#and yet I never brought it up when asked insomnia related questions I guess

[slightlyreanimatedchaos]

Wow! Learning so much today! Like how I managed to never tell my psychiatrist that I have disabling migraines and chronic pain daily, even though it started after I started seeing her and has been going on for over a year! And I learned what migraine auras were, that I have them, and that it is in fact not how everyone sees light! AND I learned that my depression is worse than I thought (I’ve been dissociating and not checking in with myself)! What a wonderful day of learning 😌✨

[guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom]

No One Lives Forever Not Even God

Peter Parker x bisexual!reader

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Peter Parker x black!reader

Peter Parker x villain!reader 

Warnings: Language, Insomnia, mentions of antidepressants, mentions of drugs, drug use, mentions of addiction, mentions of nazis, parental neglect, mentions of the dead, cemeteries, mentions of meltdowns,  corrupt government, mentions of cancer, low self esteem, self destructive behavior, medical testing, thoughts of murder, mentions of injury, and mentions of knives, 

Word Count: 6.1k

Songs: Mother- Pink Floyd, He Can Only Hold Her- Amy Whinehouse, A Pearl- Mitski, Me and My Husband- Mitski, Saint Bernard- Lincon, Why Didn't You Stop Me?- Mistki, Nuestro Planeta- Kali Uchis, You Know I'm No Good-Amy Whinehouse, and Love Is a Losing Game- Amy Whinehouse.

 "I’ve been in a very poetic mood lately. I think it’s funny how anything could be considered poetry and something you relate too. Like Twitter or any other social media and the ongoing gag of people feeling the need to announce the fact that they’re making moves in silence. But that’s what I’m doing, making moves in silence. If anyone is in my business now I’m politely asking you to remove yourself from it before I make you.”

A/N: I only did one proofread so sorry if there are typos and this is just more of an infodump to set up other chapters so enjoy ig. I almost gonna start another series a social media AU let me know if you'd want to be tagged in either of these series.

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Nightmares come while I’m asleep but, when I’m awake the nightmares of the day just come for me then, so really I’m just stuck. I would like to say the antidepressants are working, it's just the insomnia that comes with them isn't working for me. I’m honestly starting to think mood stabilizers would do me better.

Mother, do you think they'll drop the bomb?

I’m not sure I could blame this all on the pills though. I’d have to give some of the credit to the massive bombshell that a certain ex Avenger had dropped on me. 

It's almost like every five seconds a new giant secret about my mom is unveiled to me. Like sure I saw from the video that she’d left me that she had associations with some bad people like Kingpin but nazis? 

SHIELD had apparently collapsed because it was infiltrated by Hydra but it was prevalent while my mom was still alive. Seems like she had worked for or with everyone who was anyone. I’m just gonna give her the benefit of the doubt and assume she didn’t know because up until two weeks ago I didn’t either. 

Her and Natasha had been recruited at the same time and worked together but for someone who claims to have been so close to her you’d think she’d know that she was dead. “She went off the grid and that was the last I heard from her,” is all she gave me with a smile that even I could tell was fake and I’d just met the woman. 

You know when grown folks come up to you and expect you to remember them because they met you once while you were like in the womb that’s kinda my relationship with Natasha. She knows so much about me and I know absolutely nothing about her save for the fact she's a spy meaning she’d be a great liar. 

She used to babysit me sometimes if I could trust what she says that is. Apparently I called her “Auntie Nat”. For some reason no one ever thought it was a good idea to inform me that I had a godmother. Maybe they did and I just forgot. 

I thought they were supposed to take care of you when something happened to your parents. And the one who’s alive is about as useless as the other. It might be fun to have another person that was considered family. Just maybe not a spy at least I’d know she’d walk out of my life so I won’t get attached. 

Mother, do you think they'll like the song?

“Hey mom,” I sighed sitting down in the light dusting in front of her tombstone. “I know it’s been a while and I’ve got a lot to catch you up on,” 

It took a bit of digging before I found what I was looking for in my bag. I ran my fingers along the cold surface of the small jewelry box. There was puffy white glue holding the larger pieces together. 

I placed the box in the grass sitting next to the tombstone. I removed a purple coiled bracelet and sat it next to the box. 

I tucked my legs under my body admiring the piece of jewelry. 

“I brought you a bracelet,” I spoke. “It’s kinda like a friendship bracelet cause I have the other. I don’t know if I should leave it here in case someone steals it,” I laughed. “You’d have to be a real shitty person to steal from a cemetery though,”

I curse so often I didn’t realize I did it until I had already done it. 

“Ah sorry! Excuse my French,” I chuckled.

“I met Natasha Romanoff and she said she knew you. She said she knew me too. I don’t remember her though…” I trailed off. 

For someone who claimed to have a lot to say I sure was at a loss for words. I just didn’t know how to get any of them out. 

“Oh! You’re not gonna believe me if I tell you but I got to meet some of the Avengers. Most of them were new though. You’d know some of them. Like Captain America I wanted his help but he couldn’t provide it,” 

I had a bit of an episode when I was told no one knew where Thor was. I think it was justified though.

 How the fuck do you lose two Avengers let alone the ones that can’t possibly be hidden. One is green and huge and the other leaves lightning bolts everywhere they go.  

Mother, do you think they'll try to break my balls?

“The other is Natasha but I don’t think I really knew that yet. She went by Black Widow. I’m sure you knew that though. You probably know a lot,” 

I wonder how many secrets she never told me about. I mean I could only imagine all the secrets working for the government would let you in on. Like she probably knew about big stuff like the Tesseract and aliens maybe she could’ve known about that. 

“Okay I have a question. I have a lot actually but I think if you answer them I’m gonna get up and run out of here,” I joked. 

“Number one is my middle name Natalia because of your SHIELD buddy? Like it might just be a coincidence but it could also be a godmother typa situation or something,”

It was a running theory. She would’ve known my mom before I was born. And if what I was told is true they’d be pretty close too and Natasha translates back to Natalia and I know she’s Russian. It makes sense. 

Ooh

Mother, should I build the wall? 

“Uh… there’s this boy,” 

When was there not? It seems like there was always someone in my life. Carmen in therapist mode said it’s because I put my self worth into my relationship status.

 “He’s really nice. Like really really nice. Nicer than anybody I’ve ever been associated with. It’s just he’s like…” I didn't know how to put the next part into words. “He’s just too nice. Too nice for me at least. Like he’s such a good person and I’m just me,” 

“And it’s I feel bad,” I sighed. I was getting myself too worked up over this. “Like I keep playing like a game of tug a war with him where I let him in and kick him out again it’s tiring. I don’t even do it on purpose. I feel like we could be something maybe. But I can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen. It’s a self defense mechanism. At least I think.” 

I do it with everyone. I shut them out before they can get it. The less people you let into your life the less people that can walk out. 

It’s a bulletproof tactic. At least I used to think it was. Never realized people could get hurt including myself. 

“I saw dad,” I informed myself? I guess I’m not sure how healthy it is to have a conversation with someone you know can’t respond and isn't listening. “Like two days ago actually I didn’t say anything I freaked out and ran away. It made me think though,”

Mother, should I run for president?

Made me think about how I’d done so well on my own. Well I’m not gonna take all the credit, most of it was Carmen keeping my ass in line. I haven’t talked to her in a while. I haven’t talked to anyone in a while. 

”I found a small studio apartment in Queens. It was the cheapest one I could find. I’m just renting it like an Airbnb right now. I need to find a permanent place and a job,”

 I couldn’t find a permanent place at my age unless I had full autonomy which leads me to my next topic. 

“So I was thinking about getting emancipated which everything would’ve been a lot easier if you were here then we could just go to court for custody cause you’d win for sure.” 

Mother, should I trust the government?

“I know you never got to know how corrupt SHIELD was but do they like keep tabs on everyone who does anything to them or related to them? Because like I did a little snooping and I know they had files for all the Avengers and other people like Kingpin.” 

I knew I was going to have to do more than sit here and ask a dead person what to do but ranting to someone who couldn’t spill my secrets was a start.

 “I was just wondering how deep it went or if they had hidden stuff on me,” 

Mother, will they put me in the firing line?

It’s probably common knowledge that if you mess with the government they’ll mess back. I’d like to think they were like bees. You leave them alone they’ll leave you alone. Only stinging when provoked. 

But every branch of the government is like a wasp. They don’t die if they sting and they’ll sting you for no reason at all. They just like to see people in pain.

And I’m sure the energy research branch of SHIELD would probably be more than interested in a walking fire bomb that can move things without touching them. 

I mean I’m not going to stop poking things around until I figure out what’s wrong with me. So might as well not complain. 

“So I don’t have many things figured out right now and the whole you and SHIELD thing only confused me more so if you could just like come tell me what to do just this once that’d be great,” I laughed.

 At first I was contemplating if this was weird or not but hearing me say that I now know this is pathetic. It always has been.

Ooh

Is it just a waste of time?

But I didn’t know if I should keep searching. Maybe I should just pretend like I’d never gotten introduced to the world of powers or mutations at all. For all I know Peter, Carmen, Felicia, Wade and I are just normal people who do normal people stuff. 

Sure I wanted answers but I didn’t want to end up like those people who spend their whole life searching for an answer they won’t find any and end up never living at all. 

Like a quote my mom used to say all the time “The brave may not live forever but the cautious do not live at all,” 

She really just used it so she didn’t have to listen to being put on bed rest but it obviously had a deeper meaning and she knew that. 

I keep finding myself stuck on that phrase. That and the whole when the dust settles poem. 

I’ve been in a very poetic mood lately. I think it’s funny how anything could be considered poetry and something you relate too.

 Like Twitter or any other social media and the ongoing gag of people feeling the need to announce the fact that they’re making moves in silence. 

But that’s what I’m doing, making moves in silence. If anyone is in my business now I’m politely asking you to remove yourself from it before I make you. 

“Uh I don’t know if I should even tell you this cause you died before it was even a problem in the first place but…” I blew out a breath digging my feet deeper into the ground.

 “I’ve been clean for like two weeks now. Which is actually a thing I’m pretty proud of right now.” 

I’d stopped using everything except weed, nicotine because those weren’t drugs and even then I used it way less than before. Oh, and my antidepressants too but that’s obviously okay they’re prescribed. 

I hated the word clean made me seem like an addict which I wasn’t. I’m many things but I wasn’t an addict. I just didn’t know of any other words to use. 

I wasn’t an addict but I’d say the lines between recreational use and dependency were blurring just a bit. I had gotten it straight though. I’m good now. The antidepressants are helping. 

Hush now baby, baby, don't you cry

“You have a superpower of just making people feel better immediately. I don’t know if it was the fact you were my mom or what but if you even just put a bandaid on a stab wound it’d probably stop hurting and disappear,” 

I wasn’t even exaggerating there was this one time I got hurt at the zoo and she just kissed it and I forgot about the fact that I even fell. 

I’m not sure how true that is though because I couldn’t actually recall the memory I was just told about it by my mom a few years after it happened. So I guess I remember not remembering then being reminded. Weird. 

“I wanna see the giraffes!” Aaliyah cried, stomping her feet down on the concrete.

This was one of the only times mom didn’t have to work on the weekends and Liyah had to have her way like always. 

“Mom!” I screamed “Tell her you said we could see the lions first,” 

She just sighed. “Well since she’s the youngest do you think you could be nice and let her go first please?” 

“Fine,” I huffed. I wasn’t doing it for Liyah, I was doing it for mom. Even a blind person could see how tired she’d been lately. 

Liyah laughed at me sticking her tongue out. She’s such a brat.

“You’re so dumb.” I rolled my eyes at her.

“I know you are but what am I ?” She teased hitting my shoulder before running away.  

I took off after her. She may have been fast but I knew I could catch up to her. 

I almost had her when my foot got caught on something. It launched me towards the ground and I put my hands down to catch myself but I still hit my knee.

I slid on the concrete scuffing my leg. I didn’t scream because that would make me weak and it didn't hurt that bad. I just bit my lip and stood up. 

I didn’t want to limp but it hurt too much to put pressure on my leg. 

Liyah had beat me back to mom and when I reached them she was already apologizing. 

Fake.

 She was just scared to get in trouble. I wasn’t gonna snitch on her anyways. 

“Let me see it,” Mom asked, grabbing my arm, pulling me to sit down on a stonehenge. 

She reached into her purse and pulled out a first aid kit. She always had everything in her purse. It was kinda like a super power. The black Marry Poppins. 

She wiped the scrape with an alcohol wipe and I just barely hissed. It didn’t even really hurt anymore. 

She placed a bandaid on it, smoothing her hands on top of it before placing a kiss there. 

“There,” She wiped her hands on her thighs before standing up “All better?” 

I nodded my head and we went off to see the giraffes because I’m nice like that.

“In case you were wondering, Aaliyah still always gets her way even now. I’d say she’s got me beat on the manipulation game honestly,” 

It’s fine though I taught her everything she knows not everything I know. I could still get one over on her if needed. 

Mama's gonna make all of your nightmares come true

“I found your pendant, the SHIELD one. Which I guess makes all of this real no matter how much I want it to be fake. I just want this to be a poorly written book where I wake up and the past five years were all a dream,” 

God knows how much I meant that. Well maybe I didn’t mean it too much because some people I’ve met in the past five years are people I don’t think I could survive very long without. Even though I kinda exploded on everyone so maybe I’m gonna have to test my theory on how long I can really survive. 

“Hey Doc,” I greeted pushing up the door of the restaurant. 

“Hey sweetheart, how ya been?” He queried.

“I’ve been better,” 

“I hear ya,” He nodded. 

Once we were in the back of the restaurant aka his office. I pulled out the diamond. Doc knew everything about everyone and anything. He could also make a duplicate of anything you gave him. 

“Whatcha got for me?” He asked, rubbing his hands together. 

“This, I’m not sure what it is,” 

I placed the bird pendant on the desk. I found it in a shoe box filled with my mom's stuff. 

“I was wondering if you knew,” 

He lifted it up to his eye to get a better view, His eyesight so bad that his glasses were practically a magnifying glass. 

“It’s a crest, I don’t think I’ve seen this before it’s most likely from a government branch,” He placed it back down on his messy desk. “I can do some more extensive research for you if you’d like,” 

“Yes, that’d be great,” 

“Stop by again tomorrow and I’ll fill you

I wish I never went back to Doc’s place or found out about flash drive, Vulture, SHIELD, any of it. Just when I thought my life couldn’t get anymore fucked up the devil came out the woodworks and spit in my face. 

Mama's gonna put all of her fears into you

“I remember all that testing they did after I agreed to do whatever Stark needed me to do sooo badly. I still don’t really know what he did- or he’s doing with all that DNA and other stuff he’d gotten from me,” 

Aren’t the Avengers and by default Tony Stark products of SHIELD so wouldn't that mean whoever’s behind all of that could’ve been the one to tell Tony about the fire thing in the first place. 

That had been the main thing about the whole Stark situation that I still couldn’t figure out. Someone needs to tell me how he found out and they better tell me now. 

“There are multiple lacerations 1-2 inches lining the upper and lower abdomen,” The doctor lady announced to her assistant. Before moving her cold hand away from my side pushing my shirt back down. 

Okay that’s chill nothing I haven’t had before. 

“We’re gonna have to do another X-ray is that okay?” Her assistant asked. I wasn’t going to bother to learn their names. I was planning to stay that long anyways. 

What’s the point? They’re just going to come back and say the machine is broken and then do another blood test. 

“Yeah sure,” 

I was led into a much bigger room than the last. There was much more machinery too. 

I was strapped down to a cold blue cushioned table by leather straps. Straps weren’t really necessary, not like I was planning on lashing out and mauling anyone. 

