#and please always seek therapy advice from an actual therapist

[roses-are-repulsed]

You are not broken for being repulsed. Nothing is wrong with you. You don't need to be fixed. Do not hurt yourself by purposely going past your limit to trigger your repulsion - that's not how exposure therapy works nor is it supposed to cause harm to yourself.

Do not make yourself physically ill trying to be "normal" you deserve better. You deserve kindness. Grant yourself that kindness.

[eclectictransgirl]

On therapy

Disclaimer: This article isn’t meant to dissuade anyone from seeking therapy. If you find therapy to be beneficial, I am happy for you. Please continue to seek therapy.

Undeniable advancements modern science has made in the field of mental health. We have a better understanding of mental diseases, disorders and personality idiosyncracies. And a big part of it relies on nomenclature. Bipolar disorder, paranoia, autism spectrum disorder, ADHD, DID, narcissism, sociopathic, etc. While, in the right hands (which is that of a mental health counsellor) such nomenclature can prove useful, over the last decade, social media has made a certain popular usage of these terms that, in my opinion  has been detrimental to society.

I’ve always been someone who’s worked on improving myself. A large part of this has been getting feedback (sometimes rudely, sometimes more genuinely) from others on my personality and introspecting on my behaviour. I learnt somewhat late in my life that my way of talking comes across as mean to people even though I didn’t intend it to be that way. This prompted me to consider what I said and what I didn’t say and try to pinpoint where and why this behaviour of mine actually rooted from. I like to think I am at a better point than I was a few years ago as far as making conversations go. Another toxic personality trait of mine was to argue on trivialties that didn’t require argument. This was another area I worked on and am continuing to work on.

At a certain point in my life my friends started telling me I’m depressed and I should seek a therapist. Some friends also implied that I am neurodivergent and I display autistic and ADHD traits. In my opinion this is the bane of youtube and social media. “Therapy speak” has become popular and people, especially younger people are quick to assign labels to people’s mental conditions. To a certain degree, I felt gaslit to seek therapy. The popularity of therapy has resulted in an atmosphere that to some degree, having sad or ‘different’ thoughts is immediately seen as bad and you are told to seek therapy. And if you don’t, you are judged. But therapy has a longstanding history in philosophy that is missing from both counselling and psychology school.

Before modern psychology existed, the way people coped with their emotions was via community. Gathering every evening to share life’s woes and joys. Religion played a significant role in easing people’s minds too in whatever twisted rules it imposed. Confession booths. However, all of these did root in some philosophical discourse. Yes, making people feel guilty for being gay was awful and that is not what I’m referring to. What I am talking about is easing people’s minds that God is there for them, and they’ll one day unite with God is rooted in some form of philosophy. Regardless of whether you are an atheist or a believer, what can be seen is the philosophical motivation behind religious therapy. Community therapy was also a place where people, for the large part,  talked about what life is. A large part of Buddhism is talking about life and death. And I find it necessary. Today, I feel a disconnect, a lost community. When what I really need is people who know me well to tell me where I am going wrong, what I find is people who know me well telling me to pay someone who doesn’t see me day to day to tell me what to do. 

I am onto my fourth therapist now. I did one session each with my first two therapists and four sessions with my third therapist before deciding I wasn’t benefiting from them in any way. Not only were they futile, I was also spending money to get trivial advice such as “journal your thoughts” or “breathe deeply” which is… not incorrect but certainly not something I needed to be told by someone i’m paying $100 to. I am currently back in therapy again and we’ve been discussing how I can cope with my anxiety. Four sessions in, what I’ve gotten is “zoom in to your present and focus on the moment.” I don’t think that is wrong advice however, it begs the question, is this advice I need to spend an hour a week for? Thankfully this time my therapy is free so I will continue for a while longer to see if things improve. But being pressured to think that I’m defective for not seeking therapy even though I have mental problems in no way would improve my condition. 

Today, we’ve placed therapists on a pedestal, making them seem as some sort of magicians who can fix everything for us whereas they’re also just humans like everyone and most often say things quite obvious to their clients. As a society, we have lots empathy. I think telling people to “see a therapist” instead of offering a couple of hours of their time to have a deep-meaningful conversation reflects some form of selfishness. I do not pass value judgment on it, I do not say whether such selfishness is good or bad but it seems to be becoming the way of life. This isn’t to say boundaries aren’t a real thing. No one needs to shoulder the burden of talking to someone on the verge of killing themself. That is a job for the suicide helpliners. However, it becomes imperative to question what led to such a person to reach a point where they decide to end their life. And I think a large part of it can be attributed to not having people whom they have deep connections with when they were relatively normal functioning. This world is lonely, we are born alone and we die alone for the most part and the only thing that keeps us going is community. Anyone who is deprived of community and friendship  is deprived of their humanity. Is deprived of their reason to live. People’s souls are nourished by connecting to other people. Placing people in categories of ADHD or BPD or narcissism is deleterious to the nuances that are associated with being a human being.

Providing people with a sense of purpose, as simple as caring for their loved one to as grandiose as serving their community is something that therapy does not seem to advocate for.  The sense of purpose roots from an individual’s relationships- their relationship with the people around them , their relationship with nature, their relationship with their pets and someone trained in a school building will not cater to such individuality. This comes from the people who see you everyday. All of us get one chance at life and it becomes essential that we get guidance from those around us. What is needed is not just one or the other, but a combination of both therapy and community. However, a level of individualism has taken grip of people, especially newer generations and has resulted in a lack of empathy.

Once again, I do not dissuade anyone from seeking therapy, I am currently seeking therapy myself. And maybe I will change a lot of my current opinions. But these are just my thoughts on therapy as has been my experience till date.

[multiplicity-positivity]

TW self harm discussion

.

Hey, I'm the host of a newly discovered system. I started a journal for communication between headmates and asked what I could do better for them as their host and pretty much everyone told me to stop self harming, the caretaker said that our little thinks I'm a witch for self-harming, and I don't know, it just, really hurt to read?

But I'm not sure how to stop self-harming, I think it's nearing an addiction for me. It hurts emotionally and physically whenever I self harm now because I know that I'm hurting the system and causing discourse within us, but I don't know how to stop.

Hi! This is really tough - we’re so sorry y’all are going through something like this! Self harm can be quite serious, but hurting yourself does not make you a witch, evil, or a bad person! It does, however, make you a person who is suffering and in need of help. We have some advice that may help y’all that we can share!

(Note: most of our advice actually comes from a workbook our system is currently completing. It’s the DBT Skills workbook, and you can get it on Amazon for like $20USD! Link to Amazon)

First, please trust that your system does want what’s best for you when they encourage you to stop self-harming. Refraining from hurting yourself will benefit the whole system, which includes you! It may be difficult to try and change these habits, but we promise it’s possible. It will take some diligence and effort on your part, but we believe in you!

When you have an urge to self harm, here are some things you can do instead:

1) Draw on yourself. Use a red or black pen/marker that will leave heavy marks. Draw on the places you would normally hurt yourself. Leave the marks there for the rest of the day.

2) Journal. Write out how you feel, why you want to hurt yourself, what you would do, and what you are choosing to do instead that is less harmful. Remind yourself why you want to change, and how you plan on achieving that change.

3) If you are feeling overwhelmed, try RESTing. REST means Relax, Evaluate, Set an intention, and Take action. To keep this post from getting too long, we’ve made a companion post explaining REST, which you can check out here.

4) Find a less destructive way to hurt yourself. Perhaps give yourself a quick pinch, flick your arm, hold a piece of ice, or snap a rubber band against your skin. Ultimately, it will be good to move away even from these! But when just starting out trying to mitigate self harm, finding ways that can bring that pain response without as much damage is a good thing!

5) Talk to someone. You don’t have to suffer alone! We’d always recommend therapy, but we understand not everyone has affordable access to a good therapist. Still, you can vent your frustrations to a trusted friend or loved one, and seek reassurance from those who care about you. Ask someone close to you if it would be okay for you to reach out to them when you want to self harm to try and talk to them instead. If they agree, make good on this. When you want to self harm, get in touch with your loved one first before deciding to hurt yourself.

We hope these things can help set you on a path towards recovery! Remember that progress is usually not linear - it’s okay to mess up, to backslide, regress, or make mistakes! What matters most is that you’re continuing to try and change, even when it’s hard, even after you’ve made the wrong choice. It is never too late to start practicing self care and showing yourself (and your system) compassion!

Good luck with everything! We’re wishing you hope, healing, and the very best. Thanks for reaching out!

🌸 Margo and 🖋 Cecil

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

seeking advice and resources… this is TW (involves a coat hanger and a childhood coochie) all I really remember about my childhood is being extremely aroused and fascinated by sex, by age 10 I was already actively speaking out that I wanted to have sex with others my age or really anyone and I can't remember a time when I didn't feel that way, I remember age 2 and up and even as a toddler I was very sexualized and felt a strong urge to kiss all the boys in preschool and it went on into elementary school and middle and high and so on into adulthood where as a teenager i ended up having a sex addiction that was diagnosed by a professional in the medical field so what i really need some advice on and resources of is why can i remember age 2 and up so vividly but i can't remember anything from under age 2? and also i moved at age 2 from a big city to a small town. and when i was a child i was so curious about sex that i actually took my own virginity by using a coat hanger because i didn't know what i was doing but all i knew is that it felt good but weird but in a pleasurable kind of way. i was around 7 or 8 when i did the coat hanger. i knew it took my card because there was so much blood. and i hid it by cleaning it and throwing it away after breaking it. also i am a millennial and i am diagnosed with ptsd and depression and anxiety and adhd so I'm sorry in advance for this adhd styled submission. i hope someone can provide resources online or a book suggestion or anything. also id love for my mom to understand what ptsd is and how it affects me, i live with her and she has to sort of help take care of me but she doesn't understand what ptsd is idk if there's a book out there for "helping moms understand their millennial offsprings PTSD struggles" and i do see a therapist for talk therapy but it doesn't always help like it should. and again I'm sorry for this longness. if you can re-write my submission and make it less TW or more easy to understand then please do so. i just really don't know what else to do.

Hi anon,

Please know that there is no need to apologize for this ask at all, it's not long and it's easy to understand. While to some degree sexual exploration is developmentally appropriate, it's a bit concerning that you were extremely fascinated by sex, and this can potentially be a sign of hypersexuality from sexual trauma. This article explains what is and isn't developmentally appropriate sexual behavior.

I'm not a medical professional, but while bleeding can be a sign of a broken hymen, that usually indicates that the hymen is in some way malformed, as many people tend to not bleed when their virginity is taken. This article says that the bleeding and pain some people experience [...] comes from stretching or tearing the tissue. The shape and size of a coat hanger could certainly cause bleeding.

It's also important to remember that virginity and the hymen are not inherently related. Not only can your hymen break from nonsexual activities like riding a bike, but the concept of virginity is culturally subjective and has different definitions depending on who you ask. So while it's okay to say you took your own virginity, just know that you can reclaim it if you wish.

The Body Keeps The Score is a great book about PTSD and how it manifests. Here's an article with a list of other related books you could look into. If anyone has any other recommendations, feel free to add on.

I hope I could help and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[bogkeep]

ok so actually i have a lot of thoughts on """traumadumping on your friends""""" VS "go see a therapist" that may seem pretty self-evident to me but maybe aren't as evident to everyone else, might as well share them:

i think there's been a bit of a language drift around what people mean by 'traumadumping'? i've seen people refer to pretty much any time anyone opens up about anything in any context as 'traumadumping'. what *i* always thought it meant was like, when someone, especially if it's some rando or someone you're not particularly close to, will just, well, dump all of their trauma on you in an inappropriate context/without respecting your boundaries or feelings about it. i think this happens a lot in parasocial relationships, especially online, where people with larger followings and fans may get a lot of messages from people in difficult situations wanting help and advice from a person they admire or relate to. the whole experience can probably be summed up as that one image of a tumblr anon in a car talking to a horrified fastfood employee who's not being paid enough for this.

opening up and talking to your friends IS good actually!!!! if you have friends who care about you, they DO want to hear about what you're going through, they DO want to be there for you!! people LIKE to help their friends!! i know that if someone seeks me out for advice, i feel honored and touched that they trust me. i personally do not think there's any topic out there that's "too much" to bring to a friend if you have a close enough relationship & consent. the THING is, your friends may not be *able* to help you. even if they happen to be trained therapists there's going to be limits to what they can do for you. seeking therapy is far from a perfect system, and often inaccessible, but in theory you should get to talk to someone who is equipped to deal with your stuff.

the consent part is important! i know people like to poke fun at clinical sounding scripts like "are you in a position to receive potentially triggering information" but like, asking people if they're ok with a heavy talk is a GOOD and USEFUL practice. in fact, having the option to say No to things is a fundamental cornerstone of any sustainable relationship. as i said, i love it when friends want my help or advice, i'm likely to drop whatever i'm doing and settle in for Emotions Talk right away - but that doens't mean i'm always available. i have a life and troubles of my own, and it's not fair to my friend if i can't give them the proper care and attention. also, a lot of us have Trouble Setting Boundaries. one might even get a bit burnt out or triggered by being the Advice Help Friend. if you've been the confidante of someone going through a really horrific and traumatic experience or a really bad mental health break to a point where it's affected your own life, you might have caught some trauma of your own. or if you've had a parent or family member (or overly familiar adult on the internet) treat you as a live-in therapist. or even if you've just been the Helpful Friend Everyone Goes To Advice For But Nobody Asks How You're Doing and you're okay with it because you're just happy you can be so useful to your loved ones and super not a burden to anyone ever, you can totally do this forever and haha resentment what resentment. it can feel so uncomfortable and selfish to make yourself Unavailable to someone who needs HELP but sometimes you Gotta before you crash and burn!!!

yes, if you're really close to someone and have pre-established boundaries & the kind of relationship where you feel safe saying "hey can we not talk about this right now please?" then you probably don't need to ask every single time you wanna talk about a thing. the better you know someone, the more familiar you will be with their moods and limits!

if you're in a relationship where someone tells you all of their troubles all the time and never wants to listen to yours, and that's like, the baseline, you might want to reconsider the relationship! i will always 1000% of the time support someone's right to set boundaries (as in, limits you set for yourself, not limits you impose upon others) - but that doesn't mean you have to settle for crumbs. not every connection we have with another person needs to be fully reciprocal and even all the time, it doesn't have to be transactional, but if someone makes you actively miserable and you don't want to be their friend or date them anymore... you don't have to! (you can of course, try to talk to them about it if you want - there might be a chance they simply did not notice this was a thing they were doing. it happens. but if the problem is that they're not listening to you at all... well.)

i'm not a fan of people using "go see a therapist" as an insult. or even people using it in the same way they would say "have you tried yoga?" to dismiss what you're saying. but i do think that, if your friends who love you ask if you're seeing a therapist, it's because they want to help you but don't know how. they want you to get helped. they love and care about you and it's scary when someone you love and care about is Struggling.

it's not always obvious to everyone else that you're Struggling if you haven't told anyone. it may be obvious to you because you're on the inside of your head, but most people don't analyse your every move and compare it to a database of your regular behaviours and expressions unless it's like, pretty drastic? sometimes all we want is for someone to check in on us and ask how we're doing and see us, but i don't think it's fair to resent others if they don't (not that we can always help resentment. pesky awful emotion). it's not because they don't care about you!!! it's just difficult to know what to do and when for everyone!!

something i've seen happen a Lot due to the commonplace existence of vent channels in discord servers is people who kind of... implode in a void of helplessness. lots of young people who have too little experience and support networks and too much trauma and don't realize how Bad things are until they're so bad that they can't be helped. it passes over, it does, but it's always an awful experience for everyone involved when someone is stuck in the despair hole screaming for help and every hand reaching out gets slapped away in rejection because they can't help. i... don't know if this is like, a pattern that can be fixed, but i think situations like these are much more likely to happen if you wait too long before reaching out.

talking to other people is good, regardless if it's a therapist or a trusted friend! it can be a preventive measure for things getting Even Worse. i know a lot of people struggle to talk about their stuff - talking means admitting there's a problem at all. asking for help is terrifying, because you may get rejected or bad advice or hurt. it sucks and it's hard and it sucks more and it's harder if someone can't listen to you right now, even if they have every right not to. we are however, a social species! we carry heavy burdens together when we can!! life is hard but we are capable of difficult things!!!

idk why there's so much discussion around the ~*morality of traumadumping*~ when it's a VERY solvable social conundrum. all you need to do is ask something like "hey is it ok if i talk about this thing? it's kind of heavy" and respect the answer

[sukiglycerin]

it’s too cold outside for angels to fly || katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: pro-hero!katsuki bakugou x angel quirk!reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: fluff, angst, actually sfw (wow, luna's can do that?!)

* words: 8.1k (it’s a big baby!)

* warnings: mentions of trauma, reader is insecure but it's not their entire personality, therapy (not a lot of scenes with it), slight intoxication, mentions of throwing up (not much), like one suggestive joke, (light) cussing because bakugou

* original request: All I’m saying is reader with a angel quirk and the reader even has wings AND ANGST (but happy at the end 🥺) WITH BAKUGOU sounds so good 😔 but of course if you don’t want to do that it’s fine no pressure 💕

* a/n: hi 'nonnie! i hope you like you like this! honestly, it turned out longer than i expected (twice the length lol) but i'm proud of this baby. i'd like to note that enko, the nickname bakugou calls reader means 'halo' in japanese and can double down as a name, and an important reminder not to take any advice from the therapy in this fic. i am not a professional therapist, and please seek advice for situations specific to yours. the name of the fic is inspired by a lyric from ed sheeran's 'a-team,' but i promise it's not that dark. thanks so much to @toishi​ and the amazing feedback from @dylanxmin​ for beta-reading this! hope you enjoy!

* synopsis: you were your parents' perfect angel. you listened, and you followed. you didn't become a pro-hero, you stayed inside per your parents' request. it was okay if you couldn't fly; or, at least it was, before katsuki bakugou came along...

your grandmother loved pastries. that’s why you were here, trekking through the cold city in the tokyo winter. you shivered everytime your feathers came in contact with the frigid air, as if they, too, cowered under the looming shadows of tall buildings and bright lights.

so many people roamed the sidewalks, yet any bodily warmth was gone. you regretted not buying a cover for your wings - surely, it'd be an investment despite the price. wing covers were rarely manufactured for your size in japan, mainly aimed for small children just developing a quirk. the extra cloth needed for adult wing covers as well as shipping costs jacked up the price, making you hesitant to buy them. your wings were folded against the outside of your coat (putting them inside gave you cramps), nuzzling against your back subconsciously for heat. your wings were a pale cream colour, slightly more vibrantly mustard-coloured at the tips, and were the most visible part of your quirk.

according to the doctor, your quirk was "angel," but it felt nothing more than a pet name. there was a time in your life that you adorned a halo, but it no longer hovered above you when you looked up now. you weren't granted much power with your quirk; you were barely able to fly with your wings, but maybe you had a stronger moral compass than others? the wings, at this point in your life, were just accessories, as useless as the appendix. they could only cause you pain. you walked mindlessly toward the bakery, snow flurries dotting your hair. the bakery was a rundown, easy to miss place; you would've missed it if you hadn't gone there so many times. the faded yellow paint on the exterior was peeling, the poster on the window ripped and advertising for summer deals from years back. it had only a word-of-mouth reputation to rely on.

there was a worn sticker on the door, right at eye level, which said the name of the bakery in loopy letters: 'the flour road.'

you swung the door open with a jingle, greeted by the scent of baking bread and warmth. the bakery was your grandmother's favorite, specializing in rice cakes and dorayaki. she loved the pastries, for some reason - the baklava especially. she sent you on an errand to buy her some, giving you extra money to buy your personal favorite of dorayaki. to be exact, she pushed the money into your hands and forced you to buy a dorayaki for yourself. it was still warm when the cashier handed you your boxes, which you gingerly put in the bag.

you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the cold, before you opened the door and found yourself back in the cold winter.

a hand roughly pulled you into an alley, and you found yourself face to face with a masked figure.

"give me your money." the figure pointed to your purse, tugging it.

"i don't- i don't-" you reach to take off your purse, not questioning it. there was simply nothing you could do; besides, the voice was young enough. what if they were simply going through a rough time in life? that was no cause to-

"OI, DUMBASS, WHADDAYA THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" a spiky haired man appeared suddenly, wearing what appeared to be melons on his arms. you suddenly recognized his getup of black, orange, and green; he was a pro-hero. what was his name? zero gravity? zero gr...ass?

"LADY, MOVE ASIDE." he looked you over. "FLY, OR SOMETHING."

"i can't-" but he was already after the thief. it took him less than 30 seconds to capture the thief; he was fast by himself, but was faster when propelled by his explosions.

"well, why are you here still?" he turned to you, the figure from before slung over his shoulder.

"i can't fly," you blurted.

he blinked. "then walk. besides, you literally have-" the figure moaned over his shoulder. "agh, nevermind, gotta take this douche to the police. go home."

the next you see of the explosive melon hero is at a supermarket. his arms are melonless this time, though, and you're not actually sure if he's the melon hero. you only recognize him by his hair and red eyes, but truthfully, it was probably not him. he was muttering something about "the spice not being spicy enough," and "stupid hair-for-brains nagging about the heat."

you felt a finger poke your wings. "hey miss, you have ugly wings." a stubby boy, no more than 5 or 6, looked up at you. smirking, he pushed his own smaller wings out, hands on his hips. "mine are teal-turquoise! yours are boring white."

"uh, okay-"

"mind your damn business, brat. where are your parents?" you could now confirm that the spiky haired man was indeed the melonhero by his voice and vulgarity. melonhero had turned to the kid, standing by your side.

the kid hmphed and walked away, to where his mother scolded him for straying from her.

"you again?" melonhero turned to you. "you really need to learn how to stand up for yourself."

"eh? i was handling it fine!"

"yeah, sure. what’s up with your wings, anyway?" he grunted. "can’t fly?"

"n-no. they're, uh, too weak." it was something hard to admit out loud for you. all winged people could fly, but you couldn't even hover, your wings just flapping up wind.

"too weak?! eh? is that even possible??" he poked one of your feathers. "they seem sturdy enough to me."

you turn your wings away from him, frowning. "it's not that easy. i-i never really had time to learn..."

"isn't that what all kids do in their free time, though? experiment with their quirk?"

"my parents thought it was useless..." you shuffled your feet awkwardly, eyes downcast.

"WORTHLESS?!" you flinched at his sudden volume. "it's your quirk, though, 'wings'?"

you rubbed the back of your neck. "well, not really... it's...." angel. the word echoed in your mind, under the spotlight on a stage. it stared at you in an empty auditorium. 'angel.' the word had negative connotations for you. to others, it was a sweet, innocent nickname, but to you, it meant more.

it represented the weight of your parents' expectations, the burden of your classes' assumptions. it became a ball and chain, reminding you of who you were, who you were supposed to be, and who you could never become. you were your parents' angel, your parents' little light. nothing else.

"'angel,' eh?"

"huh?" did melonhero suddenly manifest a mind-reading quirk? you look at him, but his gaze is above your head.

"halo."

"halo," you repeated, looking dumbly at the flickering ring above you.

"well then, enko, it's nice to meet you," he smirked.

"i'm not enko- i'm y/n-"

"enko’s better. i'm ground zero, the number one pro-"

"melonhero," you blurted.

"HUH?! what's that, moron?!"

"nothing, sorry, continue-" you apologized. what had gotten into you?

ground zero cleared his throat. "-number one pro-hero! ...it's katsuki bakugou to you."

"bakugou, i'm y/n l/n, nice to meet you! oh, and um- where are my manners? -thank you for the other day."

"don't go giving your purse to random men on the street, dumbass."

"it wasn't like that!" you protested. "i mean, what if he was going through a rough time? or, his parents kicked him out-"

"doesn't justify anything. you're so naive," he grunted. "didn't your parents teach you self-defense or anything?"

"w-well, no, not really..." you mumbled. you'd always just been their angel, delicate and thoughtful. you never wanted to disappoint them; always staying inside to clean or cater to their needs. their perfect angel. in their opinion, villains could never touch you if you never went out.

you recalled a time in your youth when deciding on a high school.

"i wanna go to ua!" you'd said. you knew a teacher willing to recommend you, so you didn't need to worry about much.

"honey, no, you can't be a hero..." your father started. "you're an angel, you're our angel, okay?" 

your mom nodded. "it'll be dangerous, angel, and we can't have you getting hurt day after day," she added.

you simply agreed, not wanting to upset your parents. they were always right. being a hero wasn't worth it, anyway, you told yourself. it was an unstable job. you'd entered a private high school near the coast of japan, instead of ua.

"eh?! well, how are you supposed to fend for yourself alone?!" bakugou exclaimed.

"i'm... supposed to stay at home..." you confessed quietly.

"then why are you here?!"

"...i moved away from my family."

"and you didn't learn to protect yourself? get yourself some pepper spray, idiot!" bakugou grabbed your wrist, abruptly leading you to an aisle with pepper spray in it. he briefly paused, then picked one.

"it's on me. i can't have more morons like you to save when you could save yourself." 

"thank you," you said. in all of his vulgarity, bakugou was semi-decent. you wondered why he was so on edge constantly; perhaps it was a trait from being a high-demand hero.

"HEY!" bakugou yelled, making you jump in place. "whatcha smilin' at?!"

you wiped the small grin that subconsciously crept on your face. "n-nothing."

"tch, so quiet, enko." he looked above you. "halo’s gone? fuckin' weird-ass quirk."

"could you... um... nevermind." you originally wanted to ask him to tone down the swearing, but thought better of it. the vulgarity reminded you of your uncle, and you a gagged at the thought of the disgusting man who'd occasionally crash at your family's home completely wasted.

"what? just spit it out," bakugou said. "i don't get offended, unlike deku or something."

"can you... cut down on the swearing?" you ask, then add more quickly when you see his face. "i mean, it's okay if you wanna keep doing it. i can't stop you. y'know, freedom of speech and everything."

"okay," he said with surprising composure. he didn't question the request, instead looking at you intently.

your gaze was set down, trying not to think of your uncle, and the horrors you'd gone through as a child because of him.

"i- um- sorry," bakugou forced out of himself. "i didn't mean t-"

"don't worry," you smiled cheerily. a fake smile, but you tried to convince yourself it was real.

"d'you-" he coughed, "d'you wanna talk about it?" he seemed to be going through something in his mind. "there's a park nearby - god, what did hitomi say? - we can, uh, talk it out? you can vent."

"oh no, it's fine, you're busy, a pro-hero." you said nervously.

"ah- yeah," bakugou seemed to be flustered too. "my therapist though- uh, she's really damn good- i mean, really good-" he pulls out a wallet from his pocket and sifts through cards. "here." he handed you a business card, advertising 'HITOMI YABUKI' in bold.

you blinked at him and accepted the card reluctantly. pro-heroes were really kind at heart, huh? "is she a pro-hero therapist?" you asked.

"her? no, she does other stuff. normal stuff, trauma, quirk stuff, erm- whatever you need. she's an all-rounder."

"oh." you put the card in your pocket. "okay, thank you."

he grunted, accepting the thanks. "need to buy anything else?"

you glanced at your cart. "no, that's all. thanks for everything, bakugou-"

"i'll pay," he blurted. "for it all." he looks surprised at himself, perhaps even angry. "oh, no thank you-"

"i'll do it. i mean it. you didn't even buy much," he muttered.

"o-okay," you said. he snatched your cart from your hand, walking to a self-checkout.

"weren't you gonna buy anything?" you asked.

"eh?!" he grunted while scanning items.

that was the end of the conversation. once he finished, he swiped his card and handed you a bag.

"make sure you use the damn pepper spray."

it was only once you got home that you realized he slipped his number into one of the bags.

you see bakugou again at hitomi yabuki's therapy lobby. he sat casually, earbuds on as he stared at his phone. you debated sitting next to him and decided against it, not wanting to bother him. you didn’t contact his number yet; your hands sweated at the thought. as much as you were tempted, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of a pro-hero.

you found yourself staring at the man, who was unusually calm at the moment. you stared at his eyelashes, his eyes, down to his nose and lips, and his firm set jaw. your eyes fell to the phone he’s clutching, to the curve of his fingers and uniform nails.

"l/n y/n?" a tall woman called your name. bakugou looked up at you, and for a split second you could see what looked like a genuine smile before it was twisted into a smirk.

"yes!" you stood up and followed her, glancing back at bakugou before he disappeared from your sight. after a short elevator ride, you walked out onto the third floor.

she led you down a short, carpeted hallway to the last door. it was an opaque glass door that said "hitomi yabuki" on a plaque.

"so, what brings you here?" she finally said once the two of you were seated. "um- bakugou?" you said.

she smiled and jotted something down. "is that so?"

"yeah. we met a couple times by accident, and uh, he gave me your business card."

the rest of the session was just introductions - prices, meeting times, and therapy that can be provided. still, you weren’t really sure if you needed the therapy - maybe it’d be suited more for someone else struggling more than you. you didn’t need to use your quirk much; flying wasn’t much your style anyway. what would your parents think if they found out you were taking therapy? they’d surely be hurt, assuming that they didn’t provide a good childhood to you. you could practically hear your mom asking you why you’d waste money on therapy. you took a deep breath as you re-entered the lobby. bakugou was seating in the same place you last saw him, still on his phone. you bid goodbye to the receptionist, thinking out your decisions. your insurance could cover much of the costs for the therapy, but you still wondered if you should spend the money.  these thoughts trailed you as you waited on the sidewalk for a cab, watching your breath billow in front of you.

"hey, enko."

your elbow shot out by instinct, hitting the invader of your thoughts.

"woah, idiot, it’s just me." luckily, bakugou had caught your stray elbow, chuckling to himself. "so the angel does know self-defense, eh?"

you stiffened at the pet name, though you knew bakugou meant well. you could remember each distinctive voice in your childhood. your parents beckoning: angel. your nickname: angel. how everyone saw you: angel. you could never escape it, not with your halo or wings. it was so distinctive, your defining quality. whether he noticed the shift in your posture, he didn’t say. "how was it? hitomi’s great, right?"

you hummed in response, rubbing your wings together for heat.

"are wings supposed to get cold? aren’t they just... feathers?"

your wings ruffled at the comment. you sniffed. "they’re sensitive."

"weird," bakugou muttered under his breath. for a split second, you considered smacking him with your wing, but you stopped yourself before you could execute the instinct.

your cab pulled up by the sidewalk. "that’s my ride." you smiled and waved to him as you entered the car. somewhere during the 15 minute car ride, you mustered up the courage to finally text bakugou.

who knew he was so dirty-minded, anyway? you leaned back in your car seat, exhaling. thankfully, you didn’t text the wrong number or prematurely end the conversation. so, now you were friends with a pro-hero, or so you assumed (friends texted each other, right?). the you from 10 years ago would be jumping for joy at the prospect of befriending a pro-hero, and here you were. you finally booked a therapy session for saturday at 3pm. you checked into the lobby ten minutes early, just as your parents had taught you, and took a seat in the lobby.

when it was finally your turn, you found yourself back in hitomi's office, the familar scent of vanilla and fresh linen wafting in the air.

"i hope you don't mind the scent," she said.

you shook your head. "it's fine." the fragrance was almost reassuring in a way, but you couldn’t pin point it. this time, you allowed yourself to drink in your surroundings. hitomi’s office was spacious, a large window overlooking tokyo’s snow-covered cityscape adding onto the effect. the walls followed a vertical gradient pattern of mint green and light blue decorated with paintings, hanging plants, and wooden shelves yet not in a cluttered way. in the center, against a wall, was a white couch. it had an oddly calming aura to it, as if you'd stepped into a dream outside reality.

"would you like an apple? or some water?" hitomi offered.

you weren’t really in the mood for either, but accepted the water. she gestured for you to sit on the couch.

the meeting consisted of her asking and you answering, the topic changing from family life, to your quirk, to your feelings.

"so, can you explain your quirk to me?" hitomi asked.

"well..." you gathered your thoughts. "obviously, i have wings like an angel. they don’t really do anything, though, just get sensitive to the weather. i used to have a halo when i was young, but it’s faded by now. dunno why. let’s see...." you paused. "i guess i have an inclination to help others? it’s hard for me to say no to things, honestly."

"is it because of your quirk?"

"probably," you admitted. "i’ve always been like this, i think."

"can you fly with your wings?"

"no." you sipped your water. "i guess i never learned. i’d try, but i don’t think they can support my body weight."

"how do you feel about your quirk?"

you shrugged, but then regretted it. you didn’t want to seem insensitive to all the quirkless people who could only wish for a quirk. "it’s- it’s cool, i guess. it makes me unique..." you thought back to your parents’ words, how they’d praised you for such an amazing quirk. when you used to feel bad about your quirk, they’d always remind you that there were children who’d wish to even have a quirk at all, and that you were special. your mother’s quirk allowed her to shine small rays of light through her fingertips, while your dad’s quirk gave him a wing attached to his left arm. it was pretty much useless for anything other than generating wind, considering he didn’t have a right wing to balance him out. their quirks together worked out just right to create you, their perfect angel. hitomi jotted something on her notepad.

the more you thought of it, the more you felt broken. you'd been doing therapy with hitomi for months now, and it had gotten harder and harder to emotionally process. your parents, your family, your quirk; you now saw the things for what they were.

your parents had used you. you were their doll, their perfect obedient angel, and it disgusted you. your hands felt tainted, your wings heavy weights on your back. you were revolted by yourself; looking in the mirror, you couldn't help but gag, seeing not the you of now, but the you of the past looking back at you. you couldn't sleep; tossing and turning and ruffling your wings in frustration. you couldn't stop thinking about your parents, how they restricted you from everything.

you wondered how it'd be different if your parents were better. you wondered if you'd gotten into ua and strengthened your quirk. you wondered how your reputation as a pushover would change. maybe you'd be a hero right now, helping others instead of being so irreparably broken.  you could hear the catcalls from your classmates like bullets beating your wings. angel, the goody-two-shoes who couldn't say no.

not once did you cry. maybe you felt too disgusted by yourself. maybe bakugou was becoming the best friend you'd ever had.

he was there for you. making spicy curry or those awful, equally spicy instant korean noodles - he was there for you, in the same way milk is there for you when eating a particularly spicy dish. he listened to you, and you did the same for him. you laughed and joked together. somehow, in such a dark time, your friendship bloomed. it was strange, really. his reputation as a hero made him out to be aggressive and careless - and while he could brash in word choice at times, you knew he had a good heart. at one point, you’d even opened up to him about your past.

"then deku just completely f- messed up the mission! i could’ve blown up the damn guy, but he had to play mr. goody-two-shoes and just tie him up. and he got all the interview time. what’s even up with that?!"

he talked about his friends a lot. he'd deny his relationship with them being something other than strictly professional, but the way his crimson eyes would deepen gave it all away. he mainly spoke of deku and red riot (though their names would be referenced in cruder ways).

"what if- what if i was a hero?" you asked suddenly.

bakugou lifted an eyebrow. "you'd be a damn good hero if you could manage your quirk. like hawks."

"you think the public would like me?"

"duh. you're pretty, kind, AND fight villains? pretty badass. hell, if i approve of you, anyone would."

you smiled.

"why, though?" bakugou asked.

"curious. i, um, used to want to be a hero. growing up."

"your quirk has potential." bakugou leaned back on the couch. "why didn't ya become one?"

"parents." you flinched as the word passed your lips. thinking about your parents was painful, as if you had to rip off a month old bandaid before you could even get their faces into your mind. "they just... worried," you said. you didn't say anything else.

"betcha couldn't come up with a hero name as damn awesome as ground zero." "i could barely remember it," you teased.

"though, i must say, i do like enko as a hero name. it's like i'm joining an idol group."

"akb48 has nothing on you though,"  bakugou said.

you flushed. "i-i don't think you've looked at them properly, then."

"nah, i have, ochaco's obsessed with idol groups. don't doubt me, enko~" his voice was dangerously close, but he hadn't moved an inch from his original spot. "you're prettier than all the idols combined. tch, how low do you think my standards are?!"

"they're idol groups, bakugou, they practically rely on visuals!"

"eh? who cares? you've beaten them in looks and personality."

the thing about bakugou was that he was always completely honest with his thoughts. his integrity always amazed you, but then again, he was a pro-hero. you were quick to change the subject. "um- then-- what time is it? it must be getting late. i should get home-"

bakugou frowned. "it's late, idiot. eat before you go. i have some leftover tonkatsu and rice, and i can whip up the miso-"

"n-no, it's fine bakugou, you don't need to-"

"idiot, i can't have you starve to damn death on the ride home. eat."

even if you wanted to protest, you couldn't. bakugou's cooking was always to good to pass up, alarmingly spicy or not.

"the rice is still warm in the rice cooker," bakugou finally said, turning towards the kitchen. he knew you'd follow him, and you did.

bakugou busied himself making some instant miso soup and reheating the tonkatsu. you prepared yourself for the spicy of bakugou's tonkatsu; you'd had it once before, and it was quite painful. finally done, bakugou sat to the side of you eating tonkatsu as well, seasoning his with extra chili flakes. he was positively crazy; how did he handle such spice?

you cut yourself a strip and brought it to your lips. the tonkatsu was surprisingly tame for bakugou's cooking; it could've passed for normal restaurant tonkatsu.

"thish ish good," you said in between bites.

"i know," he gritted out, but he looked proud. "would be better with chili."

you shook your head, smiling. "never in a million years."

it was often you thought of this moment. it was so happy, so complete. it was just you and bakugou, simply being. right now, a genuine smile was something you couldn't curl your lips into, no matter how hard you tried. when you did, the taste of something salty crept into you mouth.

something salty...?

you touched your face. it was wet. your head spun, and then it dawned on you: you were crying. you were crying? your eyes focused, and pain throbbed in your head. lights shone too bright on you, heightening your headache, and a foul taste lingered in your mouth. you were suddenly aware of something solid in your hand: a drink.

something else you were aware of was how much you wanted to go home. you could barely remember what led you to a club as you fumbled in your purse for your phone, glancing at the time and unlocking the screen. all you needed to do was go home. you really wanted to go home, but where was home? home was gone. home...

a fresh wave of tears glossed your face, and you ignored the person next to you's advances. you didn't even know why you were crying. you struggled to read your contacts, dizzy, and called the first one you can make out with your hazed vision.

bakugou.

yes, all you wanted right now was bakugou. you wanted him and his warm arms, his endearing words. you wanted him so bad. you wanted him, and his warmth, and his happiness. you wanted his scent of comfort, the smile that made you feel fuzzy. you wanted his voice to shelter you precisely at that moment, you wanted to feel like it was him and you against the world.

"dumbass? hello? where are you? why is it so freaking loud? enko?"

you hadn't realized that a low quality projection of his voice was speaking on your phone.

"b-bakugou," you said, though it came out hoarsely. "bakugou."

"enko? where are you, and why are you calling at ass o'clock in the morning?"

"miss you," you almost said, but instead it came out as "dunno, you," a mix between "dunno" and "miss you."

"eh? where are you?"

you shrugged. "come here."

"send me your location, moron, and stay where you a-"

you hung up to send him your location.

you yawned and rubbed your forehead. everything was loud, everyone was together. and you were alone. it made you sad. you wanted to have somebody. a voice in the back of your head told you that you had bakugou. did you? right, he was coming. did you tell him to come?

you pressed the call button again.

"what is it?" bakugou asked roughly.

"lonelyyyy..." you moaned. "pick me up, baku...."

"idiot, i'm on my way. why the fuck are you so far from where you live?"

"hmm mmmhm," you strung together sounds. "'m sad."

"don't be." he sounded mad. he always sounded mad.

"why are you always mad at me?" you pouted.

"i'm not, dumbass! i'm pulling in."

"hmmm...!"

bakugou almost tore through the door with rage. "ENKO, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE."

you hopped toward him, wobbling a bit. the floor seemed to turn under you. enko! that was you! right?

"bakuuugoooou~" you cooed, flopping into his arms. "let's sleep."

he smelled nice. his scent enveloped you, a mix of vanilla and caramel that you’d grown so accustomed to.

he stiffened. "dumbass, i can smell the alcohol on you, we’re going the fuck home."

"don’ wanna," you whined. "lonely. wanna be with youuuuu..." you nuzzled more into his chest, finding comfort in his body warmth. you didn’t want to let go, ever. "tch, fine."

the car ride to bakugou’s place was uncomfortable. cars spun by you, lights making you woozy. you almost bashed your head on the dashboard. your seat was uncomfortable, the seatbelt itched you. despite all that, you stopped to stare at bakugou in your daze, all serious and set on the road. he had nice biceps, and his side profile was a sight for sore eyes (see also: your eyes).

"what, enko?" he grunted, glancing at you.

you said the first thing that came to your mind. "you know you smell nice?"

"huh?" he glanced at you, turning in to his driveway.

well, there was no going back now. "you smell like caramel... and vanilla... it’s nice..." you sighed happily, imagining the fragrance.

bakugou didn’t reply, instead parking and unlocking the doors. "get out, dumbass, it’s past your bedtime."

"but i don’t haaaaaave a bedtime," you slurred, stumbling out of the car. bakugou mumbled a complaint before hoisting you over his shoulder. it was probably not the best move, considering the blood rushing to your head made you feel sick. after entering his house, bakugou set you down on a sofa, sitting you upright.

"stay here."

you leaned back on the sofa, feeling suddenly empty. the buzz in your head had not quite left, but the weight of the world came crashing down again. therapy, your parents, your quirk. it struck you that you were probably bothering bakugou and disturbing his sleep; he was a pro-hero after all, lives depended on his health. but here you were, ever so selfish and probably taking a toll on his health.

"drink." you hadn't realized bakugou had put a glass of water in your hands. you simply nodded and gulped it down, hoping to sober yourself up.

you stared at the man glossy eyed, glass in your hand half empty. "bakugou."

"eh?"

"sorry."

"for what?"

"y'know... waking you up... bothering you... i know you're busy, and-"

"shut up, it doesn't matter. i'd rather you here than in the hands of some douche at the club."

"but still, how would i make it up-"

"by sleeping well. off to bed you go."

he started pushing you towards the hallway. "where will you sleep?"

"sofa."

"but bakugou-"

"go to bed."

"i feel sick-"

"hah?"

a rising sensation of bile emerged in your throat. the only words you could get out of your mouth was "bathroom," before you rushed in. it was not a pretty sight - you preferred to skim over the details when recalling it. the details you did not skim over, however, were that of bakugou's care; for being awoken at ungodly hours in the morning, he was surprisingly gentle with your vomiting state, soothing your stomach with warm hands and rubbing your back. after, he gave you a glass of water and forced you to take ibuprofen, though you swore you felt fine.

bakugou's bed was surprisingly comfortable. then again, bakugou did claim to have gone to bed at 8:30 sharp daily during his high school years, so it made sense he still valued sleep.

you were then reminded how you disrupted his.

and how you were now forcing him to sleep on the sofa.

you padded out of his room, wearing one of bakugou's old shirts that he'd graciously lended you, to the living room. he was laying on his back, feet sticking out of the sofa, eyes closed.

"what?" he asked, eyes still shut.

you knew he wouldn't let you feel guilty about intruding his sleep, so you settled upon saying the next best thing. it was partially true, anyway.

"'m lonely without you." your voice came out smaller than intended.

"huh?" he sat up, groggily looking at you.

"it's- kinda cold, and y'know, with your quirk..."

he grunted and obliged, walking toward his bedroom. you stood behind him, staring at his back; that was surprisingly easy.

bakugou slept with his arms around you, so you were nestled comfortably into his chest. this position felt strangely domestic; something lovers might do nightly. but you and bakugou weren't lovers, you were friends. image of you and bakugou involved romantically faded into your mind; coffee shop dates, cooking together, waking up next to each other. there was a sudden loss of breath in your chest, as if your heart had become weightless and was lifted by a thousand of butterflies taking flight. bakugou... romantically? it hadn't crossed your mind. still, you could see it so vividly in your mind; you, becoming his dumbass, his and his only. you could imagine how he'd look at you, full of love in his eyes, and how he'd gently kiss your forehead in the morning. was it so bad to want that? the more your thoughts indulged you, the more his body warmth drowsed you, his calm breathing adding to the effect. he was practically nyquil in human form. you found yourself nodding off in his arms, not before mumbling a quiet "what if i liked bakugou?" and clutching his shirt closer to you.

you were far too engrossed in the realm of sleep to hear bakugou's faint but hopeful reply of "i'd hope so, dumbass."

at your next therapy meeting, you told hitomi about bakugou. it was unplanned, spilling out of your mouth as soon as she asked why you looked so anxious. you couldn't like bakugou. you blamed your slightly intoxicated past self for planting such a thought in your brain, but you knew it just admitted a lingering feeling from in your heart. you spared her the details of the throwing up and the guilt that gnawed at you regarding how bakugou cared for you.

"it's... childish, right? like an old schoolgirl crush," you flushed, finishing your confession.

hitomi shook her head. "it's good to feel this way, actually. it's quite healthy for a twenty-something like you to harbour such feelings; it allows you to explore your feelings and relationships healthily."

even so, crushing was so damn frustrating. it's one thing to like a person; it's a completely different experience after admitting to yourself, yes, they're my crush. when you were younger, you very rarely developed crushes (as influenced by your parents) and even less were able to act on them. but now, as an adult, you had the freedom to act (or not, considering how your nerves constantly started to act up around bakugou). you decided to push the feelings down; you were just friends, and bakugou had no time to pursue a romantic relationship.

if having a crush was like an addiction, rehab was torture for you. gone were the days of seeing bakugou as platonic; you couldn't stop your heart from swelling whenever he recounted his day to you. bakugou had now become attractive, from his tight, bulging muscles to his hard chest. it did not help that you had to see him in his hero costume flaunting those features every other day on the news.

you convinced yourself bakugou harboured nothing but platonic sentiment for you, but he never failed to send your heart aflutter with discreet compliments he hid under rough comments. you started leaving early whenever the two of your hung out under the guise of other plans (that in reality didn't exist), and tried to always cut conversations short when you bumped into each other in public. he was ground zero, pro-hero, and you were just a civilian who could barely maintain their quirk.

you were just starting your quirk therapy, but you couldn't expect major changes a week in. bakugou had said your wings looked brighter, but you assumed he just said that to make you feel better. you could hover off the ground for less than a second now, but your wing strength lacked too much to be able to do anything requiring more strength. your halo was still absent, and you couldn't figure out how to make it reappear. there hadn't been much research done on the essence of halos; hitomi said not to worry about it regardless.

flap flap flap.

"oi, dumbass, you're gonna create a tornado in here."

flap flap flap.

"i'm practicing flying."

"well, you're going nowhere. d'you want me to call hawks or something?" flap flap flap. 

you turned to bakugou, folding your wings neatly. he had the same expression as always, slightly disapproving and tired. your eyes meet his momentously; but they fall down immediately to his lips. lately, this kind of thing had been happening often. bakugou acted like he didn't notice you'd been different lately, but you could tell he wanted an explanation.

you acted on your impulse, your mouth opening and words tumbling from your mouth.

"bakugou- idon'twanttoruinourfriendshipbutijustwannasayitnow- ilikeyou."

"what?" why did you do that?

if this were a texting conversation, you'd leave him on read. if this was a tweet, you'd make your account private. if this was a video call, you'd end it.

alas, this was real life, so you resorted to the next closest thing: you ran. you ran faster than any shoujo girl and with more conviction than any shounen boy, and then you were lost. damn cities.

panting on the sidewalk, wings heaving up and down, you realized what you did. staring at the edge of the pavement, where the curb met the street, hands on your knees, it hit you.

you cussed and yelled at yourself mentally, and though a small part doubted bakugou even heard you, you didn’t allow yourself to have hope. it was game over. you let your feelings override rational thought, and you ruined what was arguably the best thing going on in your life.

you were interrupted by an itch in your feathers from being so cramped while folded. they ruffled against the cool air, distraught. you stretched them out, observing your surroundings and allowing yourself to cool down. the breeze was a satisfying sensation against your feathers, and you hovered just a moment when they flapped.

"mommy, wings!" a kid passes you on the sidewalk, pointing. his mother hushes him, but you smile at him.

the next few days were rough, particularly because you were avoiding bakugou. it was definitely not a good idea, but it was a temporary patch over the open part of your heart.

this was not one of your healthy coping mechanisms.

did he text you? did he call you? you didn’t know, because you turned off your notifications. you knew you were just making things more awkward, even more so if he hadn’t heard you at all. it gave you all the more excuse to ignore him longer.

now, with evenings to yourself, your mind wandered more. your thoughts drifted into a vast desert of tangled constellations in your mind, tightropes you’d tread that would lead you to a random destination. sometimes it led you to random memories - other times, it wasn’t as random, leading you to painful manifestations in your heart. these were the things you tried so hard to ignore, but rang so true.

you were reminded by the constellations in your mind that you were being terribly selfish to bakugou; not even considering his feelings. bakugou didn't deserve you. maybe stars twinkled in your mind, but the bluest ones burned you to the touch. you needed to get over bakugou.

that wasn’t to say it didn’t hurt, trying to get over bakugou. the stars in your mind dimmed, and perhaps, at one point, the constellations were reduced to thread; knotted, tangled, and hopeless.

maybe it was better when the string had been unkempt, because now it unraveled. you cried, and cried; in the shower, at your desk, doing chores. tears, hot and sharp like newly shapen diamonds, dripped down your face. your face was permanently marked by the wounds the diamonds left, and contrary to the stars, your eyes were red and hot. your thoughts unwound like string - there was a clear pathway now, but it was tainted by the shape of the knots there had once been.

everything hurt when you thought of bakugou. your swollen eyes became lifeless as memories of him overtook you. they controlled you. you missed therapy session after session, too scared to go to the place which bakugou had connected you to. sometimes, you’d sprawl across the ground, stare into your ceiling, and feel yourself vanish into something, a dark void of nothingness. he had cared so much for you - too much. why had he? why couldn’t he have left you, that one day you were almost robbed? why couldn’t you just have stayed the way you were? why did you have to find the truth in things? ignorance was a bliss you woke yourself from. ignorance, the dream which from you woke to find a nightmare, reality. why did he have to be him, the stupid pro-hero with a heart that bled kindness into yours? why couldn’t he have stayed a two-dimensional public figure, the careless and angry ground zero? why did he have to be in your goddamn life and ruin it, entangle everything into one big mess? you hated him. you hated him and his stupid endearing insults, him and his rugged smirk that pained your heart so, him and his eyes that held sparks and diamonds and you. deep inside, you knew it wasn’t true; hate was just a name for an indefinably strong feeling you had for him. you knew you didn’t hate him, you knew you couldn’t hate him. you told yourself you did to distance yourself from him. the distance between you and he only grew. your memories were tarnished with pain, his image blurry and wrinkled in your eyes. katsuki bakugou was just someone, no one.

this was the feeling of agony, this was the sight of pure hell, and this was the sound of you burning your heart. distance between you and the man named katsuki bakugou grew, as did your descent into pure madness.

until the distance between you and he was less than a metre.

you had not bothered to tame your hair; it was a bit overgrown and sprouted a couple split ends. you were dressed in a stained shirt, your face not even mentionable, and your heart was beating in your ears. you felt yourself dragged quite forcefully down to sanity, as if opening the door suddenly put gravity into effect.

because here he was, katsuki bakugou in all of his perfect glory, standing on your doorstep.

the little shit refrained from making a comment about your current state, but you could see the comment appearing in his eyes and vanishing as soon as it came. you watched his eyes go from the state of your face down to your unkempt attire. he, on the other hand, looked unaffected. he was sporting a t-shirt and jeans, hands shoved into his pockets. the only indicator, which was minuscule at best, that he had changed at all was the red at the corners of his eyes and slight eyebags. he looked shocked at the sight of you.

"y/n..." you almost fainted on the spot.

you weren’t not jumping for joy in ecstasy at the sight of him, and you didn’t feel like a shoujo protagonist at the moment. it was something different.

"again," but your voice was too hoarse to be heard. your mouth opened and closed, you coughed, and repeated yourself. "s-say it again."

"huh?!" it was nice to know someone hadn’t changed after all that time.

"my- my name..."

"eh? enko."

you sighed, your face indifferent. you weren’t exactly disappointed by his reply; it brought memories upon memories of happier times with him.

"well, what do you want?" you asked, rubbing the side of your face.

"what- what the fuck is going on?" he gestured to you. "i should be asking about you. what the f- what happened to you?!"

"i-"

"enko, i don’t get any of this shit. this relationship crap. what do you want me to do?! first, you act weird as shit- because of what?! i don’t fuckin’ know. you avoid me - don’t think i didn’t notice - and then suddenly you spew shit and leave?! i don’t see you for a goddamn week, you don’t answer your damn calls or texts, and suddenly i’m the damn villain and i’m supposed to give you time or shit to figure things out, and when i can finally fucking see you, you look like actual crap?! hell, i should be the one with deteriorating mental health with all of the bull you put me through! if you want something, if you don’t wanna be friends or shit, just goddamn say it to my face! i’m not good with people, enko, goddamnit! tell me what’s wrong!"

you stood in shock. relationship..? you shook his words away. you hadn’t realized how much this took a toll on bakugou, too. he looked away - something glinted in his eyes, but you couldn’t tell exactly what.

"god-fucking-damnit," he grumbled. "...are ya gonna let me in, or what?! it’s cold out here!"

you didn’t think about how bakugou’s quirk involved producing heat, and let him in unreluctantly, stepping aside. "sorry," you mumbled.

he took off his shoes, and you motioned for him to sit down on your couch.

"explain it to me," he demanded. "what in the goddamn world has happened tot you? did someone do this to you?!"

you refrained from saying technically, it was you, and settled on: "no." it was apparent he hadn’t heard you that day. "just- it’s nothing. i was being stupid, a-and i’m okay now." it was a lie.

"do you take me as an idiot?" he asked. gears shifted in his eyes. "sit down," he said, suddenly calm.

you did so, sitting as farthest as you could from him.

"closer," he gritted out. you scooted a centimetre. "closer." another centimeter. "clo-ser." he pulled you so you were sitting angled toward him, knee brushing his.

"baku...gou?" so many questions flashed in your mind.

"confirm something for me," he ordered. "what exactly did you say to me before running away?"

"i- nothing. it was nothing, i told you, bakugou."

"tell. me. i don’t care if you quoted freud, told me a failed joke, or what. tell me."

your mind was devoid of possible jokes you could use to lie.

you opened your mouth, forcing the words out with all your might. "i don’t remember the specifics," you rambled. "i don’t think i was in the right state of mind-"

"spit it out."

"i think it went something like ‘i like you’ or something?" your pitch rose with every syllable.

"tch," a smile was on his face. "thought so." his hand was suddenly on your cheek, and his lips were on yours. he tasted like caramel. your eyes widened, and you pulled away, sputtering.

"what? what d’you mean, ‘thought so’?!"

"idiot, i like you too. also, when did you last brush your teeth?"

"i- that doesn’t matter. bakugou... i don’t think that this relationship is good for us. as friends or whatnot."

"huh? why not?"

"look at me. look at you. i can barely handle my quirk, and you’re a pro-hero who uses his quirk to help people. i can’t really do anything."

he mumbled something under his breath. "enko, do you think i care about any of that? i don’t care if you have the strongest quirk in the world or none at all. you’re strong - and i don’t say this ‘cause i like you - you’re kind, you see the best in people." he paused. "people don’t give me the time of day ‘cause they think i’m too irrational. brash. careless. but you? you see past that, you don’t care. you work hard no matter what people say. people-" his voice caught in his throat, "people say shit to you, and you don’t care. you keep going."

he saw you... like that? your face heated up.

"don’t be gettin’ all shy on me," he grunted. "tch. come here." he pulled you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around you and narrowly avoiding your wings. you flushed, holding him tight and inhaling his caramel scent. you squeezed your eyes shut, wishing to hold him like this forever.

“hey, enko,” he whispered into your ear. you looked at him, who was currently looking up and pointing. “halo.”

[informationsorter]

How to keep yourself safe from fear mongering and misinformation.

I know there's a lot of fear mongering out there, which feeds on misinformation and the common anxieties of those who have (or suspect they have) a disorder such as DID/OSDD.

The first rule is of course, do not trust anyone on the internet.

This includes me.

Fear mongering is when someone spreads fear and/or terror. Usually with a hidden agenda, but it can also be spread by those who don't know any better and who have been caught up in the fear. If someone is describing a terrifying situation (especially one that starts out seeming fine, but gradually becomes scarier and scarier until it reaches dystopian proportions), it is likely that it is just a fear mongering tactic. An example of fear mongering is "Gay marriage will lead to adults marrying children!". It usually involves multiple steps, which start out with a grain of truth, but twist the facts or use false equivalencies to make it seem as though their worst-case scenario is a real danger. The aim of fear mongering in this example is to convince people to vote against marriage equality. Inspiring fear in a person can also be used to scam that person. How many times have you heard of someone getting an official-sounding phone call which tells them they will be arrested if they don’t send such-and-such amount of money to them, or if they don’t purchase giftcards and give the codes to the scammer on the phone? It is the initial shock and fear which cause a person to fall for these. Fact checking is vital.

Fear mongering.

- Take a moment to overcome your initial emotional response. You need to be able to think clearly and logically when you are confronted with something that shocks and scares you.  - Try to think about their argument/statement rationally and objectively. Is it likely that in this day and age a therapist would illegally force a treatment on you without informing you of all of the facts about that treatment? Would a mental health professional risk a lawsuit and the loss of their licence by refusing to answer your questions about a treatment that they are insisting on? - Check for sources, and it is very important that you not only READ their sources, but also look for other sources by yourself. The source/s supplied by a fear mongerer will often support their statements and seem fairly convincing, but actually contain very little fact. You need to do an independent search for information which supports their claims, and information which contradicts their claims. If there is no truth to their claims, you will struggle to find reputable sources which support it, and are likely to find many that have evidence showing that the claim is false. (There is of course the chance that something is true but does not have sources for it - eg 50 years ago, there may not have been many official sources supporting the idea that being gay is fine, and there would have been many official sources claiming that being gay was a disease.)

Do not take any one person's word as fact.

- Check for reliable sources that back their statements.

- Look for multiple opinions/input, from a variety of sources. It's no good asking 10 people in the same group for their opinions and then taking it as fact if they all agree. If you are searching for information, you need to take everyone's advice/input/opinion with a grain of salt, and seek a wide variety of people to ask.

- If someone claims that such-and-such is the ONLY possible way to experience something, you should look into why they are claiming that, and what reliable sources they have to back it up.

- If something is really a fact, there will be SEVERAL reliable sources discussing it. Not just one source being reblogged or referenced by multiple other sources.

Check sources.

- Look at whether the person is actually linking the direct source of their "facts" or not. If they are simply claiming that such-and-such says this, or vaguely indicating that a certain government or organisation supports their view... That's not good enough. You will have to actually research it yourself and see whether that is the case or not.

- Be cautious if someone has quoted something but does not tell you where the quote comes from.

- Look at the full quote, not just the part that the person has quoted in their post/statement. It can be easy to take things out of context, and make it seem like the source supports a certain view, when in reality it does not.

- Actually open the links if someone is citing them as a source that supports their statement. It's very easy to assume that because someone has cited multiple sources, that those sources are accurate and relevant. But in reality, it would be quite easy to simply link a bunch of random official-sounding URLs, that actually have nothing to do with it.

Check credentials.

- If someone is claiming to be a therapist, scientist, or anyone working in a medical field, you should not believe them unless you are seeing them in a professional capacity IRL.

- You are

ALWAYS

entitled to see the qualifications of someone who is treating you, whether it is your GP or a mental health professional.

- If someone online is claiming to be a trained mental health professional, but is not treating you in an official arrangement, they should not be giving you in-depth advice or diagnosis.

-

A mental health professional should always get to know you and your background before giving you advice. THEY WILL NEVER ATTEMPT TO TREAT YOU OR DIAGNOSE YOU WITHOUT ENTERING INTO A FORMAL PATIENT-THERAPIST ARRANGEMENT.

Seek a trusted person to help you fact check if you are having difficulties.

A lot of sources may contain heavily jargoned text, especially when discussing medical conditions/disorders.

Find someone who you know you can trust, and who is willing to admit when they are mistaken. Ask that person to help you.

DO NOT TRUST ANYONE WHO REFUSES TO ADMIT THEIR MISTAKES.

- Watch out for people using gaslighting tactics, or deleting conflicting opinions from their posts. There are some people out there who insist that they are correct, and will refuse to acknowledge any information which contradicts their statements. These people may use gaslighting techniques to supress anyone who tries to question what they've said.

- Any one who is working from a place of good intent, will be open to looking at reliable sources which contradict their statements.

- Similarly, if anyone tries to convince you that you DON’T need to check their sources, or that you can trust them without them providing sources, THIS IS A RED FLAG.

Is it ok to test someone?

In my opinion, when you are searching for accurate information, it is perfectly acceptable to test someone by asking them something you already know the answer to.

For example, when I went to the endocrinologist to talk about HRT, I asked her my most important question and she responded in a way that didn't match what my doctor had said.

So I tested her by asking a question I KNEW the answer to.

She answered incorrectly, and I knew that I would have to work hard to get accurate information out of her.

Here are some sites to help you fact check.

-

Scholastic.com

has an article aimed at children and teens, which is easy to understand and read. (It was also written by adults trying to use “hip” slang.)

https://choices.scholastic.com/issues/2019-20/120119/howt-to-fact-check-the-internet.html

-

Wikipedia

has a list of fact-checking websites, which may or may not be useful.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_fact-checking_websites

-

Middlebury Libraries

has a short list of non-partisan fact checking sites.

https://middlebury.libguides.com/internet/fact-checking

And finally, I am aware this is a clumsy post, fuelled by an emotional response.

PLEASE reply or reblog with any information, links, tips, guides, etc regarding fact checking or protecting yourself from fear mongering.

**********************************************************************

This post was inspired by

THIS POST,

which builds on a common fear amoung those with DID/OSDD, and drives people away from seeking help, for fear of losing themselves.

**********************************************************************

Here is what you should do

if your therapist is trying to force you into fusion.

If your therapist is trying to trick you into undergoing a treatment without giving you information, or refusing to give you all relevant information - YOU SHOULD LEAVE IMMEDIATELY AND SEEK LEGAL ADVICE.

Here is a bit more information about

possible end goals you may choose

during therapy.

[circulars-reasoning]

I might not be an anti-endo, but I'm happy to give a few answers to their question!

Let's pretend a traumagenic system (who, for the purposes of this flawed hypothetical, cannot recall their trauma) reports that they do not have any "bad" symptoms such as amnesia and forced triggered switches. Here's some potential responses I would give them if they sought advice from me due to doubting their origins!

"How are you defining 'bad' symptoms?" A large amount of systems I have seen deem their symptoms as "not bad enough" to have a complex dissociative disorder, or "not bad enough" to have any trauma at all! They do the same with their trauma - it wasn't "bad enough" to cause a complex dissociative disorder. This is part of why so many systems speak out against such a rudimentary view of symptoms of trauma! There's been a rampant increase of positivity posts for systems to understand that trauma is trauma, and that the reaction to the trauma is what causes CDDs - not the trauma itself. For instance, my trauma is always considered 'not that bad' in my system - but the fellow CDD systems around me encourage me to recognize that it was still repeated childhood trauma, and that's all that matters.

"Not every system experiences amnesia the same way." Sure, blackout amnesia is a thing, but so is grey-out amnesia, and emotional amnesia. Blackout amnesia is actually one of the rarest types of amnesia out there, where you completely have no memory of an event. Grey-out amnesia is more when you lose brief bits of memory (like short moments, 5 minute sort of ordeals). Then, there's emotional amnesia, where you've forgotten the emotional attachment you have to the event. For instance, our trauma holder (Wade) remembers the event as it happened, being able to see it happen (even in first person!) but feels none of the emotions we felt in the moment. When he has flashbacks to the moment, he's not stuck in the flashback's emotions - instead, he's thinking "Ah shit. That sucks. We're really pissed that happened to us. Ah well." Wade experiences debilitating - dysfunctional - emotional amnesia, to the degree that he allowed us to stay around our abusers because he couldn't bring himself to give a shit about what they were doing to us - because it "Wasn't that serious." Just for any doubters out there, this is the main type of amnesia my therapist has been working with him on, and it's a major focus of my weekly therapy sessions! My therapist uses the term emotional amnesia and cites that as one of the many factors that led to me being diagnosed. Emotional amnesia is just as real and disordered for some as other types of amnesia!

"I'm not sure what a forced switch is? But I'm assuming you mean triggered switches, which..." Are you sure you don't? I'm not trying to suggest your experiences are false, but speaking as a system who forgot they were a system for 4 straight years, it's very easy to forget experiences. I didn't realize I was switching due to trauma until my friends and partner told me I was. If by forced switch you mean controlled switches - the majority of traumagenic systems cannot control their switches from the start, though some (such as myself) can. It's not a determiner of if you're a traumagenic system or not!

Lastly, at least for this post, I would suggest, "Have you looked into endogenic plurality and therapy?" This would be the case if the user didn't report any possible trauma. I would suggest endogenic plurality but also questioning system spaces, provide all the resources I could to help them, and refer them to my methods of finding a therapist. If they showed very clear trauma responses, I would remind them that those responses only come... from trauma... so please, seek help and grounding for your trauma! I would also remind them to never seek out the trauma on their own, as doing so can be very harmful for the system.

This post did get away from me, and I'm a bit blurry now due to triggers while writing, but the long and short of it is: there's plenty of answers I would give a hypothetical traumagenic system who was seeking advice.

And none of this would be said to someone who wasn't seeking advice.

Because telling an endogenic system they're traumagenic if they aren't looking for the truth will never change what they really are.

Telling a traumagenic system using an endogenic label they're actually traumagenic if they aren't looknig for the truth will not change what they really are!

Telling anyone they are not what they claim if they are not seeking advice will only change one thing: how pissed they get at you.

SO please: don't tell anyone they aren't what they say they are unless it is actively (legitimately) harmful to you, OR, if they are seeking advice/validation on what they are.

Creating trust issues

[some-dr-writings]

Gundham, Soda, and Peko friends with reckless reader who freezes when anxious

Gundham Tanaka:

·       He often wondered if you simply had no self-preservation instincts, or if you had any it kicked in much too late to be useful. To him, ‘Fight’ or ‘flight’ seemed to not be options for you. You had your own option. Freeze. No matter the situation, the danger, the stress, you’d freeze, much like Myotonic goats.

·       It seemed to become instinctual to keep an eye on you, even if you weren’t specifically spending time with him and the two of you happened to be in the same room. He tried restraining himself to not be overprotective to the point of toxicity, but often times he was worried he was doing so. You also needed to learn how to cope on your own since he would not be with you twenty-four/seven. But whenever you froze up that often caused more problems, so he had to intervene, right? Like when you were climbing that latter and froze seeing how high you were causing the latter to fall back and Gundham caught you, or the time you froze in the middle of the street when you heard a car horn blaring and Gundham had to tackle you onto the sidewalk, or the time you panicked and froze when you were trying to find a first-aid kit for some injured students… there were certainly too many times where this happened.

·       After another such occasion Gundham sighed to himself, realizing the danger had passed. “My companion, as much I do not find trouble in protecting you, I believe you need to seek aid for this. Even should my Dark Devas of Destruction stay by your side and call upon me should you need my assistance, in this world, I can not be instantly transported from pace to place as I please. If I’m far, I’ll need time to reach you. Time that there may not be enough of to get to you.” “Yeah, you can’t always be here, I guess. Sorry if this is… overbearing? I’m not sure what word to use for this?” Gundham simply shook his head. “No, I simply wish you be safe even in my absence.”

·       Though neither of you were exactly sure how to go about it, you both tried working on your overly anxious tendencies. Gundham did whatever he could to try to help you. His Devas eventually ended up taking turns looking after you, alleviating your anxiety a little.

·       Though unsure how to help, Gundham tried his best, like you. It was all either of you could do.

   Kazuichi Soda:

·       First time you froze, he panicked thinking something bad had happened, assuming you had a stroke of some kind. He dragged you all the way to the nurse’s office so quickly you never even got the chance to explain what was even happening, to him. Once you finally told him what happened he calmed down. Given how flighty he could be you thought he’d panic each time, but he was surprisingly rather calm.

·       “Hmm? Ah! Hey Y/N. Where are you off too?” “Hey Soda! I’m going to help the theater kids make some backdrops!” “Uhh… Y/N. Could you do me a favor?” “Yeah?” “Before you accept a task, think it through and make sure it’s not something that will make your anxiety act up, alright?” “Uh… I’ll try!” Seeing how unsure you looked he frowned. You seemed to always dive headfirst into everything no matter what it was, often getting yourself into bad situations. “Actually, I’m free now. Could I come?” He’d flash that kind, sharp toothed grin hoping you’d say yes.

·       He acted as your voice of reason, helping you spot situations that may get you to panic before you go through with them. He taught you a few breathing exercises to try to remember to do should you feel yourself start to freeze up.

·       Should you actually end up freezing Kazuichi would promptly drag you away from the situation. In a lone, empty, quiet space he’d sit beside you and simply hold your hand. It was during one such occasion after you regained movement you spoke up. “How come you’re so dependable now?” “Ah- What!? I’m dependable! Perfect boyfriend material! Solid as a rock, stable as an ox!” “Well, I mean… especially so now when I get stressed and stuff. You seem to always know just how to help.” He lightly blushed, turning away and looking in any direction away from you. He was silent. He didn’t want to open up about this, but… maybe this could convince you too… “… Everyone deals with stress, y’know? I… was dealing with some of that in middle school and started seeing the school therapist. They helped me a lot and taught me what I teach you. Maybe seeing the school therapist could help you too since my secondhand advice seems to work.”

·       Kazuichi would from that point on try to nudge you in the direction of seeking therapy without insisting on it. Should you start, he’d keep track of all of your appointments and make sure you made it to each and every one. He didn’t want to push anything onto you, but he wanted to do his best to help you.

   Peko Pekoyama:

·       Peko’s first duty was always to Fuyuhiko, but she now had a secondary duty to you. To make life easier for Peko, Fuyuhiko spent the majority of his free time with you so Peko’s mind could be at ease.

·       You tended to run into stressful situations without thinking and Peko would stop you before it could even happen. As a bodyguard she had gotten very good at spotting potential dangers before they even happened, and she’d do the same for you should you be nearby. In a way it was like she was your own personal hero, always saving you before you’d even need saving.

·       When Fuyuhiko couldn’t be by you he’d send one of his underlings to keep an eye on you for Peko… and himself. He’d never admit it, but you were an important person to Peko, and he thought of you as a friend as well. And given the fact you tended to freeze when stressed was worrying. Peko could only be with you should he directly order her to keep some distance from him or he was with you. If it became well known that he spent much time with you, you’d likely be targeted by other yakuza. Freezing when you should be running would inevitably happen given your track record so for his own and Peko’s sake you were kept an eye on, just in case.

·       Though foolhardy Peko admired how you tried your best no matter what, even when in doing so you’d forget about your anxiety only for it to rear it’s ugly head moments later. She found it admirable, though the fact that you never seemed to improve much was saddening.

·       Peko wanted to help you to be able to help yourself. “Y/N.” “Hi, Peko.” “Would you like to learn kendo?” “Kendo? Sure, but why?” “Self-defense.” Fighting was all Peko knew. Nothing else. Though likely kendo would not help you when you’re stressed or get you to act any less recklessly, at least she was doing something to try to help you. She cared about you and feared that should you continue like this you’d get seriously injured or worse someday.

·       Surprisingly kendo helped you a lot! Through it you were forced to focus, to think your every action through to the end. Slowly over time such thought processes seeped into your everyday life. Even if your anxiety still seemed overwhelming, freezing you in place completely lost in your mind, you were able to stop yourself from getting into those situations so often. It warmed Peko’s heart knowing she played a part in you learning to care for yourself, of you improving.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Plague Rat Chapter 3

Three months later…

 “Hello and welcome to Channel Eight! I’m Erica, bringing you the news!”

 “Today we are speaking of what is now called ‘the Plague of Truth’, brought upon us by the Akuma Plague Rat.

 Due to the Akuma’s powers of infecting people with a deadly virus resembling the Black Plague but targeting liars, many secrets came about. And many consequences have occurred. The most high profile ones are the former mayor, his wife and a dozen city officials who are now closing ranks and trying to-“ Marinette turned off the TV and closed her eyes.

 After she had been purified, the girl had been horrified at her actions, feeling ill and disgusted. She had done that? She had attacked people? She had nearly…

 Luckily there was a therapist employed by the hospital that sat with her and spoke with her. He was open and honest and she had a lot off issues she usually kept locked up. 

 He helped her speak of them and confront them. Helped her understand her issues. Helped her realize how many were people putting things on her and expecting things if her when they shouldn’t. 

 She still didn’t feel okay. Knowing what she did made her feel sick, but her classmates where there. Alix spoke with her softly, the girl knowing she had killed one. Kim spoke of rewatching his actions and feeling horrified. Rose shuddered at what she had done.

 It helped. 

 More so, honestly, it helped knowing that her actions had exposed Lila and a lot of corruption. Not only had she hit the mayor, she’d hit the commissioner, Audrey, Nadja and a bunch of others. 

 Andre had been removed from office and was now facing trial for his crimes. The commissioner had been removed from office along with Roger being fired and were also facing charges. Rumors said they would probably get ten years at least.

Audrey was going away for child abuse, corruption and the abuse of her staff. She had admitted everything and Chloe had been removed from their care in a second, being placed with an aunt on the other side of Paris who hadn’t spoken to her sister in years and had never cared to. The aunt had agreed to take Chloe in but had warned the girl she would not put up with any of her actions.

 Marinette hadn’t heard anything since as Chloe had been expelled by the new principal that had replaced Damocles when the fact he was being bribed came out. Bustier had also been replaced. Marinette wasn’t sad to see them go- even if it was only recently she could go back to school after the shock to her system becoming an Akuma had been. It wrecked her metabolism again and she’d been stuck in a bed for months.

 Luckily, there was a friendly nurse around who was happy to take over for Akumas. Marinette has the best time hearing her rant about magic and how stupid it was she couldn’t tell who Ladybug was when she was in the hosptial. Often right in front of her door.

 Tikki found it hilarious to.

 But she had finally left the hospital and Tikki said she could go back to fighting, something she was glad about. She missed it, not that she’d admit it.

 But before that, there was a trial to be had.

 -0-

 “So you willingly did it-“

 “I did.” Alya interrupted the lawyer. “I willingly exposed her to sick children but that was at the urging of Lila who said she had to be lying. I believe the videos I’ve given show that.” Alya felt like a bug as everyone in the courtroom stared at her. She kept her chin up though. She would not be cowed by this lawyer Lila’s father got her. Apparently Lila’s nasty habits came from someone and that was her father. Her mother had been furious to know she was in contact with him and was not pleased by the lawyer but agreed to it.

 She didn’t want her baby in jail either.

 He was a good lawyer, knew how to come at things from all angles.

 But Alya had been Rena Rouge. The Fox Miraculous left marks deep in her soul, which made her slippery and sly. She had forgotten and gotten caught in lies herself, but she remembered now.

 And she would not yield. 

 “I wonder, if anyone actually knows that the reason she wants Marinette dead is because she called her out on her lies in college.” Snapped Alya, suddenly latching onto the thought. The lawyer blinked. “Didn’t know that? Lila is just angry that Marinette didn’t follow her around. That Marinette called her out.” The lawyer actually stepped back and turned to look at Lila who couldn’t hide her furious face fast enough. Alya smiled at her while the lawyer said he had to dismiss himself from the case now, his clients had been lying to him.

 Alya hadn’t been a good person for a while. She had followed a liar and had blinded herself to truth for a long time. But she had once been a hero, once been a good person. 

 She was going to start again.

-0-

 “So you thought it was like tabloids?” Dr. Shaw asked Adrien who sighed. 

 “Yeah I mean…” Adrien shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe if I hadn’t known the truth I’d have believed hem but when I did I saw how stupid they were and they reminded me of the tabloids. I thought they’d figure it out themselves. I didn’t think she was hurting anyone.”

 “But she did. Her actions almost caused many of them to miss out on incredibly important opportunities for their futures. It was lucky your friend Marientte managed to convince them it was a good way to show case their skills to the supposed contacts Lila had.” The doctor said and Adrien winced.

 “I… I didn’t want her Akumatized again.”

 “And yet Marientte was.” Adrien looked down. “Adrien, if I can be very blunt- you despise conflict and prefer a passive approach to it. While disliking conflict is fine, and I encourage you not to seek it out, not confronting people who you know are in the wrong isn’t always the best idea.”

 “...” Adrien didn’t want to think about it anymore. But he had to. His father had made him go to therapy and Plagg had told him it was a good idea for him to do so. He needed to get over this. “It’s easier when it’s not me.” Adrien blurted our. “Online I mean.” He quickly covered. It was easy to confront people as Chat Noir. 

 “Then pretend you’re not Adrien when you confront people.” The therapist offered and…

 That was really good advice.

Two months later…

 “Hello and welcome to the new Ladyblog!” Alya grinned on the screen Marientte was watching. “As you know due to certain circumstances I left this blog for the last few months. This is due to Lila and her actions towards my classmate and my own actions. However, this is a new start. First and foremost- this blog will now only contain facts. I have three people to check over anything I post that’s an article and needed to be researched who will do so. I spoke with Ladybug and she’s agreed to an interview with all heroes providing they agree-“ that was the only small crack, a shadow of sadness. After Miracle Queen everyone know she’d been a hero, and seeing a new fox must hurt.

 Marientte though was just amused that Alya was such a good actor. Sure she no longer used the fox but she fit the Turtle very well. And Nino was a fine Dragon, while Luka was a great Fox and Kagami was an amazing Bee.

 It hadn’t been to hard to manage to have an interview with them- though all separate. It was enough to show Paris they were human to.

 Marinette smiled,  watching as Alya continued her speech. 

 Things had changed since she’d become Plague Rat. Lila was now in jail back in Italy. Youth jail but still. She would spend two years there before being released on parole for either ten years or for the rest of her life depending on her actions. While she had lost her first lawyer they had been assigned a second one who had managed to get a psychiatrist in to look at her. 

 The man said she was either a psychopath or a sociopath. They had tried to say that meant she was allowed to be free but that was ended when the doctor pointed out she knew what she was doing was wrong. She just didn’t care. 

 She wasn’t allowed back in France and apparently other countries had also banned her. She was forever stuck in Italy.

 The former mayor was also in jail. Five years, chance of parole in two and a half, maybe less depending on behaviour. Nadja had lost custody of Manon after it got out she routinely used the girl to gather info and had put her in risk multiple times. Audrey was in jail, Roger had lost his job and was on probation. 

 Paris had experienced a revolution after Plague Rat. The new mayor was a woman who took no shit and was a hardass who was happily funding the police to find Hawkmoth, and bring him down. The new commissioner had fired all corrupt cops- Roger had been part of this sweep- and now Paris was thriving.

 Adrien as well seemed to have changed. He had formally apologized to her for his inaction and he was taking steps to be able to confront people. He’d already had a fight with his father about being a model and had leaked to the press how Gabriel treated him. Gabriel was in therapy now and Adrien had a social worker doing random checks on him. 

 “I guess even Akumatized I’m a hero.” She remarked to Tikki who chuckled. 

 “Perhaps. But I like you as you.”

 “Same.” She still has nightmares about what she’d done. She still freaked out about the hospital. Hell she was still recovering months later from the stress of being Akumatized while suffering from sickness and a horrible immune system. 

 But she was doing better. She was moving forward.

 And that was all she could do.

Tagged: @anastasian-dreamer @magicalfirebird @kibastray @thesunanditsangel @virgil-is-a-cutie @marinettepotterandplagg @heaven428 @sofmimis @so-freaking-done-with-people @moonystars14 @slytherinhquinn @spartanxhunterx

[multiplicity-positivity]

Hi! I discovered about a week ago that I’m plural and probably have OSDD :-) I think I’d subconsciously known I was plural for years, but things have been going really well in my life recently and I feel super safe and at home in my new apartment with my partner so my brain must’ve decided that we were ready to process the fact that we’re plural and everything else that goes along with that realisation too ^^’ my partner has been super understanding and supportive but I think I’m sending this ask because I wanted to connect with another system even if it’s just through an anonymous ask haha uwu’’ As someone very new to online plural communities I have no idea where to start and it feels like everyone is arguing about words we don’t understand 🥲 Do you know any good resources to read or blogs to follow as someone totally new to all of this?

Hi! And yes, totally!

Please check out our post with resources for questioning systems - there’s a ton of articles and online books referenced with information about plurality and dissociative disorders, including OSDD!

We will give one bit of advice, if that’s okay! It is unsolicited, so it’s under a cut so you can avoid it if you’d like!

🌸 Margo, 💚 Ralsei, and 🐢 Kip

About self-diagnosis:

We understand that not everyone will be able to access or afford therapy, so for many, self-diagnosis is their only opportunity to actually understand what’s affecting them. However, if you can afford it, we’d advise you to try and seek therapy to help you understand yourself and your possible disorder(s) better.

If you do in fact have OSDD (we’re referring to OSDD-1 in particular), you undoubtedly have a history of childhood trauma (even if you’re not fully aware of it at this time). Healing from complex childhood trauma is no easy task, and something that should not be attempted without professional guidance, if you can help it. Trying to dive into and understand trauma without the help of a professional could end up damaging you and your system! That’s why we always will promote healing through therapy.

Please make sure you do lots of research before coming to a conclusion about what disorder affects you! It’s worth mentioning that dissociative disorders like DPDR, DID, dissociative amnesia, and OSDD-2, along with personality disorders like BPD, may present similarly to OSDD-1. So understanding your symptoms, how they manifest, and aligning your experiences to the diagnostic criteria of other mental disorders can help you narrow down what you have, without the help of a therapist or professional.

Please note, we’re not trying to dissuade you from self-diagnosis at all! We just would like to bring up that lots of research is necessary to accurately self-diagnose without the help of a mental health professional.

All that out of the way, we’d like to welcome to the plural side of Tumblr! We’re glad to have you here, and hope you can find enjoyment and learn more about yourself/selves!

[creative-poptart]

Can I get SF and UT skelies with an H/s that is low key depressed but chalks it up to dark humor but then the skeleton bros catch them high out of their mind on drugs and the only thing they can manage to do is laugh and say “sorry but everything hurts” I know it’s kinda dark so I won’t be offended if you don’t do this one.

This one is pretty dark, but I can still do it all the same. I’m comfy with most topics, and I write angst from time to time, so dark subjects don’t scare me too much. As for this, if you’re worried if you’re depressed guys, seek professional help, since I can only do so much. 

SF Sans/Black: Honestly, he thought there was something off with you for a little while because that didn’t make any sense. Sure, dark humor has its place, but Black can tell that this is borderline excess of that. He won’t directly mention it out of the worry that something will make you snap, so he’s alluding to the fact you’re probably in need of some help since this continues. When you finally crack under whatever pressure you’re under, this skeleton sits down with you and tries to chat about what’s been going on. If it’s something he knows he can’t help you with, there’s a gentle suggestion the two of you should seek some therapy together. Whether or not you agree, it’s up to you, but Black knows that it’s better to have a professional help you out instead of just listening to his advice, which could have any number of effects. 

“SINCE THIS HAS BEEN AN ONGOING PROBLEM, WE NEED TO GET PROPER HELP. I AM NOT QUALIFIED TO HELP YOU WITH THIS.”

SF Papyrus/Rus: This is one skeleton who gets incredibly concerned for your wellbeing the moment the dark humor starts to escalate. Rus has done his fair share of cover-ups with the same tactics, which he can call out from a mile away. He’s trying to get you to either open up about what’s been going on, so he knows where to direct you or get you to therapy. When that fails, he retreats to observing and trying to help you out in subtle ways. As soon as you end up confessing everything to him, he’s going to take you to the couch for some cuddles and try to comfort you a little bit. Rus knows how much a positive touch can help alleviate a lot of the stress, but it only goes so far, of course. As the snuggling progresses, he’s going to ask if you would be opposed to getting a professional opinion for a proper diagnosis.

“it’s not ideal, no, but there’s only so much that th’ two of us can do here, kid. we could try t’ do somethin’ to help here, but it’s not gonna be as good.”

UT Sans/Vanilla: Same, actually. While his depression is covered with a lighter version of humor and a whole lot of deflection, Vanilla is still struggling with it too. He won’t want to go to therapy, but he’s starting to see some similarities between you and him, the more time goes on. He’s not too opposed to talking to you about your issues, so long the opening doesn’t immediately turn into a whole share-fest with both of you. Not that this particular skeleton won’t do that eventually, but if it’s meant to be for you, he wants to focus on you. When the dam finally breaks, and you spill that you’re hurting, he’ll agree to get some help if you get some as well. Vanilla won’t force it, stars know that he has avoided going to get help for a really long time. However, if it’s gonna be what gets the both of you better, he’s down to try getting a legitimate therapist. 

“sure, it’s not a great scenario to open up to a complete stranger, but it’s better to get them to help out. we can’t do it on our own, right?”

UT Papyrus/Creampuff: Right from the get-go, Creampuff can tell that there’s something off with this kind of behavior. It reminds him far too much of what his brother ends up doing a lot, so he can identify it pretty quickly. You’re going to find that he’s not leaving your side quite a bit, ending up trying to pull you into a few other activities. It’s not intended to be a cure, but he’s hoping that it can at least distract you for a little bit longer and make you feel included. When that ultimately ends up failing, this skeleton doesn’t know too much about what to do, but he will break out your favorite treats and some cuddles. If you need to vent, his metaphorical ears are always open for you, and he’s willing to sit for hours. Creampuff doesn’t want you to be depressed, so he’s ready to get you some outside help to get you back on your feet. 

“PLEASE, IT HURTS ME TO SEE YOU IN PAIN LIKE THIS. CAN WE AT LEAST TRY TO GET YOU SOMEONE WHO CAN REALLY HELP?”

Thanks for the ask, Anon!

[dangan-happy]

[A little bit of Monaca in my life] To anyone from Danganronpa 1 or 2: Things haven't been easy for me for the last... Couple years. I've been dealing with mental health issues since I was eleven and, now that I'm turning nineteen, it's kind of hitting me harder to know just how long I've been dealing with this stuff. Everyone in my life says it'll get better one day, and it's not like I want to give up, but... It's hard not to feel like it's going to suck forever. I mean, if nothing has changed for the better in the last few years, why should it start getting better now? What if it just keeps getting worse now that I'm an adult? I just... Feel so lost and alone and depressed and I worry I'm a lost cause at this point. I don't want to give up, but I'm so tired. I don't want false hope anymore- I just want to be happy. It's all I ever wanted.

I understand Anon, going through something for the last few years. And the pandemic panic hasn’t helped I’m sure. You know, mental health issues isn’t a burden like people make it out to be, actually, it upsets me that people take it so lightly. And at a young age, if you’re going through them, it’s awful.

This may seem basic level one kind of advice, but I would recommend looking into possibly speaking to a therapist, growing up isn’t as easy as it was made out to be when we were younger. It puts a lot of stress on most adults, if anything. But try looking into some new hobbies too! For me, when I’m feeling down, obviously I’ll turn to video games to take my mind away from everything. 

It may be different for you, maybe video games doesn’t cut it. But you know what, as long as you find something that you enjoy, that’s all that matters. It doesn’t have to be something extravagant. It can be as simple as watching TV or even catching a nap to regain your health. It’s important for you to find things that make you happy, that’s the key.

~

Boy, Nanami sure makes it seem simple and easy. She took the words right out of my mouth, well done! 

Let me add a few words of my own because trust me anon, I’m kind of in that position right now, not going to lie, it’s a pain. I always wondered myself what even is happiness, you know? Because of my talent, everyone assumes it’s baseball. But that’s far from the truth, my talent only came to light because I was naturally good at it. That doesn’t mean that I enjoyed it. What I’m saying is, if you don’t want any false hope or happiness, I think you should look into things that interest you. Mental illness is really hard to take care of, you never know when it’s going to spiral out of control or actually be ok. Yea, people can say that it gets better, it’s sort of like...the automatic response. I’m not sure if you feel the same way anon, but that phrase kind of bothers me.

It’s easy to say that things will get better, sure, but you have to make the effort for it to happen. By the sounds of things that you’re going through, I do recommend a therapist too! They are there to listen to you, to help you navigate through any issues that you may have going on in your life. You don’t need to be instantly cured in like an instant, nothing like that. That would be unrealistic, although I wish it worked that way. God knows I wouldn’t be stuck as the ultimate baseball star if I was able to express my real desire.

So before I continue my rambling, I definitely recommend seeking a therapist that you can talk to about everything that’s going on in your head. Oh! And don’t forget about the hobbies suggestion! 

Hi anon, I hope it's ok if I try to help you out a little! Firstly, let me say that I'm really sorry to hear that you've been struggling the way you have. Mental health is honestly never easy, and it really sucks when it becomes a little harder to deal with. I know I'm a person who says that it'll get better one day a lot, but here's something else to think about maybe. Mental health isn't really something that's easily handled alone, and that's perfectly normal. It doesn't make you any less valuable if you need some help.

Since you're an adult now, I'd start looking into more mental health help, professional things like therapy or medication. I know there's a lot of stigma around those things, but speaking from personal experience, they can really help. It might take some time to find the right therapist or right medication, but I promise that it'll pay off. I'm really glad to hear that you don't want to give up, even if you're tired. Try to hold onto that as hard as it is, ok? Things haven't been getting better, so why not try something different? It's your life, so it's up to you to try and figure these things out. Yeah, it's really hard, and it's going to be difficult, but you can do it! You're not a lost cause no matter what state you're in. Even if you're the most depressed you've ever been, you're not a lost cause. I promise.

Life is weird, things get better and worse randomly and yeah, it sucks. But hanging in there and actively looking for better changes is the best thing you can do for yourself, and I really really think those things could lead to you feeling a lot happier. I'm so sorry that you haven't found the happiness you're looking for yet, but I promise it's out there. This is something that I think would be better handled by a professional, so please look into that. I wouldn't recommend it if I didn't think it would help. I want you to be happy too, and I know you're going to get there. I can't do much for you, but I'll be thinking of you. You can do this, it might take a while, but you can do this.

[ambitionsource]

Who in the a class is in some kind of therapy?

what a question LMAO. but honestly, a very fair one indeed. while discussing this, es and i ended up basically dividing it into three groups (if someone isn’t mentioned, it just means none apply)

Is In Therapy Currently

Isadora || as we know from the canon of S3, isa is currently in therapy to work through the grief of valerie dying as well as like... the built up abandonment issues, anxiety, and struggles she has articulating or processing emotions lmao. it also helps her learn better methods to work with her autism

Farkle || i mean... we all watched S1 & 2. we know why he’s there LMAO and by god does he need it. it’s good that he’s improving though!!

Chai || she officially started therapy after the events of S1 while she was abroad because evidently her parents divorce really fucked with her emotional state and coping mechanisms -- as well as having sort of emotionally distant parents and having to navigate the world on her own. basically, money =/= nurturing. but yeah i think she realized what she did with tormenting her classmates wasn’t Healthy perhaps and so she sought out the resources to fix it on her own. her parents certainly weren’t going to be much help

Clarissa || clarissa has been in and out of therapy here and there since she was little, mainly for managing OCD. usually she’s fine and her appointments are infrequent (monthly at this current rate), but she tends to go back to her therapist when circumstances get very stressful, like the events of S2 (she mentions going back to therapy in a scene with charlie and haley in 210)

Not In Therapy Currently, but Has Before

Riley || though not by choice, riley went to therapy for a stretch of time in the aftermath of her bullying experience freshman year. by the start of S1, though, she’s on the tail-end of it after a whole summer full of it. she also had stints in family therapy when she was little when cory and topie were having their first bouts of marriage problems, but she doesn’t remember all that obviously. she’s thought about going back for herself because of all the divorce strain, but ultimately opted against it bc she didn’t want to go through cory or topanga. she mainly sticks to talking to eric if things get too overwhelming and using the coping mechanisms she already has

Darby || miss darbs spent some time in therapy in late elementary school due to having issues socializing with her peers. i think she’s always been a bit awkward and desperate to please, so that can get messy with kids cause kids are mean. she was also definitely bullied at that age for being really tall and so i think her parents put her therapy out of genuine concern just with the hopes that like, she’d be able to develop some coping mechanisms and have a safe space to get advice if they didn’t have the answers. and in some ways it helped, other ways no -- her friendships aren’t the healthiest still (as she’s the doormat), but i think she holds her own BETTER with the plastics having gone to therapy than if she never developed those emotional tools at all

Has Not / Is Not but Really Fucking Should Be in Therapy

LUCAS || this is like the most obvious blinking lights sirens wailing example ever. he is a walking textbook for endorsing therapy. between the domestic abuse, mommy and daddy issues, self-esteem in the subbasement, lack of life purpose, inability to read others well emotionally, inability to process his own emotions, the physical aversion due to his trauma, his kleptomania, his risk-taking behavior, his habit of lying, the fact that he has canonically walked off for days at a time with no warning, explanation, or safety net, that he sleeps in a fucking technician’s booth, he used to free-climb buildings SOMETIMES IN THE RAIN, no sense of self-preservation, intrusive thoughts, inability to express appreciation or affection in a normal non-stressful way...... this man is a therapist’s dream and nightmare. they could spend YEARS unpacking him. but will he ever go to therapy? no. because he a) doesn’t think he needs it, b) can’t ask for help ever, and c) could never afford it. and at this point, d) if his dad heard he was seeking help like that he would shut it down instantly. anyway, he’s the biggest case here. underline him in red

Charlie || charlie is a great example of someone who is like coping... sort of... not really... it Looks like they’re coping but they aren’t really and they really need help. like yes, charlie has stability in certain areas of his life that others don’t, and he’s extremely self-aware of his privileges, but i think that’s part of the problem. he’s convinced himself he doesn’t need or shouldn’t get external help because there are people who have it so much worse than him and he doesn’t... he doesn’t really need it, does he? he’s fine. he’ll be fine. and even if he did think about getting “help,” i think his first instinct -- and advice from others -- would be to go to his church leadership, which is not a suggestion made with ill will but just isn’t helpful considering half of his trauma is tied to his relationship with god and the church and faith. he needs a more objective space to unpack all of that, and obviously church itself is not the answer. i think that charlie will be able to work through a lot of his initial issues on his own with time and patience with himself (something we’re in the thick of right now -- we’re just barely in the acceptance phase), but he should really go to therapy in the future just to like... work through all of the long-term trauma he endured from his upbringing and bridgette’s exile and the dueling psychology of church vs sexuality. like... that’s gonna take some time to unravel and he needs to be in the right place to pursue that on his own. will he, i dont know, but i think when he does a certain heaviness he’s been carrying his entire life will finally like... lift. and he’ll be able to breathe better

Asher || so asher is a bit of a clusterfuck LMAO like he’s diagnosed officially with generalized anxiety disorder but he never saw a specialist, his mom diagnosed him since she’s a psychologist. the complexity here is that because of that... well, they say you should never let family be your personal doctors and i think that’s true for mental health professionals too. like emily basically gave asher the generic coping rundown when he was really young, and then he went on to develop his own coping mechanisms with, at least, a very fundamental understanding of what’s wrong with him. but he kind of developed his own complex about it all too, bc i think emily took pride in him being able to figure it all out and be so capable with his own mental health without ever going to therapy and he kind of internalized that, as well as having internalized a lot his mom’s perspectives and opinions as a mental health professional in a way that its like... well my MOM said that, so i feel kind of some type of way about it. so its all really complicated and twisted in his head and he just doesnt bother to unpack it (something, ironically, therapy would probably help lol). the thing about asher is that for all intents and purposes, he does cope well and he is really in tune with his own mental state. it’s just that he could seriously benefit from having an objective party help him untangle some of his neuroses i think and it would take some of the constant stress off his shoulders, but he’s honestly too stuck in his ways at this point to go. that being said, he’s a vocal advocate for therapy and its benefits -- just not for himself

Nigel || as discussed a bit in the ask i answered about him, i just think nigel carries way too much pressure on himself and he could benefit from someone helping him work through things instead of carrying all his stress on his own -- even if its less complex than some others. he’s like same range as clarissa.

Maya || maya has no issue with self-esteem, but i think she could still benefit from someone helping her actually unpack her issues over her dad and why she is the way she is. a therapist who specializes in narcissism would be a good fit for her -- not because she is one, but she does have... certain quirks where i think having that specialization can help unravel her motivations and actions a little more easily

Missy || she’s just a fucking mess. she shouldn’t be redeemed but i think therapy could really do her a favor and maybe make her less terrible and psychopathic towards people who aren’t like her. maybe

-- Maggie & Es

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧  Chapter 199

A mostly decent night’s sleep did wonders for the mind and body. It also had you running a little late to start your life the next day. Tony was gone, as usual and as expected. But it would have been nice for him to at least let you know you were sleeping so deep you were likely to be in trouble. It was hard to hold the thought against him, though. He’d probably left well enough alone on purpose. As you did to him, sometimes. Still. You were hurried and harried as you rushed through a shower and getting your face and hair ready, picking out a vibrantly colored power suit and a pair of killer heels that would boost your confidence enough to get through the day. Back-to-back-to-back meetings lined your schedule. And while the people waiting for you now weren’t likely to actually say they’d been waiting too long, their moods would be worse for it. Nothing you couldn’t amend, however. Which was why before you actually stepped out for the day you stopped at the labs. You’d expected Tony to be working on something, as he always was, a routine the two of you were very well used to at this point. It was why when you bumped into him immediately getting off the elevator you were more than a little startled. 

His hands on your arms steadied you from a wobbly break, and his amused grin cleared the haze. “Looking for someone, honey?” 

“You- actually- …- oh- I’m sorry-” Getting a rushed start this late in the day was doing you no favors. Your thoughts were a little bit frantic. Even more so when you spied the person he was talking with in the hallway. “Dr. Linnet, how are you? Am I interrupting something?” Tony was with Deja of all people… this was an interesting turn of events. Did he put himself back in therapy?? But- why here? Why in the labs? Though she’d been stationed more on the Avengers base upstate, she certainly still had an office here for use. ...maybe they’d been talking in his labs for the comfort of a familiar environment? She smiled warmly. “Not at all. We were mostly through. It’s nice to see you again. It’s been a while.” A very less than sly way of letting you know she was thinking about you. And all your missed appointments. Oh well. Very luckily, Tony saved your embarrassment at having to find an excuse to why it had been so long since you and your therapist had last spoken. He gave your shoulders a little rub before putting his hands in his pockets. “We were actually about to come see you. Hoping to catch you before you left.”

Blankly you nodded. “I actually have to run.” Feeling a sudden sense of desperation. Like you were being backed into a corner. Tony and your therapist wanted to speak to you. That felt bad. You needed to get out of here. They needed to know you couldn’t stay long enough for whatever the hell this was.

“I know you do.” Tony must have sensed your sudden anxiety. He reached out again, putting a soothing touch between your shoulder blades in a light rub. “Look- can you keep your schedule clear March thirteenth?” 

It was weird that he’d ask something like this- and that he’d do it in front of the doctor. ...or with her. This was what they’d wanted to come talk to you about. ...but finally you were able to see past yourself. And into him. He was wound up about something, too. A little frayed at the edges. 

He needed your attention. Your assurance. The two of you looked at each other for just a little too long. The elevator doors reopened. You hadn’t even realized you’d terror-pressed the button a few seconds ago trying to get away from them. You held an arm up to keep them open but gave him a nod. “Sure, Tony. Whatever you need.” Letting him know. Whatever this was… Even if it was something that was going to end poorly for you… you’d be there. ...god, what if it was an intervention? Better not think about it. His smile gave you permission to back away. But before you did you put your other hand on his chest to anchor yourself and lifted up to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be back around six.” 

Despite present company and the social faux-pas, he seemed unable to help himself from reaching up to cup the side of your face and direct you closer in for a proper kiss. You surrendered. It was simple, sweet, and quick enough to not be entirely awkward with a third party standing there. “I love you.” There was a shimmer of gratitude there. “I love you.” Murmured back to him. Stealing one last quick kiss. You then stepped backwards into the elevator and gave a little wave. “Bye. Nice seeing you, doctor.” Trying to be polite. She still wore that smile and returned the gesture. “You, too. Have a nice day.” 

The doors closed and you let out a shaky breath. It was better not to think about what the hell you’d just gotten yourself into. ...and whether or not the two of them were talking about you in your absence. Or in the moments before it- No. Don’t think about it. ...don’t think about it… 

                                                             --- 

As expected, no one had the guts to say anything to you about being late for their afternoon meeting. You cut that one short, too, so that you wouldn’t be late for anything else. Which was rude. And not a behavior you often gave into. You made sure to… ease the room a little bit. This was cheating but, there were more ways than one to be good at your job and keep partners and business friends happy. Using everything you owned to your advantage was just fair play. You even let them pick another time for a much lengthier meeting about whatever it was they were talking about… your mind was a little far away. And it stayed that way for the remainder of the day. Which is exactly what you didn’t want to be doing. Exactly what you promised yourself you shouldn’t and wouldn’t do. But. You still did it. Because how could you help yourself? What were Tony and Deja doing? Was he worried about you? Sure he’d have every right- there was a lot to be worried about sometimes. You had long moments where nothing was okay. Thousand yard stares that turned into PTSD meltdowns and panic attacks- and then you bounced back into moments of normality- ...yes. Yes Tony had every right to maybe try and seek a therapist’s advice about what he should do. How he should talk to you. How he could maybe get you to try and seek steps on the road to recovery- But why would he do that immediately after yesterday? Had something gone wrong? Had you done something bad to him? Had the intensity in your office actually upset him in some way? ...had you missed that somehow? All of this was making you feel a little sick. There was a lot wrong with you, fine. You understood that. You had barely healed from any single event that had scarred you, yet you preached for others to do so and advocated heavily for the use of therapy for all your other teammates so that they could get the help they needed. Yet you… ...you refused. Quietly. Didn’t set up appointments and blew off the rare ones that you did. It was just- you just- … The sky was lit up in dark oranges and pinks, sun setting a shadow across the city. You were in your head and lost. Happy was in the car parked on the opposite side of the street waiting for you to get in so he could take you home. And someone grabbed your wrist. Your instincts lit up and you quickly turned your arm up around the other way and then sent a jab into your would-be attacker’s chest. He rebounded, throwing his palm up which you tried to deflect with a strike to the inside of his arm but he pushed around you, planting a blow against your chest to stun you and then finally got a good grab on your arm, wrenching it high up, and with the force of his weight, walked you right up into the side of the building. This all happened in a matter of seconds. He was faster than you, no question. There were ways to get out of this. You weren’t scared. ...and if you were, you definitely couldn’t allow that to show. But you stayed there. For lack of… better options. “You have to be the dumbest man in this city.” Warning him as you turned your head as far as it would go, gritting your teeth at him. “I need your help.” His voice was softy, and his desperation now that you were a little more focused on him was obvious. But before you could answer him the sound of a gun cocking caught the both of you unaware. Happy was very grounded. “Hey bozo, wanna try that again?” You imagined he was pressing the barrel against this guy’s head. 

Because his very next move was to let go of you and step back with his hands up. You wheeled your arm around, trying to work out the ache in your joint, and then tapped Happy’s side with the other one, trying to get him to lower his weapon. He was reluctant as always, but did as he was silently being told. Then finally you saw the guy that had grabbed you. He looked homeless and helpless. Wearing torn heavy clothes, sporting a scraggly patchy beard, and dirty, short curly blond hair. His eyes were gentle. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to hurt you, miss.” 

“You didn’t hurt me.” Perhaps protesting a little too much. 

“Well- I didn’t mean to scare you. I need your help. Please.” 

Happy made a face. “There’s better ways to ask for change.” 

Everything about this man was strange. He was no regular vagabond. That was for certain. But there was… something else about him. Something that was pinging your delicate senses. Making you a little uneasy. So you… you looked. Looked a little through him. Paused the world for yourself as you stepped into the one that you owned. Looked with that second pair of eyes. There he stood. But something- ...something lurked inside of him- And when you looked- A pair of red eyes stared out from his chest. 

It startled you back into reality- literally- and your sharp inhale and step back had Happy anxiously aiming his weapon again. He knew to trust your judgment more than his own. Even if he may not have known why that was. 

The scraggly man across from you widened his eyes and really held his hand up in a pleading motion. “Please- you’re the woman from the TV- you said I needed help and I do-” 

This finally made it make sense. “You’re Danny Rand?” You put your hand up on Happy’s arm again, urging him with a little push to put his gun down again. 

His nod was just about as solemn as the puppy-dog eyes he was giving you. “Yes. Please help me.” 

It was times like this you regretted your sassy, cutthroat business ways. You should have never opened your mouth…                                                             --- You made sure Happy drove home as quick as possible as you did not want to be in the car with this guy any longer than necessary. Once at the Tower you then yanked him up to a secure conference room and sat him down. Pepper had been waiting to get your signature on something and she threw the weirdest glance your way but wisely did not ask any questions. You instructed her to get something hot for him to drink and eat from the cafeteria. Only when she brought him a hot cup of tea (as per his request) and a bowl of noodles with some protein, you re-entered the room. He was already finished. It had only been five minutes. You locked the door behind you and the two of you stared at each other. 

Until he decided he was done waiting. “Are you going to help me?” 

“Undecided.” You put your hands behind your back and started a slow pace around the room. Thinking. “If I do- it- ...this is a strange situation. I can loan you a lawyer, is that what you want? Is there anything to prove you are who you say you are?” 

His parents had died in a plane crash- same as he was said to. So there were no bodies to exhume to try and match DNA to. 

He sighed. “Why won’t anyone believe me?” 

“You’re supposed to be dead.” Putting it very plainly for him. “And now you’ve come back fifteen years later- it reeks of a cash scam.” 

“I don’t care about that.” He let a little of his frustrations leak out. Seems like you weren’t the only one to accuse him of this. 

“You can say that all you want, but that’s how it looks. You want to reclaim your company I have no doubt.” When he just stared at you, you tried to force it out of him. “Right?” 

His lips pressed together but then he folded his hands atop the table and admitted it. “Yes.” 

“Right.” Because you usually were. “So some random guy is claiming to be Danny Rand to get his hands on Rand Enterprises and the billion or so dollars that go with its market.” 

“I am not a random guy. I am Danny Rand!” 

You didn’t let his outburst deter you. “Prove it.” 

This seemed to take the wind out of his sails. “I don’t… I don’t know how.” 

“Well you better start thinking up some ways. Because I can get you the best lawyer money has to offer, and it won’t make a difference unless you have something credible.” Why was this being put on you? Why was this your job to clean up? Sure, you felt sorry for the guy, but- 

“Do you believe me?” He was gazing at you now. Like he was trying to see through you. Finally you stopped moving and crossed your arms, gazing back at him. “I believe… you believe you are who you say you are. But  that’s not enough.” He wasn’t being deceptive, that was for sure. He really did believe himself. As for if it was really true? And he wasn’t just an escaped patient of a psychiatric hospital somewhere who had been lost on the streets? Who knew. But that was exactly the sort of defense the Meachums would work up. It’d never even see the inside of a courtroom. 

A heaviness enveloped him so strongly. It really did make you feel bad for him. His head dipped forward and he shook it a few times. “I just… I just wanted to come home. But home is not how I remember it.” 

“Of course it isn’t. You disappeared fifteen years ago. A lot has changed since then.” Trying to ease up on him. He was… he was understandably sad. “...how did you survive that plane crash? Where have you been all this time?” What was the story he’d made up for himself? 

You expected some pause. Time for him to gather himself, make sure he got all his facts straight. But he was so casual as he said some of the strangest things you’d ever heard. “Our plane went down over the Himalayas. My parents didn’t survive. But I was saved by two monks of K’un-Lun. They took me to the city. They helped me. They raised me like their own. And trained me.” 

Where? While it would be silly to expect to know every city in every place in the world, you were sure you’d never heard that name before. “K’un-Lun?” “It’s a protected city. The gates appear every fifteen years. Otherwise there’s no way in or out.” 

“...every fifteen years.” What a convenient time frame. 

“That’s what I said.” 

You’d started pacing again. “...and so these… Monks. Took you in. And trained you in… martial arts? Buddhism?” 

“That’s right.” 

“...didn’t you ask for pork with your soup?” 

He flustered a little. “Is this really important?” 

“It is if you want to sell this to anyone. You’ve got some conflicting ideologies here.” Of course as soon as you pressed on the finer details the story was starting to fall apart. Which meant that you’d been accosted by a homeless person who you’d then brought back to the Tower- ...for what reason exactly-

“This is the truth.” 

“You got the better of me coming out of that building, I’ll give you that.” Maybe he hadn’t intended to fight you when he’d grabbed you, but when you’d tried to defend yourself, he’d definitely displayed some finer skills. But so what? He could have trained at any gym in the city to learn martial arts. This was starting to seem like an elaborate setup not to upset the Meachums or make a power grab for Rand Enterprises- but to do something to you. 

Deciding you’d had enough with the rouse you put your hands on the table and leaned in. “You’re enhanced.” Laying it out there very plainly. 

“What do you mean by that?” He seemed a little confused. 

This was tipping your hand pretty heavily. How could you tell him you knew that without telling him how you’d figured that out? “You’re fast, you’re strong- faster and stronger than most regular people I know. And I… think I saw something, when you attacked me-” 

“I didn’t mean to attack you, I just wanted your attention.” He sighed. Even more frustrated than before. But when you didn’t relent he stood up and pulled his coat open, exposing part of his chest- exactly where you’d looked and seen something lurking. “Is this what you mean?” 

“What is that? A tattoo?” Making vague hand gestures as you pointed. 

He pulled his coat completely open and did the same with his shirt exposing what looked like a very slim dragon tattoo- as you’d surmised. “This is the mark of Shou-Lao.” 

“...and that is?” 

“Shou-Lao is the dragon of K’un-Lun.” 

This left you staring at him blankly before your nose wrinkled. “Yeah. Okay. Shou-Lao is a dragon that lives in a magical city that only shows up every now and again.” 

He raised his fist and you expected maybe he was done playing games and had a mind about him to strike again while he had you in close quarters. But while you took a defensive stance he stayed there. He stood there as his fist started glowing yellow. And then more nonsense came out of him, “I defeated him and took on the powers of the Iron Fist. I was meant to be the protector of K’un-Lun but I wanted to come home.” 

A dragon- Those red eyes- ...was that what you saw…? 

Beeping at the door indicated someone was keying in a code- you knew exactly who and were a little more than grateful to see Tony come in, although less so when you caught the sight of Peter in tow. Danny’s little lightshow came to an immediate halt and Tony very noticeably put himself between you and Danny. “Hey, honey. Pepper said you’d be in here. Didn’t realize you had a… guest.” His distaste for this grizzled man standing in the conference room with you, shirt undone, was on full display. 

Danny gave a small bow. “I’m sorry to invade your home. It’s nice to meet you-” He then looked over your way. “Is this your husband and son?” 

A little heat flashed quick across your face. “This is my fiance and our intern.” 

Peter finally gave you a little wave. “Hey, Mrs. Stark.” ...he still hadn’t stopped calling you that. Maybe because neither you nor Tony really minded or had made a real effort to correct him. 

Tony put a hand on your shoulder and turned you closer towards the door. “Her fiance needs a word with her. Do you mind?” 

Danny crossed his arms, closing himself off. “By all means.” 

It didn’t take much nudging for him to get you out of that room. And once the door was closed- “What’s with Weary Willie in there? Everything okay?” 

“Uh…” This came out a little high pitched as your patience had run dry and your brain was just about all out of juice. “That’s Danny Rand. Supposedly.” 

“Sure it is.” “He’s just gotten back from a magic city in the clouds where he killed a dragon.” 

A noise ejected out of Tony, something between a snort of laughter and a scoff, and he lifted a hand to his chin. “Yeah. Okay- well. You’ve done enough as a concerned citizen. Let’s find out what hospital he wandered out of so a kind nurse can put him back on his meds.” 

It was… extremely hard to say this, especially with Peter looking on. But. “...I think he might be telling the truth.” 

Tony’s brows scrunched right up and his mouth opened, probably with some sharp quip in mind, but he stopped himself. Tried to speak again. Stopped again. Took a breath. And then- “...what?” 

You felt pretty dumb. It was hard standing under Tony’s scrutiny. And unusual. But to be fair to him you really had just said a guy had fallen out of a mystic cloud city after killing a dragon. A little skepticism was more than fair no matter how much he loved you. 

Even Peter couldn’t seem to help himself. “Are you feeling alright, Mrs. Stark?” 

“I’m fine. Thank you.” He was probably asking that because… you were supposed to be smarter than this, probably. But you seemed to be buying this nonsense story- and with no evidence to back it up. ...none that you could say in front of Peter, anyway. “Look- ...whether or not he is telling the truth-” Tony put his hand up. “I want it clear that my vote is that he’s not.” 

“Okay. Noted. But either way- I’m going to give him one of our lawyers. We need a pro bono in our folder anyway.” 

The purse of Tony’s lips made you feel awful. “Is this really a good idea? This will look like Stark Industries is backing this guy’s story- and his fight for the Rand Enterprises throne.” 

...he was making a good point. As always. Maybe you weren’t thinking clearly. This would have been a good time to sleep on all of this and come to a decision tomorrow morning. You took a deep breath in and then let it out. “No you’re- ...you’re right.” Deflated, as you said this. You wanted to wash your hands of this. Give the guy some cash and send him on his way. But it didn’t feel right. Maybe he was Danny Rand. And if you didn’t help him… 

Tony put his hands on your arms, thumbs stroking absently. “Honey-” 

“I’ll get him a good lawyer that’s not on our payroll.” You had to do this. Something was telling you you had to do this. 

It was tough for Tony to trust your judgement on this one. Everything in his better sense was telling him you were getting grifted. But you wouldn’t fall for something like that normally. So what was it that was eating you up about this? ...he’d just have to let go of his feelings about this and trust you. “If you think that’s the right play, I’ll stand by you.” No matter what came of it. 

Your smile was relieved as you leaned up to press it against his cheek. “Thank you.” You gave him a small pat on the chest and then separated yourself from him, holding a finger up to him and Peter. “Give me a minute, I’ll finish this and then come upstairs with you.” Not sure what they needed, exactly, but letting them know they’d soon have your undivided attention. 

Going back into the room, Danny looked up, having reseated himself when you’d stepped up. He was just a touch more desperate than before. Probably realizing his help was slipping through his fingers. “Listen- I don’t mean to inconvenience you- and you’ve been very kind to me-” 

“Danny, I’m going to give you some money. And the name of a very good lawyer. I can’t make any promises that he’ll win your case for you, but it’ll be a start. Go to a hotel. Get a good night’s sleep. Take a shower. Get reoriented. Figure out how to prove you are who you say you are. Then call him in the morning and get to work.” 

He looked at you, considering what you were offering. And then for the first time he smiled, put his right fist against his open left hand and bowed. “I’m grateful, really. Thank you.” Instead of bowing yourself, you offered your hand. He seemed to still remember what that meant, and he gave you a hearty shake. “This is the last time I’ll see you.” Saying it like he knew it was the truth. 

Maybe because he knew his well had run dry here and that he couldn’t ask you for anything more after this. Maybe because he knew you wouldn’t make an effort to seek him out again. 

“For now.” This wasn’t a lie but… there was no reason to tempt fate otherwise. 

                                                            ---

As she disappeared back into that conference room against his better judgement, Tony put a hand on his hip and let out a deep breath. This seemed like a whole lot of trouble. But- 

“Mr. Stark?” 

“Yeah, kid?” Half turning to give Peter the better part of his attention. 

“I mean- that’s a pretty crazy story…” Seemed like the kid was struggling with how to say something like why does she believe him, she’s usually so smart. But there was no kind way to phrase that. And so he just let the sentiment linger. 

“I guess out of everything we’ve seen it may not be the craziest. But… pretty close.” This was a mess. Why was it always her? 

Peter crossed his arms and shuffled a little. “Why does she wanna help him so bad?” 

Tony huffed out a little breath of amusement and shook his head, mirroring Peter while he folded his arms. “Well. You read what they wrote about her the night you two met. Something about a bleeding heart.” 

“Do you think she’s right? About him?” 

“Doesn’t matter what I think, kid.” 

This really seemed to confuse Peter as he looked up at him. “Why’s that?” 

“I trust her.” Making sure this went out into this little world they were creating. But… there was also- “She’s also the boss around here.” 

“Oh.” It only took a few seconds for Peter to grin about this. Pretty obvious. He laughed a little. “Yeah- I guess that’s true, isn’t it?” 

Tony couldn’t help his own little grin. “About the truest thing there is.” 

He just hoped she wasn’t getting herself tangled in yet another mess. ...and if she was, that he could figure a way out of it for her before it got too bad. 

[valiancyvulnerability]

A Reflection and an Apology

I do not know where to begin.

In my attempt to begin, I hope you are doing well and are in a good mental space. “Things” continue to be difficult during this time; it’s frigidly cold, and there are a multiplicity of reasons to not be okay lately, if that is the case for you.

I went MIA for a long while because I foolishly fell into a self-inflicted trap once my mental health seemed to be improving during the fall semester. I had fully convinced myself that I had no other advice to offer, I had no reason to heal thru typing my jumbled thoughts onto a computer screen, and that, my friends, was a mistake I deeply regret.

Once I had become fully adjusted to college life, I was felt truly comfortable and at ease. I involved myself in extra-curriculars, made a handful of friends, and started eating again. I remember telling my therapist at my last appointment before school that I would call her a month into the semester to check in, but I never dialed her number. I ghosted her all of first semester because it felt as if therapy was something for me to temporary utilize when I am not doing well, and I was doing, so what was the point?

A toxic part of my personality is that I choose to believe that I can solve all problems alone. In all aspects of my life, that has always been the case. Give me an issue--and I am quick to get my ass in gear and think of the most reasonable solution to execute. I was not cognizant at the time that this was playing a principal role in how I viewed my own “healing”. I was not relying on anyone else other than Carson to get better, and once I got to a convincing enough spot, I ran with it and gave myself a pat on the back. Gold star. This was all me, and simply because I got results, it seemed healthy at the time.

Once the end of October rolled around, there was a sudden turbulence that didn’t seem to be the result of anything specific. I started to slip with my schoolwork, I engaged in hour-long staring contests with the ceiling, I locked myself in my room all day and took frequent unnecessary naps, and I stopped eating once more. Back at square one. Friends and family reached out, but it all sounded like white noise to me. I have possessed the ability to just push through my entire life, and this just happens to be a rough patch. Call me egotistical, but I was fully absorbed in the idea that the only person that could help me was me.

The rest of first semester was a series of many beautiful ups and many ugly downs. It was definitely a “going through the motions” type of situation. Every thought in my brain was so askew at all times that it disguised itself as a sense of consistency and comfort. I told myself I was excited to go home for break, but I knew the transition was going to absolutely wreck me just as much as it did when I moved in, whether I chose to acknowledge it or not. 

I moved all of my belongings out of my dorm and drove back to my hometown. I drifted from all of my friends from school that were important to me. Once finals were over, I blocked out everything school-related from my brain. I spent my time with my home friends, but was rather inconsistent as a friend to them. I blew up on my family daily, using some of the most explosive and hateful language that I have ever used. The excessive sleep persisted. I texted my therapist to seek medication. She replied that her soonest opening was the morning of my birthday.

My birthday quickly approached on December 22. This was the first year I was home on my actual birthday, just because COVID had tampered with our typical holiday plans. My friends threw a birthday party for me the evening of the 21st, which meant the entire world to me. I knew about it prior, and felt a peculiar dread filling up inside of me as the day lurched forward. Are they doing this because they know I haven’t been doing well and this is just an act of pity? Do they feel like they have to? Do they even want to do it in the first place? I wanted to stay home and sleep as I had been doing all afternoon. Nonetheless, I got myself up, got ready, went and met my friends and had a great time.

On the day of my actual birthday, I woke up and went to therapy. Upon my arrival, I caught her up on what had been going on in a fit of run-on sentences and utter word vomit. She suggested medication and set me up with a psychiatrist to meet with. I knew this was finally a form of relying on someone that is there to help. Although I wasn’t being my own usual rock, it did not feel like defeat. It felt like I was slowly being lifted from underwater. That evening there was a set plan to be with my family and get dinner, have cake, the works. The day continued. to drag, and I hibernated in my room, cocooned in blankets. I finally came downstairs to use the restroom and not two seconds of me being downstairs I got in an argument with my family. In a swift movement, I got dressed, got my keys, and started to leave. I wanted to just drive around aimlessly and pretend I had a different final destination rather than just returning home. On my way out the door my mom expressed that she had tried to make the day special and felt as if she had failed as a parent. 

This was a huge turning point in where I finally stared my own struggle straight in the face, sobbing, right in my own living room as it grinned back at me. I broke down, and the feeling I was experiencing was something like being submersed in a dream that you are conscious in, yet out of control. I felt as if I was choking, I wanted to vomit, but I stood, blubbering and trembling like a frightened chihuahua. Tears spilled down my face in furious waterfalls, and the expression on my face was still as stone.

After gathering myself, I went on my drive as planned, and it was storming. What am I doing? I thought about my therapy session from that morning and recalled telling her that there was not a day where I don’t think about not being alive. It’s rare that I feel like a danger to myself, but I explained that it was more of a sensation that I desired to be in a comatose-like state in a foreign country where I was ultimately unknown, and I wouldn’t be a burden to anyone in my life anymore.

What am I doing? I felt a pull to leave Illinois altogether without warning. Don’t tell your friends or your family, just go. Their lives will continue to move forward as they have and you are doing this in order to no longer be at a halt. Drop out of school. Get a job. Get an apartment, maybe with some plants and a neat rug. Start fresh. Be the genuinely good person you have failed to be for too long. Maybe cut your hair, too.

I have felt this weird pull to be elsewhere since my birthday. I started my antidepressant, Lexapro, right before I moved back into school for second semester. I am having a difficult time making friends. I cry every day. I sleep too much. Truthfully, waking up, getting ready, and making coffee in the morning feels like an immense feat. The psychiatrist told me I would go experience a “blackbox” period for up to six weeks where I would feel alone, exhausted, nauseous, and would potentially be a danger to myself. I have felt all of these things the past few weeks.

Now that I am beginning to scrape the surface of my body being acclimated to the medication, I feel better. Like really, I do! The desire of this “elsewhere” still lingers in the back of my brain, although it has taken on somewhat of a different form. I continue to daydream of this apartment, the plants, the rug--but it is not an attempted escape. In my head, it looks like a potential adventure for healing as opposed to avoidance when life challenges my well-being. 

The biggest lesson I have had to learn (the hard way, unfortunately) from 2020 as a whole and the preceding months is that I need to start taking the initiative to do things for myself. The toll my health has taken has been overwhelming, and I had tricked myself into believing I was “doing what I needed to do” by taking an extra 3-hour nap and locking myself in my room every day.

I have had to cut out things that were no longer serving me. Some were more painful than others, but I couldn’t be apologetic for it anymore. I have had it with waking up every day in a state of complete misery, permitting others to walk on my emotions, hating my body, and the way I was living. In order for me to move in any type of positive direction, I myself had to come first. 

I still have my down days, but my lowest point is behind me now, so I can properly reflect on everything that has happened up to his point. I feel as if I owe you an apology:

If you have been a part of my life in any way, shape, or form in the past year, I am sorry. I have been inconsistent, moody, dishonest, and just a poor quality individual. In order for me to give love to anyone I cross paths with, I had to be able to provide that for myself. Instead of repairing a broken machine, I kept using it until it combusted in the faces of everyone I care about. I wish there was an immediate fix to the problems I created over time, and if there was an instant solution, I would follow it with my entire being.

From this point forward, I want to assure you that I am trying to be better. I want to be there for all of you in the way you have tried to be there for me. I have not been kind to myself, and especially nobody else. If this feels applicable to you, please reach out to me so I can do my best to make amends personally.

With love,

Carson

This is not intended to be a pity trap. I am not seeking that. However, my goal is to normalize the conversation about mental health. The truth is that we all have a brain, and more often than not, we don’t always listen to what it needs. I hope that if you find yours asking something of you, you listen.

As always, stay safe and well. If anyone ever wants to extend the conversation of mental health with me personally, do not hesitate to reach out.