#cw self-dep

[onthevirgeofdestruction]

Words: 3,082 Warnings: Night Brain™ (Self-Depreciating Thoughts), Insomnia Characters: Virgil, Janus Ships: Anxceit, but it's ambiguous Genre: Hurt/Comfort Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders-centric, Self-Care Snek Janus, there was only one bed! actually not the trope but that is still true, placed in like probably a mid-point of enemies to lovers

   Virgil rolled over and glanced at the digital display of the clock, sick of staring at the ceiling. 2:42 am lit up the room in a daunting red glow in a painful affront to all of his efforts to sleep tonight. He ate dinner on time. He turned down all the lights with the sun. He tried to meditate (with questionable success; he wondered when the last time he cleaned the carpet was and if he had bills due more than he was mindful of the moment) and went to bed early in a dark, cool room. Virgil did everything right, and he was still here, having a staring contest with his alarm clock.

   It was basically inevitable, and all the effort was meaningless. If it was that easy, then why hadn’t it ever worked before? Adding or changing some steps to the ritual wouldn’t change a lifetime of being eaten alive slowly by insomnia. Everything was futile, and Virgil just needed to accept that things were always out of his control and that no good ever comes his way. More cruel proof that all his efforts were always in vain, and he’d never achieve the few precious hopes and dreams that Virgil quietly kept for himself. Like the fervent wish that Janus’s caring advice would finally let him steal some sleep from the sandman that betrayed every night. The equivalence of sheer force of will and the prayers of a friend somehow changing a mountain into the sea. A stupid thought on every level.

   Fuck. Virgil rubbed his face bitterly, clenching up all his muscles in frustration. Night brain was getting to him. There were good things in the world, even if Virgil couldn’t see them in the dim light of the alarm clock. His dreams aren’t dead because 10 pm bedtimes just aren’t on the table for him right now. He still needed to figure out the insomnia problem, though. No matter how hard he researched solutions, he remained lost on how to make them work for him. He just had to wade through the muck of his horrible, bogged down brain to figure out what he needed to do.

   He might have to cancel tomorrow's plans, as much as he hated to do that to Janus. With how intensely their relationship fluctuated, setting them back further by flaking on him felt like shooting himself in both feet. But if he was in someone else’s position, he’d like the heads-up if someone may change the plans or cancel. Virgil twisted to sit up on the edge of his bed and reached for his phone, tapping it out of airplane mode and tugging it off the charger to warn him before he forgot. He texted Janus to let him know he would stay an exhausted mess tomorrow, and that Janus was nice to try, even if it didn’t work. As much as he’d love to just call him a name and throw his phone against the wall, that wasn’t fucking working for him, and he needed to be nicer like Janus was trying to.

   Even if the ideas didn’t work and the ever-encroaching devil’s hour was pissing him off, he honestly appreciated Janus’s suggestions. Virgil was used to being told that he wasn’t trying hard enough, or that he should just solve it with coffee like everyone else. At least it wasn’t a lack of effort on Virgil’s part, if even all of Janus’s suggestions didn’t help him sleep. There was some odd comfort in that. He genuinely would have loved to get back to Janus with the proud beam of someone who got eight hours of sleep. Well, if he figured something else out, maybe he could still fall asleep before 4 am and keep hanging on by a thread like he often is.

   Virgil started up the streaming video app to pick something low-key and boring enough to kill his last few awake brain cells. Even if it didn’t get him to sleep, it would be nice just to distract the damn night brain for a little while before he ends up on that ‘failure’ tangent again over the insomnia… or even just something to focus on since his tired brain kept wandering down haunted paths. But before Virgil could pick a video to drown out his thoughts, he received a text alert. Janus responded to the warning Virgil sent, even though Janus should have been asleep right now and not answering. Virgil glanced at the clock again, the unholy hour leaving a foul taste in his mouth.

   ‘Who cares?’ was the text he received from Janus. Virgil frowned and pursed his lips at that response. Didn’t Janus care when he suggested all that stuff to try? Or was this all some very elaborate and confusing prank? Was it a joke? He was too tired to figure this out. He thought it was an earnest attempt to help. Maybe it was just more lines and lies, though. It was hard to tell with Janus.

   ‘You cared yesterday,’ Virgil texted back. Janus was the one who basically demanded he go to bed early when Virgil mentioned how little sleep he’d been getting. Janus even brought up the subject by pointing out how tired Virgil looked in an insult. It’s not like Virgil was just dropping hints at the guy in hopes of help. It was Janus who sent him a list of things to try unprompted.

   ‘I have every right not to care as the person you woke up at nearly three in the morning,’ Janus responded to the text. Virgil bristled as read the words on the darkened screen, his brain conjuring up the harsh, catty tone that Janus used to talk shit about someone. Damnit, he didn’t mean to wake up Janus. He was just giving Janus a heads-up as he remembered to do so. He didn’t think he would have remembered later because of the original issue. Insomnia. How fucking cyclical.

   ‘It’s your fault for not using sleep mode, stupid,’ Virgil sent back defensively, but he knew he should have just texted later or not brought it up at all. He should have just hid the fact that he hadn’t been sleeping. Then Janus would still be asleep and Virgil wouldn’t be panicking in the middle of the night about messing up his relationship with Janus, which was often tenuous at best. Virgil had been trying, but considering that was also a word that Janus used to describe Virgil, it probably wasn’t doing that well. He would ruin this relationship like he did with all the others. Oh, goddamnit, there goes night brain again.

   ‘I would have been fine if you fell asleep on time and hadn’t texted me at 2:44 am,’ Janus texted, and Virgil’s brain just was making Janus sound angrier. It didn’t help that it echoed the sentiment that night brain was touting as a personal failure. Virgil pouted and flopped back on the bed, holding the phone above his head to text back. Janus wasn’t wrong, and Virgil kind of threw Janus’s consideration back in his face by failing to fall asleep and messaging him about it. Ugh. Night brain aside, he really didn’t need to bother Janus with this. He’s dealt with it alone almost his whole life.

   ‘Sorry,’ Virgil apologized sheepishly and rubbed his face. He knew he could catastrophize about relationships. He knew the later it got, the more harsh his brain could be, too. It didn’t make Virgil feel any better about any of that interaction. It all seemed so bad, and he just needed to learn to keep his mouth shut, but he didn’t know how. He was so fucking tired all the time. Being tired makes you struggle with judgment and sense. Ergo, Virgil was always stupid. Maybe even Janus was stupid by extension for willingly spending time with the chronically sleepless Virgil, who even knew anymore. He only knew he needed to stop bothering Janus and try to sleep. The glowing clock’s non-stop march forward told him this wasn’t the time and reminded him he should just have been asleep to avoid all this shit.

   Janus hadn’t responded to his apology, so Virgil switched back to the video app. He would try to make it up to Janus tomorrow somehow. Maybe he could get them both espresso or something like that. There really wasn’t any way to solve sleep deprivation, though, and he owed Janus more than he could physically even pay. Virgil knew how deep that debt could eat at your heart and soul more than anyone else. Janus didn’t have to forgive him, but Virgil still had to at least try to be better about not waking up friends in the middle of the night, even if it was an accident. Next time, he can just write himself a sticky note. It would be a good habit to build just to cope with the brain fog of chronic insomnia.

   Virgil found some videos reviewing bad books, and those were relatively interesting without getting invested enough in the content to turn on his brain, so he watched a few reviews. It didn’t seem to be to any avail, though, other than mildly quieting the night brain from going on mean tangents. He did wonder how the hell said books ever got published and felt bad for the readers, but considering the contents of the books, that was probably a normal reaction and not a late-night horror fun house ringing throughout his skull. Virgil checked the clock on his phone screen compulsively, and the time made him grimace. He wasn’t any more drowsy than he was before, so that failed. The human capacity to be exhausted without being sleepy is offensive to think about. Time to drown out his brain in random content again, then.

   He scanned for a different genre of videos that he could doze to with half-open eyes, but only ended up jumping at a loud thudding, the knock at his front door carried through his apartment causing a phone to land on his face in surprise. Virgil scrambled to grab the phone he dropped, looking around his room for something to defend himself with. No matter where his eyes jumped, he found nothing he could use to even bludgeon anyone with. Not that it would help against something like a gun. Maybe he was just going to die tonight.

   The tiny ounce of sense that Virgil could have called his own was smothered to death by the haze of fear overtaking his brain as his breath came in sharply. ‘If I don’t show up tomorrow, I’ve been axe murdered by a late-night visitor. Tell your snake I love her,’ he messaged off his epitaph to Janus, sitting up on the bed.

   He wasn’t sure if he should ignore it or see who it was. What if it was an emergency? What if someone needed help? What if it was the police? Should he even open it, then? Would it be worse if he pretended he wasn’t home? Would someone try to rob him if they thought his apartment was empty? What if it was someone out to hurt him? What if it was a trap? Were they going to be mad at how long it’s taking Virgil to answer? Maybe if he doesn’t answer it, he’s going to regret it for the rest of his life. What if they break in, anyway? What if—

   ‘Open the door,’ Janus texted him, shaking Virgil from freaking out about the sudden visitor’s intentions. What? Was Janus joking, or trying to get him offed?

   ‘Are you trying to get me serial-killed for waking you up?’ Virgil replied, and he intended it as a joke, but it was also the exact thing he was terrified of occurring. Nothing good happens this late at night. There was no way that the statistics for opening a door this late at night favoured him for survival.

   ‘It’s cold out here. Open the damn door,’ Janus sent another text, and Virgil jumped up from the bed right away and rushed to the front door, absolutely blindsided by the implications. Even the chance, even the tiny possibility. If it was Janus, he would open the door. That shook all his fears about the situation from the etch-a-sketch of his brain into harmlessly scattered grains of concern, leaving him breathless and bewildered.

   Virgil flung open the door, and there was Janus in all of his pyjama-clad glory, looking fatigued, chilly, and perturbed. Janus pushed Virgil aside and stepped in, and Virgil locked up behind him in pure confusion, though he felt himself grinning like an idiot despite himself. Janus was here! Did Virgil fall asleep after all, and he was currently in a rare pleasant dream? Janus’s nightwear was certainly the stuff of dreams, it was hard to believe he even owned such classy sleepwear.

   “What are you doing here?” Virgil asked quietly (as if to not startle himself awake, or perhaps because Janus looked half-asleep himself. He couldn’t speak for his own motivations, he could barely even speak) while Janus yawned, covering his mouth as his jaw unhinged. A little tear beaded on Janus’s eye that he blinked away, looking at Virgil directly with an intense expression as soon as he closed his mouth.

   Janus didn’t reply and simply grabbed Virgil’s hand to drag him back into the bedroom. Virgil could only follow along with (dream?) Janus’s whims, feeling dumbfounded as Janus pulled Virgil along. Then Janus unceremoniously shoved him into the bed, Virgil’s knees buckling at the edge and catching himself on his hands to continue to stare up at Janus in shock. Janus only raised an eyebrow, leaning his weight on one foot as he glowered at Virgil’s lost face.

   “Get in,” Janus demanded, flipping his hand at Virgil to shoo him into the bedsheets. Virgil furrowed his eyebrows, but crawled in and sandwiched himself between the blankets, anyway. He didn’t know what Janus was getting at, but it was better to just listen than deal with Janus’s tired wrath. Janus kicked off his shoes and climbed in bed next to him with another small yawn, tugging Virgil in and holding him to his chest under the covers. Virgil’s face heated as Janus forcefully nestled Virgil closely against himself and shifted to get comfortable in Virgil’s bed.

   “What—” Virgil tried to start, his voice muffled against Janus’s firm chest.

   “Sh. Just lie still and breathe deeply, and I will get you to sleep whether you like it or not,” Janus explained flatly, holding Virgil close and squeezing with mild pressure, the soft interaction melting away Virgil’s concerns in favour of focusing on the feel of Janus’s slender fingers without the gloves against his skin. Virgil wasn’t surprised his hands were cold. There was something soothing about that, even. It was almost as if the gentle chill of Janus’s hands quenched the leftover dread that burned through his mind unbidden and gave him space to breathe.

   Virgil took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing his eyes. Janus warmed up from the night's chill beneath the sheets and Virgil’s remnant adrenal heat, making this moment more comfortable than Virgil could have dreamed. Virgil hadn’t shared his bed in a long time, and he thought he didn’t miss it, but it seemed at least a small, traitorous part of him clearly still did from the unwelcome relief that slowly filled his body. He doesn't like how much Janus just being here changed how he felt, even though it satisfied him beyond words. The warmth between them, the soft covers, the considerate cuddle, and Janus’s gentle heart beat and steady rise and fall of his chest all coaxed him down as he breathed slowly and stayed still as asked. Virgil’s thoughts had trouble wandering with Janus right there. His brain was too busy fluctuating on Janus’s very existence, as well as the fact that he showed up out of nowhere to snuggle Virgil to sleep. He had to be already dreaming, right?

   Janus rolled over and rearranged Virgil into being the little spoon, arms wrapping around Virgil and sliding his head onto Virgil’s shoulder. A few soft, warm breaths sent dancing across Virgil’s skin before Janus dropped his head to the pillows behind Virgil, Janus's breath now lightly jostling the hairs of Virgil’s bed head. Janus reached around to have Virgil hold on to a spare pillow and tucked him properly into the covers before snuggling tight, the even spread of pressure across Virgil’s back reminding him that Janus was here even though Virgil could no longer see him. Virgil couldn’t believe this moment was real, and he didn’t want to stop to consider it and ruin the moment. He wanted to be here in Janus’s arms, not even letting the fear of waking stay in his forethought for long.

   The moments of soft breathing calmed the last of the fear in Virgil’s heart, loosening the knot in his stomach and the tightness in his throat. Virgil felt relaxation wash over him in places he didn’t know could even loosen, unwinding him down to the core. Janus’s arms slackened slightly, and Virgil could feel him slip off to sleep behind him, dragging Virgil down farther along with him. The dreamlike quality of the moment grew, the lines of reality becoming blurry, and the light of the alarm clock faded into an unreadable glow instead of a harsh reminder of the waking reality.

   The request was so simple it was offensive that it worked, but the mantra and the soft embrace warded off all thoughts. Just breathe deep and lie still. That’s all he had to do. Janus was here. He’d know if Virgil gave up, so he had to keep going. And he wasn’t alone. He didn’t screw up with Janus, and he was safe. It didn’t matter if it was a dream or not, because both options were so wonderful, he would stay in either forever.

   Time unwound and lost all meaning together in the soft sheets. He didn’t count the breaths. The clock’s horrible march forward, lost to the details, quickly blurring out. There was only Janus’s breath and his, entwining together in the dark room. The last dregs of Virgil’s waking mind faded to nothing, and there was nothing but warmth in the last moments of Virgil’s awareness as he drifted off to sleep.

[slugass]

did you know internet?

laughing at funny soundalikes does NOT give you the right to throw around words like “idi ot”, and THE LITERAL R-SLUR for your unoriginal self deprication

:) [smiley face]

[sweet-curried-powder]

a more angsty moodboard featuring dep!ed

picture in the middle belongs to @tinyjvpiter

@xies-coffee-jelly does this count as a dep!ed offering

[chimeric-mind]

ignore

I think on a fundamental level I am just a bad person. So many people have died and hurt because of me. There is so much blood on my hands. I don’t want to be an asshole anymore but I don’t know anything else. Everyone here hates me. Everyone there hated me. I can’t.. do this. I can’t do it. I don’t even know what I’m typing this up for I just. I don’t know. I hurt everyone around me and that’s all I’ll ever be good for. even in sys all i’ve done so far is fucking. pick fights and hurt people and hurt the body and ruined our schedule. I’m fucking worthless. I wish I would’ve just stayed dead

[soluess]

specimen 844634, commonly referred as ʼbadgerʼ, is alone - as always; 844634 badger appears to be searching for something, nothing of particular use or that she'd be able to find with her inability to follow directions, but alas it seems important. possibly more important than her familyʼs approval, that she isn't a m̶̡̨̗̝̘̞̙̖̖̭̰̟̱̣͐o̵̢̼̼̮̰̪̯͖̫̾͜n̸̨̛̻̼̻̩̳̉̐̋̃͋̅̈̌̂̀͂ͅs̷̡̡͔͕̦͎̺͉̎̓̿̋̓̍́̒̚͜͝͝ţ̸̧̟̠̞̟͈̼̤͉̰̤̀̈́͜͠ē̵̤͔̦̺͎̭̟̪͖̫͑̀̈́̿̕͠r̴̩̜̘̭̥͊̈̊̿̒͑̓̔͒̈͊ (monster)? uncertain, perplexing.

alas, 844634 badger is on the move; she is determined to find ʼitʼ, whatever ʼitʼ may be has... been found.

ʼitʼ is a room - a structure similar to a dungeon, perhaps a jail, that starts to morph to reveal an expanse one may refer to as an 044133, an office. an 044133 office featuring a wide, rustic desk accompanied by a 531431 34414, a swivel chair; a small 904 (pot) filled with 9343115 (pencils), 9345 (pens), other stationary equipment; a large 8004 54314 (book shelf) in the corner filled from shelf-to-shelf with novels.

specimen 844634badgerʼs decision for emerging within this destinations proximity is, stationary, vacillating. wonk llahs srewop rehgih ylno ?ereh gniod si regdab 436448 tahw nrael reve ew lliw.

[fvcking-orb]

I think that when they ask me to do my work my parents expect to care about good grades when the opposite is true

I'm literally clinically depressed. I'm self distructive even if I'm trying not to be and so I know that if I want to make them proud and be loved and get into a good college then I should get good grades but not doing my work and getting bad grades hurts my future and that's something that I want because I hate myself and am a shitty person and all

Like the future holds no water to me and I just feel bad all the time and all my work is the most fucking boring shit I've ever seen. There's not one fucking reason to do my work so I don't do it

Not to mention if I even wanted to do my work I still wouldn't because I'm too depressed to do fucking anything and my executive functioning is so shit even if I managed to hussle up the spoons to be able to I probably wouldn't because I have shit for brains

[tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors]

(cw: talking about self depreciation) okay so can I just say that your "no self dep agenda" and cts are synching up perfectly? like, this *points at Remus and Janus and their absolute garbage fire communication skills* is what you get when you can't even imagine good things about yourself. Remus is there literally "oh Janus' shoulders slumped it's GOTTA be relief cos NO WAY he'd what to stick around with me."

like, the way that negative perception of yourself just absolute messes with your life and what you can even hope for yourself??? (been there, working on not doing that again)

anyway thankyou for writing a story that gave my brain ammo for the no self dep agenda. my brain: they're dumb right? me: so dumb. so so dumb. my brain: that is what you sound like when you do the negative internal monologuing. me: surprised pikachu.jpg

aaaAAAHHH youre so WELCOME im glad you can see the connection between those two things! and i bet youre doing great, good luck on your journey!!!

[sundaeserenade]

Okay, so, on twitter a couple days ago, I mentioned how I wanted to talk about Red’s condition after Mt. Silver based on my own headcanon which I think is pretty popular among the fandom? But also not. Maybe it’s mildly popular. But anyway.

cw for near death experiences, disturbing body descriptions, and heavy trauma. I think.

SO this whole thing started because of one of my ongoing fics (Gone and Back Again) delving into it a little bit. I mentioned that I didn’t go into as much detail as I wanted, so here’s all the things I would’ve liked to talk about but couldn’t.

Red’s skin is really pale and thin. So a dermatologist? Yeah.

He’s anemic obviously. Hematologist too. 

The muscle strength in his hands/wrists is bad, so he has trouble gripping things or closing his hand into a fist because of the cold. So physical therapy.

Dentist?? I actually think Red would boil water, wait for it to cool, and use the toothbrush he carried with him on his journey to brush his teeth. forgetting that he needs to use a new one...but his teeth still need work done.

he suffers from malnutrition so he’d be put on a strict diet of what to eat, and he follows this because of his mother.

just a lack of muscle strength in general. so a LOT of physical therapy actually.

red has bruises and wounds from his brushes with wild pokemon plus y’know. just living on a mountain so all those would get looked at and treated. stitches definitely. i don’t hc that he broke any bones, though.

just a lot of looking over any old injuries for infection and stuff. x-rays for every part of his body.

his KNEES???? his knees

frostbite

and, most importantly, hypothermia so a cardiologist

Because Red has hypothermia and that causes confusion and a lack of like. coordination and self-awareness, he’d push himself even further and not be aware of just how bad of shape he’s in. so he’d go out and train/explore/whatever he wants, and not realize how cold his body has gotten.

he’s constantly shivering. he sometimes can’t remember what he was doing or what he was saying. his pokemon notice this, of course, because it’s such a drastic change for their trainer. but red moderates his schedule to combat this. like he’ll stay inside a cave or whatever for a day (because he’s also low energy and drowsy) to get his bearings and then go out for a couple of days at a time. he’ll always have charizard out to help with heat.

the point of this is that instead of red leaving the mountain, he’s so determined to stay up there that he adapts to his environment and ignores the warning signals his body is sending him.

so that hypothermia doesn’t help him in the passage of time. months pass and they feel like days to red. green comes to visit him and he’s confused because hasn’t it just been a week?? but it’s been two months since his last visit. he forgets things but..not the things that he wants to.

his skin is bone dry. so? frostbite. especially in his fingers. i think he’d definitely get blisters, but i don’t think he’d stay out to the point of deep frostbite, as the stages reaching to that point cause extreme pain, which not even red can ignore. the feeling of numbness and slight pain? sure. but those tissues dying, the stabbing/tingling feeling? no. and since he doesn’t wear gloves, red would have frostnip constantly.

so he’d often  be at the cusp of deep frostbite in some areas. on his feet and like elbows/arms, i think the third stage of frostbite with blisters is very common for him. but constantly reddened skin, bleeding, scabs, broken skin, that kind of stuff. constantly, all over.

his pokemon help like immensely though, they’ll go find food/firewood/whatever the fuck to help out, and charizard doesn’t leave red’s side. and this lessens even more when green visits and brings supplies to help.

but these health issues lead to him being treated for like 2-3 years after coming down. and i haven’t mentioned his mental health but like

anxiety (social and just in general)

depression

PTSD (fighting team rocket in Saffron particularly)

So psychiatrist would treat those, which i mentioned, but for probably a few reasons, red only takes his medication/stays on the treatment for those 2-3 years and then stops. it’s partly because of being overwhelmed (he’s on a lot of medication at this point) and burnout so quickly after coming back down

there isn’t a gradual reintegration into society for him, and society is one of the reasons he left in the first place, so he’d stay on it for as long as he could put up with it, for his mother’s benefit more than his own, but then he. stops.

[a-constant-state]

why do pill bottles rattle so g’damn loudly im tryna hide you from my family pipe down babe