I closed my eyes when the flashes of the machine went off. Apparently I had fractured three of my ribs and bruised my sternum. 

You’d think they’d let me go now but noooo they need more blood and then when they were done drawing blood. 

They had to hook me up to a machine to monitor- I don’t even fucking know what they were monitoring. 

I just know I had all the pads with wires on my temples and chest and everywhere else. It reminded me of that one time I had to do a sleep study. 

Except they didn’t have holographs to read off and fancy probably government funded tech then. They sure as hell didn’t have all this whispering either. Or maybe they did and I was just unconscious.

Still I didn’t even want to actually be here and I was cold for once. 

“How much long do we have here?” I groaned.

“Not much longer. We just have and MRI left,” 

Yeah right. I was gonna be in here for the rest of my life

“I could probably go back there if I wanted answers,” I spoke quietly. 

“But I don’t want the government in my business like that well at least just not more than they probably are already at least and the tests are so invasive,” 

Mama's gonna keep you right here under her wing

That’s not the only invasive thing in my life. Or should I say was in my life? I don’t fucking care really.

 My dad was somehow the strictest and the most lenient person ever. I think he just wanted control.

 I used to blame his alcoholism for everything he did but no really he’s just a shitty person. A shitty person who likes to beat on women and take doors off the hinges. 

“You are so pathetic!” My mom screamed at my dad. 

 They had been at this all night. For so long that I’m seriously contemplating jumping out of this small window right now. 

Sapphire had no qualms sleeping on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. Aaliyah and I however were still wide awake. 

I’m not sure exactly what was going on in her head but I’m assuming we're still up for the same reason. To kill our dad if he even touches our mom. 

I had a kitchen knife in hand as I sat on the bathroom sink. I always had a knife every time my dad started yelling a little too aggressively just in case but this time felt different. Like I was really prepared to stab him this time. 

I didn’t know what it was but something felt off. 

“Are they done?” Aaliyah asked, rubbing her eyes. The apartment had fallen silent. 

“I don’t know. Stay here,” I hopped down off the sink. 

I should’ve known she wasn’t gonna listen to me. The kitchen was empty which means they must’ve moved to their room.  

The next moment was the sort straight out of a family sitcom except the family was falling apart and the kids were going crazy but otherwise it could’ve very well been an “oopsie” misunderstanding moment. Where the younger child asks “Are mommy and daddy getting a divorce?” 

Then the oldest child pulls them into their body and whispers “I dunno kiddo,” or “No they’re just going through a rough patch,” anything like that.

 Except it wasn’t that. That wasn’t what she said and that wasn’t what Aaliyah asked me. 

God how I wish that was what she asked me. 

I have a bad habit of acting before I think. I opened the door opening my mouth to let out the words in my brain. 

“You’re dying? How are you dying?” 

They both turned to look at me like they were just noticing they weren’t alone. 

My mom sighed moving closer to me grabbing my arm. 

“I’m- Im not no ones dying,” 

The door creaked as Aaliyah pushed her way into the room. 

“But you said ‘I need you to step up you need to know how to handle it when I’m dead’,” She paraphrased cleaning out the cuss words. 

“It didn’t mean literally dying right now,” 

Now I could see how this could be us just jumping to conclusions from like two sentences but she had been weird lately. Like she’s always traveled a lot and been secretive but lately she’s been extra secretive. 

And I could tell the secret wasn’t to protect herself so whos to say it wasn’t the fact she was currently dying. It actually makes perfect sense. 

I’m starting to wish I wasn’t always right. Stage 4 Lymphoma. Basically we should go coffin shopping pretty soon. 

If only she wasn’t so selfish and would get treatment for it. She couldn’t leave me here by myself. Who’s gonna take care of us if she dies.

 I’d thought about it before and I decided I’d take on the role of caregiver for my sisters but then it was only a what if situation. 

Wade has cancer and he’s not dead but that’s only because he got pumped with like super drugs shit. 

Now I just needed to find some super drugs and figure out how to get her to take them. 

Fuck Cancer and fuck my dad. Why couldn’t he have gotten the diagnosis instead of my mom. A life for a life type beat. 

I guess that wouldn’t have made for a good tragic backstory would it. And what fun is life without a tragic backstory.

 My only question is when does the backstory end and when does the actual plot begin because clearly I’m not there yet. It’s only tragedy after tragedy.

 Maybe that is my story, just pain and suffering. Someone has to be the butt of the joke. 

She won't let you fly but she might let you sing

“You always told me to surround myself with people who you could block out the rest of the world with. Peter’s like that so was Olivia she was one of those people for me. When we weren’t yelling at each other or crying, I mean. Still wish you could’ve met her though,” 

“AH YES!” I exclaimed, pumping my fist. “I found it,” I waved the joint in the air. 

“Alright come sit down then,” Olivia laughed, patting the seat on the couch next to her. 

“Shit,” I muttered. “Where’s the lighter?” 

She just laughed at me again. Before reaching into my pocket and slipping it out. I couldn’t help but smile at how intimate that action felt for no reason at all. 

I quickly and lightly pressed my lips to hers muttering a quick “thank you,” 

About three minutes had passed and I could feel the weed taking course through my system. 

My head was in her lap until I abruptly shot up gasping at the beginning of Super Rich Kids by Frank Ocean. 

“Dance with me,” I pleaded it didn’t take much convincing because here we were twirling around. Although it was much more giggling than dancing. 

I bumped my leg on the glass coffee table and immediately apologized making Liv and I laugh so hard I almost peed my pants.

I was laid out on the soft white fur rug with Olivia laying her chin on my chest. I ran my hands through her hair. 

It was actually very easy there were no knots my fingers just glided smoothly through. 

“I mean shit,” I breathed “I know I can’t run from the rest of the world forever but until then? Bitch you can call me Flash cause I’m zoomin’.” 

She giggled at that before speaking up.

“You don’t have to run you can just stay here with me forever,” 

Her words were so genuine it made me want to cry. She basically just said “I love you” in more or less words. 

“You know what? I think I might,” 

She gave me a tired smile, turning her head to place a kiss on the top of my breast. 

I smiled back at her and how adorable she looked right now. I just want to kiss her for the rest of forever. 

When I glanced back down at her I could hear her breathing slow and her eyes had fluttered shut. She was asleep. 

I felt all warm and fuzzy and at peace and I couldn’t tell if it was the weed or if it was just being in Olivia’s presence. 

I wasn’t ready to say these words to her when she was conscious yet maybe I’d never be ready but I’d say them now. Just to get them off my chest. 

“I love you,” I whispered. 

I never really felt comfortable saying that to anyone. Probably a result of not hearing it enough as a child or something. My family’s never been affectionate anyway. That’s fine because I wasn’t my family, I was my own person. 

Stroking her hair gently before drifting off to the land of dreams myself.

So much for forever huh? 

It’s funny to think how I took times like that for granted if only I knew those were some of the only moments of normalcy I’d get for a while. I’d spent too much time thinking about what could’ve been with almost everything. 

So much so that I didn’t take much time to actually be. Now I feel like I’ve made it to the point of no return. Not mentally but like with everyone else around me. I think I pushed people too far away this time. Not so sure I could get them back. 

“Uh I can't really remember what I’ve already told you so I’ll run through it all. This vigilante or superhero Spiderman started doing his thing then I got caught up in his mess.” That was most definitely an oversimplification but what do I look like telling my mom I was a well known thief. “Then his relation to Tony Stark got extended to me so now I kinda do stuff for him but I don’t work for him.” 

I don't work for him he might think I do, but in reality he works for me. I had almost everyone at the compound wrapped around my finger. 

“I don’t think I really wanna work for anyone. I was offered to be an Avenger in training but that isn’t really my style. I will use his gym though.” I rambled on. 

It was kinda weird how easy it was to rant to my mom like this because not like she could voice her opinions about anything. I guess I hadn’t visited in so long that I forgot what it was like. 

Mama's gonna keep baby cosy and warm

“Oh!” I exclaimed remembering a very important factor that I left out. “Then we have the whole Staten Island fiasco that I told you about. I remember telling you that. I’m still searching for answers on how I did that too,” 

Like some real answers not that radiation BS.

“Your phone’s broken,” I pointed out the cracked screen sitting on the wood. 

“Oh shit!” Peter cried “May’s gonna kill me this is the second phone I’ve broken this month,” 

I came off way calmer than I was feeling. I’m surprised I wasn’t running around screaming right about now. I was probably just paralyzed in fear. 

How do you react in a situation like this in the first place. 

“Okay how long are we going to be sitting here? What are we waiting on?” We’d be up here looking down at the fire crackling underneath the pier for like 15 minutes now. 

“I don’t know actually,” He sighed. 

“Uh…” 

How was I supposed to respond to that? That was the driest response to anything in the history of the world.

 “Well since I’ve already pinky promised I won’t spill your secret can I ask some questions while we wait for you to figure it out?” 

“Sure, go ahead,” He nodded, shaking his arms. 

“Okay number one did you think I had died or something because if someone burst into flames in front of me I’d probably think Satan was coming for me. I’d cry too,” I laughed but had to stop myself as the stabbing in my ribs ran through me. 

“No, I didn’t think you were dead, you had a pulse,” He pointed out “Maybe I could’ve thought you were dying though. And I wasn’t crying,” 

Liar. He so was crying. 

“Aw you don’t have to lie I think it’s cute,” I teased if I didn’t feel like my body was falling apart I might’ve poked his side.

“Alright, second question: do the webs like come out of you? Cause that’s kinda disgusting,” 

“No, I make them with chemicals ‘n stuff. I’d explain the science to you but I’m not sure how much you’d care.” 

I let out a small laugh knowing what feeling would come if I laughed too hard. 

“I mean you could explain it ‘m just not sure how much of it I’d understand,” 

We both laughed at that. 

“On the topic of the webs what’s there integrity like how well do they hold up or like how long,” 

“Uh…” He blew out a breath running his hands over his face “As far as I know they last up to two hours. That is unless someone cuts them or something,” 

I couldn’t help but wonder if Thorn was one of those someone’s to cut the webs maybe I was the only someone. I didn’t really need to ask the question. Aaron had already answered the question for me when he told me about the deal at the ferry. I just wanted to see what Peter would tell me honestly. 

I spent the rest of the night asking questions and cracking jokes. I was talking for so long I didn’t realize how late it’s gotten. 

It should be a world record how fast I managed to fuck up 5 friendships. Well it’s my personal best at least. Only took like 4 minutes. 

I feel like that’s all I do is just fuck up everything. I used to believe there was a difference between being fucked up and being a fuckup but the older I get the more I realize that there isn’t. 

It’s like someone built a self destruct button in my head and every time something good happens to me I feel the need to run away. 

Like Peter he’s literally perfect he's smart, respectful,  adorable, and selfless. He’s literally a fucking superhero for godsake. 

I was trying so hard not to fall asleep. I really was but all the Trigonometry chapter was doing was mixing with the sound of rain outside and triggering the urge to fall into a deep sleep. 

“Okay,” Peter tapped his textbook with his pen. I wish I could be confident enough to do math with a pen. 

“So sin is equal to the opposite of whatever angle you’re trying to find so first you have too…” 

He droned on, I knew he was talking about the math problem lying on the bed in front of me but I wasn’t listening. Maybe if I sat at the desk I could actually be paying attention right now. 

“Y/N?” 

“Hmm?” I sat up on my elbows yawning.

“Are you tired?” 

I just hummed again. Until I realized what the question was. I reached for my phone and it was already 9:03 that woke me up for sure.

“Oh shit! I gotta get back,” 

Not like I’d get in trouble or anything but Carmen would get on my ass about the fact I didn’t come back when I said I would then she’d make something out of nothing. 

I scrambled around trying to find all my things to put them back in my bag.

“Wait it’s raining though,” Peter pointed out.

“Yeah,” I chuckled “It’s New York it’s always raining,” 

“Yeah but it’s cold and wet and dark so if you tried to skate you’d probably get hurt,” 

I knew what he was doing and it was working because frankly all his excuses were shit because one I don’t get cold and two I could just walk and there are lights everywhere but I was gonna stay anyway. I was too tired to argue right now. 

“May!” Peter shouted.

“Yes?” She called back. 

“Can Y/N stay for the night?” 

“Yeah if her parents are okay with it,” 

That’s how I ended up wearing some shirt with some dumb science pun sitting on the couch watching Aladdin for like the millionth time ever. I was singing along to One jump ahead  when I felt eyes on me. 

I turned my head but before I could make eye contact with Peter he acted as if he was watching the movie the whole time.

“What?” I giggled. Fuck, I hadn’t like genuinely giggled in the longest time.

“Nothing,” He replied, turning back towards the TV again. 

This time I was the one to stare at him wondering what was going on in his head. Not even the fourth song in and I was already yawning struggling to keep my head up.

 This goes to show how much willpower I had because I couldn’t even stop my eyelids from falling shut. I deserved to sleep though I’d been exhausted lately. 

There’s only like 6 people on this planet that I trust enough to fall asleep around and surprisingly Peter had become one with like 5 months of knowing me.

 I would still trust him if given the chance I’m just not sure how much he trusts me right now. I understand though. I don’t deserve anyone’s trust. 

Taglist: 

@tomdiddlyumptious​

[bornofbloodandwater]

Pros and Cons of Dating my Muse

Name: Xiomara Aurelius Athanas

Race: Siren / Greek

Sexuality: Bisexual Biromantic (but uh...well you’ll see)

-List all the Pros and Cons of a relationship with your Muse below-

XIO IS DATING YOUR MUSE BUT IT IS MY GOBLIN CHILD AND SHE LOVES NOBODY UNTIL SHE’S BASICALLY MARRIED TO THEM. DO NOT ENTER EXPECTING REALLY ENCOURAGING PROS, THIS WAS HARDER THAN IT LOOKS TO COME UP WITH GOOD REASONS TO DATE XIOMARA.

Pros

1. Thoughtful of your emotions and needs, Xiomara can be very attentive. Paying extremely close attention to what makes you shine for her. Ignoring the fact that this is because she is being her temptress self, she gets joy out of creating such wonderful highs for others. You’ll feel like you are on a pedestal being lavished by a Goddess, but are you there because she wants you? Or because she wants to revel in her power over something beautiful? (If she truly cares about you she’ll let you read what SHE needs and let you see her in true moments of joy and pain.) 

2. Xiomara is a fairly peaceful person in her downtime and very comforting to be around! If you’re permitted to be around her when she’s at home (which, her lengthier flings are) you’ll find a very serene life. Breakfast in the warming morning sun with a book in hand, trips to markets to sell what she grows in her gardens, yoga, naps, making bread and pastries, all between her adoring you, embracing you, pleasing you.

3. Extremely loyal, she’ll stand for you against anything. No stranger to slinging a cheeky quip at creeps any more than she is to tearing them apart, and she’ll do it all for you. Her loyalty extends even to more arbitrary relationships, while you’re around at least. If you have her undying loyalty even after an absence, you’re something special, she’s not forgotten you, she cares.

4. Xio wants to bring you around the world with her, take you on adventures, treat you to the best experiences life has to offer. She likes to keep those she enjoys the company of very close. So if you’ve ever wanted to see the world in all its glory for free, you’ve landed the right Murderous Sea Idiot.

5. Large breasts. That is all. (Yes I am struggling more with Pros than I am with Cons.) As a serious answer, she’s not quick to panic, she is level-headed, intuitive, discerning. If you are panicked or afraid or stressed about something she’ll come up with solutions to help with calm words and a controlled manner. It is very soothing if you find yourself in trouble fairly often or are an anxious person!

6. Xio is an unbelievably good cook and she WANTS to cook for you. There is no sense of obligation in her offering to treat you to anything you want. In fact, if she really cares about you (everything she does has a little bit of backwardness to it) she’ll make you whatever SHE wants. It is a sign that she isn’t trying to charm you, she’s not putting on the show and the flash to distract you from who she is.

7. Due to the society in which Xiomara was raised, she is extremely open-minded. She won’t be phased by any expression of gender, identity, preferences, any combination or presentation of any of those facets. You are a person to her in the end, she wants your experience, your energy, your desires. She wants to see you happy and thriving. She’s far weirder than most and loves embracing everything that makes someone just a little different. If she’s unfamiliar or wants more clarity she will ask if it is alright to ask questions and respect any answer you give her. Some mystery is certainly not the worst, in fact, she respects secrets and the unexplained. After all, she has many secrets herself. Yes, this open mind does extend to kinks 👀

(Her questions would mostly be boundary related, can’t see her being surprised or unaware of expressions of identity.)

8. This is for the dominants, because LUCKY YOU you’ve just stumbled across the subbiest creature in the universe. She is obedient, passionate, insatiable and an absolute tease. You’re also the more likely group to actually get her to enjoy your company as more than just a fling. In the end, Xio needs the control and the care, the relationship dynamics that typically come with a dominant partner.

Much like a tiger doing tricks, if she senses weakness she WILL take over or cease to follow your instruction. Power-bottom? Or situational switch? That depends quite how spectacularly you fail to take control. 

9. So, you’re a bit of a brat! Or very specifically, an over-confident man/masc who won’t shut his mouth unless she chokes him? Hope your aim was to be brought to tears being edged out of your mind because Xio’s a total soft-dom. She’s not going to give you tons of bruises or make you sleep on the floor, no, Xio is going to tell you to be good for her, keep your hands behind your back, make as much noise for her as you want while she brings you to the edge over and over. 

However, she isn’t someone who seeks a relationship in which she is in constant control. You’re less likely to have her become truly attached if you take a more subservient role outside of the bedroom.

10. Xiomara believes in soulmates. Even though I don’t write them as being real, she just believes in them. These are the possible pros of her belief. If your muse understands Xio and SEES her? Theres a high chance (seeing as they’re dating in this scenario) she’ll start to view you as The One. You have to know her for everything she is and for most people that will stop at trying to understand her cruelty, her prolonged suffering, her difficulty accepting love.

Bonus 11. So, you’re a bit of a monsterfucker ay? Even just a little bit? You can always go swimming with your hot sea-demon girlfriend, just a thought. Let her tease you endlessly about being a terrible swimmer, wrap her tail around you like a constrictor and cover you in kisses and bites. Y’know if you’re into that (we all know we are).

Cons

1. She doesn’t love you. It is nothing personal, but she needs full and complete acceptance and understanding. Usually in the form of someone who celebrates her, all of her, even her cruelty. That is quite a lot to ask of anyone; to love a monster. Something I will not diminish for her. 

2. She kills people for money. I feel like that is a Con in most cases. Coming home covered in someone’s blood, probably leaving the bathroom splattered with red, occasionally returning to you half-dead and climbing into bed in that state. One might say that could be just a little traumatising.

3. Speaking of blood. You wanna deal with non-verbal BLOODLUST Xio? Because I sure don’t. Unable to communicate with you when she storms into her home hopped up on murder-adrenaline. Terrifying and with the ever-present possibility of killing you if you’re not very close with her? Having to calm her down? Being threatened by someone who softly kisses you awake? I don’t wish that emotional whiplash on anyone.

4. She’s stubborn as all hell. If she truly wants/needs something and you try to stand in her way you are as disposable as off-meat. She is not giving up. She has a long life to live, and no intentions of wasting it pandering to the concerns and morals of others. She’ll only be told no for so long before she moves on. (Just to clarify this is not about her wanting things from your muse this is about her wanting things in life or needing to do things and your muse disliking/attempting to stop her in any way)

5.  She may have big boobs but that’s...kinda where the softness stops. Very bony, muscular, very little fat, not that much fun to cuddle unless your ideal cuddle partner is a tiny, bony, serpentine lady who screams in the night... speaking of-

6. NIGHT TERRORS. Oh yeah, enjoy that on a regular basis. Xio’s insomnia is your insomnia now! Hope you’re a heavy sleeper, but even then, occasionally being woken with a hand around your neck can’t be good for your nerves. The possible exception to this Con being the premonition-like nature of her sister’s appearances in her life, if Xio feels like she’s doing something very right (like being with you) they’ll die down. Xio can’t discern whether this is just reduced stress and having a confidant, or if her sister is watching over her and giving her insights on how to best live her life. She tends to lean toward the latter, so yet another Con for you is that she might toss you to the kerb if those nightmares get worse. Don’t you just love bonus Cons...

7. Xio can be a bit of a hypocrite. She can dish it out but she can’t take it. She will excitedly enter into volleying little quips, insults, banter, sarcasm, but as soon as she’s sat across from someone who can throw it right back she can get frustrated quite quickly. Xio knows full and well she doesn’t deal with her problems how she should, she doesn’t need to be told so.

8. Not sure if this is a Pro or a Con to be quite honest but Xiomara, and Sirens in general, are not very fertile outside of their own race. If your muse wants kids there will be considerable difficulty there. Xio doesn’t actually ever consider having children but might consider it if she had another long-lived partner. However, secret pro if your muse doesn’t want kids, I guess!

9. Xio will keep things carnal for the most part. She can be whisking you off around the world, treating you to beautiful things and making you feel comforted and cared for, but all she is able to pursue is sex. It keeps her participation in these relationships shallow. It is only in the back of her mind that she seeks love, however, she isn’t actually certain as to how that is displayed or what it means to her because she has never let someone love her.

10. Xiomara believes in soulmates. Which means if you aren’t everything you’re nothing. Something fun to toy with while she waits for the real deal. Bless you if you tell her you love her, you’ll get a flat, disinterested stare in response with maybe an “I’m sorry to hear that.” or “How unfortunate.” It is something that will end her relationship with you, especially if she knows you aren’t the one. While it is a mercy that she will not lie to you or lead you on, it is cruel that she lets people get so close to her when she is so removed.

Bonus 11. If this bitch falls in love with you you’re locked in. You’re basically married. She’s immortal and chaotic and would probably kill you if you tried to abandon her...proceed courting her with extreme caution.

Tagged by: @magioffire

I want you to know there is no pressure this took me three days to complete. ‘Tis a long one. Tagging: @derobergeist (you know who we all want to seeeee, give us the Stabby Doctor), @suresaint, @mettleborn (give me Igorrr), @sunbentsky (Oles or Villen?), @fourmarksmage

[nev3rfound]

bringing you together : b.b

brief summary: being in military therapy sessions due to injuries from war and suffering with ptsd you become friends with sam. whilst there, he meets your therapy dog and learns more about you. the more he gets to know you, the more he thinks how well you’d get on with bucky.

word count: 2.3k requested: yes, by @tearsforhan girl i love this idea so much (changed a few details, but I hope you like the outcome) warnings: mention of ptsd, war, violence (but it is fluffy I promise)

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it isn’t me. all rights reserved. - thank you to everyone who helped regarding the wattpad situation, you’re all amazing)

* masterlistin’

* commissions

** permanent taglist **

Walking into the building, you keep Wilfred by your side. He walks when you walk, stops when you do and comforts you when you need it most. You never had a dog like Wilfred in your life, but that being said, you never needed one like him until now. 

“Morning, Y/n,” The receptionist, Marcus smiles and you smile back, pausing as he stands up and walks over holding the same glass jar he always approaches Wilfred will. “and Wilf, of course.” He chuckles, watching as Wilfred sits and accepts the treat. 

“Is everyone in yet?” You question as you look down the long corridor, wandering how many have wandered in already, had a chance to talk and explain why they’re here. 

Marcus shakes his head. “Not everyone, a few regulars have gone away for a few days on a retreat.” He explains and you raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, something to do with helping themselves by being away from everything.” 

You let out a soft sigh. “I wish.” You mumble before heading down the corridor, Wilfred by your side as you tense up. A small lick crosses the back of your hand, and you smile down to your golden retriever. You tickle his head with a soft smile. “Good boy.” 

Pushing open the double doors, Wilfred speeds up to avoid his fluffy tail catching. You look around at the large room dotted with chairs. Most are neatly arranged in a circle, but recently they’ve been trying to make it more social and less confrontational. 

Immediately, you find him sat down staring at a jigsaw puzzle. His brows are furrowed together, and his head is resting in his hand. “You seriously struggling with a 200 piece jigsaw?” You chuckle, taking the seat opposite him.

Slowly, Sam lifts his head up and flashes you a smile. “It’s complex.” He mumbles, trying to hide his irritation at the Lady & The Tramp puzzle. “All I’m trying to find is Lady’s eyes, and I swear they aren’t here.” He sighs deeply and watches you scan the area. 

You reach out, placing the piece into place and raise an eyebrow to Sam. “And here I thought your speciality was being observant.” You joke and Sam fake laughs.

“Funny, Y/l/n.” He comments before abandoning the puzzle and rises to his feet. “How was yesterday?” 

Biting on your tongue, you try to hold back the need to cry. You came here for help, not to be thrown backwards. In the time Sam has known you, become your friend he knew it all. Both of you lived through similar experiences, you had lost, been defeated and thrown to the ground with nothing to come back from. 

When you came home, you were plagued with nightmares which lead to insomnia. The person you became wasn’t who you were, instead, she was someone you were deeply afraid of knowing and forced yourself to hideaway. 

Then you met Sam at your second session. He was kind, and he could recognise the resistance in you. How you were holding your arms around your body, wearing baggy clothing to hideaway. It was obvious signs, that, and the way you flinched at the slightest of sounds. 

Zoning back in, Sam patiently waits. It was something he realised he had to do with you, have a level of patience to wait for you to return to the room from your thoughts. “It went okay.” You truthfully admit. “Could’ve been worse, but they say Wilfred is making it easier.” You lower your head, smiling down to your dog who wags his tail. 

“I can definitely tell he helps,” Sam speaks up, seeing the dog sit by your side, leaning against your leg. “you seem calmer.” 

“I don’t feel it.” You laugh lightly, cracking a smile to your friend as you hear the doors opening and the presence in the room changing. 

“Showtime.” Sam mutters and you follow him, taking a seat in the circle as Tom takes the seat in the front, holding the same book before he clears his throat.

You often zone out from Tom when he talks about his feelings, why everyone is here together for today's session. You all have similar stories. All military serviceman with hardships and suffering from mental health issues post service. 

Sometimes you listen to the odd story, those who suffer from phantom limb pain, PTSD like yourself or severe anxiety. Everyone can relate, and many often input their suggestions such as medication, smoking, alcohol or exercise. As someone who tried all of these, you wish you could speak up and advise none of them. 

The session carries on as it always does. As it comes to an end, you’re often met with sunken faces offering coffee or biscuits. At this point, you and Sam both decline the offer of terrible coffee and wander down the road to a small cafe. 

“You didn’t feel like sharing today?” Sam questions as he sips his drink across from you, watching as your fingertip swirls around the latte glass. 

Lifting your eyes up, you shake your head. “Nothing to share.” You mutter and hear Sam sigh. “What? Like I’m going to tell them all about visiting my old base yesterday. That wouldn’t help.” You comment before picking the glass up and sipping at the foam. 

Sam leans forward. “Do you talk to anyone else about anything?” He questions and you raise an eyebrow to him. “Any other friends?” 

Slowly, you shake your head. “All my friends are gone.” You painfully remind yourself. “Just me and Wilfred now.” You glance down at your dog who lies by your feet, fast asleep. “Not much I can do to change that, and as I’m told, I am one of the lucky ones.” Even if you don’t feel it. 

The two of you sit in silence, listening to the faint tune play on the radio as you hear the coffee machine whirring. Here, you felt comfortable as you knew all the sounds. There wasn’t anything to surprise or trigger you in any way, it all was known and knowing brought comfort and ensured safety at all times. 

*

Another day had passed by, and you were back in the bleak building. It didn’t do anything to help itself or look anyway appealing to someone new. To you, it was part of your newly adapted routine. Go to therapy, cry after therapy with Wilfred and try and avoid another panic attack. 

It wasn’t the best routine, but it was all you could do for now.

Except, when you pushed the doors open with Wilfred by your side, you noticed your seat opposite Sam was occupied. 

Wandering over, you smiled to yourself as Wilfred paused. “Well if this is what being replaced feels like, I can’t say I’m a fan.” You speak up, and Sam lifts his head up and smiles to you.

The person in your seat rises to his feet, long dark brown hair covers his neck before he turns to face you. Bright blue eyes lock with yours as he clears his throat. “Sorry, I’m Bucky.” He speaks quietly to you, holding out a hand you notice is entirely metal. 

Thinking nothing of it, you accept the handshake. You’ve met hundreds of people since you left the service, all with limbs made of differing material. But what you do notice is how the design varies from those you’ve previously seen made of metal, this looks high tech. 

“I was just joking,” You apologise. “I’m Y/n. Take it you’re a friend of Sams?” 

Bucky nods to you, looking down to see Wilfred wagging his tail at him. “And who’s this?” He asks, holding his flesh hand out as Wilfred sniffs it, ensuring he’s alright to greet.

“This is Wilfred. He’s my therapy dog.” You explain, motioning it’s okay for Bucky to meet him. “He won’t bite, kinda the opposite of his job.” You chuckle, and Sam can see you being less tense for the first time in weeks. 

Kneeling in front of him, Bucky tickles Wilfred underneath his chin. You watch with a gentle smile before glancing over at Sam who sends you a knowing look. “What?” You question to Sam who simply shrugs his shoulders.

“Nothing, guess I forgot what that smile looked like.” He joked with you as Bucky stood back up, brushing some of the golden fur from his black jacket. “Anyway, we better get a seat.” Sam states and turns to face you.

Tucking his hair behind his ear, Bucky holds his arm out. “You joinin’ us, doll?” He questions and you suddenly feel taken aback by his confidence. 

It’s been over a year since someone’s tried to flirt with you, but you can’t say you mind the treatment at all. “Don’t mind if I do.” You respond, accepting his arm as you take a seat between him and Sam. 

Tom takes his seat with a heavy exhale, something he has a habit of doing. You have a sense he’s a bit of an alcoholic, you know the signs and he definitely ticks most of the boxes. 

You sit back, resting your hands on your lap as Wilfred lies by your side, sat between you and Bucky. 

“I can see a few new faces today amongst ones we know.” Tom speaks up, looking around and pauses on Bucky. “You don’t have to introduce yourself, but it’s always a welcoming way to begin the session. 

Bucky clears his throat before he hesitantly stands up. “Name’s Bucky. I was a soldier, special operations.” He states, leaving out certain details that are almost impossible to fathom. 

He sits back down, and you look over to him with a small smile. His physique definitely matched special operations, and it would explain his arm with ease. 

A few more people stand up and share stories during the session, but all you can think about is the urge to walk out and leave as the adrenaline in your body starts pulsing. 

“And what about you, Y/n?” Hearing your name being mentioned, you lift your head up as Wilfred nudges his head on your leg. 

Tom wears a soft smile to you, the sort that felt overbearing. Everyone else was looking at you, watching you shift uncomfortably in your seat. “Well, I’m doing okay.” You admit, knowing the term of what is okay is variable. What feels okay to you could be torture for another. 

“That’s good, how has therapy helped you so far. We know it has been over a year since you left due to your team being injured on a mission.” Tom eloquently describes and you feel Wilfred slip under your arm as you stroke him. 

“That’s one way of putting it.” You mutter under your breath. “Well, since my team got blown up and I was the sole survivor, I can’t say it was all breezy.” You can feel the sarcasm creeping into your voice, and Sam muttering your name. “No, it’s fine.” You turn to face Sam. “This is what we’re all here for, right? To talk about it in a group, openly speak about what shit we went through.” Your voice becomes louder. “And I suffer from nightmares. I struggle to go outside in the city because every time I hear a car beep its horn I fear it’s going to be another bomb.” 

Your words hang in the air, no one speaks. 

“I, I’m sorry.” You sigh before you stand up and glance to Bucky who keeps his head down as you walk out of the room.

The doors close behind you, and you can feel your chest tightening as you slide down the wall, clutching your head between your legs as Wilfred runs off. 

You silently sob into your chest when you feel a pair of arms rest on your knees. Lifting your head up your met with those blue eyes. He remains silent but simply sits beside you letting you know if you need it, he is there for you. 

Wilfred sits on your other side as your hand remains on his fur, stroking it soothingly as tears continue to stream down your face. “I know, it’s not easy.” Bucky speaks up quietly, having learnt it’s best to keep your voice down for comfort. “And the idea of it getting any easier seems like a joke,” 

You let out a short laugh. “You’re telling me.” You mutter to him, glancing over and see how close he is, his arm now resting around you.

“But talking about it can make a difference, just let your barriers down, doll.” Bucky encourages and you shake your head.

“It’s not that easy to do you know.” You look up to him with cold eyes. “If I could flip a switch that didn’t make me feel like shit I would. If I could forget everything I, I think I’d give it a go.” Tears spill down your eyes and roll from your cheeks. You forcefully wipe them away with an aggravated sigh.

“No one ever said it would be.” Bucky tells you, something you’ve been informed countless times. But the way he says it is different, it’s on a more personal level. “I, I lost everyone I knew and myself when I was serving.” Bucky clears his throat.

You glance up at him, seeing the sadness radiating in his eyes. “I’m sorry.” You mutter to him and he nods. 

“Took me what feels like five decades to learn and accept it.” He tells you, watching as you shuffle closer into him. “We don’t accept it and carry on, Y/n,” Bucky mutters. “we learn to live with it, in whatever way we can.” 

He reaches over, wiping away a tear that falls as you rest your head on his shoulder, Wilfred moves to lie beside Bucky and you remain sat like that until you feel calm.

Unaware of the sight, Sam opens the doors quietly and looks down to see the three of you curled up together. He smiles to himself, thankful that Bucky decided to come after all. That maybe, just maybe you can help one another put the pieces back together. 

[sojourner-between-worlds]

Burn the Ships, Chapter Seven

A/N: Sorry for the delay; holidays are rough for me, so I didn’t even start writing this chapter until New Year’s Eve. XP

As a disclaimer, I know pretty much nothing about how the foster system works, but I just go back to Danny’s very true words to Lou: “He always gets what he wants.” I have no doubt that would also be true here. :P

Also, shout out to SilverLightRaita and their fic Crashing and Saving on AO3 because that was 100% the fic that opened my eyes to the possibilities. So if you liked this and want more after this concludes next chapter, be sure to check it out!

. . . . .

Chapter Seven

“Hey, Danny. I don’t think we’re going to make it tonight after all.”

Alex couldn’t help but eavesdrop from where he lay on the sofa, guilt settling in his gut. Commander McGarrett had been upstairs for a while, but now it sounded like he was out in the kitchen. He didn’t remember hearing the man come down, so he must have dozed off; Alex wished he could actually fall asleep like he longed to do.

“Yeah, he’s asleep on the couch. Can’t really blame him for crashing; it’s been quite a day.”

He had no idea how long he’d been laying there, but it had been long enough, apparently. The numbing agent they’d given him while getting stitched up had worn off, leaving behind a dull, burning ache. It didn’t really hurt, per se, but it was uncomfortable.

“It wasn’t hard. I just told them he’s a witness in a case and offered to keep him in protective custody. It’s Christmas Eve -- you really think they’d argue? Someone’s gonna swing by on the twenty-sixth, but with any luck…”

Alex frowned. McGarrett had said he wasn’t going to abandon him, but now that Alex thought about it, he didn’t actually know what that was going to look like. The future had never seemed so uncertain.

“Yeah, we’ll try to swing by sometime tomorrow, but I can’t make any promises. I’d better let you go, though -- get back to the party. Wish everyone a merry Christmas for me.”

The guilt swirling in his gut rose in his throat at the realization that McGarrett was missing out because of him. Would he ever stop ruining people’s lives by simply existing?

The couch cushion dipped near his hip, and a moment later calloused but gentle fingers combed through his hair. He couldn’t help but lean into it a little.

“Hey, buddy. Food’s ready. Think you can wake up long enough to eat?”

Instead of answering, and without bothering to open his eyes, Alex murmured, “‘m sorry.”

“What for?”

“You’re missing the party because of me.”

A soft laugh. “Yeah, well… I know I said this morning that this is an annual thing, but the truth is, it’s really not. We plan it every year, but you’d be surprised how many times we’ve ended up working so it just didn’t happen. And that’s okay. Sometimes other things are more important -- like the teenager asleep on your couch after getting shot. You know, the usual.”

Alex finally cracked his eyes open to find that the only light in the room now was what streamed out of the kitchen. But even in the dim light, he could tell McGarrett was smiling. He huffed, sparing a grin of his own. “Yeah, I’m sure today was a totally normal day at the office.”

“You might be surprised. Crazy things happen a lot around here.” McGarrett stood up. “So anyway, I’ve got homemade pizza out in the kitchen. What do you say we get some before it gets cold and put on a movie or something?”

Alex nodded as he pushed himself up with his good arm; even keeping his weight on his right, he couldn’t help but wince at the unwelcome pressure on his left. “Okay.”

Commander McGarrett’s smile turned sympathetic. “And maybe get you something for your arm.”

Now that he was sitting up, the injury was throbbing a good bit more than it had been. “Yeah, that definitely sounds good, too. Thank you.”

For everything, he wanted to add, but judging by the look on the commander’s face, he already knew. . . .

Steve was pulled from his slumber by the incessant vibrating of his phone against a hard surface, and he couldn’t help but pray to every known deity that it wasn’t work-related. Eyes still closed, he fumbled around the top of the table beside him and finally picked up the device just as it went to voicemail.

Peeling back his eyelids, he discovered he was still in the living room, late morning sunlight streaming through the windows, with his feet kicked up on the coffee table and one teenaged boy curled up under his arm, face smushed into his hip bone.

That cannot be comfortable, he thought as he brought his phone to life.

One missed call -- Danny Williams

No doubt wondering if they were coming over since a glance at the time told Steve it was after nine already. Rather than risk waking Alex, he shot his partner a text, complete with photo evidence of why he was choosing not to call.

A moment later, Danny responded: That cannot be comfortable. Poor kid must really be out of it. Dinner’s at 1. We won’t wait unless you tell me otherwise then.

Steve tipped his head back against the couch, gaze wandering down to where Alex lay, still peacefully oblivious. The kid had made it all the way through It’s a Wonderful Life and the Santa Clause before losing the fight halfway through the Polar Express. Steve had been surprised he’d made it that long with how exhausted he’d seemed. He knew he’d have to wake Alex eventually, but a little longer wouldn’t hurt anything.

The peaceful silence only lasted a few minutes longer before Alex stirred, slowly blinking his eyes open, brow furrowed slightly like he wasn’t quite sure where he was yet.

“Morning, Alex. You slept a long time.”

He slowly rolled onto his back with a grunt and a yawn, his eyes sliding shut again.

Not completely awake then. That was fine, though; there really wasn’t any rush, so Steve would let him wake up when he was ready.

The silence settled comfortably around them again, and Steve thought maybe Alex had dozed off, but after a moment, Alex muttered into the quiet, “I haven’t slept that well in a long time.”

That was… concerning to say the least. But Alex had copped to having nightmares already; maybe that was all he meant. “You usually don’t sleep well, huh?”

Alex shrugged. “Bad insomnia mostly, and when I do sleep it’s always...disturbed, so.”

Steve winced; he knew exactly how that felt. For the longest time, he had pushed down everything that had happened with the Hess brothers, but when he couldn’t anymore, he’d been subjected to the same sleep patterns. It wasn’t fun.

Alex finally sat up, scrubbing the grit from his eyes. “I -- uhm, I overheard you on the phone with Detective Williams last night. I’m sorry for eavesdropping, but you should go. Don’t let me keep you here.”

He hadn’t been expecting that to be the second topic of conversation for the morning, but he asked the question he’d been planning to, anyway. “Do you feel up to going?”

Alex looked up, clearly startled. “What?”

“Do you feel up to going?” Steve repeated. “Because I’m not going without you.”

“Why not?”

“Well,” he sighed, “we’ve always kind of had this thing between us -- Danny and I. As you already know, Danny is divorced, which means he only gets his kids for Christmas every other year. Since I don’t have any family on the island, it kind of became this unspoken thing -- that no one should have to spend Christmas alone. And Danny -- he’s got Grace and Charlie this year, so… It’s entirely up to you if you want to go over there or not, but I’m not leaving you here alone, either.”

“I’d be intruding…”

“No, you wouldn’t. In fact, Grace would probably be thrilled to have someone else her own age around.”

Alex studied him intently for a moment before turning away with a nod. “Okay. Then, let’s go.”

“You’re sure?”

“I want to.”

“Okay.” Steve smiled. “I know they’ll be happy to see you.” . . .

Steve fell into bed that night tired but content. He honestly hadn’t been sure how Alex would do, but he needn’t have worried at all.

“Hey, Charlie! Merry Christmas, buddy!” Steve stooped over to pick up the boy, and Charlie instantly clung to him like a koala.

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Steve! Who’s that?”

Steve turned to smile at the teen still standing awkwardly by the door. “That is Alex. He’s going to be spending Christmas with us. Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Steve chuckled as Charlie squirmed back out of his arms and marched up to Alex, completely unafraid.

“Do you like Legos?”

Alex floundered for only a second before he replied, “Uhm, yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

“Come on.” Charlie reached up and grabbed his hand. “Grace was building with me, but now she’s helping Danno, so you can help me instead.”

And that had been that. Steve had watched them for a moment, but almost as soon as they’d started, the tension had drained from Alex’s shoulders, and Steve had headed for the kitchen, confident they’d be okay by themselves for a bit.

As it turned out, they had been more than okay. Within the hour, it was apparent that Charlie had dubbed Alex his best friend for the day. He had insisted on sitting next to the teen at dinner, and when they’d made gingerbread houses that afternoon, Alex was the only one allowed to help him.

Neither Steve nor Danny could figure out exactly how that had happened, so later that evening, as they were settling in to watch a movie, Danny had asked.

“You seem to be pretty good friends with Alex already, huh, buddy?”

Charlie nodded. “Yes. He needed a friend.”

Danny smiled. “You think so?”

Charlie nodded again, his face completely serious. “Yes. So I thought I could be his friend.”

Steve chuckled. “I think you made a good choice, buddy -- a very good choice.”

Charlie nodded a third time. “I think so too.”

As soon as Alex had come back from the bathroom and sat down, Charlie had plopped down in his lap as the opening credits of How the Grinch Stole Christmas rolled. It wasn’t a long movie, but by the end, Steve could tell Alex was starting to drift so they hadn’t stayed long after Charlie was put to bed.

As soon as they’d gotten home, Alex had headed to bed as well; his arm had started to bother him again though he’d been fine most of the day, so Steve had quickly checked it, rewrapped it, and had given him ibuprofen before he crashed.

It had been a good day, and Steve hoped it would be another good night as well. . . .

Alex woke to bright sunlight streaming in through the gaps in the blinds, feeling surprisingly well-rested. He had startled awake around three o’clock but had obviously managed to fall back asleep. Frowning, he stared up at the ceiling for several moments before rolling out of bed. He hadn’t slept this well since before his uncle’s death; why was it suddenly so easy now?

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he found Commander McGarrett sitting at the dining table, sipping at a cup of coffee with his work tablet in front of him. If he was working, Alex didn’t want to interrupt, but he also knew he would feel awkward rooting around in the man’s kitchen to find something to eat; he didn’t live here, after all. Debating his next move, he stood there, one hand still on the railing, for who knew how long before the commander looked up and saw him.

“Morning, Alex. Sleep alright?”

Finding his feet again, he moved towards the table. “Yeah, thanks. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“You’re not. Besides, it’s paperwork; you can interrupt that any time you want, and I will thank you for it.” McGarrett stood up. “Let’s get you some breakfast.”

“No, no!” Alex was quick to protest, holding his hands up in front of him. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Do what? Feed you? Because I’m gonna have to disagree with you there.”

“No -- just -- I can do it myself. You don’t have to get up.”

McGarrett took a sip from his mug before speaking again. “Is that why you were standing there for a solid minute not moving? Because you didn’t want to bother me?”

Dang it. He’d been made from the start. But the commander had been nothing short of hospitable -- more than, honestly -- up until this point, and Alex didn’t want to put him to extra work. “There’s still pizza in the fridge, right? I’ll just eat that.”

The commander raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to eat pizza for breakfast? You’d really prefer that to -- I don’t know -- scrambled eggs?”

Alex had to admit that sounded good, but… “I mean, it has Canadian bacon on it -- that’s technically a breakfast food.”

McGarrett snorted, sitting back down in his chair. “Alright, have it your way. I’ll just go back to my exceptionally boring paperwork.”

Sighing in relief, Alex stepped around the corner into the kitchen, grabbed a couple of slices from the fridge and dropped them on a plate, then returned to the table and sat across from McGarrett. “So, when do you suppose CPS is going to show up?” he asked, taking a bite from the first slice.

“Hm?” McGarrett glanced up, pausing in his typing. “Oh, the lady was already here -- eight o’clock on the dot, as a matter of fact.”

Alex’s brain stuttered. “Then why am I still here? I thought…”

The commander folded the screen over the attached keyboard, giving Alex his full attention. “You thought you were gonna be shuffled off to another foster home?”

“I assumed -- I mean --.” Alex cut himself off as the realization hit him. He was staying here?

“I’m petitioning for your custody. It didn’t work in California to be shuffled around, so why would it work any better out here? At least, that was my reasoning. You need to be someplace where you’ll have time to settle and, Alex, I won’t lie: that can take months -- especially given what you’ve been through. And if no one is willing to give you longer than a week, then you’ll just end up right back where you started. I can’t promise I’ll even be a good guardian, but if there’s one thing I can give you, it’s time.”

He sighed. “Look, I’m not going to force you to stay with me if you don’t want to, but you should know that if you choose to leave, I’ll still be here for you, okay? You can always come to me if you need something or if you have a problem. I told you I wasn’t going to leave you on your own, and I meant it. Okay?”

Alex steeled himself, heart in his throat, to ask the question he was most afraid to hear the answer to. “What about Agent Branning? He could contest this, couldn’t he?”

McGarrett nodded. “Yeah, he could, but I don’t think he will. Even if he does fight it, I’ll fight back twice as hard, and I’ll keep fighting until it happens.”

Alex let out a shuddering breath. He had so many questions he wanted to ask. “Don’t you have to be, like, certified to foster though?”

“Also yes, but you let me worry about that, alright? You don’t need to worry about a thing; just leave it all to me.”

Alex swallowed harshly. He was not going to start crying again, dang it. But there was one last thing he had to know. “Why are you doing this? It’s just… it’s a lot, and you barely know me.”

“Honestly? It was the best way I could think of to get you out. I told you it’s time to burn some ships of your own, right? The idea behind that phrase is to move forward with no chance of going back to where you were. So if you don’t want to be a part of that work any longer, then I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you don’t feel like you have to be.”

Alex let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Okay.” His voice was shaky, but he was holding back the tears so he considered that an accomplishment, at least. What had he done to deserve this kindness? Absolutely nothing. He had lied and broken his promises and run away. Yet Commander McGarrett was giving of himself so freely anyway.

After a pause, McGarrett asked, “So, I take it this arrangement is good, then? You’re good? We’re good?”

Alex smiled and let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re good.”

“Good.” He flipped the tablet screen back up again. “Eat your very strange breakfast, then we’ll talk more, alright?”

In response, Alex picked his slice back up and took a bite out of it, feeling like maybe he would finally be able to rest for the first time since his uncle’s death.

Maybe there was hope for the future after all.

. . . . .

Tag List: @diekatimitdemhutohnehut @ghostly-homo @grungeweasel @just-add-butter

[nekoabiwrites]

Insomnia

Welp, it’s midnight here, so guess what... again?!

Happy Birthday @notalwaysthevillian!!! Here’s a thing I wrote for you, because I know you love one (1) coffee boy and one (1) therapy boy.

AU: Human Pairings: Remile Words: 2440 Warnings: Talk of insomnia, talk of sleep therapy, mention of smoking. Anything else, please let me know!

Summary: Remy is dealing with awful insomnia and his doctor recommends him to a sleep specialist, though it’s really the receptionist who picks up that inspires Remy to go through with it.

---

“Ugh, is this really necessary?” The young man was staring at the phone number written on the paper in his hand as if it were a piece of trash he’d picked up off the street.

“Yes, Mr Sanders. It is important to have every avenue explored to ensure nothing else is affecting your condition.” The doctor said, matter-of-factly. He left no room to argue.

Remy sighed exaggeratedly and stood, tossing his leather jacket back over his shoulders, “Fine. I’ll call them.” He sauntered out of the room, through the small local clinic and out to the front, where he eventually took a perch on the low wall next to the building.

“I don’t need this shit…” He muttered to himself as he rummaged around in his pocket for his phone.

All Remy had come to do was see if the doctor had any idea why his sleep patterns were getting so fucked. He’d been dealing with awful insomnia over the past month and he could think of nothing that would be causing this sudden change, so Remy thought a medical professional’s opinion would help him. Instead, all he got was a bunch of rambling nonsense that he already knew and a number to call in order to set up another appointment with a completely different doctor.

After tapping the number into his phone and hitting the call button, Remy leant back and waited for the call to be picked up. His foot tapped along with the ringing tone and he found himself instinctively popping a piece of flavourless gum between his lips. Finally, the call was picked up and a voice sounded on the other end.

“Hello! Thank you for calling the Alora Sleep Clinic. If you wouldn’t mind holding for just a moment?”

The oddly peppy voice caught Remy off guard for a moment. “Uh… sure?” He responded shortly after.

“Great! Don’t go anywhere! We’ll be right back!”

With that, Remy was greeted with the hold music which was almost painfully loud. For a sleep specialist, the guy running the place clearly wanted anyone who called to stay awake. Remy moved the phone away, so the noise was less likely to deafen him, but still close enough that he’d be able to hear when someone picked up. He tilted his head back to look up towards the sky.

The man currently had some time to linger on the odd man who picked up the phone. His voice was far too cheery to be real, it was almost as if he were putting on a voice like some kind of character. His inflection and word choice just reinforced it, creating an image inside Remy’s head. All he could see was this off-putting, cartoonish character sitting at a bland desk in a bland room and it was all just so… strange.

“And we’re back! Thank you for holding! How can I help you today?”

Remy was quick to put the phone back to his ear. “Yeah, alright, hi. I was told to call this place by my doctor. They want me to see a professional or something, see if there’s anything really bad about this insomnia I’ve got.” He fiddled with his free hand, almost wishing he had something between his fingers to toy with. Normally, he’d likely have a cigarette in that hand right about now, but he’d been off the things for around six weeks by this point and his roommate would likely murder him if he went back on them. Remy instead rooted around inside his pocket and pulled out a stick from an old lollypop, beginning to play with that as he listened to the man on the other end of the phone.

“Alright…” The man said, clearly tapping away at a keyboard as he input what Remy had just told him, “What’s the name of your doctor?”

Remy gave all the information that was asked of him to the receptionist on the other end, all the while still a little confused and stunned by the odd voice the man spoke with. It was becoming clear that he just spoke like that, as it never wavered, even as the call dragged on.

“Right! That’s all, folks! We’ll see you in a few weeks! Please call and let us know if there’s any problems!”

“Uh-huh, I will. See ya.” Remy ended the conversation quickly, really trying hard not to linger on the utterly random quote thrown in there at the end, along with the horrendous attempt at an imitation. Despite the awful impression, Remy could feel the corners of his mouth twitching into a fond smile as the dedication to his ‘brand’ was somewhat adorable, admirable and wholly relatable.

He could just about make out the man on the other end saying goodbye before he hung up. For the rest of the days before his appointment, Remy just couldn’t get the odd man’s voice from his head. It was almost as if it had plastered itself to the inside of his brain somehow. The man’s mannerisms, while odd and seemingly random, were endearing in a way that Remy just couldn’t comprehend.

Either way, the day finally came, and Remy pushed the door open to the sleep clinic, entering the stuffy room. The place seemed almost entirely empty, with only a slight muffled voice coming from the door behind the desk at the other end of the tiny space. Remy approached it and looked around, searching for someone to check him in or whatever they did here. It took a few minutes for someone to poke their head out from the door and do the thing they had to do.

“Please take a seat while you wait. Doctor Grove will call for you when he is ready.”

Remy did as he was told, taking a seat down on one of the two empty chairs. He pulled up his phone and scrolled through whatever he could while he waited, every now and then fanning himself with the open ends of his jacket or pulling the sunglasses down off of his eyes so he could see something more clearly.

“Someone’s determined to keep up appearances, aren’t they?”

It was such a distinct voice that Remy could place it immediately and his head snapped up to look at the man gracelessly attempting to get through the front door with his hands full of food and drink.

Remy dropped his phone in surprise. He had little care when it hit the wooden floor hard, as his screen was already badly cracked that this fall wouldn’t do much more damage. What was much more important was the man whose voice he’d been stuck on for days now.

He was gorgeous. Not conventionally so, but since when did Remy care about what others’ preferences were for potential romantic partners? He didn’t. And he definitely wasn’t about to start now, especially if it meant he was the only one interested in this fantastic specimen of a human. He was soft in all the right ways to make him look purely huggable and approachable, and yet… he did have a sense of some kind of sensuality. Maybe it was just his warm brown eyes that Remy felt himself almost falling into as if they were deep pits or perhaps it was the simple way his mouth moved as he spoke, but there was definitely something.

‘Oh no, he’s not just kinda cute. He’s actually really fucking hot.’ Remy thought to himself. He now had to make a good impression, feel out this guy and if he was interested and then pounce.

Remy purposefully lifted his sunglasses a little and obviously swept his eyes along the man’s body, making sure he saw it. He took a sip from the almost empty cardboard coffee cup next to him and set the glasses back in place, “No one else will, so why shouldn’t I?”

The receptionist laughed aloud, louder than Remy expected. He couldn’t quite tell from behind the sunglasses, but he was fairly certain he saw a light blush on the other man’s cheeks as he passed. Score 1 for him.

Remy then stood and made his way across to lean on the front of the desk, watching as the man separated the food he’d brought in with him. He slowly moved the sunglasses up and perched them on top of his head, giving him full view of this man… who he still wasn’t sure the name of. “So, am I being too forward if I ask for your name?”

“Of course not! My name’s Emile Picani!” The man grinned at Remy, as if he hadn’t just given Remy all the cards he needed.

“Well then, Emile…” Remy purposefully lingered on his name, letting it practically fall from his lips, “I’m pretty sure it’s illegal for a blush to look that good, but… it is a good colour on you.” He leant a little more towards the receptionist, almost pushing the edge into his lower stomach. It was uncomfortable, but the reaction he got was more than worth the slight discomfort.

Emile blushed an even darker shade of red and he let out a flustered giggle before chewing on his lower lip a little. He returned back to the food, avoiding Remy’s piercing gaze, “I-I’m not sure about that. I don’t think I’m the bad one of the two of us.” He sent a small glance sideways towards the leather jacket clad man who was still leaning far over the counter towards him.

As if he’d practised beforehand, Remy gasped dramatically. “Oh, honey. I’m not bad,” he lowered his voice, “I’m just drawn that way.” He flirtatiously winked before sliding the sunglasses back down to rest on his nose. The pleased giggle made his smirk grow into a genuine smile.

“Remy Sanders?” called a new voice from just a little beside them.

Their bubble was popped immediately. Emile turned towards the new arrival and smiled innocently once more, despite the clearly flustered blush coating his cheeks, “Oh, what’s up, doc?” He also held out one of the bags of food and a drink.

Remy covered his mouth with his hand, fake coughing in an attempt to cover up his laughter at the receptionist’s question. He turned to face the doctor once he’d recovered, “You’re the one I’m seeing?”

The doctor’s smile was even more vibrant and wide than Emile’s, “Yes! I’m Patton Grove. Please follow me. Thank you for the food, Emile!”

Patton led the way into his office, with Remy following behind. He purposefully sauntered slightly more exaggeratedly than usual, putting a little extra effort into the sway of his hips. Being that he heard yet another giggled from the receptionist’s desk, Remy knew that it was not at all in vain.

The session was apparently supposed to be an hour long, but it felt like an eternity. This man would just not stop making awful sleep puns. At first, they were a little charming, but they soon started to grate at Remy’s psyche. If it had to continue much further, he might have actually considered seeing someone to help with the trauma he might be left with once he walked out of this clinic. Thankfully, Patton determined that Remy had no major issues with his sleep and that his bout of insomnia was likely from some kind of lifestyle change and would hopefully improve over time.

Remy could not wait to get out of the room soon enough. He thanked the man for his time, whilst backing towards the door. He quickly and quietly shut it behind him, letting out a long and heavy breath.

“Everything alright?”

Remy jumped in surprise, turning sharply to find Emile standing just behind him. He quickly composed himself, “Oh, I’m fine. But we both know that.” He smirked slightly, enjoying his personal compliment.

Emile scrutinised him for a moment, exaggeratedly scrunching up his face in a way that make Remy’s heart both skip a beat and inflate with affection. “Well, you might also have a fine…”

“…What?”

“Since you’ve been, resisting a rest.” Emile immediately broke out into a grin after his pun.

Remy stood still for a moment, merely blinking. Then he doubled over in laughter. Pure, joyful laughter. Normally, he’d maybe given the pun a chuckle at best, but this man was really too much. His joke was not just amusing, but his delivery was absolutely precious. While the prospect of another pun after dealing with the awful doctor was horrifying before, the man before him had managed to make him enjoy one anyway. Remy was busy wiping away a couple of tears from his eyes when Emile spoke once more.

“No one’s ever laughed at my joke before! I’ve tried that on every person who’s come in!” His eyes were shining bright, looking at Remy as though he’d given him a brand-new puppy and the best news of his life at the same time.

Remy raised an eyebrow as he smiled at the receptionist, “I’d be more than happy to laugh at more of your jokes over coffee…”

The offer of a date clearly didn’t reach Emile for a couple of seconds, but once the realisation set in, he nodded his head frantically, “I’d love that! Just a moment!” He hurried to the front desk, with Remy quick to follow behind him. He peered out from over the top of his glasses as Emile scribbled down something on a piece of ripped out paper. “My number. For you!”

Emile held out the note towards the leather jacketed man, waiting for him to take it. But, he didn’t seem like he was going to, and so Emile dropped his arm a little, ready for the rejection. Then a horridly cracked phone screen was in front of his face.

“How about you put it in yourself?”

Unphased about seeming over-eager, the receptionist typed in and saved his number. “There!”

“Thanks. What time do you finish today?” Remy asked, pocketing his phone once more, still leaning casually on the desk.

“Um,” Emile turned to check the clock on the wall behind him, “In about half an hour? Why?”

“I’ll wait for you. I can go that long without another coffee, but I’m definitely gonna need one after that.”

Emile was concerned by that statement. He waited until Remy was seated back in the chair he’d been sat in previously. Emile knew he shouldn’t pry, but he couldn’t help asking, “How much coffee do you drink on a normal day?”

Remy had to think for a moment. “Probably around… 10 or so cups. Why?”

“I think I figured out your insomnia problem.”

---

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[aceyanaheim]

Okay let’s try this one more time.

Questions from this thingy that I saw a friendo do last year.

Introduction: Acey. That’s it that’s the introduction.

Diagnosis: I’m working on getting a Diagnosis but Autism and some form of attachment disorder.

As of 2019:

Neurocognitive and Cognitive Disorder due to Seizures

Major Depressive Disorder

General Anxiety Disorder

Social Anxiety Disorder

Personality Change Due to Seizure Disorder ( later confirmed by a second psychiatrist to be Borderline Personality Disorder)

C-PTSD symptoms ( still waiting on final diagnosis but symptons have been confirmed and disorder is very likely.) 

Autism more or less confirmed by multiple professionals  but still waiting to be able to afford testing.

Symptoms: 

Autism/ASD : Can’t read tone. Hard time with social interaction. Sensory issues. Adherence to routine. Stimming. Scripting. Childish behaviour.  Meltdowns. Hyperfixation.

Attachment Issues: I tend to attach/get attached to people really fast. At the same time I push them away or tell myself I don’t matter to them. I also have a hard time getting attached to people. It’s either super quick or like pulling teeth. I want to be with people all the time. Codependence I guess is the word I’m looking for.  

Social Anxiety: I’m...basically always scared when I’m talking to people? I’m scared I’ll say the wrong thing. I have my answers and messages rehearsed and proofread and sometimes vetted by someone else ( unless it’s sensitive info)  and I still feel like something comes across in a negative way. ( like This is too cheerful, That’s too morbid, does that sound dismissive? If I say This I fuck up in this way but if I say THAT I fuck up in another) It couples with my autism since that...actually makes me say awkward/wrong shit all the time. 

Has come down since starting Lexapro but still present.

Emotional Flashbacks: Feelings that were there while you were experiencing the traumatic event. Happen at random triggers. Incredibly strong. To the point that they don’t correspond to the stimuli and feel freshly felt. ( tied to C-PTSD) 

Hyper-vigilance ( tied to C-PTSD)

Anxiety attacks

Panic Attacks

Don’t act as mature as other people my age/more at home with younger people.

Hypersensitive to any perceived rejection. 

Brain fixates on bad memories and repeats them : C-PTSD

Constant fear of it happening again: C-PTSD

Black or White thinking: I’ll think someone’s sick of me or can’t stand me at stuff like being left on read while also deciding I love them and they’re the best person ever when they do something nice to me. Intense but have some modicum of self awareness. ( i know on some level people dont dislike or hate me, i still spiral though)

“Duckling Syndrome” ( is what i call it) : I’ll see someone be nice to me and all I can think of is how much I want them to adopt me, to take me home, to make me part of their family. It’s too strong to be anything but disordered. It hurts. ( possibly part of bpd) 

Has in the past put self in bad situations to not be alone ( connected to bpd/attachment disorder) 

Other Stuff I either need to mention to my shrink and/or hasn’t been tied down to any of my dx disorders:

I want things to be Just So. Like I want a certain kinda paper for certain kinds of mediums in art. I want my food in a certain order. I eat it in A Certain Order I get really uncomfortable otherwise.

