#like i will never take psych drugs by choice again in my life but like. seeing the ppl i love
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
trans-axolotl · 1 day ago
Note
Do you know of DIY psych meds or any writings/info on it, DIY meds in a similar way to DIY HRT, cause I noticed you can buy some psych meds on some of the same shops you source diy hrt, I haven't found any thing on it but I figured its just not a very popular topic because being forced on meds is usually a more pressing issue, the legal grey-ness of buying "prescriptions" with out an offical prescription, and the if-y effectiveness of a lot of psych meds but I feel like I can't be the only one who's ever thought about it
so i don't really have anything I can link to because most of what i know about this is what i've learned from my experiences with DIY HRT distro. and so there's a lot of stuff that I only feel comfortable talking about vaguely on tumblr or other public facing social media.
long story short: there are already some DIY HRT collectives out there that are also distributing psych meds in a similar way. not going to name specific names for obvious reasons, but there's around 3 or 4 DIY hrt collectives i could name in the northeast US who are already doing this. there are some challenges with distributing psych meds that are slightly different than distro for DIY HRT. part of it is due to the need to be able to keep up an ongoing supply of psych meds that might cause withdrawal. if people are relying on you as a supplier for psych meds that can cause life-threatening withdrawal if you're off of them, that is a much more severe consequence then temporarily being unable to supply someone with hrt. and so that might impact the resources needed to be able to offer a consistent supply. i think another challenge is the lack of easily accessible information about psych drugs and how they actually work in our bodies.
and like--i think about psych drugs the way i think about all drugs. they're substances that are going to have both desired and undesired effects. that is going to vary from person to person. and everyone has the right and autonomy to make those decisions for themselves, regardless of their diagnosis or whether they are seeking "treatment" or "healing" or whether it's just for fun or connection for any fucking reason. so i think it is really good and important to find ways for people to access psych drugs outside of psychiatry.
and at the same time, i also think that in the current climate, where so many people are forced on psych drugs against their will, where so much misinformation is purposefully spread by psychiatry, where so many of the undesired effects of psych drugs are hid from people, it also feels important to be able to share accurate and helpful information about how psych drugs work and what to expect, as well as information about dosages, withdrawal, tapering, etc. so i think that anyplace that is sourcing and supplying psych drugs does have a responsibility to make sure that they do know that information and can help their community find and share that kind of information.
in terms of practical information, it sounds like you're already probably familiar with how to find sources online. all i'll say on tumblr is that if you're familiar with how to use tails and tor for browsing that it's not super hard.
it's not the exact same focus, but Four Thieves Vinegar Collective has a lot of projects for different types of autonomous healthcare.
Inner Compass Initiative is not a perfect website but does have a lot of info on psych med dosages, tapering, effects, etc.
there's some other zines i'll try to find in my room and take photos of at some point if i'm able to.
biggest takeaways for me is that it always comes back to autonomy and informed consent, and figuring out ways to make that possible in our communities outside of psych authority is something that feels important and possible to me!
34 notes · View notes
sysmedsaresexist · 5 months ago
Text
Psych Critical
Tumblr media Tumblr media
This post is highly related to this post, and I hope you'll read both. This was written second.
I've sent a couple asks to anti psych blogs talking about my own situation.
My goal isn't to change their minds, but to see what options they think are available to my family. Not every attempt at communication is an attack on a stance. I have real questions.
If there are other options, I'd love to hear them. I want these options to exist. I want more than what my family is going to get.
However, no one has responded to my asks. Maybe they think it's bait and I'm trying to catch them in a trick, maybe they don't know the answer, maybe they don't care (if you're one of those blogs, you've forfeited an opinion on my life).
So I'm going to post, under my own name, and ask again.
This isn't bait. This is my life, my every day normal. This is my father's life, every single day.
Psych Critical is a stance that I don't have a choice in. The psych system is only one thing that my family will turn to for help, and if we don't approach it first, it'll approach us on less kind circumstances. And that's genuinely what we're looking for.
Help.
And I think blanket generalizations like the above are about as useful as trash. I shouldn't have to hate myself and my family for needing help and seeking it out.
My father has something called NF (Neurofibromatosis). You might know this as "elephant man disease," though these are distinct disorders that are different from each other. It's the easiest way to describe it, though. He has tumors all over his body, inside and out, in his case. Visible lumps all over his body.
Unfortunately, these tumors are also on his brain. This causes him to have seizures, strokes, hallucinate, and have bouts of violence towards anyone and everyone. Specifically concerning is the voice of God telling him to punish his (now adult) children, and threatening to harm people based on the colour of their skin and religion. These hallucinations likely stem from the fact that he was raised as an orphan in the church (yes, it's exactly what you think).
There was a time when he could have gotten treatment, but we're past that. Initially, he refused. He was scared, I'm sure he didn't think it would end up like this. Now, he's unable to consent to treatment, and it's so progressed that surgery isn't an option. Chemo never was. To make matters worse, he's an alcoholic, to the point that not drinking will cause seizures and will likely result in death. Not to mention the damage to his liver that's slowly killing him. It's not functioning well these days.
There is no POA or will, and he's not able to consent to signing either. He will not go to any doctors at this point. You can't even have a conversation about this with him. Every plan he's set up on, retirement, pension, disability-- he calls them constantly to fuck around with it, cancel it, take his children's names off it, tell them he doesn't need it. They've stopped talking to him and will only discuss with my mother, despite there being no POA in place.
He is only going to get worse. He is going to die, and he doesn't understand.
My father is already dead. The man that raised me is gone, the man that cared isn't in that head anymore. It's a cruel soul using his body like a puppet until it finally gives out.
At this point... my siblings, mother, and I have had to cut him out of our lives. He's mean. He's so goddamn mean and cruel. His words cut harder than his fists, only because there's nothing left to him. He's skin and bones.
I don't know how much longer my cousin can let him stay there. Then what?
At some point, he will need to be forcibly committed and treated, if only to make him comfortable during his final... years? Months? Days? Because of the unique circumstances, there's likely not a drug that can help curb any of the symptoms. Drugs might be able to get him off the alcohol, but he's not going to like that at all, and that's not what's causing the hallucinations. His memory only gets worse by the day. Simple daily things like using the stove are becoming more of a danger, because he keeps walking away and forgetting.
I have about as much choice in this as he does, and the sooner he's committed, the better for everyone, including him. I mean, he can continue to stay out, and pass out on the streets trying to get home from the bar after getting kicked out for starting fights or getting angry when he's cut off. I don't know if or when he's going to forget the way home, and even if I try not to care... I'm scared.
I fear the day he's picked up by the police. I want him in the legal system even less than the psych system, and I think he'll fight any police that try to approach him. This is a man that, I promise you, would rather be homeless than denied alcohol.
This is not my biological father. He came into my life when I was only 1 year old. My biological father was, surprise surprise, also an alcoholic. He was in a drunk driving accident before I was born that killed other people. He was the driver.
My step dad, the only dad I've ever known, scares me sometimes.
I don't want to be the child of two murderers.
So I ask again, what do you suggest? How is this ableist? Your focus is psychotic people, but that's not the only people in these facilities. That's not the only disease that they treat. I read a couple posts from a linked resource (it's tumblr posts, let's not lie), and one of them mentioned something akin to outpatient treatment. @trans-axolotl because I'm using your post. I actually appreciate the "I don't know" of your answer.
It's a lot better than, "you're ableist for even thinking about this."
Friendos, I don't have a choice but to think about this.
This seemed silly to me, though, because psych wards already act like that. Many of the patients leave during the day to work, shop and visit family, and return at night. Rinse and repeat for them, every day. There's a surprising amount of individualized treatment, freedoms, and steps for each patient.
But not everyone can adhere to that. If my dad got out during the day, he would be drinking, and this would exacerbate the symptoms. He's a dick when he's drunk on the best of days. It's why my mother divorced him originally, before the hallucinations started.
A dry house wouldn't work, either. The places this man has hidden alcohol... he's like a squirrel, it's just everywhere, and he comes across them like,
Tumblr media
Inside the WALLS, my guys. Hidden in the basement, the wall goes up to uncovered beams and there's a gap, and he hides them down behind those walls.
Do you know how many spiders are in there? He can fucking drink them, he wins that battle. Touché, dad.
When they tear the house down in the far future, I'm willing to bet they'll find a full liquor store down there. And again, the first time someone says, "you can't bring that in here," he'll turn around and say, "then I'm not going in there, diddles," because his fucking language part of the brain is broken and no matter how many times you explain that "diddle" is a CSA word that you can't just use randomly like that, he forgets.
When I first got married, I had him over to my apartment to spend a few nights. The amount of alcohol that got into my house... I don't even think he brought boxers, just alcohol, and it ended in a fight, and I made him leave. After that, he refused to come visit me. He's never been to my sibling's homes. It was the final straw for me, the things he said to my husband are unforgivable. I keep watch from afar now, talking to my cousin about him.
I said a few paragraphs up that the man that cared is gone. Sometimes, I look back, and I'm reminded of all the doubts growing up that he ever really cared. But I still care, and loving him is painful. The fear of what he's going to do next is even worse.
I want to finish this off with one of my... I don't want to say favorite, but this documentary was one that helped me, a fair bit, when it came out. I'd genuinely like the opinions of anti psych people on this documentary, and the true extent of violence and self harm that some patients display. Heavy trigger warning for severe self harm and violence toward others. Obviously.
For some of these patients, do you see another option for treatment? If not psych wards, what do you suggest happens to some of the patients in the video? What role did the staff actually play in some of the events portrayed?
youtube
As a general reminder, this isn't to change minds but open dialogue.
"Psych crits are ableist," is a pretty harsh statement considering the number of people in similar positions to myself. I feel like there's a huge disregard and ignorance for the violence that real people are experiencing.
Again, I'm psych critical, I don't accept the system as it is now, I think there's many improvements to be made. I think there is a need, in a very not small number of cases, for this type of system. I understand and appreciate the intersection of race, poverty and mental health that leads to anti psych sentiments, and I agree. There is a large number of people in psych wards that shouldn't be. This needs to be addressed.
But how do you reconcile both? I can't figure it out. I don't know.
51 notes · View notes
he13na · 7 months ago
Text
i'm having trouble forgiving myself for trying nitrous oxide once last year.
i'm not okay with this. i betrayed myself in a moment of strange curiosity that was very out of character for me.
i don't do drugs. this is against my values and my beliefs. i still don't understand why i thought it was acceptable to try it.
i no longer feel pure. and it makes me so, so sad. this beautiful body that my mother created for me, i've tainted and poisoned it.
while nothing happened to me, i survived and no damage has been done (that i know about and i'm hoping and praying to god that it didn't permanently damage my vitamin b12), i'm suffering a delayed emotional pain, self shame and guilt that i'm really having a hard time absolving myself of. there should be no excuses.
i almost feel like i don't deserve forgiveness. that i will be living a lie to enjoy my life and the beautiful things around me and the love i receive from those who don't know what i did. that the goodness in my life is false because my soul is already corrupted. that the lightness and happiness i feel with the birds singing around me, the cats i pet and my mom's smile and the things that bring me comfort aren't meant for me.
i was never a drug user. i am not a drug user, but now i can't say that i never tried drugs and it breaks my heart. immunity to adversity was something i prided myself on and never felt weird or like an outcast for standing strong in my beliefs in avoiding harmful substances. i never cared about peer pressure, and i never put myself in situations where it could happen to me. but when i saw someone i love doing it and i was informed NO2 began in the Romantic era as a graduated English major, i was intrigued and slightly curious. curious enough to say "why not", abandon my values, try it and lose my innocence. i did not realize the darkly transformative effect it would have on my psyche, my heart and my soul. i didn't know about sudden death syndrome, or what it could do to my body irreversibly, or how it would feel morally. i didn't know that it would come back to haunt me later when i least expected it. if i did, i could have saved myself because the emotional and moral aftereffects weren't worth it.
this may be a secret i'll have to take to the grave, and i'm not okay with that. but will my mom, who's always done her very best to be a role model and raise me in a safe and healthy environment and always told me to say no to drugs, ever look at me the same? what if i hurt her more than i've hurt myself?
i still don't understand why i did that. that isn't me. that will never be me again. i wish i could go back and undo it. to tell my boyfriend it wasn't okay to do it and not let him either, even if it meant the end of the relationship.
i feel corrupted, worthless and broken.
i am grateful that i never fell to addiction or went down the path that led to it, or worse, the point of no return.
yes, i know that one choice or bad decision or experience doesn't define me. but why do I feel like it does?
i am having the hardest time sitting with myself now. i've had past regrets that aren't half as bad as this. how can i forgive myself and enjoy and love who i am again when i don't feel like i deserve it?
3 notes · View notes
rexaleph · 1 year ago
Text
Ohhhhh my god. I have always been me!!! Throwback style vulnerabilityposting
This severe breakdown started (or became unmanagable) when i tried to quit my job earlier this year and it didnt work out. like last time 10 years ago!!! When i tried to transition and the psych i went to couldnt help me and then etc.
i had one idea for how to fix everything and save myself and when it didnt happen i fell apart!!
And like, im much more functional now. ive done everything i could, made good choices, kept up w work but basically deprioritized it, i took care of myself physically, i reached out, made local friends, tried dating, went to a therapist (they said im outside of their competence and need psychiatry/medication - but i have horrific health anxiety and am very scared of psych drugs), reconnected w my family, stopped drinking, made art, took a trip. Instead of hiding in my room for 4 months while everything slipped away and then attempting suicide like i did at 19. (Also made some insane decisions and spent 1/3 of my savings. But all in trying to help myself!) (I did occasionally think back on back rhen and wonder if what i have now is worse than then, but did not draw conclusions on the situation overall)
And the problem then and now ofc is the need for fixing everything and saving myself, finding life as is unbearable! and all the good mental health moves ive made were targeted towards creating a liveable life but i just kept getting worse. Im basically never not crying w terror these days. And what fixed it then was finding another way towards transition and working towards that (slowly and painfully and terrifiedly!) (years long climb out of the abyss!) (I am maybe not in the abyss rn!) I didnt know how to try again right away!!
Like this morning i was like hm, what if i applied for jobs again. (Bc basically seems like my defence got pushed back again, or actually my boss said sth dumb that suggests he sees me sticking around and doesnt realize im not at my limit, i am beyond it, if im meant to finish my thesis i need at least a month off, maybe a whole sabbatical,maybe psychiatric care) And then had this entire epiphany. And i gotta bring lunch to my grandparents across town and like support and take care of them, then go see my parents, whom ive missed and waited for desperately, and now ofc i am contemplating moves they will uh not approve of lmao. Ive been getting ready to have a breakdown in front of them and like ask for a hug bc we havent touched each other in years, and idk if i need that anymore.
Anyway yeah, what does that do to the terror? Idk.
13 notes · View notes
rosarecovered · 5 months ago
Text
August 9th 2024
Haven’t been on this app in probably a year or more… idr what all happened after January of 2023 but I will say I started using again, mostly in the summer where I entered residential treatment for the 8th time in 5 years. I stayed from July to November and was given the choice to go back home or go to a TLP… being that it was around the holidays and most definitely just as an excuse, I wanted to go back home to be with family and “help” my mom. Such bullshit. Relapsed immediately and by the end of January 2024 I brought myself to the psychiatric unit at the hospital because my depression had got so bad. I even got high while I was in there. One day after getting released I was taken to jail for two months. It was extremely hard because as I said, I never wanted to go back… but before I got taken to jail I asked my probation officer about Drug court and while I sat (with the possibility of revocation, prison time if so…) in OCJ, she filled the paper work out and I got accepted in march. I am on an ATR(alternative to revocation) and if I fuck up, well imma just not fuck up. But I’m now almost 7 months clean (longest time of sobriety ever!!), working with a sponsor and doing the steps. Chairing and sharing at meetings. I stay at a women’s shelter and work a pretty lame paying job atm BUT I can absolutely 100% say I haven’t been happier then I am right now in my entire life. My confidence, which was never good, is getting better. I’m not on any psych meds which is crazy cause I’ve been on those since I was 12 and I’m now 30… I am on Vivitrol but it’s nothing like being on suboxone. I’m working on my relationships with my babies and things are just really good right now. I really have Drug court to thank for a lot of it. It holds me accountable and I hate to say it but I needed that. I’ll be in the program for at least another year and a half and I’m pretty okay with that. I got my Ls back in November for the first time ever. So I can drive without freaking out and idk. I feel like I’m growing up which is great cause the world doesn’t stop spinning for no one. I won’t lie and say there aren’t days that I don’t think about going back out for just one more time. Some days are harder than most which I’m grateful for the majority not being like that. Idk. People can change. Things DO get better. All it takes is consistency, determination, and ALWAYS getting back up after falling. I remember thinking being a dead beat drug addict was just who I was always gonna be and that my children would be better off without me in their lives. And now… I can’t imagine leaving them ❤️
*clean since 1/23/24🙏🏽
Tumblr media
0 notes
maybe-i-wanna-die · 1 year ago
Text
I am 8 days sober from alcohol. I am 51 days clean of methamphetamine. When do I start to feel good about my choices?
For the first time in over a year, I am sitting with my thoughts and feelings. No work, no people, no substances to distract me- and it's excruciating.
It's been 8 weeks since I was assaulted. It feels like it happened a lifetime ago. I have come to terms with the fact that I did, in fact say no to the initial advances and it wasnt my fault. I did not ask for it. I froze. But that is was not consent. I have come to terms with the fact that I will probably not seek intimacy for a long long time. Nor will I seek a relationship for a very very long time either. I am completely okay with that. I dont think my heart can deal with being obliterated after being blindsided. 10 years. I didnt see it coming. I had no say in the matter.
I thought I was doing well in looking after my physical health during my drug use. I ate what I could manage, hydrated, took multivitamins and electrolytes. But I had lost a lot of weight. For the first time in my life, I was worried for myself. Despite being hospitalized with an eating disorder and being told I was putting my life at risk, a glance I caught of my reflection was the first time I think I saw myself how others must see me. For the first time in my life, I saw what they saw and it scared me.
I will never forget tearing open the seal of a tub of Ben and Jerry's icecream and shovelling it into my mouth like my life depended on it. But now I long for that thinness.
At my worst I drank a case of beer a day, on top of what food I ate, and I was still losing weight. Sure, my nails were brittle, my hair was thinning and dry and my face was angular. Out of over 50 sets of pretty bras, I had two on rotation that I could fill out. I hovered between self care and self loathing. I liked my body but I hated I looked like I had aged.
Obviously now I have an appetite. Now I have to fight it again. Just like all those years ago. I thought I was over it.
The pantry, fridge and freezer I stocked up with calorie dense, nutritious foods that were easily accesible for when i was using was no longer an ally. I was suddenly hugry again and I ate what I had. I could not justify throwing that all out. And I did not anticipate just how hungry I was. I wish I had told myself to slow down.
Now that I am starting over again, I have filled my larder with more sensible foods and ingredients. I have cut out alcohol in hopes that I could eat sensibly without hating myself as much, for I'd saved 110cal per drink. To be so vain as to choose sobriety. Though it does make sense to me to cut out the depressant one consumes when plagued with thoughts of despair and depression.
My body was obviously in crisis. I put weight on quickly and it felt like I was wearing somebody else's body. It still does. I never thought that I would grasp at my flesh and cry again. I never thought I would once more, want to take to my flesh with those clippers they use to shave meat off in a kebab store. I thought all that was behind me. I hate how fat I feel. How uncomfortable it is just to be.
Rationally, I know that prolonged meth use has fucked up my dopamine levels and changed the entire landscape of my brain's reward system. I understand I have been listening to music turned up to 11 and now it is so hard to hear the subtle nuances of a finely conducted orchestra. But in reality, I am just miserable. I am tired. I have no desire for anything. Nothing makes me feel motivated. I have to psych myself up for a day to do my laundry. But I do make sure I acknowledge every small task I do complete. I congratulate myself for doing the thing. Even if it was as simple as taking down the recycling. I feel no reward for doing the thing. I am still recalibrating. I am absolutely miserable.
There is a part of me that so badly wishes I could just be miserable and have energy. I could be miserable and thin again. But there is also a part of me that is so stubborn that every day that goes by, I know I would hate myself for having to go back to Day 1 of sobriety again.
I am now stone cold sober and I hate myself. I am so depressed I cannot function. I make sure I eat and bathe. I make sure I am hydrated and get sun and fresh air like a pathetic houseplant. I want to not feel so sad. I want to feel good about myself.
My hair is glossy and thick again. My nails are growing like they have never grown before. Though I also attribute that to the complete lack of cooking or general living, like a racehorse that has grown old and lame. My skin is awful because I am stressed. But i know that psoriasis and dermatitis comes and goes with my histamine levels. I know in my rational mind, things take time. Time is moving like molasses and I am absolutely exhausted.
I am doing things to help myself with blind faith and science. I got a blood test and it turns out I was anaemic, vitamin B12 and vitamin D deficient. So I decided to sit in the sun, go for walks and try to run again. I dismay at how weak I feel. How fat I feel in my workout clothes. But that is something I can control with time.
I am administering Vitamin B12 shots intramuscularly every fortnight. I am eating leafy green vegetables and salmon for Omega-3 . I am taking multivitamins and drinking kefir for probiotic benefits. They say gut health and the mind are intrinsically linked. I am eating more fiber and cutting out processed foods. I am drinking more water and no more alcohol. I am doing what I can to help myself, even though they do not feel good or natural but with a blind faith that they will help me.
What I failed to anticipate was that not only did my physical health return, so did my libido. Sex has always been an important part of my life. It was agency and ownership of my pleasure. It was a heightened, almost enlightened control I could exercise over my body. I have always been frank about my desires to others and to myself. It is one game I had mastered and was exploring all the side quests.
I self injured for the first time in forever after I was assaulted. I never thought I'd do that again. But this time it was like the bright colorings of a poison dart frog. All over my buttocks, and my legs were markings to signal to stay away. I am dangerous. I am crazy. And you never stick your dick in crazy. Again and again I made myself as unattractive as I possibly could in the most drastic way I knew how.
I never wanted to be seen as a sexual being by another again. I never wanted to be an object of desire; I have struggled with this since a young age where such thoughts should a haze on the horizon. But now, I know it is something that I cannot control. Not after what happened that night.
No drug high or state of mind will ever compare to the euphoria of orgasm. And I have been robbed of it. I had accepted that I will never trust another for a long long time- with my heart or my body. I was enough on my own. But that night I was robbed of the ability to enjoy being in my body. My self sufficiency. My ability to love myself for a little bit. The ability to make myself feel good. To be content for a while- in my mind, in my body and in the world.
I crave that euphoria and that release. I crave the feeling of being out of my body and out of my mind for a while. The most curious feeling of being hyper aware and present in my physical self, yet dissociated and completely divorced from the typical state of consciousness. I miss the complete control and lack there of in that moment. I am Schrodinger's cat for a little while. The electric warmth that oscillates through my body long after. It was not a matter of state of mind. It was not a matter of whether I wanted it or not. It certainly not for a lack of trying. In every which way I knew how. It was meditative and wholesome and yet there is now a impenetrable shield to something that was easily accessible and as natural as breathing. Something I could tap into and take as much or as little as my heart desired. I would gladly give up alcohol and drugs and carbs and flowers and music and all things that make my heart sing for the rest of my life if it meant that I could just get that back.
I have been robbed of my ability to make things okay. I have been robbed to self soothe. I have lost critical agency over my own body and the ability to love myself. All I am left to work with is an unslightly body and a heart full of frustration, dejection and disappointment. It's time to move on. I am but a husk of myself. It looks like my home but I no longer live here.
1 note · View note
overgrowngnome · 1 year ago
Text
["The Self as Risk
What makes the therapeutic narrative as a conduit to adulthood most problematic is that it transforms the self into one's greatest obstacle to success, happiness, and well-being. Indeed, the therapeutic narrative leads young people to make themselves the heroes, victims, and villains of their own lives (See also Furedi 2004; Moskowitz 2001). In teaching young people that they alone can manage their emotions and heal their wounded psyches, the therapeutic ethos dovetails with the neoliberal ideology in such a way as to make powerless working-class young adults feel responsible for their own happiness. In a neoliberal world of unpredictable markets, fragile families, hollow institutions, and anemic safety nets, the self--alone and uncertain--is endowed "with the power to make or unmake itself" (Ulluoz 2008: 131). Indeed, the vast majority (n=70) of informants reported that they viewed themselves as their greatest risk. As Kelly, a twenty-eight-year-old line cook, declared, "When I start feeling helpless, I just have to make a conscious decision to not feel that way. It sounds easy and it's really not. There's just no other choice. No one else is going to fix me but me." 
Their foundational belief that they are completely and unconditionally responsible for creating a good life leads young people to examine their personal traits and behaviors for signs of weakness that could explain their precarious lives. For many, the fear that they will not take the "right" risk looms as a logical explanation for failure. Candace, the young black women who has overcome a family legacy of drug abuse and poverty, as well as depression, explained, "Um, the biggest risk is putting too much out on the line with my family. Being scared to fail. Being scared, the unknowing, yes. Because their will be certain things I won't do that could make me a stronger person, could make me more success [sic], but I'm just afraid of doing it because it's a chance. It's a risk." 
But it is Delores, a thirty-four-year-old white woman, who most powerfully demonstrated the cruelty and injustice of the mood economy. When we first met, she was working the cash register at a bakery outside of Lowell where I often stopped for coffee on my way to an interview. Judging her to be a possible interviewee, I asked if she would like to participate in my study. A few days later, I returned to the bakery during her lunch hour to her about her experiences of growing up. 
Delores's father was laid off from a shoe factory when she was young and never found stable employment again. Learning from an early age that work is precarious and the future is unpredictable, she recalled: "The way I grew up, we grew up with nothing and we were never told what to do with it if we ever got it. In a lot of ways, I feel like I'm living the same way my parents are. Just...day by day." Delores explained that she had been struggling with depression since high school. A few years ago, she got pregnant and her boyfriend insisted she have an abortion, which led to a "downward spiral," a tumultuous breakout, and a spending spree that left her tens of thousands of dollars in debt. 
"D: I took a nosedive again. I decided I wanted to try medication. I went in and I was diagnosed. I went into a study because I didn't have any money. It was on the radio I think. But it was a study to test the effectiveness of concentrated doses of Saint John's Wort against Prozac. It was a study, so I didn't know what I was on whether it be sugar pills, Saint John's Wort, or Prozac. But after a certain amount of time if it doesn't work they take you out and put you on Wellbutrin, which has been shown to work on a wide variety of people. It wasn't working, so they put me on Wellbutrin, and I was on that for awhile and then they switched me over to Prozac. I guess it's not so bad if I remember to take my pill every day like I'm supposed to. But when I get off kilter I get very stressed and then I'll do impulse buying. Like, oh I don't care, I'll just spend the money. So that kind of screws me. I would like to be good and do what I am supposed to do, but then I get so upset and I don't want to do anything. I just don't want to think about bills, I don't want to pay anything...I just..."
Like many informants, Delores explained her problems in the present through the lens of her mental disorder. At the time of the interview, she told me she was developing new ways of managing her depression with remedies found on the Internet: drinking copious amounts of caffeine, smoking marijuana, and illustrating children's books to relax. 
A few months later, when I was back in Massachusetts for interviews, I stopped by the bakery again, but Delores was not there. I asked her co-worker, Lindsay, whom I had gotten to know through my frequent visits, if she was still employed at the bakery. Delores, she informed me, was suffering from another debilitating round of depression: she had frequent migraines, could not get out of bed for weeks, and had eventually been fired for missing too many days of work (which meant she had also lost her health benefits). During her last few weeks of work, she had been caught drinking beer in the back kitchen and was suspected of stealing money from the cash register; there was no chance that she would be hired back. I left the bakery feeling confused and sad, trying to reconcile my memory of the soft-spoken, solemn woman who had kindly donated her time to me with the erratic, irresponsible behavior described by Lindsay. Then, about a year later, after I had moved back to Boston, I ran into Lindsay again. "You'll never guess what happened," she said, tearing up. Delores, she informed me, had died just a few weeks before of cancer. Her intense headaches, extreme fatigue, and behavior and emotional changes were not caused by depression, but by a malignant brain tumor that went undiscovered until after her death. There are treatments for brain cancer, including surgery, radiation therapy, and chemotherapy, and there are also ways to improve one's quality of life. But Delores saw the world through the therapeutic lens, attributing all her suffering to psychic wounds. When she lost her health insurance, she continued to treat herself with home remedies, trying until the end to heal herself. Viewing the world through the lens of the their therapeutic narrative, it never occurred to her to see a medical doctor for her headaches, not that she could have afforded it. Delores's death is a tragedy, one brought about not only by a lack of material resources, but also by a cultural logic that makes self-management the taken-for-granted, and indeed only, solution to pain.”]  jennifer m. silva, from coming up short: working-class adulthood in an age of uncertainty, 2013
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
jennifer m. silva, from coming up short: working-class adulthood in an age of uncertainty, 2013
239 notes · View notes
spirituallesbianblog · 2 years ago
Text
Spirit Psychology - My Cosmic Toolkit For A Soul Adventure On Earth
Tumblr media
My journey to Nirvana has been littered with the universal winds of change in the form of contrast a designer soul theme for attaining the highest order of consciousness. The right of passage is reincarnation a never-ending cycle of soul rebirth as a human on a planet of peculiar interplay in how we connect with people, places, and our chosen way of life. Here, the human element can strangle the souls' progress down in the trenches of Mother Earth, through recurring patterns that repeat on command as psychology. A studious look at how we tick as a human through our experiences here on earth and the impact they have on the conscious and unconscious mind. For example, a child may endure physical and emotional abuse under the care of their primary guardians causing deep wounding and a car wreck of psychological issues. Our childhood trauma can cause mayhem in adult life. and interactions with other battle-weary people who also carry the scars of earlier injustice. My reference is a misunderstanding of why I chose the romantic partners I did and as a lesbian called in emotionally unavailable women. This has prompted me to consider the need for a new awareness and knowledge of psychology so we can self-manage our experiences to achieve healthier approaches to all aspects of an evolving human existence.
'Walking through minefields with conditioned patterns hampering our every move could be replaced with a conscious intelligence of our inner issues and why we feel the way we do'
This could be feeling displaced as a gay female in a world with a biased mindset. Or repetitive choices in partners who are co-dependent or controlling. With the basic tools of psychology, we could negotiate our options with an educative stance instead of walking blindly into circumstances with the unconscious mind in the pilot's seat. It is from here our flight can get shaky as the memory of past behaviors is reignited as a program stored in our subconscious from the day we were born to our first kiss or relationship. These events may lie dormant until triggered by a present moment that registers the emotions taken on board from a similar happening. As conscious humans, we steer our course armed with a script of reincarnation and all we have learned thus far. Every moment is recorded in our subconscious and this is where life can get messy especially if the suppressed emotions of past abuse are held in the abyss of the unconscious, The hidden factor of our psyche that raises its often ugly head in the form of depression and other related illness is painful stuff we bury until the time we are ready to bring it up for a review. Once again the interactions of life can be the fuse that lights a path for true healing as I discovered years after a sexual abuse when my emotions were triggered and I realized the true effects this event had on my body and heart. You never really know how deep the pain goes until something trips the unconscious memory and you revisit the visuals of what happened and how it made you feel. This is a defining moment and opening for healing from fear and trauma.
'The sad part is if we hold onto the terror of a situation we may learn destructive habits like medicating with alcohol and drugs to numb it out rather than face it head-on
Tumblr media
'The god or divine I understand works with me to co-create a universe of expansion that overflows to my personal experience as an eternal soul on an expedition of conscious advancement'
It is here I take each moment as a symbolic way to evaluate my place in the cosmos and as a flesh and blood entity another mastermind of this source, god or divine. Coupled with an awareness of my light-body origins as a soul while hitting the boardwalk periodically as a member of the human race brings me to a sense of connection with the stars and Planet Earth. The schoolyard for animated intimacy in all aspects of earthly life. Tightly clutching my pre-ordained proposal of how my soul can sparkle its essence of light sets a mindset of forward motion. This journey of adventure brings a soul close-up with contrast as all kinds of actions and emotions are played out for the higher echelons of spiritual expansion. We get to feel hurt, love, and euphoria. A package of human sentiments stylized for the path and purpose we set forth on. One day we may be watching a sunrise on the beach while another may bring heartache as a loved one leaves this earth. The array of experiences begins from the day we are born till we meet our loved ones on the other side. In between is a magnitude of crazy, confusing, and conscious choices. All are tailored to achieve the magic elixir we call growth. A mysterious mix of light bulb moments and lightning bolts that test the validity of who we are and how much we think we know. This is the light-filled ladder to enlightenment a spiritual quest of an unknown quantity fueled by a soul's desire to seek the holy grail of awareness. From this, a human heightens their view of the world and what lies beneath the surface of what we have been told is true.
'It's an insatiable crusade that once begun opens doors to a deeper understanding of our role in this transcendent universe'
Now we are not only human but inspiringly spiritual adding a dynamic of intuitive sentience to our mortal stockpile. The puzzle fits and life has decidedly changed. It is at this point the relationship we have with ourselves and others can be tested as those who hold comfort in this 3-D hologram feel the discomfort of our altered state of perception. All that has happened is a connection to the divine a creator of infinite love. And this unravels most of what we have learned as students of Planet Earth. What happens next is life-altering when the conscious mind meets an ethereal entourage and the news we are not alone but share this complex cosmos with spirits and angels that guide our soul journey. It is like a huge hello to another family with us all along. And with this knowledge, we can set forth on this often precarious life journey as part of a cosmic and earthly team. This is the angelic art of co-creation. The mainstay of our mortal pathway as a conscious way to expand this universe and the resonance of divine mastery sought through our human experience. So what could make this trek through an array of worldly and personal events easier on our psyche? The answer is packing a tool kit of appreciation for the hardships and highs we might encounter so each wild and weird happening can be evaluated and understood. It's an awake hike through the recesses of our epic human form, Engineered for the processing of moment-by-moment affairs of a soul's heroic tour on earth. The intrepid manual of life's hurts and hurdles is a must-have in today's hot spots of psychological malfunction. The problem is we have learned to do things in ways that deter our happiness.
'Our wires get crossed by way of interaction where outcomes are anything from family abuse to codependent tendencies and control tactics to enslave another human'
Tumblr media
'A little knowledge goes a long way in a world ripped apart by people who react or interact negatively with no idea what is the root cause'
This breeds an aura of distrust of others' intentions and carries a disarming apathy from generation to generation. The dishonor to our species as a collective energy of intelligence takes center stage as broken relationships highlight our lack of psychological awareness. An Illiteracy that can be remedied with self-therapy and the perception it's okay to call on the experts for resolution. Instead, we flounder in the dark shadows of our unconscious in a mind game of detachment never quite sure why something feels off. And it probably is as we have become adept at burying our troubles, trauma, and emotions creating a holding tank of agony we can't deal with. Meanwhile, the fuse is lit for a triggered response to unleash what is hidden and wanting to be healed. We are complex beings and superbly designed for the dramas of life.  We come with a conscious and subconscious mind that filters the theatre of souls long-haul on earth. That is in the moment and as a vault of emotive, traumatic constraint. It is here the major events that shock us to the core are kept until we are ready to process their effect. This can be years after a similar situation triggers what lies beneath. The clearing out of feelings from painful memories induces newfound health and lightness, The same can apply if we are not living by our values or in an authentic light. Happenings will occur on repeat until you burst the dam of deceit. That is knowing there is a problem but continuing to suppress the nagging vibes that can no longer be silenced. As humans, we tend to block our own path by not feeling ready or willing to pull up the anchor of our deepest held hurts. So likely to be accumulated in a world of narcissistic wounding.
'The victim may take the brunt of another person's pain whose own wounds are crying for ease'
It's a bounce-back effect that requires healing intervention for psyche health. And if we are well-versed in the basics of psychology we will know there is work to be done. When you think that most things on the planet such as a car or home require maintenance we begin to understand that so do we. Every day is a walk through a jungle of unknown quantity and the thoughts, feelings, and actions taken could burn a forest to the ground. It could also induce an aura of planetary distress as the collective ignites a wave of ruin calling it fashionable progress. Whether it's an individual or global energy of force the fallout will be felt like a dark-edged dagger piercing our hearts. That is if we continue on a path of carnage implementing the colosseum style of banishment in favor of shining a torch on our personal make-up. The blueprint of our human identity and likeness to all others here on earth. Our mystical, magical design has a common chord of discord specified in our similar patterns, conditionings, and well-earned verses of trauma, Deep within our unconscious lies horror movie memories, and events that were brutal in the making.  At this point, it can get messy as the emotional effects of an incident or accident will rise rapidly to the surface. And like a diver gasping for air, you'll feel the shift as a redo of consciousness. When we are willing to transcend the tougher times we bring in the enchantment of growth a sacred awareness that moves us closer to understanding how we fit into this world and universe. You see what we take in from our day of birth impacts every moment as thoughts, behaviors, and emotions. A tornado of testing ensues and how we navigate every situation depends on what we think we know.
'That for me was building a foundation of psychology so I could accept and heal life's melodrama that can leave you shaken, broken, and hurt'
The payoff is knowledge and putting into practice the ways we can help ourselves when tragedy strikes. This inspires a quicker response if we have been victimized and traumatized by a person's unfulfilled needs. Knowing enough to analyze and understand what has happened and how we feel could mean a faster road to recovery. It's all about taking the initiative and becoming aware of the human psyche. A smart move when faced with an acceleration of narcissism the true epidemic on earth where a person defies unity and sets forth on a journey of the self with no reference to the loving intent of self-love or compassion toward others. Narcissism has cemented its self-lusting ideal firmly in the heart of those who see superiority, self-adulation, envy, and jealousy as their conscious objective with a need to dominate and take from others as an entitled right. Having encountered this delightful character led me to learn and up-skill my lessons in psychology mixed fervently with my spiritual beliefs. This spirit-psychology is a powerful combo for everyday life in a world of wounded and unhealed souls. The pain we cause each other without understanding why is a testament to the need for self-tuition in the art of human behavior as we are a multi-faceted race of beings with a penchant for self-denial, destruction, and decadence. I personally have made it a mission to learn as much as I can about how I work as a human navigating this life knowing I am a soul and co-creator with the divine. It's a jampacked epic coming here so my spirit psychology toolkit is piled high with classic and innovative teaching that allows me to understand my inner workings and how this crazy journey affects my everyday. There is plenty of free stuff online that you can access or subscribe to an educator of this spiritual and psychological mix. It works for this divine feminine who has achieved mammoth healing from some heavy-duty experiences by listening to the experts and then applying their wisdom to her own hurts and childhood wounds. If we let the pain wallow in our subconscious chances are we will never know the lightness of walking this earth free from our past intrusions. This is a world inspired by unhealed interaction and the price is failed relationships both straight, gay, lesbian, and bisexual. It's time to step up and learn how to take care of our human psyche and spiritual health. This will help elevate the collective and bring a high frequency of wellness to Planet Earth.
'Spirit Psychology heralds a future where all people will rejoice in healthier choices by taking the initiative to learn ways that inspire our spiritual and mortal health'
Author ~ Linda E Cole (The Divine Feminine)
1 note · View note
chrishoughton · 3 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
In the effort to be more open and honest, I'd like to share something with yall. I'm coming up on my one-year anniversary of weaning off of the antidepressant I've been on for 24 years. I was put on paroxetine when I was 10 years old due to panic attacks/OCD. It helped for many years, but also came with a long list of negative side effects and a general emotional numbing as the years stretched on.
In 2018, due to life stressors as well as my body building up a tolerance to my SSRI, my doc doubled my dosage. Long story short, that was not a good move. I dealt with mania and suicidal ideation for months. I thought I was losing my mind! And in a way, I think I did. At some point in 2019, my system had adjusted to this higher dosage. I stayed at this higher dosage, scared to mess with it again.
Fast forward to 2020. My stress hit an all-time high and I knew I had to do something to get it under control. I enrolled in a radical meditation class where we met twice a week and did breathing exercises, inner child work, and learned to listen to our emotions as our bodies' messaging system. It was intense and transformative and after a year of those meditation classes, I was struck with the thought that it was time to taper off my SSRI (literally, sitting on my couch one night, the thought hit me like a ton of bricks). So in April of 2021, I started reading and learning everything I could about how these drugs work, how dependency effects the body, and how to support my system as I reduced the amount of the SSRI.
I learned how unpredictable these drugs can be, from first-hand experience as well as from others whom I've met through support groups. I learned that paroxetine was deemed unsafe to give to children (this information was held back in the 90s but later came out and earned these drugs a black box warning). I learned that long-term use of SSRIs has been wildly understudied. I learned that the "chemical imbalance" theory was never backed by actual scientific trials. And I learned that SSRIs can cause mania and suicidal thoughts– which up until then, I NEVER thought it was the medicine. I always thought it was simply me and my "broken brain."
I've tried twice before to get off this crap. Once when I was in high school and once when I was in college. I've since learned how incredibly slow one must taper off of SSRIs. I've also been working with a nutritionist who set me up with a anti-inflamatory diet and supplements to help support my body healing from years of these drugs (I would also occasionally take benzos during panic attacks, but luckily I never took benzos daily, or regularly enough to cause dependency).
I'm still on a small dose of my SSRI but my goal is to get completely off. I used to think SSRIs were wonder drugs, but I've since learned they're simply drugs. And like all drugs, they have pros and cons. For me, the cons of my SSRI far outweigh any benefits. I certainly no longer believe that "some people have low serotonin and like a diabetic needs insulin, some people need SSRIs."
However, I share this only to share my personal story, not to offer advice on what you should do. The decision to take psych drugs or to come off of psych drugs is completely individual and a very personal choice. But my years of experience of being on the drug, doubling my dosage, and now coming off the drug has been completely transformative. I'm feeling much better these days but my body is still healing and adjusting. Regardless, I'm never going back.
Thanks for reading. And for anyone struggling with their mental health or psych drugs, I wish you healing and I hope you can find some peace. ✌️ 🙏
70 notes · View notes
ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago
Text
Exactly What You Wanted
CW: Drunk whumpee, referenced drug use, abuse survivor lashing out, low-level ptsd, rough recovery drabble, some references to dubcon and noncon
Timeline: During the years of Kauri’s Poor Life Choices
“Come on, baby,” Kauri says, in a voice like a deep rumbling purr, tilting his head just right, putting all that heat and warmth he doesn’t really feel into his eyes. He’s a good liar, he’s a great liar, and the booze in his veins and whatever that guy gave him two hours ago make him feel unstoppable. “Take me back.” He pauses, then giggles, and he knows they love to hear him laugh, they always love to hear him laugh.
He can laugh with a knife to his throat, he can laugh with his legs spread, he can laugh when every other trainee would be screaming, if they were in his place.
Jake, though, Jake doesn’t like the laugh. He doesn’t like the heat in Kauri’s eyes. He doesn’t like the voice, or the head-tilt, or any of it. He just sets his jaw, looking around the bar as if checking for witnesses, and Kauri can’t stop laughing at how comically serious he is. 
“Oh my god.” Kauri giggles again, puts his hands over his mouth. The bar is spinning around him, the colors are liquid bleeding into each other, he can feel the air move over his skin, like someone touching him. “You look like you ate a lemon.”
“I have class tomorrow, Kauri,” Jake says, voice sharp and flat somehow both at once, and he grips Kauri by the arm, pulling him towards the exit. A few of the guys at the table Kauri was sitting at boo loudly at the loss of Kauri’s sparkling brilliance - or maybe just at losing the way he’d been sitting in their laps one by one just to feel their arms around him. “I don’t mind taking you home-”
“Not my hooooome,” Kauri singsongs, but he lets himself be pulled. Jake’s hand on his arm feels nice. All of it feels nice, all touch, anyone’s hands mouth whatever they want on him, it’s nice. 
Means he’s wanted.
Means he’s real.
Jake exhales, rubbing his free hand over his face. He looks tired, doesn’t he? Kauri can suddenly see those dark circles under his eyes, the way his hair is all mussed up from a pillow. 
“I woke you up,” Kauri says as they leave, the stale heat and booze-smell from inside the bar giving way to cooler, fresher air outside. He lets Jake pull him down the sidewalk, looking up at him. He nearly walks into someone going the opposite way, until Jake pulls him to the side. “You, you were asleep when the phone rang.”
“Yeah,” Jake says roughly. His shirt’s on inside-out - Kauri hadn’t noticed that before, either. He must have rolled out of bed and changed out of his pajamas without even taking time to check. 
Kauri called for a ride and Jake didn’t waste a second.
“My car’s a few lots down,” Jake says, not looking at him as they walk. Kauri hums, taking in the beauty of the streetlights with their halos like angels hovering over the road, lighting the sidewalk. Someone calls his name and Kauri waves, trying to go give her a hug, but Jake’s grip on his arm stops him. It stops him, and makes his heart beat faster. “If we hurry, we can get back by 3, I can sleep til 6:30 if I pay for parking tomorrow instead of taking the bus.” He sounds like he’s already worked this all out for himself, and maybe he has. Maybe he talked through it the whole way here.
Kauri thinks of Jake talking to himself, planning out his day at a stoplight, and starts laughing again. Once he starts laughing, he can’t stop. They pass a small park, a kind of courtyard between two businesses, and Kauri puts up a hand, collapsing onto a bench. He can’t stop the giggling bubbling up out of him.
Jake all serious-faced, checking his phone, I can be asleep by 3:30, I can do this, I can do that, his whole planned life and his classes and Kauri is drunk at a bar and he’s high at a bar he did some stuff with a guy in a bar and he’s calling for a ride back from the bar-
“Kauri, come on.” Jake’s voice is weary, not just tired, not just sleepy, but exhausted. By the night, and by Kauri himself. “I don’t have time, I have to go to sleep.”
“You’re as stupid as I am,” Kauri says when he can get control of himself enough to speak, and there’s still laughter edging his voice, slightly breathless. “You know that? You’re a fucking moron just like me. Doing this. You’re so fucking stupid, we’re both so fucking stupid, Jake.”
“Kauri, you’re not stupid. I’m not talking about this here with you-”
“Why do you do this? Huh?” Kauri shakes his head, sweaty black curls sticking to his forehead in a sudden chill as a breeze ruffles them. He can feel his hair at the back of his neck, too, pressing there. Not the weight of a collar, but a memory of one anyway. “Why do you answer when I call?”
Jake swallows, rubs at his face again. “Because I want to-”
“No. No, that’s not it. No, you answer because I’m your fucking... your charge, right? Your ward. Because you feel sorry for me.” Kauri giggles, but there’s no real humor in it now. “I’m pitiful.”
“It’s not like that. You’re in pain-”
“Oh, shove your fucking psych-talk, Dr. Stanton.” Kauri shakes his head, leaning his back against the metal curve of the bench, looking straight up. In the city there are no stars, only a faint glow of lights making even the night sky just a little orange around the edges. “That’s what it is, right? You feel sorry for us, so you get to be the big hero, and we’re the pretty little pets grateful for whatever crumbs of mercy you throw-”
“Kauri. Stop it.” Jake’s voice snaps, and he leans in closer, and Kauri breathes in the fear that hearing an angry male voice lights in him, lets it spark his nerves with the booze and the everything else already there. “I’m not doing this because I feel sorry for anyone. Okay? Get up, we’re going home.”
“It’s. Not. My. Home.” Kauri meets Jake’s eyes this time, his own a sparkling, crackling blue flame, and Jake’s stony silent ocean, nearly gray in the darkness. “It’s not. You like this, huh? You like getting to show up and save the damsel in distress? Yeah?”
“Kauri, I would give anything to be fucking asleep right now-”
“But you didn’t. You got right up when I called, and that’s why you’re as stupid as I am. I’m brainless because they beat all my brains out of me, Jake - beat and fucked and drugged ‘em all out, left me all sweet and pretty and pointless for whoever paid the price - why are you stupid? Huh?”
Jake’s jaw works. “Kauri-”
“You’re stupid because you think I’m gonna stop being like this. You’re stupid because you think I can get better.”
“You can-”
“No, I can’t. I like me this way.” Kauri snorts, looks down his hands, but they’re shaking a little, and he doesn’t like that. He can’t feel them shaking but he can see them shaking. 
“I don’t think you do,” Jake tries, but his voice is getting ragged along the edges, and Kauri knows he’s pushing too far but he can’t stop himself now. “I think you want to get better and you just need more time.”
“Time?” Kauri laughs, and people walking by look over at them briefly, at the mess on the bench and the big tough man leaning over him. Kauri gives a little wave, I see you eavesdropping, assholes, and they hurry past. “Maybe this is fucking it, huh? What you see is all that’s left of me. What do you do then?”
Jake stares down at him. “I keep coming to pick you up anyway.”
“Oh, you’re just the best. Huh? The absolute pinnacle of fucking manhood. Jake Stanton, guardian angel and patron saint of the fucked-up messes that fall on your doorstep,” Kauri sing-songs, clapping his hands together in a mockery of prayer, eyes rolling back to the sky. “At least I’m nice to look at, huh? Got that going for me. I mean, it’s pretty much all I’ve got going for me, good fucking looks and pretty mouth and my tongue knows how to do that thing-”
“Kauri-”
“Used to be popular, in training,” Kauri says, leaning forward now, licking at his lips. Like Jake is the prey this time, like Kauri for once isn’t the one being held down but the one doing the holding. “Used to be a favorite. Only one way you get to be anyone’s favorite in training, Jake, and it’s not by being smart. Face it, Stanton, you got a hopeless case on your hands, you’re a big saintly perfect hero getting in your car after midnight to get your chaste savior rocks off with a fucking whore who won’t stop, who can’t stop, who will never get any better than this-”
“Kauri, for the love of God, stop it!” Jake’s voice raises finally, and Kauri flinches back against the bench. Adrenaline pulses all at once through his veins, heart racing, and he feels a mix of terror and a mean, cruel, small victory. 
Made him mad. I made him mad. Now he’ll be just like everyone else. