#gonna talk to my therapist on Monday about it but fucking hell

[adhdstudybitch]

What do you do when your psychiatrist hands you an scale for OCD to fill out, explains that there are different types, then says "at least you can go through it and go 'oh thank goodness I don't have that type"?

Cuz I'm thinking of telling her to go fuck herself, but that doesn't seem productive.

[madmaryholiday]

got my blood results back, and it looks like my ferritin is uhhhhh

25.

which is TECHNICALLY in the "normal" range, but from what i understand, anything below 100 can fuck with you.

my iron is also on the very low end of normal, which is fun.

i got some other results, too, but i don't know what they mean. i'll have to wait for my physician to let me know, i guess. my glucose was kinda high, but i had also just eaten within an hour of getting my blood drawn, so idk how much that skews results?

anyway, i also had therapy a bit ago, and my therapist thinks i should maybe talk to the psychiatrist about upping my meds. not that i'm spiraling or anything, but because my stress levels have been consistently higher than usual even after quitting my job, and things are unlikely to get LESS stressful in the near future.

so upping my meds for awhile might help me function better during this period of extra stress, you know?

idk if i'll call the clinic about it today. i only have an hour before the doc heads out for the day, so it's unlikely he'd be able to see me right now anyway.

maybe i'll take the weekend to think about it. i'm reluctant to up my psych meds because, well, they're psych meds, and i haven't changed my dosage in like. probably close to 10 years? so you know. change is scary and all that. plus now that i know my ferritin and iron are not awesome, i'm wondering if addressing that might give me more energy?

but also that would take awhile to make me feel better anyway--but the change in meds might ALSO take awhile to make me feel better.

you see my dilemma, yes?

yeah, i think i might wait until monday to call. give my brain some time to work on the problem in the background.

in the meantime, i am tired as hell, so i'm gonna watch some streamers play lethal company for a bit and then get some lunch.

edit: ok, looking up some of the other things that were tested, i think i have some kind of anemia. idk what type, but all of the "abnormal" counts i looked up were indicators of anemia in some capacity. guess we'll see what the physician has to say about that.

[raccoon-in-a-dumpster]

guys so like. i found out yesterday that nurses are not SUPPOSED to pushbthe needle in deeper to get blood

i was gettin my blood drawn just to see if i had any complications that could impact my legs n' shit, (since having low iron can fuck you up BAD.)

and ig the vein wasn't rlly feelin it that day (makes sense, i was totally unprepared) so it didn't rlly do anything, and the person doing the draw pushed it in. and at first i was like: oh. this has never happened to me before!! and then it was like: oh my god kill me this is agonizing why does it hurt so bad it never hurts

and i had told the nurse that i was AWESOME at blood draws (i usually get them done at another clinic, and every single time, it's been great. found a good vein on my left arm, inserted & extracted with very minimal pain, felt great) but GOD. IT FUCKING HURT

so after a bit she SLOWLY took out the needle (and it hurt like fucking hell let me tell you) cuz there was no blood. And the MOMENT she starts taking it out, i feel sick.

She asks if i'm alright, and i say no, i'm really dizzy and i feel like i'm gonna throw up. so i lay down after my arm is bandaged. My head feels so fucking hot, my arm hurts like all hell- can barely move it- and i'm sweating. barely have the energy to speak at that point. I thought i was gonna pass out.

so after a bit of laying, she asks if i wanna try again, and i- still being nauseous- say no, and practically beg to not do it again cause this is the worst i've ever felt in my life. and so her and my mom talk about when to come back, and i pipe up sometimes

I suggest Saturday.

They don't draw blood on Saturday.

I suggest Sunday.

They don't draw blood on Sunday.

So after a bit of pushing with my mom, (she wanted today, i wanted Monday. I bring up that my arm might hurt afterwards and effect my marching, but really, i was still reeling and i was genuinely afraid, i needed some time, y'know?) we settle on Monday.

so i get home from marching after 9, and i chat with my dad. ask him if mom told him about what happened

"Oh yeah. So growing pains?" (referring to the possibility i might've developed osgood-schlatter disease)

"No, the other thing. With the blood draw?"

so i tell him what happened, and he tells me some stories about how he has really small veins, so doctors have a difficult time finding it. He tells me a story about how in basic, a nurse was tryna find a vein, and by the end he had so many puncture wounds and bruises from it that he looked like he had been shooting up or smth.

I tell him about how it didn't rlly hurt at first but then the needle got pushed deeper and he was like: man they aren't supposed to do that, if they aren't finding blood then they aren't finding blood.

So yeah.

I'm REALLY not hyped for Monday- I'd really rather get my blood drawn at the other clinic. The clinic i usually go to is linked up with my therapist and my psychologist, too, so it's generally just a lot more accommodating. being misgendered while you're experiencing the worst feeling you've ever felt sure isn't that great.

My arm/elbow hurts whenever i think about earlier, and i'm just. not hyped for next time.

[cryptidsurveys]

Monday, November 4th, 2024.

Do you ever get super bad buzzing in your ears? It's more like a super high-pitched frequency. It only lasts for a few seconds and then it disappears. (Also, I started this survey a couple of days ago, so if there's any continuity confusion, that would be why.)

Do you know anyone who has actually been in an alcohol or drug related crash? I might, but I don't know all the details and I don't know her well enough to ask. There may have been drugs/alcohol involved, but from what I can gather, the main motivator was suicidal tendencies.

What is so wrong with cigarettes? Are you fucking serious? <- For real. I might be a smoker, but I'm not going to sit here and pretend it's a harmless habit.

Did you celebrate Fathers Day? No. I love my dad, but we didn't do anything special.

Do you actually think you’re funny? I have my moments.

Have you ever had a deep conversation with someone who was high on anything? Yeah.

Do you ever wonder if there really is someone who can complement your personality well enough to stay together for the rest of your life? Lol, I was just talking about this the other day. Like, I go to bed sooo early, my entire life revolves around the animal shelter, I've watched that outer space video a zillion times already, and yes, I am going to eat the same thing for dinner AGAIN. Is somebody gonna match my freak?

Do you hate how being bisexual is like a trend? I don't notice anyone in my life treating it that way…or even really mentioning their sexuality at all except in passing.

Have you ever gotten a professional massage? I have. When I was a child, my mom had a massage therapist and I went to her a few times to see if it would help with migraines (unfortunately, it did not).

Do you have a good relationship with your first love? I don't have any relationship with him now, but at least on my end there's no hard feelings.

What is something you’re currently nervous about? We might get some snow over the next few days (we'll see - it might just be rain) and I'm a little nervous to drive in it.

Do you have a popup blocker installed on your computer? I honestly don't know. I don't get any pop-ups, though.

Do you feel like you have life figured out? No.

Have you ever used a laptop in a coffee shop? I haven't.

What was the last worst feeling you felt? A sense of falling into a terrible abyss. I was so worried I wasn't going to be able to volunteer at the shelter anymore because of the whole Alex situation/fallout, but I spent all that time worrying for nothing. It wasn't even close to that serious. There was no mention or even a suggestion that they were going to "fire" me. I was in hell for the few days leading up to that meeting, though. :')

Do you ever tend to over-analyse? Yeah. My previous answer is a good example, but it's typically much smaller stuff. I'll overthink someone's tone of voice, a joke they told, why they said a certain thing, etc. I've gotten into the habit of reminding myself that it's just "mental illness shit." I can try to figure out why I feel that way later on, but in the moment, I have to let it go.

Do you know anyone that like, no matter WHAT, they’re always pissed off? Diane is often grumpy, but I'm at least somewhat sympathetic about it. She's older, she just wants to be able to retire, and she has to deal with the public all day (and in a setting such as the animal shelter, that can be especially emotionally taxing).

How do you react when you’re pissed off? One example would be how I reacted to some of Diane's comments back in September. I try to avoid impulsively expressing the full extent of my emotions, though, because one - it's often futile, and two - it just makes things worse than they already are.

What celebrity did your most current ex resemble? I don't know.

What is something creepy that has happened to you (or someone you know) recently? Nothing creepy has happened to me, but there was a recent Walmart lockdown incident in the city in which Paris lives, and she happened to be there at the time.

If you named your car or family car, what would you call it? My dad and I call his car the spaceship. I don't have any creative ideas for mine, though.

What would you do if you were faced with an unplanned or unwanted pregnancy (at your current age)? I'm not sure what I would do.

What does it take for someone to earn your trust? I don't know. Those who have it, have it, but I don't think there's anything anyone can do to earn it at this time.

Is there anything you should be worried about? I don't think so.

Are you dealing with any health-related problems right now? Just migraines. Nothing serious or life-threatening.

Do you think you should fight for love? I'm not even sure what that means.

Are you experiencing problems within a current relationship? Not really.

When you need a temporary escape, what do you do? Listen to something on YouTube.

How long did your last feelings of heartbreak last? It's more like that heartbreak has a half-life. It decreases and decreases, but it never completely disappears.

Do you ever go shopping with your parents (not including grocery shopping)? Occasionally.

When the weather is chilly but humid, what kind of things do you tend to wear? Sweats and a hoodie. Maybe a hat and a jacket as well, depending on how chilly it was.

When you’re walking somewhere, do you bring an iPod to listen to? I don't normally walk anywhere. Except for hikes, but then I don't listen to anything.

Have you ever had some kind of sleep-disorder before? How did it affect your daily life? I experienced some insomnia during late 2019/early 2020.

Have you ever had food poisoning before? Describe the experience: I'm not sure if it was food poisoning or one of those "24 hour bugs," but it was about how you would expect. I don't think I need to describe anything.

Have you ever read anything by Chuck Palahniuk? What did you think? I haven't.

How do you tend to amuse yourself on long car journeys? Listen to podcasts/audiobooks, chat with my dad, take snapshots of the scenery, listen to music, eat, etc.

Do you find that caffeinated or alcoholic drinks make you pee more than normal? Yeah.

How often do you need to charge your phone and iPod (on average)? Daily.

Do you still enjoy watching Disney movies? I probably would.

What are some interests you have in common with your parents?

How old were you when your parents trusted you to stay home alone all day? Maybe in high school? I don't think they didn't trust me sooner than that - my mom would occasionally leave me at home to run errands and such - but they were rarely ever gone all day until I was a bit older.

How long do you like to date someone before you bring them home to meet your parents? Well, I live with my dad, so they would probably meet pretty early on. As for introducing them to my mom, I'm not sure.

If you could go to one country for two weeks, all expenses paid, where would you go and why? Japan.

Do you drink more or less water than is recommended? More.

Do you like taking walks? I like hiking.

Do you go on vacation with your family a lot? Where was the last place you went? No. The last trip my dad and I made was to Georgia in 2011 (?).

What do your parents think about piercings and tattoos? Do you agree with them? My dad doesn't have any piercings or tattoos, but I don't think he cares what other people do with their bodies. My mom has one tattoo and her ears are pierced, and her opinion is probably pretty similar to my dad's.

Which is the funniest name you’ve ever heard? Idk.

What are your religious beliefs? Are these the same as your parents’? I believe in God, but I don't follow any particular religion. The entirety of my beliefs would be pretty difficult to describe. My dad is Jewish and my mom is what I would call casually spiritual. I have something in common with both of them, but overall I probably align more with my dad.

Do you find it difficult to get to sleep early when you have to be up for something the next day? Not really.

Do you still enjoy coloring in coloring books? I just don't have the patience/concentration. Weird to say because I make my own art, but I feel like that's more mentally engaging than coloring.

Do you remember the Land Before Time movies? Who was your favorite character? I do. My favorite character was Ducky.

What’s your favorite genre of book to read? Lately, sci-fi or books exploring the paranormal.

Who has more influence over your taste in music - friends or family? A bit of both, plus my own discoveries/unique preferences.

When someone talks to you constantly, do you get fed up and easily irritated with them? I do eventually run out of steam.

Are you one of those people who texts back instantly? Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. It just depends.

Do you think going to college / university is the best option after you’ve left school?

Is it easy to sleep late in your house, or are other people pretty noisy in the mornings? It's hard for me to sleep in regardless of how quiet other people are being.

Do you prefer watching movies alone or with other people? With other people. Left to my own devices, I might never watch them.

What’s your favourite place to get pizza from? Domino's.

Do you ever do something, and then wonder how many people are currently doing the same thing as you? Yeah.

When’s the last time the power went out in your house? I'm not sure, but our water was out about a month and a half ago (something like that, anyway). They're building a new fire station nearby and I guess they had to shut it off for…whatever they were doing. Idk. It was only out for a couple of hours, though.

Is there a laundry basket in your room? If yes, what color is it? I have two laundry baskets (one pink and one dark blue). The pink one is in the basement because I'm currently in the middle of doing laundry.

Do you like those different flavored Tootsie Rolls? I think I prefer the chocolate ones.

Do you keep your shoes on a shoe rack, or just throw them somewhere? I keep them in the entrance.

Think of the last verbal argument you were in; what caused it?

Does your refrigerator have one door or two? One big door and one smaller freezer door.

Do you smoosh bugs, or just let ‘em go? I let this guy go with a stern warning. ;D

Do you know anyone who collects stamps? I don't.

What was the last thing you deleted off of your computer? I don't think I've deleted anything from this computer yet.

[meraki-yao]

Fucking hell i tried to get a psychologist appointment so i can finally get fucking diagnosed so that when adults in my life go "you don't have depression you're just lazy with high expectations" I can shove it in their faces

Its costs HKD8000 (~USD1000)

I'm a fucking full-time student who lives with her parents! I can't fucking afford that!

Fuck me I guess (gonna talk to my counsellor/therapist about this next Monday)

[olderjodijournals]

MONDAY, MAY 8, 1989

Not much has happened since I last wrote. I busted my ass cleaning a huge house in Chicopee last Friday and proved to Jim that I’m worth way more than $6 an hour. I know I’ll get a raise from him soon. He’s already hinted at it.

Jim and I had a long talk, too. He seems really nice and is qualified to be a therapist, so I found out. He says I’ll be ok in his brother’s band, but I don’t know. We’ll see.

Jai was away this weekend and he just got back a few hours ago wicked tired and we almost fucked. What stopped us was his girlfriend. I don’t want to get involved with anyone unless they can devote themselves to me only. I know he’s attracted to me and I really like him a lot, but I’d still rather have a woman. Since I can’t, I’d rather stay alone.

Another thing that terrifies me is if we ever did get involved (if he gave up Jenny) and if he turned psycho or if something went terribly wrong, then I have to live next to the guy.

Bruce called me today pressuring me to get a girlfriend once in for all. Yeah, sure. I explained why I can’t get one. Not one I would want, anyway.

Jai’s the first decent person I’ve ever gotten.

I have a busy week coming up. Tomorrow I have a condo to clean and grocery shopping to do. Tuesday, Jai and I are going to my allergy doctor. Wednesday, I work again. Thursday, I’m not sure yet what I’m doing. Friday, I see Dr. Moshiri, then Jim’s picking me up from there to clean the same house I did last Friday. I’ll be doing that house every Friday.

MONDAY, MAY 15, 1989

Today at 9:00, I’m to clean Russ’s house, as far as I know. I’ll call him to make sure. Whether I clean his house or not, I’m going downtown to the bank to cash Carabetta’s security deposit check and to order new checks. Then after, I’ll probably do some shopping. I want to buy some jewelry.

Andy just told me it’s great therapy for him when I write. We’re both just spacing off into our own worlds right now.

I was shocked to see the for-sale sign on the folk’s cottage. I figured they’d be there forever during the summers. Of course, they’d never tell me, but I bet their favorite daughter knows about this.

TUESDAY, MAY 30, 1989

I haven’t written for so long now and I definitely want to get back with it again. The last time I wrote, I didn’t mention ripping off part of the ‘s’ in the ‘Who Cares’ thing they have on the front of the cottage in black tape. We were seen there that day and right now Mom and Dad are on their way down and they’re going to suspect us for sure, but I know nothing, I’ll tell them.

Sure enough, Tammy knew the place was up for sale, but she says she doesn’t know why.

Bullshit. It probably has got something to do with the break-in they had this winter.

I asked Mom if they’re gonna be in Florida year-round and she said yes, but Dad says they’ll be back up here, but God knows when.

Jessie’s gonna be buying my chairs and couch, which I’m glad to see a friend get, rather than just anyone. After all, it was Nana and Pa’s. I’m psyched to get the newer furniture from the Longmeadow house. It’ll look a whole hell of a lot better.

I’ve been up 25 hours and I’m going to try to crash now, and when I get up I’m gonna write music to some lyrics Andy wrote. He’s the writer, I’m the composer.

[savofid]

Guess I gotta do this whole CW thing despite the fact that no one is gonna read this. I'm gonna be talking about some traumatic stuff, mainly depression, suicide, sex, sexual abuse, and rape. No, I'm not gonna censor the words because to do so would be discounting their existence and the suffering that people have gone through.

I've come to what could be considered a realization about myself. Maybe it's been obvious the whole time and I'm just too stupid or blind to see it. When I was little, my older sister molested me on multiple occasions. I hate that I can't be mad about it because she was just acting out due to the abuse she was subjected to my her father. I wanna be mad at her. It really didn't help when I lived with her for 7 months back in 2018. What are we supposed to do, just pretend like it didn't happen? I spent years in therapy as a child and I don't think it even did anything. All I remember from it is being in the office, playing in a sandbox they had set up. I don't even remember whether my therapist was male or female, and I went there every week for 3 years. Because of my sister, I'll never enjoy a blowjob in my life. They feel good, sure, but I can't enjoy them. All I can think of is being molested the entire time. Whole lotta good that therapy did, huh?

When I was 12, another of my older sisters forced herself on me. Pinned me down on her bed and kissed me over and over again. I didn't even know what was going on, but eventually pushed her off of me and left the room. Later that summer, she made very serious allegations about me molesting HER. She nearly ruined my life, got me pulled out of my family and forced to live with a friend of mine, who ended up doing the same thing to me. At that point, what do I do? My only other option was going to live in a group home, and those are hell if you don't know.

But that's not the end of it, either. Shortly after high school, I started dating one of my little sister's friends. We were together for two years before I was able to end things. I've had 7 exes in the last 12 years, and she's the only one that I don't still love with at least a tiny piece of my heart. She raped me who knows how many times. God, this is so hard to talk about. Having trouble seeing what I'm writing through the tears. Just breathe.

Okay,

FUCK

Okay.

She'd take me back to her bedroom whenever she was in the mood, which was almost constantly. I may have been a 19 year old guy, but I'm not always in the mood. I'd tell her that I just wasn't up to it, but she'd keep going. "You're a boy, you're supposed to want it." "Look, you're already hard." "C'mon, don't be shy. You know you wanna have sex with me." "You love me, don't you?" I'd tell her I didn't want to, but that didn't matter, so I'd just shut up and let her have her way. Again, two YEARS of this before I managed to get away. It wasn't until I joined the military and started talking about her to the guys in basic training when I realized, "Oh, God. I'm a battered wife."

I'm 31 years old now and can't even enjoy sex anymore. What's wrong with me that people just want to make me a victim? Every time I've had sex with my most recent partner, I can't even get off and she doesn't believe me when I tell her that it's not her fault, but I can't tell her all of this. Every time I get close to summoning the courage to talk about it, she's either drunk and in a good mood, so I don't wanna spoil that (especially with what she's going through right now), or the moment feels wrong. I know it's fear. Fear of being judged. Fear of being pitied. Fear of being seen as weak or lesser, when I'm supposed to be strong for her.

We had sex this past Monday. I've been in the throes of a mental breakdown since. I'm consumed by suicidal thoughts and anxiety. I wanna talk to her about it but she's been ignoring me. I don't know what to do.

[actualaster]

So, the good news is that physically speaking I CAN get top surgery!

The downside is insurance are being butts and I'd have to pay out of pocket which puts it outside my price range, most likely even if I had help from family.

The quote is apparently good for a year or so, so I'm gonna talk with my family and see some things but my idea is try and push through the jaw surgery ASAP and then, after that, try and switch insurance as soon as is feasible after to a plan that will cover it at least partially.

...The alternative is try and schedule a consult with a fatphobic dick who is consistently rated as shit bedside manner with heavier patients, and that likely couldn't happen until mid next year at the earliest then get rejected and have my PCP write to insurance saying "hey need you to authorize this OON provider" and pray insurance will agree, if they don't then fight with them and depending on how all that shook out that could take months or years if they wanted me to get rejected from every single person in-network even if those people do NOT offer gender services. And I refuse to go to somebody who doesn't do gender stuff but goes "well I guess we could do it for you" because fuck that lmao I don't trust that.

So it's both a massive relief and also a major frustration, especially considering a variety of other factors.

But, as frustrated as I am it's good to know that it's not actually impossible and I DO have a plan of attack.

I also forgot to get the guidelines for their letter of readiness so I gotta call Monday and try and do that, hopefully my usual therapist can do it--she would but IDK if they'd consider her qualified. No way in hell would I have my psych do it she knows nothing about me (yes this means she sucks as my psych, I've seen her a few times and am only with her due to insurance, I do hate it)

[ultimatetrashyfanfic]

Wooow, first time writing a fic for this fandom. I’m stupidly nervous. Also I only just finished SDR2 so I’m just gonna make this a Non-Despair AU in case there’s any big events in the next canon games I don’t know about yet. Plus i want everybody to be alive and well (chapter four hurt). This is also the first time in years I’ve written any fanfiction, so forgive me if I’m rusty. I do love this pairing. Can be taken romantically or platonic in this one (as this isn’t my only ship for Hajime so I tried to keep it ambiguous). - Circle

Also posted to AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/33332596

Warning: sickfic, descriptions of vomiting (I don’t go into much detail), nightmares/general anxiety.

Kazuichi was the only person Hajime knew with a worse sleep schedule than his own. For months he hadn’t realised - everybody had their own space on the island and Hajime was occupied enough with his own fatigue - but as Fuyuhiko saw how much Kazuichi grew to trust and confide in Hajime, he reported the issue.

“He’s like a fucking baby,” Fuyuhiko muttered bitterly. “If he gets tinkering on something he’ll be at it for days without sleeping. You gotta make sure he doesn’t overdo it. I can’t babysit that dumbass by myself.”

Hajime nodded, letting the insults sail over his head. Fuyuhiko may swear and yell and tell everyone over and over that Kazuichi and Hajime and Akane were the bane of his existence, but he was really the closest thing their group had to a mum friend.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Hajime promised. It was an easy enough job. At least it gave him something to do. Whenever Hajime found himself unable to sleep now, he’d go hunting for Kazuichi. More often than not he’d be at the airport, dismantling or building things as the mood struck him, and all Hajime had to do was hook his collar and ignore the whining as he dragged his friend away to bed.

But that night was different. Hajime could sense it the second he walked into the airport. Since the other students rarely went in there, Kazuichi had taken over the space, scattering bits of parts and machines in various stages of completion. But he wasn’t hunched over with a fiddly screwdriver or hidden underneath some big contraption with only his legs visible. He was sitting against a large machine, resting his head against the cool metal, his thumb rubbing at the motor oil embedded under his bitten fingernails.

That was concerning. Kazuichi was never still. He was forever biting his fingernails or twirling his wrench idly in his hands or messing with the pockets on his jumpsuit, dragging the zips up and down over and over. It used to drive Hajime mad, but after knowing Kazuichi for so long Hajime could recognise it as a nervous response and he knew not to complain about it.

Because kazuichi was fragile. Not physically - he could easily haul heavy engine parts around and didn’t buckle when Akane jumped on his back - but it was pretty easy to upset him. When Fuyuhiko had started mocking Kazuichi over his obsession with Sonia - “you gotta bully the shitty behaviours out of people, Hajime.” - it had led to Kazuichi knocking at Hajime’s cottage in the middle of the night, tearfully asking him why Fuyuhiko hated him.

Sometimes Hajime really wished they had an Ultimate Therapist on the island.

So now, looking across the abandoned airport to Kazuichi behaving in a very not-Kazuichi way, Hajime proceeded with caution. He made sure to step purposefully, his footsteps loud on the linoleum floor; he’d once surprised Kazuichi from behind and almost received a wrench to his temple… as well as a burst eardrum from the screaming.

Kazuichi looked up, hastily fumbling with his glasses and shoving them into his pocket. He hated anyone seeing him wear them, so Hajime knew not to comment.

Usually Kazuichi’s face brightened when he saw any of his friends, but now his smile was wary, reserved. “Hey, Hajime,” he said, his voice thick with fatigue.

“When was the last time you slept?” Hajime asked bluntly. “Or ate?”

Kazuichi turned back to face the hunk of metal beside him (unidentifiable to Hajime), though he still didn’t start tinkering. “Not hungry.”

“That doesn’t answer my question at all.”

“I slept yesterday. I think… It’s Monday, right?”

Hajime sighed heavily and hooked the collar of Kazuichi’s jumpsuit with his fingers. “Come on, get up. Bedtime. You’re not even doing anything.”

“Mmn. Can’t seem to focus tonight.”

“That’s because you’re exhausted. Go to bed.”

“Okay! Jeez, man, you’re acting like my mother,” Kazuichi whined, sounding more like himself.

The pair walked out into the cool night air together, Hajime taking hold of Kazuichi’s sleeve when he stumbled. Just how long had he been awake? He was acting like a zombie.

“Fuyuhiko said you weren’t sleeping,” Hajime grumbled. “You should take better care of yourself.”

“Fuyuhiko said it? So why did he make you come get me? Are you sure he doesn’t hate me?” Souda pressed.

“Yes, I’m sure. I told you, he was only harsh because he wanted you to leave poor Sonia alone.”

“Well. I have been, haven’t I?” he muttered.

Hajime assumed that was meant to be a rhetorical question, but it came out like Kazuichi was looking for reassurance. It hadn’t occurred to him how often Souda seemed to do that, as if he was worried anything he said would elicit a bad reaction.

“I’ve even been nice to Gundham,” Kazuichi said, much more irritably. “Though that’s a damn uphill battle, Hajime, I’m telling you. I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about half the time.”

Hajime snorted. Watching Souda trying to interact with Gundham was becoming a running joke between the other students now. There was always a five second pause when Gundham finished talking before Kazuichi could reply, his face contorted as he hastily tried to translate.

“You’ll get used to Gundham. I didn’t understand him much at first either.” Hajime frowned as Kazuichi wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. “Are you cold?”

“I’m freezing. Maybe I do need to sleep better. I’m not feeling so good…” He stumbled again as they went across the uneven boardwalk to the cabins, bumping Hajime’s shoulder.

Hajime caught hold of him instinctively - then paused for a second. He quickly cupped both hands over Kazuichi’s cheeks.

“H-Hajime?!” Souda reeled back so fast he almost toppled right off the platform. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You have a fever, Kazuichi,” Hajime groaned. “You’re burning up. That’s why you don’t feel good.”

“I do?” Souda cupped his own cheeks contemplatively. “Huh. That makes sense. I couldn’t focus properly all evening.”

Hajime sighed heavily. Souda could be so oblivious at times it was hard to believe he was so talented with his machines. He seemed so much more confident when he spoke about that stuff. When he’d started getting closer to Kazuichi, Hajime once asked about some little mechanical toy Souda was making - and Souda’s face had just lit up. He talked Hajime’s ear off for a good fifteen minutes about every little piece of the toy and how it worked. Hajime didn’t understand the majority of it, but he always made sure to ask Kazuichi about his various projects after that. Souda was delighted every time, his words tripping over each other with excitement and his eyes shining like beacons. For a second Hajime wondered if that was how it felt to be Sonia.

“Well, you’d better come with me for now,” Hajime said. “I know you don’t have any first aid supplies in your cabin, and we don’t need Mikan to tell us you have some standard virus. I’ve got painkillers and fever reducers.” Hajime held onto Kazuichi by the elbow, guiding him along to the correct cabin. He seemed beyond argument. He flopped onto Hajime’s bed as soon as they went inside, curling onto his side and closing his eyes.

Hajime hovered over him, feeling a pang of anxiety. He wasn’t used to caring for any sick people except Nagito, and caring for Nagito was a wholly bizarre experience all around. Hajime had never seen anybody swing so wildly between self-deprecating, passive aggressive and strangely clingy when he was forced to babysit a sick Nagito. Hajime figured Kazuichi might fall into the clingy category.

Hajime grabbed fever reducers from the bathroom cabinet and went to crouch beside his bed, shaking Kazuichi’s shoulder. Maybe it was the fever or the several days without sleep, but Kazuichi already seemed to be breathing deeper. There was a red flush across both his cheekbones, garishly bright against his pink hair. Hajime checked his forehead again; it was burning.

“Hey, dude, wake up. You’ve gotta take some medicine and go back to your own cabin,” Hajime said, shaking Kazuichi’s shoulder harder. Kazuichi whined irritably, reaching out a clumsy hand without opening his eyes. He managed to find Hajime’s face and tried to shove him away weakly.

“Kazuichi!” Hajime caught hold of his wrist, sighing. “You have motor oil on your hands. Look, I don’t care if you don’t want to take medicine, but go sleep in your own cabin. This happens to be my bed.”

Kazuichi didn’t move, breathing deeply. Hajime wasn’t sure if he was actually sleeping or just ignoring him.

“I kissed Sonia,” Hajime lied.

No response. Hm. Maybe Kazuichi really was asleep.

Well, what was Hajime meant to do now? He didn’t feel mean enough to boot his sick friend off the bed. He supposed he could go stay in Souda’s room, but he didn’t know where his key was, and he didn’t want to go rifling through Kazuichi’s pockets for it while he was sleeping - and maybe Souda needed somebody with him in case his fever got worse. Fevers could turn nasty, right? Not that Hajime would be any use, but he could go get Mikan.

Sighing resignedly, Hajime went to the unoccupied side of his bed, lying back to back with Kazuichi. Most of the bedsheets were trapped under his sick companion no matter now Hajime yanked them, but Souda was so hot Hajime was soon uncomfortably warm. The sleeping boy was taking up a lot of the bed too; he had Kazuichi’s hair in his face and elbows jabbing his ribs no matter what sleeping position Hajime tried. He sighed again. “You’re an utter pain to deal with, Kazuichi,” he mumbled into his pillow. “You need to take care of yourself before you get really sick.”

Hajime, though sure he’d never be able to even doze in this situation, must have slept at some point, because he woke with a start to find the bed shaking so violently he almost toppled off it. In his drowsy state Hajime wondered for a second if the island had any seismic activity, but the earthquake seemed confined to the bed alone. He sat up and fumbled to turn on the bedside lamp, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and turned to his sleeping friend.

Kazuichi was shaking violently, curled into a foetal position. His face had bleached several shades whiter and his fists were clenched tight, crumpling the bedsheets. His brow was furrowed and he made intermittent whines in the back of his throat, barely audible. Whatever dream was playing in his feverish head, it clearly wasn’t a pleasant one.

“Kazuichi,” Hajime called, shaking the sleeping man’s shoulder. Hajime could feel the heat radiating through Kazuichi’s clothes. “Come on, man, wake up.”

When he received no response, he shook harder, momentarily panicked. It was a mistake. Kazuichi jolted awake with a scream, the momentum sending him tumbling right off the bed onto the floor. He banged his head hard on the skirting board.

“Shit! Fuck, Souda, are you okay?” Hajime cried, hurrying over to Kazuichi. Souda scrambled backwards in a panic, clonking his head all over again when he hit the wall. His eyes hadn’t focused yet and he was breathing far too quickly. Hajime was starting to think he really should fetch Mikan.

“Kazuichi, it’s just me. Hajime. You know, your…” He paused, cringing. Only Kazuichi ever called them by that dumb name. “Your soul friend.”

Kazuichi looked up, locking eyes with Hajime. He didn’t stop shaking, but his breathing calmed slightly. For what felt like several minutes, both boys stared helplessly at each, unsure what to do or say. Souda swallowed thickly and finally whispered in a hoarse, rasping voice, “I’m gonna puke.”

“What?” That certainly broke Hajime out of the awkward staring contest. He grabbed hold of Souda by the wrist and yanked him across the bedroom to the bathroom, shoving him firmly towards the toilet. He turned to leave - he didn’t want to witness any of that - when something snagged onto the back of his shirt.

“Are you serious?” Hajime groaned. Souda felt too nauseated to dare opening his mouth, but he tugged insistently at Hajime’s shirt.

Hajime paused. Part of him - maybe even most of him - really wanted to brush Kazuichi’s hand away and flee the room before anything gross started happening. But Souda looked so… pathetic, sitting there trying not to vomit, still shaky and tearful from the nightmare, his hair tangled across his sweaty face.

Damn it. Hajime shouldn’t have looked at him.

“Fine, fine,” he sighed, kneeling beside Souda on the bathroom floor. He hastily gathered Kazuichi’s messy hair away from his face as the sick boy leaned further over the toilet. “You owe me big time for this. Especially when I end up catching this from you.”

Grumbling aside, Hajime stayed, managing not to complain or pull too many faces when Kazuichi was vomiting. He focused on holding Souda’s hair out of the way, glad he had one job he could manage. This comforting thing was way out of his depth. Souda kept one hand reaching backwards to clasp Hajime’s shirt, as if he didn’t quite trust him not to run away.

When the retching finally tapered off, Hajime released Souda’s hair and reached up to flush the toilet, grimacing. “Better?”

Kazuichi made a noise between a whine and a sob, head resting on the toilet seat.

“Well, at least it’s over. I’m gonna go grab you some water, okay?”

He stood up, but Kazuichi hastily lifted his head, looking outraged. “You’re leaving me? I could be dying here!”

“You’re not dying, Souda. Honestly, sometimes I think you should’ve been Ultimate Drama Queen.”

“Stay with me.” Kazuichi shuffled away from the toilet and latched onto Hajime leg.

“Souda, it will take me literally thirty seconds to grab a bottle of water. Now get off.” Hajime tried to yank his leg free, but Souda had a strong grip, even when ill.

“Nope. Don’t leave.”

Hajime sighed heavily. “Then get up and come back to the bed.”

Souda slumped down onto the cool linoleum floor, making sure to keep his arms around Hajime’s ankle. “Don’t wanna move. Everything hurts.”

“Oh, for fuck sake!” Hajime tried to pull Souda up himself, but Souda let his body go limp, sprawling across the bathroom floor, and Hajime couldn’t lift him up when he was dead weight like that.

“You know that’s exactly what toddlers do when they don’t want you picking them up,” Hajime snapped. Honestly, this was almost as bad as Nagito. Why did everybody mess with him when they were sick?

“I can see why. It’s very effective,” Kazuichi muttered.

“I could just leave, you know. Just say fuck it and let you lie there on your own.”

“Don’t.” The jesting tone had disappeared from Souda’s voice. He looked close to tears again, flat on his back and staring up at Hajime pleadingly.

Hajime tried to hold onto his frustration, but he couldn’t. Not with Kazuichi looking at him like that. He sighed and sat on the floor beside Souda, putting a hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Keep your hand there,” Kazuichi mumbled. “It’s cold.”

“Fine. But if you let me leave I could get you a cold cloth for your head.”

“Noooo…”

“Okay, okay.” Hajime paused. Souda’s eyelids were drooping again. If he wanted to ask, Hajime had to do it quickly. “Hey, Kazuichi..?”

“Mn?”

“What happened? Earlier, I mean.”

“I puked.”

“No, you dope. Earlier than that. When you woke up. You seemed really terrified. Were you dreaming?” Hajime was already regretting asking. Kazuichi was sick and over-emotional. They were sitting on the bathroom floor, for God’s sake. Nothing good could come of emotional conversations on a bathroom floor.

There was another silence, so long Hajime checked to see if Kazuichi had dozed off. His eyes were wide open now, staring at the ceiling. “It was just a dream. That’s all.”

“Do you remember what it was about?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kazuichi mumbled.

Hajime sighed. “Look, it’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it. But it clearly freaked you out really bad. If there’s something you’re worried about or something that’s scaring you, I can-“ Hajime stopped as Kazuichi sat up abruptly. He kept his face turned to the wall, but Hajime heard the sniffles, saw his shoulders start shaking.

“Fuck,” Hajime muttered helplessly. “Kazuichi, I’m sorry. I’ll just be quiet. You don’t have to tell me anything. I’m messing this all up, I’m such a fucking idiot sometimes.”

“I’m a fucking idiot,” Kazuichi sobbed. “So stupid I still dream about him! Why can’t he just go away!” He went on talking, but he was howling too hard for Hajime to understand. He’d seen Souda cry countless times before, but this was different somehow. This wasn’t just wailing because some girl he liked had turned him down. This was raw, painful terror.

“Hey hey, calm down! You’re gonna make yourself sick again,” Hajime said, trying hard to keep the panic out of his own voice. He took hold of Kazuichi’s wrists, pulling him gently away from the wall. He’d meant to lay Souda down in the same position as before, but Souda instantly fell against Hajime’s chest, practically knocking him over.

“Right. Um. You’re okay. You’re safe here,” Hajime mumbled, patting his sobbing friend awkwardly. He wasn’t used to embracing people. It felt strange and unnatural but not unpleasant - and Souda clearly needed a hug more than anything else right now. “Souda, breathe. It’s okay. You’re safe. The fever is probably making it worse. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked about the nightmare.”

“Home,” Kazuichi gasped.

“Huh?”

“I was dreaming about being back at home.”

Oh God. Where was that Ultimate Therapist again? Hajime didn’t know how to handle this. He couldn’t sort his own problems, let alone anyone else’s. “Oooh. Okay. Shit. Your dad..? You mentioned him once before.”

“Don’t. Don’t talk about it.”

“Okay. Sorry. So your dream was a memory? When he… hurt you?” Hajime guessed.

The sobbing, which had been gradually calming, quickly returned to near-hyperventilating.

“Sorry, sorry. Breathe, okay?” Hajime’s own heart was thumping hard. This was way more than he could handle. “Look… You’re away from there. He’s literally across an ocean. It’s just me and you here. Because you usurped my bed tonight.”

Kazuichi gave a snort that could’ve been a laugh. “It’s not… not usually this bad,” he said, his voice still jerky with sobs. “I-I can handle it on my own. The nightmares.”

“Fevers make nightmares worse. I think. I’d have to check with Mikan,” Hajime said. “But at least you were here this time.” He was surprised to find he really meant that. He couldn’t bear to think of Souda dealing with all that on his own.

They sat in silence for a long time, until Souda’s sobs died down to sniffles, his head still resting on Hajime’s chest. The front of Hajime’s shirt was now damp with tears and snot, and Souda’s feverish body was like a furnace, but he didn’t suggest they move. After a long time he found he’d wound his arms around Kazuichi’s shoulders.

“Are you still awake?” Hajime whispered eventually.

“Mn. Barely…”

“Listen, this is important. If you have dreams like that any other night, you can come over here. If you want. Just knock hard so I wake up.”

Kazuichi shifted in his arms to look at Hajime’s face. “You don’t have to do that. Don’t feel like you’re stuck with me.”

“Maybe I don’t mind being stuck with you,” Hajime retorted.

A ghost of a smile flickered across Kazuichi’s face, though he was still red and tear-stained. “Then you’re fucking crazy.”

“It’s not crazy to want to be your friend, Souda. So will you ask me for help next time you dream something like that? Please?”

Kazuichi wound his arms around Hajime’s middle and squeezed so hard it made Hajime gasp. “Okay. I’ll come get you.” He paused. “Thanks, Hajime.”

Kazuichi fell asleep soon after, still pinning Hajime to the bathroom floor with his weight. And though Hajime would moan about how sore and stiff he was the next morning, he was still glad Souda came to him for help. Just about.

[hydra-collector]

the shattered aftermath of the blast (chapter two)

AO3

First Fic in the Series

Fic Page (all chapters listed here)

Ship: Intrulogical

Characters: Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders, 

TW: kissing

Words: 1,194

Summary: It's been seven years since Logan was finally ready to seek help. His wounds have healed into scars, and his husband Remus has been with him, willing to support Logan however he can. They live happily, have stable jobs, and their relationship is steady and strong.

Yet something, something had to ruin it. And it plunges Logan into feeling things he'd thought he would never have to experience again.

And God, is it hard.

“Are you sure you wanna go to work today?”

“Yes.” Logan answered quickly, taking another bite of his egg.

“I’m sure they’d understand if you took a day off-”

“It’s fine, I’ll have free time to think, but I won’t be thinking about it all day. It’s a good balance.”

“Okay… I still think you’re gonna need some time off at somepoint, though. You’ll talk to me after work?” Remus reached over the table to press what he hoped was a comforting touch to Logan’s hand.

“I’ll take time off once I can really… think about it. Once I’m ready for that.”

Remus supposed that it would take time to deal with it. He hoped Patton was faring better. Probably, since his partner was a therapist. Emile would know how to help him.

Logan may be helping himself a lot more than he used to, but that didn’t mean he knew any more about emotions. Their father had left before either of them had known him, so neither of them had ever really… grieved before. The only thing Remus could hope for was that Logan would talk about it in therapy. Luckily, he had an appointment on Sunday. Just four days, and there’d be someone to tell him how the fuck to deal with this.

Remus sure as hell didn’t know.

He was distracted all during the work day, probably messing a couple things up that someone else would have to catch. How was Logan holding up? Was the balance between thinking about it and not thinking about it actually working? Was he going to come home crying and exhausted? Should he have convinced Logan to stay home anyway? Then again, would it have even mattered if he didn’t have someone to talk to?

Logan was just as distracted as his husband.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d let her down, if she’d wanted more from him. How much had he hurt her? Did it hurt her significantly to see him hurting? Was it exhausting to deal with such a child?

He knew it was.

After he’d met Remus and decided to start healing, there’d been… a questioning point. The only way he’d learned to keep his family members safe, so they weren’t scared of what he would do, had been to repress his emotions. It had been his only option for years. So… he hadn’t known what to do. Was he going to start yelling at them again? Was it going to be friendly, but remind them of the times he’d hurt them, hurt himself?

Eventually… yelling did become okay. But it took a long, long time.

His mother had never officially forgiven him. He didn’t know if she felt like what he did warranted forgiveness, he didn’t even know what she thought of it. Of him. He was sure she loved him at least, but… did she love Patton more? Was there a part of her that wished Logan had been different?

He would never get to ask her. He’d never get to know. He wasn’t anywhere near suicidal, but the curiosity pulled at him to meet her again. What would she say if he went all that way just to know how much she loved him?

He tried ignoring these thoughts all day, no matter how they would pop up.

This isn’t good, is it?

He shouldn’t be pushing them down. He couldn’t... go through this again. This torture . Yet his mind resisted them anyway, whether it was because he was questioning his mother’s love, or just the fact that she was… gone.

She could never love or hate him again.

Shut up.

He was trying to work. Maybe… maybe a day off would’ve been helpful. He needed to talk to Remus about this, he needed to talk to his therapist about this. And he was going to. Just… not now.

Logan arrived home tired, stumbling through the door and running his hands through his hair. He stood for a moment with his eyes closed, letting the exhaustion take over for a moment.

Remus approached him tentatively, Logan kissing him before wandering off to take a shower. He didn’t want to think about his mother. He didn’t want to think about anything. There were things he needed to do for work, but he opted to reread one of the books on their shelves, avoiding Remus for fear of being questioned. He knew Remus wouldn’t push it, but he didn’t really have the energy to talk to… anyone. So he lost himself in the book, sitting in bed and finishing it within two hours. He grabbed another when he was done, anxiety climbing about everything he needed to get done. He needed to make dinner, otherwise Remus would just do it by himself. He needed to plan out the next lecture by Monday, else he would lose his job. He hadn’t even told anyone at work what’d happened.

He didn’t want to think about it anymore.

He’d been rereading the same page over and over by the time Remus gave up and got his attention. He kneeled in front of Logan on their bed, eyes filled with worry. His voice was soft as he raised his hand to Logan’s cheek.

“Lo? Are you okay right now?”

He held back what he wanted to say—What he should say. Everything that was so easy to say to Remus was suddenly the most difficult thing in the world. It felt like… telling his mother he was depressed, that he cut. He’d been so resistant, even after asking her to take him to therapy. At some point, of course, he’d gotten a diagnosis, so telling her was unavoidable then. He remembered the feeling, mouth resisting the words at all costs. It felt like his tongue was lead. It was a feeling he hated, and it always felt stupid not to be able to say something so important.

It was never that way with Remus. Remus let him cry and vent and it helped. He had always been comfortable with Remus. 

Why not now?

“Yeah, the books are helping, they… take my mind off of it.”

Remus leaned back for a moment, setting his hands in his lap. “And that’s what you need? I’m sorry if I’m asking too much or if it bothers you, I just wanna make sure you’re handling this okay.”

“...You have good reason to worry. But I’m trying my best. And it’s going okay. It’s only the second day, after all. You don’t need to worry. I’ll talk to my therapist, okay?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just… when you hit low points, a lot of the time you become obsessive. Usually with work, but… God, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize. It’s okay. I’m okay enough that I’m going to be able to deal with this like normal people do. I’m fine right now.”

Remus looked skeptical, but brought him out to eat dinner. He was quiet most of the meal, looking down at his food. Trying not to think about anything.

You shouldn’t have let this happen.

She died without you making it up to her.

Trying not to think about anything.

[perfecttimeseleven]

Perfect Times Eleven Ep. 1 TRANSCRIPT

ACT ONE

SCENE ONE

REMINGTON

Goddamn it! You really think tying a tie wouldn’t be this hard.

VOICE FROM PHONE

And that, my friends, is how you tie a tie!

REMINGTON

(overlapping)

No! No it’s not! Fuck you!

VOICE FROM PHONE

Hope you found this video helpful. Hit up that “like” button  below and don’t forget to subscribe to my channel for more pro bro tips from Menswear Mike! Hang tie-ght. Haha, get it? Just a little joke for ya on this fine Menswear Mike Monday morning.

(REMINGTON grabs her phone and turns the video off.)

REMINGTON

Shit. Ah.. maybe if... nope. That’s worse. Is that a zit? God hates me.

(exhales)

My name is Remington Long and I am here because I hear eleven voices in my head and a teacup chihuahua tried to claw my eye out — no. That’s too on the nose.

(pauses)

My name is Remington Long! How are you? I’m perfectly sane! Fuck. Uh...yeah, no. I’m already talking to a mirror. Who’s gonna believe that? Okay. My name is Remington Long, and oh, heavenly therapist, please bestow the blesséd knowledge upon me so I can maybe, maaaaybe have a shot at normal life. Except, y’know, my life’s already fine, except sometimes animals attack me, I guess, like the chihuahua from yesterday. So I actually don’t know why the hell my parents are paying you. But yes! My name is Remington Long and I’m here for a heaping helping of therapy! Fuck yeah! Ugh.

(1. Therapy Upstate.)

REMINGTON

THERAPY. THERAPY UPSTATE.

IT’S UNFAIR TO ME. Here, I’ll give it to ya straight —

WELL, KIDS, YOU KNOW YOUR PARENTS THINK YOU’RE REALLY PSYCHO

WHEN YOU’RE FORCED TO HIKE OVER TO DELAWARE COUNTY FOR

THERAPY UPSTATE.

I’VE LIVED FOR EIGHTEEN YEARS LIKE THIS! I THINK I’VE GOT THE HANG OF IT BY NOW.

DON’T NEED SOME PRETENTIOUS PRICK’S USELESS SHIT ABOUT MEDITATION OR HOW

TALKING ABOUT MY FEELINGS WILL MAKE EVERYTHING SO, SO MUCH BETTER!

PLUS, HE’LL PROBABLY BE OLD AND WEAR ROUND GLASSES AND A TARTAN SWEATER.

Ugh, I can see it already, HE’LL SAY

”TELL ME ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS” AND I’LL BE LIKE ”ERR, I GOT NONE!”

AND THEN WE’LL JUST SIT, STARE AT EACH OTHER FOR A BIT

IN SILENCE TILL THE SESSION IS DONE.

Plot twist! WE’LL. FALL IN LOVE

HE’LL TREAT ME WELL BUT I’LL GET HIM FIRED

FOR HAVING RELATIONS WITH A MINOR —

Wait. No. I’m eighteen. I’m an adult. Shit.

A WHOLE ASS ADULT BEING MADE TO GO TO

THERAPY. THERAPY UPSTATE.

WHERE THERE’S TONS OF TREES AND ALL THE STORES CLOSE AFTER EIGHT.

I’M JUST CONSIDERING EVERY POSSIBLE SCENARIO IN AN ATTEMPT TO PREPARE ME,

SO I WON’T HAVE TO GO TO MORE THERAPY UPSTATE.

SO I’VE GOT VOICES IN MY HEAD! WELL, I CAN STILL HAPPILY EXIST!

I CAN’T EVEN HEAR THEM IF I KEEP THIS TACKY BRACELET ON MY WRIST.

AND EVEN WHEN I DO, THEY JUST...REPEAT ELEVEN RANDOM WORDS.

(REMINGTON unclasps her bracelet and it drops to the ground.)

REMINGTON’S VOICES

(jumbled and overlapping)

HARVEST, OCEAN, CREATE, CHANGE, FIGHT, ART, FAMILY, FREEDOM, JOYCE, TRADITION, BIRDS

REMINGTON

See? THEY AREN’T THAT ANNOYING AND THEY’RE QUITE EASY TO IGNORE

JUST LIKE REAL-LIFE PEOPLE THAT TO ME, KINDA BORE.

WHAT WOULD THIS THERAPIST KNOW THAT I DON’T ALREADY

ABOUT WHAT I’VE DEALT WITH MY ENTIRE LIFE? OH, YES, I’M FEELING PETTY ABOUT

THERAPY! THERAPY UPSTATE.

THEY SAY THIS IS NOT UP FOR DEBATE

BUT I’M AN INDEPENDENT MAN WHO DON’T NEED NO MAN

TO SHARE ALL MY CARES WITH AT THERAPY UPSTATE.

I KNOW I’M A BURDEN! I DON’T WANNA BECOME MORE OF ONE!

STOP THROWING MONEY AT THIS! IT WILL NOT GO AWAY.

SAVE THOSE FUNDS FOR MY COLLEGE, OR, BETTER YET, ACKNOWLEDGE

THAT I WON’T GO TO COLLEGE, AND THAT IS OKAY!

I CAN BE NORMAL! I’LL DO FINE! I PROMISE! I PROMISE! I PROMISE.

THERAPY. THERAPY UPSTATE.

YOUR PARENTS SEE YOU CAN’T HANDLE YOURSELF...HOW GREAT.

IT’S A MARK ON THE CALENDAR TO CONFIRM THEY’VE RAISED

A DISAPPOINTMENT, A HOPELESS, CRAZED

FREAK WHO THEY HAVE TO CODDLE, WHO AIN’T GOING ANYWHERE AT THIS RATE!

OH, PLEASE HAVE SOME HOPE IN ME!

I DON’T NEED HELP TO COPE, YOU SEE!

DON’T WRITE SOMETHING FRIGHTFUL

ON MY PERMANENT RECORD OR I’LL NEVER GET A JOB I DON’T HATE!

OH, PLEASE, DON’T SEND ME TO THERAPY UPSTATE!

ACT ONE

SCENE TWO

DR. MORELLO

Yes, uh, hello, Remington.

DAISY

Remington? That’s fucking wack! Remy, like the rat!

DR. MORELLO

Daisy. Language!

REMINGTON

Uh, hi.

DAISY

I’m Daisy, Ratatouille!

DR. MORELLO

My name is Dr. Morello.

REMINGTON

Yeah, uh, my parents told me about you.

DR. MORELLO

Good. This wasn’t what you expected, was it, dear?

REMINGTON

Oh. Uh, no. Don’t get me wrong, this is a very nice house, but yeah. Like I was expecting some really clinical looking...space? You are also not what I expected, but, uh, in a good way! This...is also...such a warm color scheme I’d never have imagined...

(catches herself going off topic)

It is very nice to meet you, Dr. Morello! How can you help with the, uh, voices in my head thing?

(pauses)

Shit. Sorry. I mean, shit, oh sh-...sorry. Shouldn’t have cursed. I didn’t mean like you’re seeking me out to help me, I’m the one seeking your help —

DAISY

You’re making it worse, nerd.

REMINGTON

Yeah, also there’s, uh, Daisy? Um, there’s children here. Didn’t expect that. Who? Why? Uh, who’s the other one?

DR. MORELLO

Ohh! Yes —

REMINGTON

Yes, there’s children here.

DR. MORELLO

Yes, yes. Remington, I would like you to meet my other patients. Come over here! Be polite!

JAY

Ugh.

DAISY

I said hi to her already!

JAY

Hi, I guess.

REMINGTON

Okay, I can respect a girl with a well-defined aesthetic —

JAY

Then why are you dressed like a sad lawyer?

DR. MORELLO

Kids, this is Remington’s first appointment, and you both know what that means.

DAISY

(bored)

I’ll get the fear-puke bucket.

REMINGTON

The what?

DAISY

Wait. Hold the phone. Hold on. Remington Long...Are you the kid who got attacked by the...

JAY

Oh, wait, yeah! Shiiiiiit!

(DAISY and JAY try to contain their laughter.)

DAISY

...teacup chihuahua?

(JAY doubles down in laughter.)

REMINGTON

(unamused)

Yeah. Nice to meet you.

DR. MORELLO

Kids, be nice. Okay, now this is Jay.

(DAISY and JAY calm down.)

REMINGTON

Who’s already mocked me twice. Good start. Hello.

JAY

(clears throat a little)

Hey —

DR. MORELLO

(interrupting)

Now that that’s out of the way —

DAISY

(exiting)

Fear-puke bucket time!

REMINGTON

Okay, what does that mean?

DR. MORELLO

(ignoring her)

— let’s get down to business. Now — That bracelet on your wrist. It’s the accessory you use to block the voices out, yes?

REMINGTON

Yeah.

DR. MORELLO

And when you take it off, can you describe what these voices are like?

REMINGTON

There’s like, a lot of them, and they just say words, I guess. It’s overlapping and each voice says a word, and then that just repeats, like, I don’t know, over and over, like —

JAY

Like a broken record in your brain.

REMINGTON

...Yeah. What she said.

(turning back to DR. MORELLO)

Wait, so all your patients have the same problem?

DR. MORELLO

Essentially, yes.

(pauses)

Of course, I do too.

REMINGTON

What?

(DAISY enters with a big yellow bucket, which she plunks in front of REMINGTON.)

DAISY

Fear-puke bucket time.

JAY

It’s always more like panic attack puke, if anything —

DAISY

Yeah, but that doesn’t have the same ring to it.

REMINGTON

What’s this for?

DAISY/JAY

Just in case.

REMINGTON

Of what?

DR. MORELLO

Remington, this isn’t some disease or disorder. You see, ah, living things have a soul, right?

REMINGTON

Okay, yeah, I guess?

DR. MORELLO

Well, souls don’t die with the living thing. They go on to inhabit another body.

REMINGTON

Reincarnation?

DR. MORELLO

Yes, some call it that. A transference of energy. A shift of...ah, physical matter around an entity, a...crowding of energies for space, a—

REMINGTON

Wack.

DR. MORELLO

Wack indeed, Remington.

REMINGTON

So my voices are some byproduct of, like, reincarnation?

DAISY

Sorta.

DR. MORELLO

If the soul lives a good, fulfilling, pure life — at least, as the books say — such a thing -- a “pure life” -- is hard to define, it gets reincarnated as human.

REMINGTON

And if it doesn’t?

JAY.

It turns into an animal.

REMINGTON

Damn, that’s rough.

DAISY

(to JAY)

She’s taking this surprisingly well.

DR. MORELLO

People who hear these voices are people whose souls have been reincarnated as human for several lifetimes in a row. The voices are remnants of previous human lives.

REMINGTON

So what you’re saying is voices mean there’s, like, dead people in your head?

DR. MORELLO

That’s putting it a little crassly, but...yes.

REMINGTON

So...there’s dead people in your head?

DR. MORELLO

Yes.

REMINGTON

All of you?

DAISY/JAY

Yeah.

REMINGTON

Me?

JAY

(a little irritated)

Yes!

REMINGTON

So this is some kind of therapy for dead-people-in-your-head...people? Fine. But why do these dead people say random words? Does it all mean anything? Am I just really stupid and not connecting some obvious dots?

JAY

Yes.

(DR. MORELLO stands up. 2. Dead-People-In-Your-Head People.)

DR. MORELLO

NOW, A SOUL MOVES FROM BODY TO BODY,

BUT EACH LIFE LEAVES ITS TRACE.

A SINGLE WORD FOR EACH HUMAN

TOO OFTEN THOUGHT ABOUT TO ERASE

NOW WHEN SOULS HAVE BEEN REINCARNATED

AS HUMAN SEVERAL TIMES IN A ROW

IT GETS TO THE EXTENT WHERE THE SOUL IS SO HUMAN,

ITS HOST HEARS ECHOES OF LONG AGO.

DR. MORELLO/DAISY/JAY

EVERYONE’S GOT DEAD PEOPLE IN THEIR HEADS, PEOPLE!

JAY

ONLY WE’RE THE LUCKY BASTARDS WHO CAN HEAR ‘EM.

DR. MORELLO/DAISY/JAY

THERE’S NO WAY TO MAKE ‘EM GO AWAY!

DAISY

NO MAGIC PILL, POTION, OR SERUM!

JAY

SO USE THEM TO YOUR ADVANTAGE IF YOU’RE NOT A LITTLE BITCH —

DR. MORELLO

Jay!

DR. MORELLO/DAISY/JAY

WE’RE ALL DEAD-PEOPLE-IN-YOUR-HEAD PEOPLE

DAISY

AND THOUGH IT SOUNDS A BIT DARK,

WE’VE JUST INHERITED SOULS FROM PURE AND WHOLESOME

FOLKS WHO’D CLEAN UP LITTER IN THE PARK!

REMINGTON

OH, SO USE THEM TO YOUR ADVANTAGE SINCE THEY’RE ALL LITTLE BITCHES —

DR. MORELLO

No! WHAT JAY MEANT IS WE CAN LEARN FROM THEM.

YOU’LL FIND THEY’RE NO MYSTERY!

IF YOU

DR. MORELLO/DAISY/JAY

CONCENTRATE ON ONE WORD,

DR. MORELLO

YOU CAN UNLOCK A HISTORY.

WE’RE TIES BETWEEN GENERATIONS

WHO OBSERVE AND PRESERVE

THIS SOUL’S UNTAINTED PURITY

SO WE GET THE NEXT LIFE WE DESERVE!

DR. MORELLO/DAISY/JAY

WHEN YOU’RE DEAD-PEOPLE-IN-YOUR-HEAD PEOPLE,

No pressure, but your past lives all were really good...

WE’RE SORTA RARE, SO WE’D SORTA CARE

TO NOT GO EXTINCT...UNDERSTOOD?

DR. MORELLO

SO WE ALL CONSIDER BEING MORE SELFLESS...

JAY

NOTE THE KEY WORD THERE IS “CONSIDER”!

DR. MORELLO/DAISY/JAY

WHEN YOU’RE DEAD-PEOPLE-IN-YOUR-HEAD PEOPLE,

YOU’RE WORKING FOR A HIGHER PURPOSE!

THERE’S SO MUCH MORE TO EXPLORE;

WE’VE BARELY SCRATCHED THE SURFACE!

BUT, BEFORE WE START, HERE’S THE MILLION DOLLAR QUESTION...

DR. MORELLO

How many voices are in your head?

REMINGTON

Eleven.

DAISY

Holy shit.

JAY

Are you sure you’ve counted right?

REMINGTON

Yeah, I’m fucking sure I’ve counted right after 18 years of counting! What’s so weird about eleven?

JAY

Nothing. You just beat my record of ten.

REMINGTON

SO I GUESS I’M A

DEAD-PERSONS-IN-MY-HEAD PERSON!

I’M GLAD TO BE JOINING THE TEAM.

I’LL TRY TO CALMLY ACCEPT I’M AN ANOMALY

AND NOT FEAR-PUKE OR SCREAM!

I’M READY TO GET STARTED WITH THIS THERAPY!

DR. MORELLO/DAISY/JAY

Yeah!

SHE’S A DEAD-PERSONS-IN-HER-HEAD PERSON

JAY

Having eleven isn’t problematic at all!

DAISY

SHUT UP, YOU CUCK!

PETER

IT’S JUST OUR LUCK

THAT YOUR PARENTS GAVE ME THAT CALL

DR. MORELLO/DAISY/JAY

‘CAUSE NOW, YOU’RE HERE WITH US!

ALL

AND WE’RE ALL

DEAD-PEOPLE-IN-YOUR-HEAD PEOPLE!

EACH HOUSING A VERY NICE SOUL.

THOUGH WE’VE GOT DIFFERENT NUMBERS,

WE’RE ALL PARTS OF A WHOLE!

DR. MORELLO

DEAD-PEOPLE-IN-YOUR-HEAD PEOPLE,

DR. MORELLO/JAY

DEAD-PEOPLE-IN-YOUR-HEAD PEOPLE,

DR. MORELLO/JAY/DAISY

DEAD-PEOPLE-IN-YOUR-HEAD PEOPLE...

REMINGTON

THERE’S DEAD PEOPLE IN MY HEAD!

DR. MORELLO/JAY/DAISY

OH YES, THERE’S DEAD PEOPLE IN HER HEAD!

WHY STRESS? THERE’S DEAD PEOPLE IN HER HEAD!

GOD BLESS! THERE’S DEAD PEOPLE IN HER HEAD!

[foolgobi65]

Lois/Clark + travel au + fake dating + “are you sure this is legal?”

again, its kind of a fake marriage and...also again....this is kind of the set up for the fake marriage scenario? i basically used this as an opportunity to write down a bunch of my lois headcanons for a period after superman reveal but before the get together lmao but i hope you still like it!! thank you so much for sending the prompt, i love lois sm and this was i think the first time i’ve really written from her (or actually written out lois and clark lol) so everyone please send feedback re: lois and clark characterizations!!!!

love u to the moon and back!!!!

---

“Clark, what does legal really mean, other than the things our government arbitrarily decided we’re allowed to do?”

Next to her, Clark rolls his eyes and Lois tries not to show the awe that briefly floods her body when she remembers that Superman is Clark is Superman is Clark, which means that when he responds to her quip, it’s not only as Smallville but as Kal-El, who she once named ‘the Man of Tomorrow.’ 

“Nice to see Libertarian Lois make an appearance,” Clark-El quips, and Lois nearly melts. It’s been about a month since what she, agnosto-sympathetic as she’s always been, termed in her own mind as the Revelation. Clark is Superman is Clark, she reminds herself as she always has to, to keep herself from running in as many directions as she can, vainly trying to outrun the fastest man alive. 

Being, maybe. Because he’s not really a man, is he?

Clark, Lois thinks again. Clark Kent from Smallville, Kansas. Son of Martha. Man, man, man. Lois is no fool to think that he could really be anyone else -- Clark, for all that he’s apparently lied to her, couldn’t possibly have lied about this. Superman had always seemed so aloof, so removed from the daily grind of humanity’s issues: sure, he’s saved plenty of cats up trees, but Lois had always wondered if he understood why those cats were so beloved, or worse if he saw humanity as the perennial cat constantly stuck up in trees of its own making. But she hadn’t known Superman, really, hadn’t thought she would be able to. 

Not like she’d known Clark. Clark, of the long-form article following the production of a single plaid shirt he’d been wearing on Monday during the week’s pitch meeting. Clark, who was always falling into step right next to Lois no matter where she was, or who she was up against, his heart the only one that burned like Lois when confronted with the nastiness of the world. 

Clark, who Lois has always considered the most human man she ever met. Clark who is somehow biologically, the least human man in the universe.

“Lois?” Clark’s voice is just slightly strained as if he can hear the thoughts scurrying round and round Lois’s mind, but no Lois had asked about that during those first few terrifying days when up had seemed like down and she’d felt like the shittiest investigative reporter since Arnab Goswami. Clark couldn’t read minds, not really, he’d said -- he could at most see the neurons firing (and wasn’t that a horrifying thought?) but he hadn’t tried to figure out a pattern. 

“But I don’t watch your neurons,” he’d said with what then-Lois had recognized as a hint of human-Clark, who she later realized was just-Clark’s shit-eating grin. “Your mind makes me dizzy enough when I’m just observing from the outside. Can’t imagine what would happen if I was trying to follow your thought process in real-time.” 

Now-Lois shakes her head slightly, unattractive like a wet dog. “Sure it’s illegal to impersonate a pair of massage therapists, but you’re an extraterrestrial traveler, Clark. Do the mighty dictums of the United States really mean that much to you?” 

She knows almost as soon as the last half of the sentence leaves her lips that it’s the wrong thing to say. Clark’s from Kansas, just like he always said. He was raised in Kansas, with Kansas values whatever the hell that means. Christ, she thinks, she’s never been so insensitive to an adoptee in her life. 

A month ago, Clark’s face might have crumpled. Two weeks ago, he might have thrown Lois’s insensitivity right back in her face. Today, though, his eyes only go wide for a second, right before Lois sees them glint with what she can only label as sheer Clarkness. It’s a near cousin of his shit-eating grin, that’s for sure, and if it makes her heart race with a little anticipation that between her, the universe and, if he’s listening, Sup--

Shit. 

But maybe Clark isn’t listening, too focused on what he’s about to say, because he plows on despite her heart rate. “Lois,” he drawls, “I don’t ignore the dictates of the United States because I'm an alien.”  

Oh for fuckssake. “Clark now is not the time to crib off of your much cooler mom’s actual anarchist credentials. You can talk as much theory as you want, but you were the one who just asked if we should continue our pursuit of justice based on legality.” 

Clark scoffs. “Perry suspended us for two weeks, and on day two you called me up and asked if I wanted to go on a vacation.” 

Sometimes, Clark’s whole Clark-shtick makes it so that Lois can’t tell if he’s actually hurt, or if he’s just fucking with her emotions, the ones everyone told him she’d long shot dead and buried behind the house, for his own amusement. She squints, leaning in a little closer to check for his usual tells, and there! Just at the corner of his lip, a slight twitch, so minuscule that no one but Lois could have found it. 

“You asshole! You were bored too!” Lois crosses her arms. “C’mon, would you really have been happy with a normal cruise, just floating on the ocean and wearing Hawaiian shirts while eating shrimp, no care in the world?” She raises her eyebrows, grinning like she’s trying to sell Clark a tub of Crisco. “Isn’t taking down the Mob just so much more exciting?” 

According to her therapist, Lois was never really in love with Superman. Lois was in love with the idea Superman represented -- a good man, powerful without the corruption she saw infesting those with power every day, a man so far above humanity that he was safe from the trainwreck that was Lois’ interior self. He could never really love her back, so Lois was safe loving him, never had to worry about her job putting him in danger or her tongue slicing him up during an argument until there was nothing left but his torn up suit. 

Clark, though, Clark was very real, her therapist said. Says, though Lois hasn’t been responding to her calls since the Revelation. She doesn’t know how quite to say “hey Doc, remember how we’ve been talking on and on about Clark and Superman, and how I have to ‘give up my illusion of safety in order to take a real leap of faith?’ Well, do I have a doozy for you!”  

But anyway, the point her therapist was making was that Clark actually knows Lois, inside and out. Probably better than Lois knows herself, at this point, and he loves her for it anyway. Because he does love her, Lois knows. Just like Jimmy knows, and Perry, and Lucy, and hell the guy at her corner bodega too who thinks that “that nice plaid-shirt guy you’re seeing, who comes in to buy you a whole dozen maple donuts before he picks you up, he’s gonna pop the question any day now Miss Lane!” 

Clark has loved Lois for a long time but never told her because Lois has spent almost the entirety of their partnership pretending to love Superman, afraid of being judged wanting by the only person in the world who could actually make that judgment in the first place. Clark loves her now, but Lois’ parents loved each other too once, and that relationship ended with her mom being just a little grateful that the cancer was actually going to kill her so that she wouldn’t have to put up with the General anymore. Lois knows that Clark thinks she doesn’t love him, that he thinks her love for Superman died in the fire of knowing that Superman was actually her bumpkin friend Clark, but for once she’s too afraid to report the truth. 

The truth, that all those parts Lois’ mother hated in the General -- his stubbornness, his arrogance, his inability to see anything outside of the scope of his gun -- Mad-Dog Lane has too, probably in equal measure. Clark isn’t her mom, but he too is kind, and gentle. Soft sometimes, in ways that Lois can’t believe he manages when faced with the horrors of humanity twice over. He’s her best friend, her partner, but if they added another step to their weird dance wouldn’t it finally be too much? Clark has parents who love him, makes friends easier than Lois can breathe, but Lois has only Clark. Maybe Perry, but even then who knows -- Clark might get Perry in the divorce since he can actually spell. 

“Hmm?” Lois shakes herself again, finally seeing Clark’s hand wave in front of her face. “Sorry, Clark.” 

He laughs. “It’s fine Lois, I was just saying something you’d probably have liked to hear so it’s probably best that you didn’t.” 

Lois clicks her tongue, rounding on Clark. “Well if it’s that I was right about you being bored after an entire two days off, then I don’t need to hear it. I already know I’m right and that’s good enough for me.” 

Clark rolls his eyes. “One of the precious few times you are, since this idea of yours is all sorts of wrong. Beyond the legal thing, which I will remind you, is a matter of having a massage therapy license that neither of us has and as such, cannot in good faith offer massages as part of our jobs as massage therapists.” Funny that Clark seems to have no comment on the whole “fake marriage” part of Lois’ plan. 

Lois brushes off his concern with what she thinks is aplomb. “See that would have been a problem for the Lois-of-a-month-ago, but today-Lois knows something that you apparently haven’t thought about!” 

“Oh?”

Lois beckons Clark closer, and because he loves her, he humors her by leaning in close. “See,” she whispers into his ear, “Today-Lois knows that her partner Clark has super-vision, and can see all those pesky muscle groupings neither of us knows about. Just talk to me in a language we know but the client doesn’t, and we’ll be all good!” 

Clark chokes. “You want me to...use my powers to aid in our...subterfuge?” 

Lois raises an eyebrow. “Are you seriously telling me that you haven’t used them on a story before?” That would be very Clark-like of him, she supposes, but on the other hand, the Clark she knows would never not use a resource to help break a story. And, just like she thought--

“No,” Clark says, flushing beet red -- I made Superman blush! Lois thinks and tamps down -- “No I have, but just not so....” 

“Planned?” 

“No,” Clark admits, “it was definitely planned.” He laughs softly. “Honestly, I think it’s that no one else has ever planned to use my powers, at least not as Clark.” Superman, of course, helps build millions of homes and launches nuclear waste into space: there’re entire forums where top scientists compete to see which of their ideas Superman can help them fulfill. And here Lois is, asking him to use those same powers so that they can fake being massage therapists to coax out leads from horny couples with connections to the Mob. 

She bites her lip, insecure in only the way Superman and Clark have been able to make her feel. Just figures that they were the same person the whole time. “Is..,” Lois swallows, “Is that ok? That I planned it?” Her eyes widen, sudden panic suffusing her body. “Ohmygod Clark, I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you, or anything, I mean I definitely think your powers are cool but I love you for your mind first and fore--” 

Everything inside and out of Lois’s brain shuts off. Did she just--

Clark’s jaw drops, wild hope Lois doesn’t even think he realizes creeping into the corners of his eyes. “Did you just--” 

“I..” Lois’ brain is now entirely composed of those moments when your CD skips, no words, no feelings, just skips. 

And then, like the greatest gift and curse the Universe could possibly bestow at once, the Cruise Director’s door opens. “Hello,” she says, glancing down at the names on her clipboard and doing a double-take. “Bumpo and Geraldine McTungus?” 

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

A Girl’s Best Friend (Peter Parker x OC) - Part 4

Synopsis: Diamonds are man’s best friend- or dogs are girls’ best friends, wait… how does the saying go again?

Warnings: Family issues; Peter has a crush and it’s complicated; mention of assault; good dogs; College AU; aged up! characters; TONY STARK IS ALIVE AND WE ALL LIVE IN A HAPPY PLACE CALLED DENIAL

A/N: In this story, Peter has Tom’s dog, Tessa.The dogs in the story play a minor but key role.

Word count: 2.8k

Part 3 <<< >>> Part 5

MASTERLIST

                Peter had had an entire argument, from start to finish, with himself over whether or not to do what he was currently doing, and he wasn’t too sure who won in the end, but the fact remained that he was now climbing down the side of Emmeline Gerard’s building to get to her balcony, and possibly scare her to death.

                He knew it wasn’t his most brilliant idea – it wasn’t even a good idea – but he didn’t know how else to hear from her. He had met her now, as himself, and not just Spider-Man. He technically could have asked her if she was alright, but that wouldn’t have worked. Most people don’t just confide to near strangers. She had had a longer conversation with Tessa than him after all.

                And why would he ask her that? He wasn’t supposed to know anything happened to her. It would make her suspicious. It would maybe scare her off and she would never speak to him again.

                Peter didn’t want that. Peter wanted to sit next to her in class once he grew the courage, and he wanted to ask her if she’d like to have lunch some time.

                Instead, he was hanging outside her window, watching her read on her couch, legs tucked under her, Bella lying on her back next to her, foot twitching in that way it did when a dog was dreaming.

                He knocked on the window and she frowned, looking at the front door. He knocked again, seeing her look at the window this time and dropping her book in surprise, slamming a hand over her chest.

                She got up, Bella in her wake - she woke up when the young woman cursed loudly upon seeing Spider-Man outside her twenty-second-floor window.

“What in the goddamn hell are you doing here?” she hissed in a whisper as she slid open the window and stepped onto her balcony.

                Bella, who must have remembered him as being there when her mistress had been attacked, growled until Emmeline shooed her off, approaching from the dangling silhouette.

                Peter expected a warmer welcome but then again, he was technically trespassing, so…

                He let go of the web and landed on the tiled balcony, standing up slightly taller than her. She wore blue slippers with fluffy pom-poms, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Just checking in,” he told her.

                Emmeline stepped back. He had caught her in a moment of relaxation at home, she was wearing sweatpants and probably no bra and stiffly held her robe closed over her chest. When he said that, she looked taken aback.

“Oh.” She seemed to realize she had just verbally attacked her savior for no reason at all and embarrassment tainted her cheeks. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect-“

“It’s nothing,” Peter assured her. “I’d freak out too if a dude wearing tights hung outside my window upside down.”

“Glad we agree on that.” She nodded with a little smile. “So, uhm, I’m fine. Thank you again for what you did.”

“Are you sure?”

                Emmeline stared at her feet and wiggled her toes inside her slippers.

“I- yeah, yeah I’m good. Nothing happened in the end, you came before…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. “I’m not gonna talk to you about my problems, that’s what therapists are for and surely you’ve got more important things to do than listen to me.”

“I just finished my day.” He shrugged, deciding to sit in one of the iron chairs around the small round table that stood on the balcony. “I have nothing else to do.”

“It’s almost midnight, sleeping would be a better activity.”

“I have my morning off, I’ll sleep in to catch up,” he countered.

“I don’t, I have class in the morning.”

“You weren’t sleeping when I arrived,” he argued, watching her narrow her eyes at him.

“Don’t play smarty pants with me. Just because you saved me doesn’t mean I’ll treat you any different than other men.”

“Ouch!” Peter clutched at his heart but stood up still. If she didn’t want to talk, then she didn’t want to talk. “I’ll leave you alone if you do me a favor: talk about what happened to someone. A friend.”

“Blackmailing me, are we?” She raised a brow and clicked her tongue inside her cheek. “Fine. But I decide when I’m ready to talk about it. No time limits.”

“No time limits.” Peter shot his web upwards to climb up again. “By the way, Bella doesn’t count.”

                Then he disappeared, right when he saw her open her mouth to argue.

 *

                 Ned gaped at his friend when on Monday, in their Introduction to Mechanics and Biomechanics lecture, Emmeline smiled and waved at Peter. Both of them looked behind them to see who she was smiling at but saw no one. It really was for Peter!

“What was that? Since when do you know her?” Ned questioned, watching Peter smile back like a total goof and wave slowly as if he couldn’t believe she noticed him. “Didn’t she yell at you’re the last time you looked her way?”

“Ugh, I guess you could say we turned the page,” Peter said with an enigmatic smile and a shrug. “We had a chance encourage this Friday.”

                He ended up explaining everything to Ned since he kept insisting on getting all the juicy details because “wow Peter, this is major! You’re finally on speaking terms with the girl you’ve been pining after since Freshman year”.

“I haven’t been-“ he started to deny then saw the look Ned was giving him. “Fine, I may have noticed her, but it’s nothing crazy, I’m not forgetting myself whenever we’re in the same room. You’re always making me sound so lame, dude.”

“That’s because you are. Like, no offense, I say this with the utmost respect, but you’re a hopeless romantic and all your brain cells drop dead whenever she looks at you.”

“They most certainly do not!” he objected, sounding so much like Tony that he had to take a second and reflect on his life.

“Sure,” Ned said, clearly not believing a word of it. Then he proceeded to mimic the way Peter had waved at Emmeline, dumb smile and all.

“Okay, yeah, maybe I get a little awkward around her, but who doesn’t? Even teachers get all fidgety when she speaks in class.”

                It didn’t happen often because she rarely raised her hand, but he really had seen grown adults get nervous around her. Of course, back then, he didn’t know she was the mayor’s daughter. Neither did Ned. He didn’t share a lot of classes with Ned, they had chosen different specialties.

“That’s because she’s the mayor’s daughter, they all think she can get them fired if they say something wrong,” Ned told Peter. “And the biochem teacher doesn’t do that. She gives zero craps about your girlfriend’s pedigree.”

“She’s not my-“ Peter groaned and threw his head back, closing his fists in frustration. “Forget it. You’re right, I’m the lamest guy in this whole city, and we’ll probably never move past speaking terms, so can we drop the subject now?”

                Ned hadn’t meant to upset Peter, but the truth in what he had said stung all the same. She was the mayor’s daughter, she was out-of-this-world pretty, and she was smart and intimidating. She was great with dogs too apparently, and while it could have played in his favor to have something so close to their hearts in common, it was ruined by the fact that his dog running away was literally the reason why they had shared a conversation the other day. At best she thought him clumsy, but it was more likely that she thought he shouldn’t even own a dog if he couldn’t do something as simple as go on a walk without losing her.

                He didn’t have a single chance with this girl, he was deluding himself.

                Just when his thoughts were getting darker, the lecture started.

 *

                 Three days after that eye-opening moment, when Peter had accepted that his little crush was a dead-end, she had waltzed into his life again. Peter was sitting at a table in a nearly empty library this early Thursday morning when someone dropped a pile of books next to him, even though the long table was entirely void of people.

“Hey, can you-“ he began before setting his eyes on the person standing behind the chair to his right.

“Can I what?” She smirked, pulling back the chair and sitting down. “Can I fuck off and find an empty table?” She laughed.

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Peter objected, already mentally cursing himself. “I swear.”

“Oh, I know,” she assured him. “You’d have said it way more politely.”

                Everything Ned had said and every self-deprecating thought that had bloomed in Peter’s mind since Monday resurfaced and he didn’t know what to say. Say something Peter, just say whatever comes to mind, but don’t just sit there with your jaw hanging, he admonished himself.

“Don’t sweat it,” she added when Peter finally opened his mouth. “I’m not going to bother you, I just thought it’d be silly to sit at the end of the table when you’re right here. Is it okay if I stay and study with you for a bit?”

                His heartbeat slowed down a bit and he felt slightly better. That was the problem with putting people you didn’t know on a pedestal: you end up having wrong ideas about them. Emmeline undoubtedly had a strong personality and wasn’t afraid to say things as they were. But she wasn’t haughty or trying to intimidate anyone.

“Sure, I was beginning to feel lonely anyway,” Peter told her.

“I never realized you came here this early too. I like to walk my dog when there’s few people outside, so I come here after, since I’m awake anyway,” she explained, flipping the pages of her manual to find the right chapter.

“I get nervous where there are too many people around me, so…” Peter shrugged and only then realized what he had just said. Holy f***, he was socially inept. Quick Peter, change the subject! “M-maybe I’ll meet Bella one of these days.”

                Emmeline looked up and frowned.

“How do you know her name?”

                Shit, shit, shit, shit. Today wasn’t his day.

“You- uh, you mentioned it last time, when you found Tessa.” A big fat lie! Hopefully she wouldn’t question it.

                Her expression shifted to one of acceptance and she nodded with a little hum.

“Are you studying for the exam next week in Differential Equations?” he asked, deeming it a safer conversation topic.

                It was an advanced class with only a handful of students, and she was in it too.

“Uhm, no. I’ve got that covered, I think. I’m here to finish the assignment in Molecular Genetics.”

                Peter didn’t have that class, he took Microbiology.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to help me she chuckled.” She must have seen the panic on his face when he realized he wasn’t in that class. “But if you need me to help with D.E. I can.”

                He didn’t miss the mischievous air about her when she turned down his help but offered hers. Peter had to smirk to himself, feeling like she had somehow won this conversation if such a thing was even possible.

“Noted,” he said, accepting defeat – this time.

 *

                 Without thinking much about it, they had both developed new habits since that day Peter had saved her from her assailant.

                Ned was wrong, Peter had to believe it. He had to believe that she wasn’t so far out of his league that she wouldn’t even look his way, because she did. Emmeline Gerard looked at him, talked to him, laughed with him. And he could feel himself get deeper in deeper every time he saw her stunning dimpled smile.

                The other side of the coin was his visits as Spider-Man. He couldn’t help himself, he wanted to see a side of her that she didn’t show to Peter Parker, or anyone else for that matter. Somehow, she didn’t treat him any different than she did when he wasn’t wearing a mask, but she acted a little different.

                He could tell she told him things she wouldn’t share with anyone but Bella – who had grown accustomed to Spider-Man’s random visits and now accepted pats and ear scratches from him. Perhaps she thought her secrets were safe with him because she trusted him after he saved her from sexual assault, or perhaps it was because he didn’t have any motive to spill them, Peter didn’t know. But she did confide in him nonetheless.

                He knew that her father bought her this flat when she was got her bachelor’s degree. What a gift for a barely out of high school teen! She had taken it as a not-so-subtle way of being kicked out of the bigger and much fancier penthouse he shared with her mother.

                She had never felt much like home there anyway, so she came here and adopted a dog. She was an Aries; she didn’t like coffee; she couldn’t stand horror movies; she was allergic to cats; she read poetry in her spare time; she made an impeccable impression of Gollum and had a broad knowledge of obscure Lord of the Rings lore.

                Peter Parker didn’t know most of those things, but Spider-Man did. And as days and weeks went by, he was starting to feel he might be stagnating in his relationship with her. She didn’t open up and bare her soul to him the way she did to Spider-Man when it was near midnight and they were both sat on her balcony (she never let him in) and talked like old friends.

                Peter felt as though he was in competition with himself. Peter feared she might like his other self better than his actual self.

“So,” Peter started, sitting Indian style on the tiles, rubbing Bella’s belly now that she liked him well enough to roll on her back and show him her most vulnerable part. “Did you talk to a friend, like we agreed you’d do?” he inquired.

                He hadn’t forgotten her promise, even though it has been two months now.

“I haven’t forgotten but I-“ She paused and rubbed her arms. It was late November; it was starting to get too cold to have these chats outside. “I just don’t know who to talk to. I don’t have this kind of friendship with anyone.”

                It hurt to hear that. Peter tried not to show it.

“No one at all?” he pressed her on, hoping she would say his name, his real name.

“There’s…” Emmeline sighed, looking skyward and deploring the lack of stars here. Of course, she knew the stars were there, rationally. But after not seeing any for a while, she began to wonder if they were here at all. “No, there’s no one. No one I would share this kind of personal stuff with anyway.”

                He didn’t seem happy with her answer, she noticed.

“Isn’t it enough that I tell you? You only made me promise that because you didn’t want me to bottle up my feelings after all.”

“I see the way you act with me. Like I only exist to you when I’m here and not outside of this balcony,” he told her, and she couldn’t have missed the sadness in his voice if she had tried. “You talk to me the same way you would write in a journal you intend to burn once full.”

“That’s not tr-“

“It is, even if you haven’t realized yet,” Peter insisted.

Maybe it was wrong to come here twice a week to check in on her, to hear about all the things she did not tell him during the day. All the things that she didn’t tell him, period.

                It felt like cheating. When he talked to her as Spider-Man, she told him things that she didn’t want to tell Peter Parker, and it was wrong of him to listen to these secrets.

“I won’t come back after tonight,” he announced, having decided to leave her alone. He had to do this right if he really liked the girl – and he did, God he liked her.

                She didn’t even attempt to argue, further confirming his sentiment of not even being real to her. 

“Oh.” She looked disappointed but that was it. “Alright. I guess you couldn’t have come here forever.”

                No, he couldn’t have. He only wished he had realized it sooner.

                Spider-Man was a mask, and Peter had allowed himself to forget it because it allowed him to be close to the girl he liked. It was easier than being Peter Parker, awkward nerd who had set his eyes on a girl who was out of reach.

“You’re a nice girl, Emmeline,” he told her, refusing to use her nickname. “You might think nobody cares about a rich girl’s problems, but I’m sure you have friends who would listen. Just have a little faith.”

                Have a little faith. It was a solid piece of advice that Peter was committed to follow too.

.

.

.

Reblog to save a writer

[thorne93]

Stan Lee University (Part 11)

Prompt: What would the Avengers be like in college, more importantly, what would they be like if Y/N existed around them?

Word Count: 3175

Warnings: drama, language, betrayal, violence

Notes: This is based on a HC from @carryonmyswansong. They helped brainstorm and write part of this series. In this AU, no one will have powers, everyone is a normal human. Beta���d by @carryonmyswansong​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Monday, on an early October morning, you were back in physics lab. You could hardly bare to even look at Stephen. He probably heard of your shitty decision and judged you for it. Who wouldn’t? He said the guy was trouble, and you didn’t pay any attention to it.

Stephen and you worked quietly, only speaking when you had to. At one point, you got up to swap out some supplies, and he saw his chance. He leaned over the table quickly and caught Tony and Bruce’s attention.

“Hey, what’s up with Y/N?” he asked, gesturing with his head toward you.

“You haven’t heard?” Bruce questioned.

“If I had, would I be asking?” Stephen shot.

“Y/N got scammed, okay?” Tony said, leaning forward, his voice low. “She hooked up with that asshole Loki. He left before sunrise.”

“So she got stood up. She doesn’t seem the type to let that bring her down this bad.”

Tony shook his head. “She found out later she was just a bet. It wasn’t just an old fashioned one night stand. He literally used her for money.”

“He...did what now?” Stephen asked, clear anger in his voice.

Bruce cleared his throat to signal you were on your way back and everyone shifted back in their position.

“Thanks for running those numbers,” Stephen said kindly.

You gave him an incredulous look. “What? No statement about how you want to check the math? Nothing about how it’s elementary calculus?”

He shook his head. “Not today. Not unless you work better when someone’s berating you. I could arrange that.”

On any other day, that quip might be cute. But you’d had your fill of smart assed men. You rolled your eyes and took a deep breath, getting back to the lab.

------------------

When lab ended, you left the trio of guys and nearly ran back to your dorm, your safe haven. You pulled out homework and immediately started on it. Meanwhile, Stephen was looking for Loki.

As luck would have it, Loki was in the middle of the courtyard talking to three people, walking towards him. As soon as they approached, Stephen reeled back and punched Loki square in the jaw, sending him to the ground. He spit out blood and looked up at Stephen.

“Are you fucking insane?” he asked, wiping his jaw. “The hell is wrong with you?”

But Stephen had already turned around, leaving.

A knock came to your dorm door, but you didn’t hear it. You were on the patio outside of your room. A small concrete slab with two chairs and one small table. Your homework was on it while you worked.

A moment later, you heard a voice. A voice you weren’t sure you wanted to hear.

“Y/N?”

You stopped writing, but didn’t look up as you said, “If you’re here to be a dick or banter, I’m not in the mood.”

“I heard what happened,” he offered softly.

You pressed your lips into a firm line.

“You haven’t been to class.”

“Observant, aren’t we?”

He sighed as he continued. “I don’t know you all that well, maybe not as well as your other friends, but you don’t seem like the type to get this… depressed over one asshole. So what’s wrong?”

You looked up at him, a flash of anger in your eyes. “You wanna know what’s wrong? Everything.” You sighed heavily and sat back, running your hands over your face, your hair.

Stephen took this as a cue to sit down beside you. “Okay, so tell me. I’m all ears.”

“Since when are you a therapist?” you questioned harshly.

“Since I worry why you’re not in class. You were the most obnoxiously optimistic and happy person I knew on this campus and now you never smile.”

At that, you dropped some of the anger towards him. This wasn’t all his fault. It was partially his fault because you really just wished he would’ve made a move sooner, then you wouldn’t have just latched onto Loki because he was the first guy to show interest.

“My friend Wanda isn’t my friend any more, and it’s all because of some stupid fucking internship. It’s not even the internship I care about. It’s the way she got it. It’s the fact that she felt she needed to defile my name to take it from me. My first love and I called it quits for the first time this semester, I thought I could move on with someone like Loki, but I was just a notch on his belt. To top that off, Bucky knew about the bet. He said he forgot, which, I guess I believe but still… he didn’t warn me. I just thought there was more to us, that we had history and he’d warn me. And I thought I was smarter than this. Like… I should’ve seen it for miles what Loki was up to, but I was so god damn blind. I just wanted to prove to myself that I could move on and be with someone besides Bucky, you know?”

He nodded.

“I mean, yeah it sucks that the first guy I gave myself to after my ‘first’ was just an asshole, but that… I could get over that. But graduation is fast approaching and Wanda felt okay doing what she did, and her and her brother won’t speak to me. Our group feels divided and I hate it. Clint and Nat are going to get married after graduation and I won’t see him as much. Then we’ll all go off and our lives will be different.” You shook your head. “I don’t know. This is a lot of stuff coming to surface I guess,” you said with a laugh.

“Well that’s good. You’re recognizing it.”

“Yeah, I mean, the Loki thing hurt, if I’m being honest. Being used, being made a joke, being…. Well used for sex, I felt cheap afterwards, but I’ve come to realize that’s his downfall not mine. I trusted him, he betrayed that, not me.”

“I’m glad you see past that.”

You nodded. “But I can’t see past all my friends, friends I’ve grown up with, betraying me, going down different paths… I’m losing friends right and left and I don’t know what to do and I guess I got scared.”

You smiled, but tears started to fall and your face fell into your hands. Immediately, he scooted closer and wrapped an arm around you.

“Well you’ve got one here, right now…”

He held you for a long time while you cried. He didn’t crack any jokes. He didn’t try to leave. He didn’t judge you. He just… held you. It was exactly what you needed in that moment.

When it got dark outside, you offered for him to join you inside. He grabbed your homework and you went in, leading the way. He put your things down on your desk.

“Hey, are you hungry?” Stephen suddenly offered.

You took a second to pay attention to your stomach. “Now that you mention it…” You trailed off.

“Care to come with me?”

“You gonna take me out to eat?”

“Not exactly.”

“Where are we going?” you wondered with curiosity burning in your tone.

“Grab your purse,” he instructed with a smile. You did as you were told and followed him out of your room. He walked with you across the campus, until you reached his dorm buildings. Well, you assumed they were his, as he was getting into a car just outside of them.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

He shook his head. “No. This is a surprise. Is that okay?”

You eyed him up and down as he backed out of the space before saying, “Yeah… Yeah it’s okay.”

“Good.”

You leaned up and turned on the radio, flipping stations until a good song came on.

“That’s a good one,” he noted.

“Oh yeah? You pick the next one. We’ll see if you pass my music test,” you challenged.

“Oh, I’m gonna make you have an ear orgasm, just wait,” he assured with jest.

You grinned, waiting for the song to end and Stephen to impress you. And he did. You two listened to the radio for a short while before he pulled into a grocery store.

“What are we doing here? Oh, are you stocking up?”

He shook his head.

“No. We’re gonna make dinner.”

“You can cook?”

“You still ask stupid questions?” he shot back with a smile and you couldn’t help but laugh.

The two of you entered the store, with him grabbing a little shopping basket.

“So what are we getting?” you wondered as you walked happily by his side. You weren’t worried about Loki, or Bucky, or wondering why your friends had betrayed you. You were just… with him, and right now, that’s all you wanted.

“Stuff for a pizza. You do eat pizza, right?”

“You still ask stupid questions?” you fired at him, a wide grin on your face.

“Pepperoni okay?”

“Always.”

With that, you two set off to find dough, sauce, cheese, and pepperoni.

“Wait,” you said, walking toward the cashier, your hand on his arm. “Where are we going to make this stuff?”

“I’ve got a place,” he assured.

“Your dorm?”

“You’ll see,” he informed with an air of mystery.

You eyed him curiously. “What do you have planned?”

“If you’re determined to ruin the mystery, I’ll tell you,” he said with a soft smile.

You shook your head. “No, no. I’ll be good.”

“Great. Then we can move on.”

He checked out and you two got back in the car.  The two of you drove along, in comfortable quiet, surrounded by the sound of the radio. You laid your head back against the headrest and let the feeling of warmth wash over you. Being around Stephen felt easy, it felt… comfortable. It felt comforting. It was so inviting.

With Loki, you felt like you had to put on a show of sorts. With Bucky, you felt like you had to pretend to be the perfect girlfriend.

With as much as Stephen goaded you, you somehow knew that if you made a mistake, that if you had a rough day, that if you admitted you were struggling, he wouldn’t judge you. He wouldn’t look down on you. In a way, with all the grief he gave you, you knew if you needed help, he’d be there for you.

After twenty minutes, you were at a house, a very nice house.

“What is this place?”

“It’s a home. Mine. My parents home to be exact.”

“So do you live here?”

“On the weekends. I stay on campus, just to get more homework done and not have to commute.”

“Smart.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying.” He smirked before grabbing the groceries and getting out of the car. You followed his lead and he went inside the house.

“So your parents live here?”

“Normally, but they’re in Europe right now. Won’t be back for two more weeks. So this is all mine.”

“Must be exciting.”

“The only exciting thing about is getting to cook, in a real kitchen. Not a hot plate in a room.”

You walked with him around a large quartz island in the kitchen. “Hey, a hot plate has made my life bearable, don’t knock it.”

“Yes, bearable, that’s what I am for in life,” he shot back with an eye roll. “Now, have you ever made a pizza before?”

“Once or twice.”

“Great. Roll out the dough on a sheet. Should be next to the oven.”

You went searching, when you turned around you saw a six burner stove. “Holy shit. This kitchen is serious.”

“You like?”

“I love. I wish I had a kitchen to cook in all the time.”

“Where do your parents live?”

“Oh they live almost an hour away from here.”

“Well if you ever need a real kitchen, just let me know and I’ll be happy to hook you up.”

You smiled and bowed, pretending to curtsey. “Well thank you, good sir.” Again, you looked for the sheet, opening up a custom cabinet to reveal them. You got out the sheet and opened the dough and started to knead it onto the pan.

“What are you going to be doing, while I do all this hard work?”

“I’m going to be creating the best sauce you’ve ever tasted.”

“That’s big talk. If it doesn’t live up to the hype, I can never trust you again,” you stated with a sideways look.

He laughed as he set to working on the sauce at the stove.

“Music?”

“No, i have to work in complete silence,” you said in a stoic voice and face.

“Oh,” he said, frowning to himself.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter and burst out laughing. “Joking, I’m joking, Stephen. Music is fine. In fact, I’ll go crazy if it stays quiet.”

“Oh good. I was about to kick you out if you were serious,” he said with a look of relief on his face.

He then told an unforeseen entertainment system to play classic rock. “This okay?”

“More than okay.”

“Alright, sauce is ready.”

“Crust too.”

“Fantastic,” he mused, happily as he walked over and began to pour the sauce. “Cheese me,” he ordered in jest as he held out his hand. You obeyed with a giddy grin. He sprinkled the cheese and then turned to you. “That enough?”

“Not by a long shot.” You grabbed the cheese and nearly doubled the amount.

He laughed when you were done, grabbing the pepperoni.

“Okay, is it ready?” he asked.

You nodded, eager to just eat.

“Alright, here we go.” He popped it inside the oven and set a timer. “And that’s dinner,” he said happily, crossing his arms, clearly pleased with himself.

“I hope so. I’m fucking starving man.”

“Aww, a woman after my own heart.”

You smiled. “Hey, thank you for… this. I’ve been pretty depressed, clearly, and I’m glad you’re trying to pull me out of it.”

“What do you mean? I just don’t like making pizza alone,” he said with a grin as he looked at you from across the island. He shook his head. “Seriously though, it’s no big deal. I could tell you were upset and I didn’t want to see that.”

“Thank you.”

“Wanna hear a confession?” he asked, looking nervous, or worried.

“Sure, unless it’s that you were given a wager to make pizza with me,” you teased bleakly.

He shook his head. “No, I took a bet to get you to go the store with me.”

You rolled your eyes, making him smile again.

“No, that night at Tony’s party… I didn’t need a ride.”

You stood up, worried he was going to say something shitty. Were you really going to go two-for-two here? But before you overreacted, you waited for him to finish.

“I saw that Loki was being a real shithead to you, and I could see how it affected you. I thought you might like someone to talk to, and I thought maybe you didn’t want to be alone.”

“I still really appreciate that,” you noted with a sideways smile.

“I’m glad I did it. You didn’t deserve what that asshole did, that night or the other thing.”

“You seem to be the only one who thinks so. Everyone else seems to feel like I should’ve seen it.”

“Trusting someone shouldn’t be a fault,” he retorted.

“Thanks.”

“Sure. If anything, Loki being a dick was a good thing, for me at least. Means I got some alone time with you.”

You frowned, ready to question him on that when the timer went off. He pulled out the pizza and gathered plates and napkins. He told you where to find some Cokes, and he cut the pizza. He plated you a piece and then himself and showed you the way to the living room where he turned on something light, house renovation shows.

“What a stupid choice for counters,” you noted.

“Don’t like them?”

“No, they’re going to close in that already small space. It’s stupid.”

“You’re very passionate about this.”

“I’m passionate about everything.”

“I can see that,” he noted.

As soon as the two of you sat down and you bit into the pizza, you turned to Stephen. “Holy shit,” you said, resting your hand on his shoulder, “this pizza is better than some I’ve had at restaurants.”

“Told you, secret’s in the sauce,” he said with a proud grin.

“I’m serious!” you insisted. “It must be the sauce. It’s got so much actual flavor! I can taste the garlic, and the oregano. Oh my god.”

“Be careful there, don’t ruin the fabric of the couch with your orgasm,” he teased and you laughed. Ordinarily, you’d blush, but this pizza was just too good to care.

The two of you ate and drank, commentary on the show flowing freely between you two until the pizza was entirely gone and you were nearly in a food coma.

“So you know why I want to be a psychiatrist, why do you want to be a doctor?” you asked, turning your head towards him.

“Money,” he said, his eyes closed.

You laughed. “Bullshit. We don’t do this shit for the money. Tell me.”

“Prestige.”

“Strange, so help me God, if you don’t--”

“My sister. My sister is why, okay?”

“What’s… what about her?” you questioned, unsure what to say or ask.

“My sister. Uh, when I was 11, I helped her when she got hurt on her bike. I was sort of… fascinated by the experience.”

You nodded, sensing there was more to this story, so you kept quiet, letting him talk.

“But uh....last summer, we were in the pool. She had a cramp… I didn’t hear her. She just… had the cramp and went under. I didn’t see that she wasn’t above the surface until it was… well until it was too late.” He took a deep breath. You could hear his voice getting thicker.

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, but I feel responsible and…. I don’t know. If I can help save one life by being a doctor, maybe it won’t… maybe I’ll repay the debt I owe her.”

You immediately hugged him and he cried. You held him tight, close until he seemed to get it out of his system.

“Stephen, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to push you,” you apologized.

He shook his head. “It’s fine. That’s the first time I’ve said it out loud.”

You gave him a small, sympathetic smile. “I’m honored that you shared that with me. Thank you.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I don’t know what specialty, yet. I’ve thought about tons, but I think I’ll figure it out when I get to med school.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“And you’re dead set on psychiatry, huh?”

Nodding, smiling, you answered, “Yeah, I am. I just… It’s challenging, interesting, and fascinating to me.”

“You’ll do great.”

You reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing it. “So will you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[jchall110]

So ordinarily I would put something like this on my Twitter, as that’s kind of turned into my personal vent/diary platform as of recent, but this is going to be much longer than Twitter can allow, and I need to write this all out without losing my train of thought. It’s gonna go behind a Read More, and I’d like to request that you only read it if we’ve been mutuals for a while, and only if you really want to. I’m not expecting any response, hell I don’t want any responses, I just need to put my thoughts down somewhere, and if I put it in a Google doc or something I’m gonna come back to it later and dwell on it, but if I just put it somewhere and immediately delete it, I’m not going to be able to talk to my therapist about it on Monday. Anyway, content warnings abound, as I’m gonna be talking about depression, anxiety, self-harm, suicide, covid-19, stalking, emotional abuse, and a pretty negative experience I had in a partial hospitalization program at a local mental institute. You’ve been warned. (Also for those of you who are new here, “ignore me” is my personal rant/vent tag, feel free to blacklist it to avoid seeing future posts like this)

So. Here’s a brief recap of the past year and a half in my life. Back in October of 2018, my best friend went through a very bad breakup with her emotionally abusive ex, while another of my friends was struggling very much with his mental health and attempted suicide. I was miserable working at Target and was gearing up to return to school in the Spring. I had also had feelings for the friend who went through the breakup, and she sort of had feelings for me, but she also had feelings for the other friend, and I had some vague kind-of feelings for the other friend as well, so in December we all decided “fuck it, let’s all date.” I won’t recap the full details of the relationship but it was a goddamn shitshow. His mental heath continued to deteriorate and he wasn’t seeking treatment for any of it, her mental health was extremely poor as well as a result of two years of emotional abuse and extreme codependency issues, and my mental health suffered greatly because of the expectations placed on me, as well as his frequent mood shifts where he would go from wanting to spend the rest of our lives together to, at one point, telling me things in an effort to get me to hurt or kill myself. Not a good situation by any measure. School was good, though, and the two classes I took last Spring were excellent, and I was ready to go back to school full-time in the Fall. Flash forward to September of 2019. My mental health is terrible, though my academics are very strong. I decide, after a few specific incidents, that I can’t be in the relationship with the both of them anymore and break up with him. A lot of bad things happened. She ended up leaving him as well. Then, about a month later, she left me as well and moved out of the state with someone she had met on OKCupid only a few weeks prior. At this point I need to take a medical leave of absence from school and move back in with my parents because I’m so depressed and traumatized that I can barely function. You see, since breaking up with him, he had been harassing me, even after I had attempted to get the police involved. He would call me, text me, make new Facebook accounts to send me message requests, anything to try to get in touch with me. So with all of this happening, and with me basically unable to do anything, I decide to look into a partial hospitalization program at a mental institution not far from where I live. Insurance covered most of it, my parents said they’d pay for the rest, so I started the program in early November. Ordinarily it’s only a three or four week program. I was there for at least 5. It was essentially a day program, so I would be there from 9 to 3 every day Monday to Friday. It was a really great program, except for a few things. Firstly, because it was a program both for mental health and addiction, a lot of the programming wasn’t really applicable to me, as the only thing that I’m addicted to is sugar, and I have no plans to break that habit. There’s a history of temporary psychosis caused by mind-altering substances in my family, and I don’t want to even find out if it applies to me as well. I barely even drink. So anyway, I was one of maybe three people who was there exclusively for mental health, so my options for programming were a bit limited, until a bunch of us complained about the repetitiveness of that aspect of the program and they switched things up a bit. Unfortunately it was at the tail end of my time in the program, so I didn’t exactly get much benefit from that. Secondly, and more importantly, close to the end of my time in the program, one of the mental health workers, a pre-doctoral intern who was running most of the “classes” that I was in, said a few things to me that were really frustrating and upsetting. Firstly she said that “ADHD doesn’t exist, it’s just a reaction to trauma. Too many kids are getting diagnosed with it when they just have regular attention issues, and in adults a diagnosis is almost always accompanied with trauma. And of course people are going to perform better when they’re on a stimulant.” Which. Is wrong on so many accounts. First of all, it’s overdiagnosed in the wrong people and massively underdiagnosed in the people who actually have it, especially young girls. And secondly, of course it’s paired with trauma when adults are diagnosed with it. They’ve had to deal with it for their entire lives up until then without knowing why they couldn’t do things the same way as everyone else, and there’s also a lot of trauma in general that comes with having ADHD considering how many people say “Oh, you’re just not trying hard enough” or “You’re just making excuses,” not to mention the self esteem issues that come with it. And thirdly, yeah people will perform better when on stimulants, but does taking a stimulant make everyone else tired? Cuz it does for me because it lets me slow down my brain enough to actually sleep. So yeah, that was fucked up. But the second thing she said was probably worse, and it didn’t actually occur to me how much this impacted me until earlier today when I realized something, but I’ll get to that realization soon. So it’s my second-to-last day in the program. I had gotten almost no sleep the previous night because I had a massive panic attack right before bed because my asswipe ex messaged me some really fucked up stuff. So I’m way out of it, and my ability to concentrate is pretty shit. I’m doing my best, though, and I’m paying attention to the discussion. We were talking about the parts of the brain and how they’re impacted by trauma. There were a few times during that day where I had forgotten words but still knew what I was talking about, and at least one of them had happened in front of this woman. So she asks “Does anybody know what the part of the brain is that connects the two hemispheres?” I say “Oh, I do” cuz I do know what it is, but for the life of me I can’t remember what the name is. (It’s the corpus callosum.) So she looks at me and says, out loud, in front of the entire group, “You know, it’s okay if we don’t know everything.” So I get all flustered and embarrassed and mad at myself because, in my ADHD people-pleaser brain, the teacher just failed me in front of the whole class and now they all hate me. So I don’t say a goddamn word for the rest of the day, and the next day I leave without saying goodbye to that one woman, after leaving a glowing review in the exit survey. So the thing about this that’s really fucked up is that like two days before, I sat down with her and told her how I have a lot of specific trauma around rejection and failure, especially relating to my dad and how he constantly asserts that I don’t try hard enough or that I need to do better, shit like that. Like, that was a major theme with me the whole time I was in the program. It was like, getting over the intense rejection of my best friend/girlfriend running away with a guy she just met, and my relationship with my dad. That was it. (Of the two, the one there that’s still a major thing in my life is my relationship with my dad. At this point, she can fuck off with whoever she wants. I’m more pissed at her than anything else now.) So for her to turn around and embarrass me in front of the entire group like that, when there was solid evidence that a) I did know what I was talking about and b) I was having a very off day was really messed up. In thinking about it, there was quite a few messed up things that she did in the last week or so that I was there. Probably more during the rest of my time there but I don’t actually remember most of it because working on your trauma can be traumatizing itself, go figure. Anyway, I had almost completely forgotten about that until earlier today when I was thinking about how I was getting much more sensitive to rejection and perceived failure recently than I was before all this had happened. Part of it is probably my increased estrogen dose fucking with my mood, but the majority of it, I think, stems from that one incident of her pretty much violating my trust and invalidating me in front of like twelve people that I really trusted and felt close with. Fucked me up, yo. Anyway, so I leave the program and start working for my dad at his machine shop. Things are going super well, I’m making a fair bit of money, keeping in touch with my friends as best I can, and doing my best to avoid my ex harassing me further. About midway through December I change my phone number so that he’ll stop calling me (he had several ways to get around me blocking his number), and in the middle of February I change my name on Facebook so he won’t be able to find me and send me more message requests, cuz there’s no way to stop that from happening either, and the police were useless because “I wasn’t in any physical danger.” At this point he had moved away from my town, presumably back with his parents but I don’t really know, and I really don’t care. So he messages my siblings on Facebook trying to get my phone number, and then somehow finds my Facebook again and sends me a picture of him cutting his wrist. So I get fed up, go to a local domestic violence prevention nonprofit, talk with one of their advocates, and file a restraining order against him. It gets approved, and the messages stop. A court date is set for us both to meet with a judge to discuss everything and see if it needs to stay in place or not or whatever, and for about 2 weeks everything is great. Then covid-19 starts hitting. I get what was probably just the flu or a cold or whatever a few days before the court date. Then the state that I live in announces that most court hearings are postponed until mid-April. I check on the website and find that stalking and domestic violence, among a few others, are exempt from this and will be going on as scheduled. Because I was recently sick, I call the courts the day before and ask if I can appear over the phone. They say yes, it’s all good, great. So the next morning I call in and things get moving. It turns out that my ex didn’t show up to the hearing, even though he definitely knew about it. So I talk with the judge for a few minutes and we decide that I don’t need the restraining order anymore because he’s not likely to start harassing me again, and if he does I can always get a new one or get the police involved. And so far I haven’t heard a peep from him so I’m assuming that chapter of my life is closed for good, which is excellent. But then more things start to close down, and my dad basically tells me that he doesn’t really need me at work and it’s best if I stay home. So since then I’ve been staying at home. It’s been 15 days total that I’ve been home, with only minimal trips to work for an hour here and there. And I really don’t do well with isolation. It’s not all bad, because I live with my parents, so I have some social contact, but as was mentioned above I don’t exactly get along with my dad, I don’t have a lot in common with my stepmom, and my grandmother is a grumpy old lady who isn’t very good for conversations about much else than knitting and Jeopardy. I’ve been doing my best to stay in touch with folks online, and it’s been decent, but it’s still pretty rough. And when Animal Crossing came out and all of my friends started playing it, I started feeling even worse because I’m poor as shit and don’t even have a Switch, and they’re fucking $400, which is a whole student loan payment for me. So I’ve been pretty miserable the past two weeks. To top it all off, I have to register for Fall classes next week, and I don’t think I can even imagine that far into the future right now. The world is supremely fucked, and there’s almost no way that I’ll even be able to afford to go back to school. I’ll probably have to drop out entirely. For at least a few years. And I’m really not ready to give up on school right now. Like I said above, I’m really sensitive to failure, and this is the third time I’ve tried, and failed, at college. And I’m getting real frustrated about it. The first time it was my ADHD, which at the time was undiagnosed. The second time it was mental health and my asshole ex harassing me. Now, when I finally have my ducks in a row, it’s money. The one thing that no amount of treatment or medication or court hearings will change. Plus there’s all the political bullshit going on still, and the impending collapse of society as we know it, and any number of other global crises (yes, that is the proper plural of crisis) going on. Oh, did I mention I’m an empath and the moods and emotions of the people around me, and of the world in general, pretty heavily impact me? I’ve been able to tell when some massive tragedy occurred even before the news story breaks. So yeah, all in all I’m doing about the worst I’ve been doing since high school before I was on antidepressants, and it’s really hard to see any end to this tunnel. I know I’m one in several hundred million people who are struggling right now, and I’m lucky that I’m at least moderately healthy with a steady place to stay and things to eat, but goddamn if things aren’t shit for me right now. Like I said, I’m not looking for any kind of response, and if you even read all of this I’m legitimately surprised. I just needed to put this all down somewhere because keeping it in is getting to be almost too much.

Don’t worry, friends. I promise you I’m safe. I’m just scared, lonely, and really lost right now.

I love you all.

[thelowlysatsuma]

If you’re still doing the trope mashup, 6 and 13 (bookstore and detective) with Remile, please? Thank you!!

oh yES I CAN

Remulus Nox is a hotshot cop, and he looks damn good doing it.

So naturally, when he got a tip that a major-league drug deal might be going down at a local college in a week, he is on it, babes. Those poor bastards aren’t gonna know what hit ‘em.

So Remy’s got a week to kill, right? And while suuuuure, maybe he should be., like, investigating shit like his boring-ass partner is, Remy’s a bad bitch, and Mama needs his caffeine before he can get anythin’ done, hun.

The nearest Starbucks is inside a local library, and while Remy’s kinda sick of all these tiny gremlin children gawking at him – listen, he knows he’s hot shit, but come on. They’re like five years younger than him, which ew – he must say he’s intrigued when, while pushing past people to get to the drinks line like he’s parting the Red Sea, he bumps into an admittedly hot guy around his age wearing a fuckin’ sweater vest, of all the damn thing.

“Sorry, babe,” Remy replies, instinctively taking a step back to look up at the flippin’ giraffe. “Didn’t see ya there.”

The man giggles – frickin’ giggles, what the fuck? – and smiles at him. “No worries, there!” he chirps. “I shoulda been lookin’ where I was going.”

A second too late, Remy takes in the book cart the guy was wearing, and rolls his eyes. “So I’m guessing you work here, then?”

The man grins. “Yep!” He runs a hand through faded pink hair in desperate need of a dye job and leans back on the trolley. “Name’s Ethan, how about you?”

Remy flutters his eyelashes, snickering internally at the action. “Remy Nox, hon,” he replies smoothly, pushing his glasses up into carefully mussed hair. He slinks a hand into his jacket pocket, then offers Ethan a business card. “But you can call me whenever you want.”

Ethan blinks, then goes (an unfairly pretty) pink and begins to chuckle. “Well shucks,” he says, taking Remy’s number and slipping it into a back pocket, “I’m a little bit caught up in my studies right now, but I’m definitely going to call when I can.”

Remy raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms and cocking his hip. “College kid, huh? What’re you studying?”

Ethan bites his lip, distractedly adjusting his sweater. “Psychology, actually,” he says. “Hoping to become a licensed therapist, if possible.”

Remy tilts his head, furrowing his brows, and gives the man an appraising once-over. “Yeah,” he says, “I can see that.” His back pocket buzzes, and he scowls. “Ugh,” he says, “gotta get this.” Picking up the phone, he rolls his eyes. “Trevisan, this better be good.”

His partner’s clipped tones are biting even through the line. “Unlike some people,” Remy hears Logan say, “I’ve actually found a lead, and it’s time-sensitive. Get over to the corner of Sixth and Main – I have a possible suspect, but I can’t keep them here for long.”

“Fiiiiine,” he says. “But you owe me a coffee, bitch.”

“Dumbass.”

The line goes dead.

Remy grins apologetically at Ethan, who’s been watching the call curiously. “Gotta go talk to my business partner about a thing,” he says, easily lying through his teeth. Not that normally he’d be against telling the hot guy he’s a cop, but even he’s got some sense of when to keep shit hidden – and a few days before a drug deal when you don’t know who you can trust sounds like a pretty damn good time to withhold information if Rem’s ever heard one.

Ethan, for his part, just smiles at him. “Well,” he says, “I’ll still be here when you’re done.” He furrows his brows in thought, his tongue absently sticking out – and damn, if that’s not some cute shit right there. “I’m in here Monday through Wednesday,” he tells Remy. “Come see me when you can!”

Remy grins slyly. “Maybe I will,” he drawls, spinning on his heel and leaving the store as he lets his sunglasses fall back into their rightful place. “Maybe I will.”

Ohhhh, days like these, Remy hates being a cop. Not only is he stuck in the flippin’ drizzling rain with the biggest nerd he’s ever met, but his pants are ruined because of the mud they’re crouching in, his jacket is absolutely soaked, he’s not wearing his glasses, and the hot guy from the damn library is one of the fucking criminals.

Damn it.

“NYPD; hands in the air,” Logan calls out as he and Remy move in on the deal. “You’re surrounded!”

The criminals – as they so often do – make to scatter, but Remy isn’t too concerned. Their back-up has a damn sweet track record, after all. However, he thinks, as he races towards the bubblegum dumbass in the centre of the deal, gun at the ready, this was a lil too personal. Remy trusted his instincts, and having flirted with a criminal? Well, that just stung.

“Hands in the air, babe,” he hisses venomously, pointing his gun at Ethan. The guy’s either a moron or way too trusting of Remy’s general human decency, however, because all he does is narrow his eyes and take a step forward. “Nope!” Remy calls, weapon steady. “Nuh-uh, hon; not another step.”

Ethan rolls his eyes, and wow, not what Remy was expecting, and unfortunately, still kinda hot. “I’m gonna take out a piece of identification from my jacket,” the suspect says irritably, slowly broadcasting every move he makes as he haltingly reaches into his coat. “And after that, hopefully everything’ll make sense, ya Durland.”

Remy narrows his eyes, but allows the movement, watching the man carefully in case he tries to make a break for it. Instead, Ethan carefully unzips an inner pocket in his jacket, and takes out a bracelet with a barcode on it. “Scan it,” he urges, offering the offending rubber jewelry to Remy. “The hell?” Remy replies.

Ethan huffs, childishly pouting and sticking out his tongue at the cop. “Just do itttt,” he whines. “This’ll make a darn heck of a lot more sense and make everything easier if you do.”

Remy hesitates, and Ethan locks eyes with him, gaze fiery, piercing. Remy, feeling oddly vulnerable without his glasses, flushes.

“Do you trust me?”

The cop huffs out a, “No, what do you think?”, but obligingly takes the bracelet, scanning it using the barcode scanner on his phone. Two words flash onto the screen: The Doctor. Remy scoffs.

“What is this, some kind of weird roleplay?”

Ethan actually looks amused at that one, despite the obvious annoyance still present on his features. “Look that up in the deployed agents archive,” he urges.

Remy actually bursts out laughing at that one. “Bitch,” he says, “you think I have the clearance to do that from this dusty-ass street in the middle of nowhere? Please.” He straightens up, adjusts his jacket, and withdraws a pair of handcuffs. “Now, hon, if you’ll excuse me, I’m taking you down to the station for questioning.”

Ethan’s gaze cranks up from hot to blazing, and he actually nearly growls. “Remy,” he pleads, “you have no idea the kinda trouble you’re making right now. Just let me talk to another cop, someone who’ll look me up, for Bugs Bunny’s sake, and-”

“Picani?”

Logan’s absolutely shocked tone has Remy and Ethan snapping their heads to look at him. “Well hey there, Peridot,” the criminal says sheepishly, flashing the newcomer a wave with the hand he was previously using to hold out the bracelet. “You and your partner kinda. Uh. Messed things up for me here.”

Remy looks from the suspect, sheepishly grinning, to his partner, who seems absolutely flabbergasted. “Okay,” he says, “is anyone gonna bother tellin’ me what the hell is going on here?”

Logan grabs him by the arm, ignoring his partner’s squawking protests as he practically drags Remy to a more secluded area. “That,” Logan hisses, “is Emile Picani.” At Remy’s blank stare, he smacks himself on the forehead. “Picani, one of our best operatives, has been undercover for a year under the code name of The Doctor. Nox, we have gotten ourselves into a situation well above our pay grade here!”

Etha- no, Emile strides up to them, twirling a lock of hair around his finger, locking eyes with Remy. “And, hon,” he says, scorching annoyance fading now into easygoing resignation as he pushes his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, “now we need ta figure out how to get me back in the game.”

Remy cocks an eyebrow, pushing down the hot, flighty burning at the back of his neck with practiced ease. “We?”

Emile grins. “Yep!” he replies cheerily. “Like it or not, you two are in on this now.”

He claps his hands delightedly, looking from one tot the other and back. “So! Let’s get to work.”

Remy groans – god, now he really needed that coffee – but, ever obligingly, follows the other man’s lead.

wow shit i have no idea if a n y of that is in character or if i’m just hella sleep deprived lmaooooooo

Send me two tropes and a ship!