. And what pisses me off is that NO ONE tells me what I did to make them feel so negative about me. So I have no fucking clue what is so awful about me that people would rather make me feel insane than tell me what is actually wrong with me.

[adulting-from-scratch]

Independence terrifies me.

I went from being coddled to having to think about everything.

The idea of being an adult is scary.

So last year, I was living at the place that I'd called home. It wasn't just home. When I was younger it was a sanctuary, a place that was safer than home.

I'd lived there full-time since my second semester of my freshman year in high school.

I didn't have any prospects, which I'm ashamed to admit. I got up, ate, went on my phone, and went back to my room. Sometimes played video games. I'd stopped reading, despite specific books and comics previously being some of my greatest loves.

I'd been out of therapy for three years, I'd just barely started seeing a psychiatrist again. And the day that I called and had an over the phone consultation with a DBT therapist, my house burned down.

I'd tried working two jobs in the past, gotten fired from both. One was a little under a month.

I kept saying, "I'll look, I'll apply."

Or, "I'll look at going back to school."

I did...on occasion. Not as often as I said I did, nowhere near as often as I said I would.

I was severely depressed. I didn't shower or brush my teeth as much as I should have, the latter led to my needing my top four front teeth crowned, courtesy of my grandparents.

Last week, I was supposed to walk down to catch the bus. I live in a semi-rural area, and it

A few weeks ago, I broke down crying in therapy as I voiced aloud the rude awakening that had hit me.

"All this shit I have to figure out and think about and they all cost money!"

This was after my grandfather told me at some point he'd expect me to pay for my therapy. He didn't say when, just at some point.

To me, this was a looming threat. I've made so much progress since being back in therapy, and that's with it being paid for and getting a ride there. That progress looks like not having outbursts, doing laundry, signing back up for school. Not exactly impressive. But worth acknowledging.

It took me time to work up the courage to make a psychiatrist appointment last week, due to being off my meds for a few months. Everything takes conscious effort.

The first time I had to seriously think about money. I'm not struggling right now, I'm living with my mother. But I don't know what the future holds.

In my mind I'm just one or two more failures away from winding up dying on the street. Or being a leech on my family for the rest of my life.

One is dramatic, both are pathetic. And a bit delusional. Plenty of people are educated and harder working than me and still wind up out there.

I'm back in school, taking two classes, not working, because I doubt I'd be able to handle more than that.

I'm still trying to figure out a study program. I

Today, half of me wishes so badly to go back to living there. Having all my needs met, binging whenever I want. Not having to think about much.

But I not only wasn't productive, I wasn't really happy. I was filling the void.

I didn't want to end my life, I just didn't have a life.

But it was easier to say I'd become an adult later.

My grandmother still saw me as her kid, so it was okay, right? But she's not here to enable me.

I was comfortable. But not okay.

Do I want sympathy? Maybe. But in comparison to so many other people, I'm not sure my struggles are worth complaining about.

Life is hard as fuck, and it feels like it's only going to get harder, but I've been far too sheltered, and it hasn't done me many favors.

Independence terrifies me because I'd prefer to have someone else tell me what I have to do.

I feel like I need a lot of handholding.

But the only hand to hold is my own.

That's not quite true, I have my basic needs met. I have hands to hold, family and friends. I just don't have someone constantly hugging me.

But that's what I'm used to. So the adjustment is rough, to say the least.

It's such a stark difference, and my mind is already a bit different, that I have to remind myself feeling and fact are different.