I think I’ve depersonalized or dissociated at least five times..but..only when things get REALLY bad...like when I spiral. I still get those two confused even after reading the definitions but it’s like….I don’t feel anything? But I’m weirdly aware that I’m supposed to? Like I flipped a switch. Also mixed with this weird its not real feeling. I hasn’t happened in roughly a year tho so I dunno if it counts? Its been happening again this year. Still unsure if disordered or stress reaction.

I tend to struggle with depressive episodes from time to time. Like I’ll just lay on the bed and not wanna do anything. I have games to play, I have hobbies I could indulge in but I just..don’t want to. Don’t see the point.

Have thought that I’d be better off not existing. ( AKA suicidal ideation) Currently under control.

I’ve developed these like...weird paranoia spells? Like this one time a cop yelled at me ( to mess with me) and I was suddenly terrified of him following me and hurting me and my dad ( which yes can be attributed to the amount of police brutality you hear about, especially to people who don’t speak english fluently but like I saw it in my mind’s eye and it would not stop and the dude left and I was still seeing in my head him like following me home and hurting us) or like just recently some man asked about my dog and how much she was worth and this weird ass alarm went off in my head to get the hell away from him and what if he follows me home? What if he takes my dog? What if he follows me home AND takes my dog? They’re pretty sporadic ( though not as much as I want them to be)  but they’re also really intense. Have stopped since I started Lexapro.

Physical Self Harm in the past to ground, to punish myself, in times of high emotion. All of the above. ( has stopped as of last year. Even intrusive thoughts about it are at a minimum.)

Obsession with being “good”: If I ever do something I think is a mistake I all but turn on myself. I beat myself up. I think of myself as a bad person ( there’s only Good and Bad for me..but only in regards to myself) I have to be nice. I have to be kind. I have to be good in a way that’s disordered. ( this compounds with my social anxiety and bpd to bind me into being a “good person” ( someone who never gets mad never talks back never does anything but niceness irregardless of the fact that..it’s impossible) I tend to think if I’m “bad” that people need to punish me, yell at me, or hurt me. That I need to Atone) ( could be part of CPTSD due to past abuse. Answer pending) 

Intrusive thoughts: mostly about self harm but also about “learning my place” and...calling myself things I’d rather not say. I’ve so far at least managed to recognize they’re intrusive ( might be related to any of the disorders listed above but also with past abuse but unsure at the moment. Shrink thinks its tied to bpd. Could be tied to past abuse I haven’t discussed in therapy yet.)

Disordered Eating of sorts: due to my mother being paranoid about unhealthy food I’ve gone days where I can’t bring myself to eat something because I’m scared it’ll hurt me. There’s times where I’ve needed my friend to tell me to eat. There’s times where I feel like if I eat I have to exercise it off. It’s about control, it’s about fear, it’s….about everything but weight. Hella strong last year. More or less brought under control as of this year. But remain as intrusive thoughts and pop up as intrusive thoughts from time to time.

React badly to being alone, especially at home and not getting social interaction. Depression kicks up, sometimes depersonalization ( might have ties to childhood epilepsy -having to be on lock-down  and kept indoors a lot due to my own risk of being hurt via seizure- but combines with bpd/attachment disorders) 

Have Shown Signs/Moments of Age Regression ( more often than not with the emotional flashbacks but not always)

Literally all the symptoms act up at night/around bedtime. Mostly anxiety but some others that have now been associated with bpd. Causes sleeping problems ( I hesitate to call it insomnia because I do sleep but it can get as bad as 3 hours a night until i just conk out at the end of the week -or 2 weeks- out of sheer exhaustion. Has been present since I was a teenager.) 

In The Past: Recklessness and disregard for personal safety and care.

Sometimes get this  physical feeling like my brain is overloaded. Often with hypervigilance or spirals where my mind races.

Stigma:

“I’m autistic” “I’m so sorry”

“I’m autistic” “And you’re sure you wanna go for that major?”

“I’m autistic” “But not that kind of autistic right?”

“I mean if you need accommodations to take a test then are you really cut out to have that kinda job?”

I consider myself a very patient person.

“She doesn’t know any better. You know she’s special” ( I was standing right there)

“I guess you don’t love anyone huh?” ( I was uh..I was nine years old)

“You’re codependent as fuck” ( that one my abuser said to me...after...making me codependent on her..yeah) 

“You talk like a robot. It’s like you don’t feel anything.” ( eeemotianl detachment due to CPTSD in my teenage years) 

“You’re choosing not to grow up” ( when expressing fears of develomental problems/disordered behaviour that could cause lack of maturity. I was asking for help) 

“You’re a lot”

“People with your disorder tend to be a problem for other people”

“You need therapy” “I am in therapy” “Then why are you still acting like this.”

“You’re just making excuses.”

“It’s like you like to cause trouble.” ( circa 2013)

“You just wanna hurt people that’s why you’re doing this.” ( circa...most of the 2000s) 

Multiple people in my family constantly make it a point ( or have in the past like..for most of my life) to tell me no one’s wanna live with someone like me ( I’m forgetful and before I figured out some ways to help it and the depression was bad uber messy)

Multiple people in my family try to discourage me from trying things because “you know you have that...thing”

And I mean..the usual constant bombardment of Autism being something you have to Fix. Of it causing people you love pain, and them never being happy because of it, of it being a defect.

People around me use autistic as an insult.

General comments about how horrible living with my mentally ill family must be ( ignoring that I’m mentally ill as well) and how my parents probably wish we weren’t disordered ( ignoring that they are also disordered) and how basically there’s no way for us to be happy.

I think at one point someone actually said to me something along the lines of “I bet your parents wish you and your siblings were born differently”

“I’m so proud you can do this incredibly easy thing that I think is all you can really do and I’m gonna talk to you in the most condescending tone about it like who’s a good lil autistic person look at you, talkin and solving basic problems and everything.” ( obvs paraphrased but thats...usually the gist) 

Define Your Disorders

Autism: a developmental disorder that affects communication and behavior.

Attachment Disorder: the condition in which individuals have difficulty forming lasting relationships ( it was the only one I can find that doesn’t talk about RAD as I don’t have the criteria for that. This one’s tricky cause I don’t have the proper diagnosis for it yet, for all I know it could be part of a bigger disorder)

BPD:a mental health disorder that impacts the way you think and feel about yourself and others, causing problems functioning in everyday life. It includes a pattern of unstable intense relationships, distorted self-image, extreme emotions and impulsiveness. Symptoms include emotional instability, feelings of worthlessness, insecurity, impulsivity, and impaired social relationships.

Major Depression Disorder: Depression is a mood disorder that causes a persistent feeling of sadness and loss of interest. Also called major depressive disorder or clinical depression, it affects how you feel, think and behave and can lead to a variety of emotional and physical problems. You may have trouble doing normal day-to-day activities, and sometimes you may feel as if life isn't worth living.

General Anxiety Disorder.:  Excessive anxiety and worry (apprehensive expectation), occurring more days than not for at least 6 months, about a number of events or activities (such as work or school performance).

Amnesic Disorder Due To Epilepsy :Inability to remember events for a period of time.

Myth about your disorders and the truth

Autistic people are dangerous

Autistic people are unfeeling

Autistic people are uncaring

Autistic people are all nonverbal

Autistic people are all mentally challenged. ( I ??)

Autistic people ar a burden on their families/a parent who abuse or even  kills their autistic child ( which happens so much it’s an acknowledged problem)  deserves sympathy.

Autistic people are brainy and mostly male.

Autism is a spectrum disorder. People exhibit different traits and while some hyperfocus on things that help them academically some hyperfocus on things that don’t or that even make their grades suffer like other interest tend to. ( my hyperfocus was fanfiction and I failed like five classes because of it) I have a friend who’s autistic and likes to party and drink and hang out with people. I have another friend who’s autistic who likes to skate and science. I’m autistic and I like neither of those things. We’re all over the place in every way even when we do share some common traits

Literally we all have people and things we care about.

Literally all of us have affectionate moments. I’m fairly physically affectionate if I’m close to/feel safe with someone.

Nonverbal and autism aren’t always correlated. Further, some autistic people go nonverbal for a bit but can speak other times.

Autism looks different in girls/afab people because we’ve been socialized differently.

Parents who kill their autistic kids are just straight up horrible people and I resent having to be told to have sympathy for them while simultaneously wishing I had “autistic” written on my forehead so I could be angry without a guilt trip and also simultaneously hoping to god I never stop passing for neurotypical because apparently the moment you show too many traits no one cares if someone hurts you or worse.

The whole “autistic people are dangerous” thing is mostly people showing videos of meltdowns which only happen under high stress and is something people use to demonize us and make us seem like burdens...and is actually why the whole “sympathy for an abusive/murderer parent of a neuroatypical” thing is fucked ten ways from Sunday. We aren’t dangerous.

I don’t...have a lot for the attachment disorder since I’m still waiting to figure out what that one’s really about and I haven’t really….met anyone else who has anything like it or shares symptoms with me.

I think off the top of my head it’s when people think it’s “cute” that you’re super clingy or go the other way and say people with attachment issues are uncaring. The first one romanticizes a behaviour that you’re trying to work on fixing/curbing and that is honestly hell. The second one is...is just as untrue as saying an autistic person is inherently uncaring ( or any mentally ill person for that matter)

I’ve also seen people say that people with any kind of attachment disorder are broken and that I feel confident enough in saying that they’re not...and I’m not.

I’ve been told people with BPD can’t be aware of their own disorder and have been denied testing due to this. 

I’ve seen people say people with BPD are a problem to others.

Anxiety: I’ve seen a lot of people who think it’s fake. And also that the only way you can have anxiety if you’re rocking back and forth gasping for breath.

There’s actually multiple ways to have anxiety attacks.

Tips for those who know/love someone with same disorders/symptoms

Well, starting off with, and keeping in mind that I’m not a proffesional or expert in...literally anything ever like ever ever....

A very dear friend of mine once said “it’s a whole lot easier to be supportive than it is not to be” Let people with disorders tell you what they need, and then respect it. Open communication and making them feel safe is key...to everything. Being informed is important but at the end of the day, different people will experience things differently and what they need is really down to them. Don’t assume that reading about their disorder means you know what they need better than them. Don’t talk about how their disorder affects you. Even if you have good intentions, you’re going to make them feel bad. If you’re a parent, don’t talk to others about your child’s disorder in front of them. And if they don’t like a therapist, listen to them as to why. Don’t assume it’s just because “they’re disordered” that’s lazy parenting.

Take triggers seriously, talk to them about what symptoms they need help with, and which they’d rather process or deal with  on their own. Just..show that you have that initiative, that you’re there for them. Listen. Be patient. Establish boundaries gently but firmly. If someone with my attachment disorder is ringing you a lot and you need time to yourself, let them know. Explain. Don’t go radio silent. People with autism can be bad at reading you. Again explain, be patient, but don’t just....leave them there to guess what they did wrong. C-PTSD is traumagenic in nature so I’d add to taking triggers seriously, be ready for Tragic Backstory drop behind disclosing some triggers ( and understand how much they have to trust you to disclose that.) but also be ready for “I just don’t want this in my field of vision and I don’t feel comfortable talking about it just yet.” Don’t push for details. Don’t push period.

And also just....treat em like people you know. Disordered people are still people, let them exist outside their disorders and do the things that people in that relationship that you have with them. ( whatever relationship that is) do. 

How your disorder/s affect your relationships 

In the past -and before I was a bit more self aware- it’s made me uber clingy. I would call friends constantly, message them a lot. Think someone was my best friend or even closer than they really were because they were nice to me. It scared people off.

On the flip side I would also convince myself people didn’t like me or I was nothing to them the moment I caught myself having strong feelings. ( which as said before would happen mcquicklike)

As one can imagine this would put a lot of pressure on new friendships. Often it would sour them, sometimes it would make people dislike me. Sometimes it’d make them unconfortable. Which as my disorder also affects how I receive rejection...was..really bad.

On the flip side of the flip side I was also incredibly ride or die and it left me open to a lot of manipulation and abuse from friends. I couldn’t be mad at them if they hurt me. I couldn’t say no to anything they said. I needed them.

My anxiety also contributes to this as I would constantly go through a checklist of how many good interactions vs “bad” or awkward interactions I had with people before I let myself feel like I was safe to call people my friends. Or even say I did okay interacting.

I had a lot of nights while I was making friends in college where I just felt like I was nothing to anyone. Like I was messing up. Looking back, it was just standard new friend interactions.

The more people mean to me, the more I’d freak out-I didn’t want to lose them. So it made it hard to even enjoy the friendship milestones I did achieve.

I’m using past tense because it’s gotten a lot better as situations that were making this 10 times worse have alleviated somewhat but there’s still seeds of it and sometimes it flares up. I’m just aware enough I can sometimes if not stop it identify it as my disorder talking. I don’t keep lists anymore but sometimes the thought pops up.

Facts About Your Disorder You Wish People Knew

I wish people knew what scripting and autistic burnout was. And that adults can have autism. And that vaccines don’t cause autism so stupid ass people didn’t risk their kid getting sick because they’re scared of my neurology.

I wish the only thing when I search about

I wish people took triggers seriously.

I wish more people knew about attachment disorders period.

I wish people knew how hard it all is sometimes.

 Favorite healthy coping techniques

Plushies, pillows. Physical grounding techniques that include physical stimming. I’m very tactile when it comes to my autism and stimming so grounding techniques were Good Textures are involved help double.

For attachment disorder spirals: Watching YT animators or vloggers. Like a lot. It recently chased off my sleeping problems. 

Playing with my dog.

Walking outside.

Going to the beach.

Looking at buildings. ( I don’t..I don’t know why?? It’s like a visual stim I guess? Like buildings that stand out to me due to their shape or being different than I usually see)

Basically going outside. ( to look at buildings, to look at nature, to the dog park, out in the grass in front of my building just..Outside Good, Inside Bad) 

Sending fun stuff to friends/doing things for them.

I tend to get a good happy chemical surge from helping people/doing nice things for people so that’s something I really like using to my advantage. I’m looking at volunteer options.

Also cartoons and Disney Channel shows I watch a lot of those.

Cooking. I can’t understand this one either but cooking and baking sometimes even gives me more energy.

Current biggest struggles with your disorder/s

Being at home tanks my mental health. I don’t drive. So I’m home a lot.

Seeing families be happy hurts sometimes. And that’s my main confort narrative.

Seeing my friends with their families hurts sometimes.  All I can think of is how much I wish I was a part of that. So I have to...not spend time with my friends.

I’m afraid to live alone.

I can’t get anything done sometimes. My train of thought has been crashing to the point that I completely lose it and I miss goals and deadlines almost every month. I need to get assignments done, build a portfolio, at least keep shrink dates, its all a hurdle lately. Even before that it’s hard for me to get stuff done when I’m home on  my own ( aka when I’m supposed to be doing things) because all my brain can think is “we’re alone we’re alone we’re alone. It’s too quiet. We need to talk to someone.” According to my shrink DBT will help with this. I can’t wait.

It’s hard to see a myself having a good future sometimes. Because of how many hangups I have and how late I am in addressing them ( I’m 28) and how much there is to do.

 What not to say to a person with similar/same disorder/s

“You’re making it all up”

“You should just get over it, it happened so long ago”

“You’re bringing me down stop talking about this”

“Its all in your head”

“Every one feels that way really”

Anything dismissive.

Anything from the stigma answer.

Literally any kind of pity (granted thats more a me thing due to childhood epilepsy meaning i had to deal with a lot of that. But honestly I’ll stand by it bc I’m not sure anyone really ...likes pity. )  

Ways in which your disorder/s affect your daily life

I deal with executive dysfunction which makes it hard to get anything done. I feel like I’m starting over constantly. I feel like my age doesn’t match my brain. All of this augments my depression.  I have to take days off in the middle of the week to just do nothing or catch up to all the stuff I haven’t done. I miss deadlines or just barely make them. I’m also a budding workaholic which I used to do to avoid dwelling on all these feelings so having to take breaks isn’t….something I’m used to or really like. I at one point handled school, work, and 2 editing jobs. I used to do martial arts, I like running, I like swimming. I’m the kind of person that needs to be on the move and lately that’s hard because spoons and energy.

Also a lot of basic self care is hard to get done because of the dysfunction mentioned above.

Things that give you hope

The fact that I’m finally getting therapy.

I guess having people I can talk to about it.

My family isn’t as bad as it was back in 2014.

I guess I know that even if I feel like I’m at a dead end, I’ll figure something out. That’s what I do. I mean that’s life, you think things are never getting better or that something’s the end of the world but really time marches onwards and so do you and you figure it out. Things fall into place. I believe life has a funny way of working out. If anything because it kinda has to, it can’t stand still yknow. I have moments of clarity where I just kinda remember that ( its not my first rodeo.in regards to hard times or Things That Happen..its not even my hardest rodeo so..if I got through that..you kinda figure you can muddle through this and see what comes next yknow) I’m oddly hopeful for the first time in a long time so, it’s p cool.

Treatment types and personal choices

I spent most of my childhood, and teenage years...and early 20s dodging therapy and help due to it being controlled by my mother and having really bad experiences with it in the past.I do regret it sometimes but I comfort myself with the fact that it was what seemed like the best decision and i didn’t have the information I now have about keeping her out of things. 

After finding better insurance and getting into university I found a way to get myself a psychiatrist and am working on finding talk therapy. For the most part I tended to patch myself up a lot by finding ways to quiet the thoughts I had ( saving text messages to remind myself people dont hate me. Talking myself down. Joining social activities. That sorta home brew stuff. I’ve been soloing a lot of shit I probably shouldn’t have been until recently but hey live and learn. Also I didn’t have insurance.) As of recently I’m on an antidepresant and  hopefully going into DBT. That reminds me I have to call them.

Your support system

I’ve found some really nice friends like they’ve kinda just collectively adopted me and when your disorder stems from losing family that..that’s been incredibly helpful. All my close friends are long distance but they help me. My younger sister is also there although i try to limit how much she’s privy to as she just turned 18. My brother and I tend to spend limited time together due to him having his own stuff goin on but I’d also put him there. My parents sorta count as....one supportive unit? ( they try with the best of intentions but it uh..thats..thats really all I can say about them)

Reactions from those who learn about your disorder/s

I get told I can’t possibly have them because i “look too successful” or whatever ableist rethoric they got going. When I talk about C-PTSD symptons I get side eye for “trivializing” it as they don’t believe I can have it and think I’m exaggerating anxiety symptons. When I talk about Attachment Disorders…..I often don’t because people always say something along the lines of “people with that are often too damaged and you don’t fit the bill” which..ouch.

Mostly it goes from “you don’t look like a damaged and/or psychopath crazy person” to “oh...I guess you are one” with a bit of “okay thats fine” but still anger and impatience when I show symptoms.

I don’t talk about my disorders a lot.

 Future hopes and dreams

I’d like to get my attachment disorder under control as it’s the main life wrecking thing I have. After that or along with that I’d like to live somewhere where I get the social interaction I kinda need.

I wanna be happy with whatever profession I have and just..my life in general.

I hope DBT helps. Whatever it is It’s my first time even trying it.

I have a couple of personal creative goals but I don’t wanna jinx them by disclosing them ( I did mention I had anxiety)

Interactions with other people with the same disorders

I follow some peeps with BPD and also folks on the spectrum on tumblr. I don’t really have a lot of  analog interaction. ( again no driving + suburbia = being cooped up A Lot)  My sister and I share some disordered traits so we talk about them often and that helps a lot.

Things you want to work on/improve

The whole black and white thinking and maybe getting things done on time. I’d like to get the spirals under control too.

 Work/school experience with disorder/s

Shit’s hard.

Often I don’t get the help I need and have learned to overcompensate/regulate so I can still get things done. I pretty much need to work since i don’t believe I’d qualify for disability. I get in trouble a lot for spacing out ( dissociating) and forgetting things at work. Work friendships are also slow burn if not just nonexistent due to my autism and people..not really knowing what to make of it. I’ll probably have to quit working while I study since I can’t really split focus enough to do both lately. Further, a lot of my energy needs to go into school things staying afloat and that tends to mean I can’t do things that contribute to my mental health ( i.e spending time with friends, going out, sometimes even therapy, taking breaks) as I’ve found out that sends me way back in recovery.

Free space!

Here’s a picture of my cat. She’s a demon. What it said Free Space.

Family history of mental disorders?

Mother has Bipolar disorder and depression. Sister has bipolar disorder, anxiety, depression, and eating disorders, Brother has anxiety and shows signs of ADHD, Dad has what we suspect is ADHD and possibly some disorder traits from past trauma. Used to have anger issues.

I uh..I used to call us “The Madhouse” for most of my late teens and early 20s.

Media representation of disorder/s

Attachment disorders: characters who are stalkers and so desperate for love family and acceptance they’ll do anything, even hurt people to feel it. Also often don’t have depression and can do things like learn villain skills.

Autistic traits are often cherry picked and portrayed in an unfavorable light. I think I’ve seen some rare cases of actual representation though.

How do you feel about talking about your mental health?

I don’t...like it as much as talking about mental health in general. Most of my life is...me running away from trauma and trying to  reclaim a life outside of it. It’s what I did with my epilepsy of course that one was easier because the seizures went away. 

Talking about it feels like going back. I wanna just move on with it. But I’ve reluctantly come around to see that talking about it is a way to move on. And I mean its not like dodging it’s worked out that well for me so.

 The true face of mental illness (Selfie if you’re comfortable with it)

Aww yiiss. Selfies.

[riggsanity]

deity's shrine meme

It’s a bit of a climb, even for her. Though that’s hardly a complaint. She’d enjoyed it, and the view? Well even if she wasn’t here to something specific…that alone would make it worth it all by itself. The sun settling down to move to the other side of the world. And she finds that…an analogy that she loses even before it’s her’s to lose–because her mind just doesn’t work like other people’s. Where other’s see beauty in sunsets and the stars that follow it…all she’s ever seen is the angles. The spaces in between. The logical explaination for every tiny catch of light, or vast band of sun rays that only looked like it stretched straight and true.

A shake of a head and she’s turning away from the picture perfect moment. Worn treads carrying her over uneven terrain. Around massive rock formations that she better understands. Can better commune with. Though by the time she finds her true destination even those have fallen away. Fallen away like gates that guarded something greater than themselves. And that perhaps is as close to anything intangible as she’ll ever get. The concept of inanimate objects purposefully sheltering something. Protecting it. As absurd a thought as it is.

Step by step she moves forward. Slower. As if she does not wish to disturb the quiet. And perhaps that is also not so far from the truth. There’s a reason this place is so high above the Texas plains. A reason it’s so difficult to get too. And with the same speed of her pace, her knees find the dry cracked ground. One after the other. Her pack removed and set gently aside. And from it she pulls…something most might find rather odd–

A loved and well worn cowboy boot. Cut from finer leather and stitched together with the utmost care. Set to one side of the shrine, its shaft laying over a tell tell sign of how move love it had had in its life of use. Next came the bottle. Liquid sloshed and tossed about as she sets it aside for now. Then a bowl and the package of steaks she’d cashed in a favor to have cooked, cut and tempered. And into the bowl the food offering goes. Set mirrored to the book. And further she digs into her pack. 

Small flags, both of country and state; followed proper and respectfully are set on the second tier. Propped up for their colors to show. Two little vials of sand and salt water set between. And finally a shot glass is brought into view. Set atop the utmost tier and the bottle reached for again. Filling the shot glass to its limit, neatly and honorably; before a little more is poured about the base. (For those gone should always be offered a drink. Her dad had taught her that.) And the bottle is set between the boot and the bowl. 

A breath, then two. Settling into waiting. Eyes closed, fingers resting against the dry earth on either side of her. She’s unsure–doubtful–that this will work; but what harm can there be in trying? While she struggles to understand the intangible, she still grew up hearing the stories her mother told her. Stories of gods and giants…of men who became more than they were through trials never asked for. And how much she can relate with that concept if nothing else. 

Yet still the question is why is she here?

Well the answer perhaps is far more simple than even the god she makes offerings too can guess.

She needs a home, somewhere to belong, and this particular deity was said to be the god of accidental chaos–which logically…Bastiana had always been harbored that. Spreading it without meaning too. So what harm could there be in seeing what the god of it could offer her in exchange for whatever it might be he asked her for. Because really? She had nothing else of value to her to loose anymore.

It’s the buzzing that wakes him up, quiet and steady in the back of his mind, persistent in an attempt to catch his attention. Riggs got too few moments of shut eye, actual shut eye not disturbed by nightmares and insomnia, to let it draw him out without a fight. Finally he emerged from the haze of sleep, his shirt a makeshift blanket pulled over his head. One eye opened, then the other, both heavy with sleep, adjusting to the late evening sun still trying to make its way into the trailer. 

Riggs sat up, running hands through wild curls, trying to wake up a little before climbing to his feet. He caught his reflection in the broken mirror across the trailer, looking more like a man who’d spent the last few days on a bender than whatever the person summoning him was going to expect. He grabbed the old army coat from the back of the chair and shrugged it on before he let the buzz, and the accompanying tug, lead him on. 

He didn’t expect it to be Texas. Not many called on him and when they did, they called him to places unfamiliar and distant from his current lodgings in Los Angeles. No one called him home, not with a familiar sunset in the distance. He remembered evenings with Miranda, the two of them watching the sun set, in each other’s arms. 

The drink that comes as part of the offering is a welcome respite from painful memories. Riggs quickly snatched it up and knocks the shot back before he realized that the creator of the offering is still there, a petite woman with a chaotic vibe much bigger than that small body should be able to handle. That’s his thing now, picking that up. Attracting it as well as reading it in others. 

“Evening.” He set the glass back down, a thumb hooked in a front pocket as the other smoothed down curls set loose again by the wind gently tugging at him. “That was some damn good whiskey and that steak, well, it looks amazing. Thanks.” Was he even supposed to be doing that, thanking people for leaving him offerings? “So, uh, what can I do you for?” 

[connywrites]

quicksands of the mind

and the sinkholes you may find

-

content warnings for suicidal ideation, self-harm

He hadn’t wanted to kill himself in a long time. Even on a bad day, he’d tell himself he didn’t want to attempt suicide at all, but the deeper scars in jagged horizontal lines down his forearms reminded him otherwise. There wasn’t much memory with them aside from waking up in the hospital with blurry vision, unable to hear properly while the nurses asked questions, watching him jitter and shake. Watching him dig and pull at his own skin and having to pull him away, just short of restraining him as he wasn’t actually violent and didn’t have enough strength to do any real damage, but having to make sure he’d keep his hands to himself for the rest of the night.

Death, itself, was a far-fetched concept for someone who had always avoided it by the skin of his teeth. Leo had gotten in fights, been mugged, stabbed, smacked, punched, hit, crashed his motorcycle and wound up in the hospital with grave injuries and a permanent limp, taken bullets, and while a fair collection of his scars were self-induced, they were never quite so severe as to what others had done to him. It fed into the idea that he was a coward if he wasn’t brave enough to take it to the next level, but the thought that maybe it was because he simply didn’t want to die had revisited him more than once.

Thus it left him in a battle against himself, in a dark room, surrounded by comfortable blankets, a warm meal and some candles, as Markus made a habit of setting up. His old friends would be jealous; he knew they would because he experienced that exact envy ever since Markus came to be. To be birthed into a perfect world, to live with wealth and gratitude, to want to give and to be given back to, to live with someone that gave and gave and gave so much; the person that was his own father, in a home that could have been his own, with kindness and empathy that he could have had. Love was theoretically a natural deterrence against misery; why would you make the ones that cared about you suffer by letting yourself go, giving yourself the freedom of nonexistent peace while they were left to pick up the ugly pieces? Suicide was the coward’s way out, yet it somehow felt more embarrassing to try and get someone else to do the job, whether they knew your intentions or not.

Carl gave and gave, and he took and took, and Leo had the audacity to be angry when his gentle-hearted father stopped giving, trying to pull it to a full stop 28 years into his life. Well overdue, in his mind. The tears stung his eyes and the knot swelled in his throat, and the nausea welled in his stomach as he remembered everything he’d done. The way he’d spoken to him, the way he torn him and his life down with all of the 5 swear words he seemed to hold in his very limited vocabulary.

You won’t help me, so I’ll just help myself.

A vile, evil person, he’d convinced himself he was long before he could differentiate himself from the drugs. Feeling like a shitty person before he ever hit puberty and long after he’d left his teenage years behind, it took multiple hospital visits, near-death experiences and long nights doing things he’d regret with worse emotions than he’d convinced himself the rage ever was; it took multiple attempts to sober up to differentiate that it wasn’t him at all.

Red ice made him angry, and withdrawals from red ice made him angry. Sobriety left him miserable, and since he’d convinced himself he’d be miserable no matter what, he could certainly allow the excuse to do drugs. To get into fights, to stare down the barrel of a gun while he challenged the trigger finger until it blew, to antagonize and steal and lie and believe that it was all worthwhile in the favor of why wouldn’t I do it, anyway? And life doesn’t mean anything in the end or if I’m going to die young, I might as well make it fun.

None of it was fun. Nothing was worthwhile and it never lasted longer than a burnt soda can with singed ashes resting in the bottomside curve, dripping into the container that’d been full of cola he’d poured down the drain after jabbing the holes, too nauseous to ever consider taking a drink.

Seeing red.

All his life. His mother, his father, his lack of any sort of care-giving whatsoever made it all too obvious that nobody was going to care and subsequently, why should he? His birth was an accident. His mother was paid to raise him, and when the money was gone, so were her patience.

He knew what that was like. Maybe he got it from her. Carl was such a saint with seemingly eternal intelligence and wisdom, he could barely believe they were related by blood. So lead to the delusion between years ten and twenty-two that he might have been – probably was – adopted until he finally couldn’t take it anymore and had to look up the family history.

He was never in the old photographs, his mother too embarrassed to include him in such a thing.

Then again, she didn’t have any pictures of Carl either. He wondered who were in all those photos on her walls were supposed to be, let alone if they ever really meant anything to her.

Photos were artificial, mirrored captures of the past, and why would you hold onto that? He couldn’t think of a moment he’d want to take a picture of, that he was happy about or proud of. He never smiled in the camera – sometimes he glowered into to lens from afar when he was in group photos at the parties, tagged for some kind of crazy escapades he’d taken part in on the social media platforms until those people, too, grew tired of him. Stupid, boring, violent. What’s your problem? What the fuck is wrong with you?

‘What is wrong with me?’ There was a suffocating discomfort as he took in his surroundings, the disassociation spell abruptly ending as he realized where he was again.

Everything. Everything was wrong.

Nothing. The drugs were wrong.

When nothing felt right, he did what he’d always done; left the area to go on a long walk until his legs hurt and he’d exhausted himself, physically and eventually mentally, awake on days-long insomnia binges until his brain couldn’t function. Time wasn’t a fathomable concept to him at the moment so he didn’t bother checking the clock or otherwise identify the surroundings for indications, staggering in a tired daze as he’d walked towards the door.

Leo knew he would be there as soon as he opened it, as Markus had a nature to do – particularly when he was in a bad place. He had no idea if he’d been there the whole time, nearby, or somehow heard his thoughts from across the mansion with his super-sonic bat hearing, but either way, he’d always come even when he wasn’t summoned.

In the past, it was unnerving. Sometimes it was scary. Usually it was annoying.

Tonight, it was nothing short of appreciated.

“Bro,” he murmured with a strain in his voice, something like an agitated whine as he acted outright bothered by his presence.

“Brother,” Markus replied with only slight mock-disdain wrapped within his sincere concern, as he didn’t feel so much like reciprocating whatever deflection Leo was trying to give in regard to his bad mood. Leo may have tried to be secretive about his depression, but the signs were there; from skipping meals, isolation, and losing sleep to the fatigue, lack of ability to focus or concentrate, the way he moved slower on his feet and seemed to be in a daze, how his limp got worse as the aches in his joints increased. How long had Leo showed symptoms that he’d felt this way? Two weeks ongoing. Why? Markus wasn’t sure, only able to shuffle through his library of estimated guesses, and even then, he preferred not to in favor of avoiding the mistake of making assumptions. Leo’s business was his own, and by now, he knew he could share it if he so felt the need.

The tears wasted no time returning to Leo’s swollen, baggy eyes, sclera reddened from the strain of lacking what he physically needed and feeling too many emotions that he didn’t.

Markus opened his arms and he was all too eager to fall into them, letting his body grow weak. Not unlike the way he did the boy’s father, Markus shifted to kneel and prompted Leo to do similarly, curling his arms around the back of his legs while he let his body grow lax, finally able to trust as Markus scooped him up in his arms. Fingers curling into the fabrics of the soft, white cotton sweater, he hid his face into his chest as he let himself be carried away from the room.

For a long time, Leo refused to be looked after, and for a short time, Markus refused to pamper him. Eventually, they’d learned to meld Markus’ natural design as a caretaker, as well as Leo’s neglected internal need to be taken care of. Now, it had nearly come naturally for both of them.

Markus knew the signal for the routine, wandering to the bathroom, ensuring he was gentle as he settled Leo on the stool that he’d returned to the area – it was Carl’s to use when he was brought in for the oral hygiene routine, now left by the bathtub rather than the sink so Leo could sit down without being on the floor as Markus was aware of his exhaustion, always present and ever-increasing. The less energy he used, the better. While Leo settled in the space he was given, Markus leaned to turn on the faucet, adjusting it to a warm temperature but avoiding the hotter end in case of inducing a fever.

“Arms up.” With his head down as he was already half dozing off in his seat, Leo straightened up to look at him through squinted eyes, taking a few seconds to understand the command before doing as he was asked. Careful not to further alarm or hurt him, Markus took the shirt by the hem and pulled it up over his shoulders, then along his arms until it was peeled off.

“Would you like me to?” The subject was touchy, so he never finished the sentence. Leo responded with an awkward nod, crooked as his body swayed. Reaching for the waistband of Leo’s pants to tuck his fingers beneath the rim the same way he had with the sweater, it took a bit of nudging to peel them down and away, his attention focused on Leo’s face for the sake of the man’s own dignity even if he wasn’t entirely coherently aware of the situation. Once the clothes were folded and put to the side, he rose to his feet to reach under Leo’s arms in the proper, harmless way so as to lift him and bring him to the bath.

It was personal, and some might consider it intimate; now, it had become nothing more than natural.

“S’this what it was like with dad?” Feeling the warmth of the bath warm his feet, then his ankles, up to his legs, Leo roused, feeling another bout of tears roll down his cheeks. He wasn’t sure why, losing track of the reason for his despair hours, days, weeks ago.

“Somewhat,” Markus replied simply. Leo was in no condition to make conversation, but he also respected the fact it seemed to help him to speak. With his hands making way to the water, Leo watched the flow of transparent liquid, feeling a bit more awake from the sensations and temperature change.

“I loved him. I really did.” That was why he was crying, and the waterworks were only encouraged by his increasing depression. Settling on the floor next to the tub in a comfortable position, Markus reached forward to thumb the tears from his cheeks – an impractical gesture as he knew they wouldn’t stop, but a useful one as Leo would appreciate the heartfelt action.

“I know.”

No, you don’t, his mind argued, but his mouth was too tired and his head was too sore. Markus caught on.

“There is more to you than what you did in the past,” Markus reminded him, neglecting the use of who you were as he was well aware that Leo’s negative personality aspects were stirred up for good reason, but most of which was external from parental neglect and the incessant substance abuse.

“Remember that.”

Leo felt the lump in his throat again as he turned his head to glance at Markus, unable to put together an entire meaning to the words he said, but trying to register them nonetheless.

“Will it ever stop hurting? His death.” This time, Leo wiped at his own tears, too tired to acknowledge that it was a waste as his hands were wet from the water anyway.

“I want the caramel one.”

“Got it,” Markus responded to the request first, opening the cupboard under the sink to grab the requested bath soap, squeezing a generous amount into the pouring water before putting it away again.

“I can’t answer that for you, Leo.” Leo cringed from hearing his name, as if it had somehow hurt him.

“Tch, who named me that, anyway? I bet mom flipped over one of those stupid baby books and pointed with her eyes closed. Probably was drunk, too.” Bitterness dripped from his words, and Markus neglected them; responding to Leo in this state in any way, bad or good, would only encourage the negative thoughts and he’d quickly learned not to do so.

“Pillow?” Eyes now closed with the tears slowing, Leo nodded. Repeating the action as with the bubble bath, he retrieved the item from the closet, setting it against the porcelain rim and ensuring it was firmly set in place before he put an arm around Leo’s upper back, supporting him from behind the shoulders as he slowly leaned him back.

Leo had learned to appreciate the care, but it had taken him a long time, and for the most part, he didn’t accept it – the usual exception being nights like this, when he’d given up every last desire to fight. When he was too tired to remember being so vulnerable, when he’d let Markus touch and hold without his internal defiance telling him to refuse, to feel invaded like he’d been so many times before. When he’d needed so badly to be looked after and wanted so simply to be loved that the idea of a machine replicating such a thing was dissipated from his mind, and Markus was no longer cold metal and plastic; only warm hands and soft words.

“Did dad want to die?” Markus stiffened in place, frozen by the unexpected question.

“He loathed the probability of it, but he tried to live his life to the fullest, even if he didn’t feel like he was.” Was that too many words? Markus wasn’t sure, toying with the idea he might have been saying it just as much for himself.

“What do you mean?” It was too many words.

“Carl knew it was coming. I would not say he craved death, but over the time I spent with him, he focused on it more.” It was strange to Markus, the way Carl had spent his last days griping over the people around him, the artificial art industry, his own body’s faults and the fact his age was catching up to him. It made Markus feel no better, but it didn’t hit home so much until after it was much too late.

“Why are you asking?” It was dangerous territory, and generally Markus knew better than to ask, but the worry began to overcome his consideration for Leo’s personal boundaries.

Leo’s eyes opened and he turned his head to look at Markus, somehow looking even more exhausted than he was moments ago. Markus turned off the faucet, dipping a hand into the bath water to ensure its temperature was still ideal.

“I never thought I’d grow old. I still don’t think I will. But he had so much to live for.” Markus’ eyebrows lowered slightly as he didn’t fully understand the sentiment.

“You have plenty of years ahead of you. Whether you have anything to live for is a matter of opinion, and therefor up to you.” Pausing, Markus decided it was finally time to ask.

“What’s the matter?”

The tears came again and Leo closed his eyes, sighing.

“I don’t know.” Slightly stunned, Markus didn’t expect the answer, as Leo almost always had a reason to be upset, even if it seemed minor or nonsensical to anyone around him, sometimes even himself.

“I just… I don’t feel so good.” Markus tilted his head, feeling an urge to reach forward and pet his brother’s hair back in a show of consideration, but that was too close, he knew too well after months of experiencing and discovering Leo’s own personal space and when, where or why he wanted to be touched.

“Elaborate?” He paused, catching the fact he hadn’t watched his vocabulary.

“Explain, please.” Leo was too tired to snarl at his own stupidity, rolling onto his side to face Markus, though his eyes remained closed.

“I don’t feel well and I don’t know why. And it won’t stop.”

Then it clicked.

“If you would like, I can book you an appointment to see someone. I know you do not trust therapists, but there’s a walk-in clinic. You fill out some paperwork, tell them your problems and they suggest some medication.” Leo immediately furrowed his eyebrows at the idea of pills, scowling.

“I know you don’t like them,” Markus added wittingly.

“But they might help you feel better, even just a little.”

“Okay.” He didn’t feel like arguing. Markus was aware he’d likely forget his agreement tomorrow, but they could discuss that when the next day came.

“We should get you back to bed.” Leo didn’t say anything, reaching for the side of the tub as if to go and pull himself out. Markus couldn’t help but smile at his stubborn insistence for something like that, in a state like this, patting him on the hand in a faux mocking gesture that was playful in its motion. Leo opened his eyes with more alertness than he’d felt before he started crying in the first place – catching the smile, the restlessness in his mind settled again.

“I take that back. I should get you back to bed.” Looking lost, as if he didn’t remember how he got here, Leo’s eyes widened as he recoiled on himself, closing his legs and bringing them close to his body in a moment of recognized embarrassment.

“Oh, really? Now?” This time, Markus couldn’t help his own sarcasm, even if it was in jest.

“Come on, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” Markus’ extent of maturity was elusive to Leo, and it still showed every day as he didn’t understand, only felt his metaphysical boundaries being penetrated as he was aware of his aches, pains, scars and natural bodily anatomy all over again, cheeks reddening when he looked off to the side. Shifting to sit up, he lowered his legs and held up his arms as he’d done when he’d went to forego his shirt, cuing Markus to lift him up from underneath them just as he had done before.

“I don’t want to go to bed.” Realizing that wasn’t exactly what he meant, Leo reconsidered his thoughts.

“I don’t want to be in that bed.” With a moment of understanding, Markus repeated the actions he’d done when he picked Leo up from the doorway but with more ease as he was already sitting down in the tub, scooping his other arm up underneath the back of his legs to lift and carry him.

“I’ll take you to the guest room, then.”

Leo was asleep in his arms before he reached the door.

[mysurveys]

Random Qs

Survey #4 on the Countdown to 2018!

I’m sure we all know what your name is, so what's the name of your boss?

When it comes to my nonprofit group, I'm the boss which is how I earned the nickname of Lady Boss with some friends.

Do you actually read your friends' surveys or do you just copy-paste them and fill them out yourself?

I'll read those done by my besties and close friends sometimes, but it's most likely that they got them from me.

Whenever I copy-pasta one from someone else that I don't know personally, I may read the whole thing or just parts depending on which taker I've gotten it from. Some people have more interesting answers than others.

Which is your favorite episode of I Love Lucy?

I'd rather not watch that show since I'm not that into old reruns. I never liked that one very much to begin with.

Do you consider yourself a deep thinker?

I tend to be very introspective and I'm able to analyze what others are saying and doing. I've studied behavioral science for over ten years, but I'm also an intuitive empath who has the gift of discernment.

Who're two people you're closest with?

My mother and maybe Sasuke M. or Makoto whose last name I keep forgetting. I've even gotten the last initial wrong!

Which one of those two people would you eat first if you were starving?

I would never resort to cannibalism as the Bible calls it an abominable sin.

How many red shirts do you own?

Just one that has black writing on it that says, "I'm not lazy, I just really enjoy doing nothing."

No one cares whether or not you believe in love at first sight, but do you believe in hate at first sight?

Duh? Prejudice exists. You can hate a black man before you know anything about him.

You just can't love someone before you know anything about them as a person. I don't understand why people can't figure this out. It's so simple.

How old will you be in 2021?

I hate even simple math since I have severe dyscalculia. This is 2017 and I'm turning 31 this year. So that means I'll be turning 35 in 2021, right?

Would you rather be tone deaf or color blind?

There are variations of each. My father has blue/green color blindness as well as trouble with higher tones. I personally have less severe blue/green blindness than he does. Certain shades look way too alike to me.

When do you think is the proper time in a relationship to give the other person your business card?

I read "relationship" and assumed it would be about love. Surveys so often use that word only to denote romance.

As far as the actual question goes, it's irrelevant to someone who's been on disability as long as I have. I wouldn't know the proper etiquette for handing out your business card, but I wouldn't be bothered by receiving such right away personally.

When you were a kid, which comic strip was your favorite?

I wasn't really into comic strips or comic books, although the exceptions were some manga.

If you could only wear a sock on one foot for the rest of your life, which foot would you choose?

I'd rather go sock-less. Wearing only one seems pointless.

How many words can you make out of the letters of your name?

My name is Leanne and if you want to play this game then you can feel free to do it yourself.

How do you feel about fake plants?

I'd rather not keep fake ones at all and I have a black thumb. Maybe I could handle a cactus?

I'd probably be able to handle a carnivorous plant like the Venus fly trap if I just educated myself on it beforehand. I can relate to it more and I know that's a weird thing to say, but I can't figure out most other plants. I understand ones that're carnivores better.

What's your obsessive compulsion?

I don't have any, thankfully. I can't even form habits since I'm an HSP, though.

Do you know the difference between the statements "We’re just dating." and "We’re together."?

You don't have to be in a relationship to just date someone. You could even be seeing multiple people. It's something you can do before jumping into an official relationship.

Being together with someone means that you've become a couple. That's more than simply dating them. If you're monogamous then you're not seeing anyone else.

When you think, do you see the words that you're thinking in your mind as if they were being written down?

I can do that if I want to, but they don't stay in my mind's eye very long. I've wondered if anyone else ever does that.

If a person's brought up speaking both Spanish and English in equal amounts and equal fluency, which language do they think in?

You would have to ask someone who's been brought up in a bilingual household. I only speak English and Japanese on a fluent level and I can say that I think in a mixture of the two most of the time. Some Japanese expressions are just more expressive.

Does it make you uncomfortable when people ask you your shoe size?

Not really, but my size varies depending on the brand and sometimes I'll buy men’s shoes in a different size.

Would you feel guilty about cheating on your taxes if you got away with it?

I would never do that in the first place, but I would definitely feel guilty if I had. I do have a conscience.

A genie gives you three wishes, but what do you think he did with his time while he was in that lamp?

I'm guessing the inside of a genie lamp is just an Arabic-themed room like in fictional accounts. You would have to assume that it's simply lived in like a home, so maybe he watches cat videos online and frequents Twitter. Who knows.

If you had braces, would you put little diamonds on your brackets and call them your grill?

No, I wouldn't.

You have 24 hours to live, so what're you going to wear?

Who cares.

Which is worse, someone blowing cigarette smoke in your face or kissing someone who has dip in their mouth?

The latter sounds worse to me, but both options are disgusting.

Had you ever answered any of these questions before?

I don't think I've done this exact survey and yet I've seen some similar questions before. I've talked about not having obsessive-compulsive behaviors and disliking fake plants for instance.

Have you ever thought about getting your lip pierced?

I don't want to get any piercings whatsoever for religious reasons.

Who were you with last night?

I was alone in bed most of the night.

What woke you up this morning?

I got up at almost one in the afternoon without being very coherent. Then I plopped back in bed until it was almost five. I had just gotten off a bout of insomnia, though. That always throws me for a loop.

Have you ever passed out on the bathroom floor?

I haven't. I've fainted in a kitchen, but it had nothing to do with any substance.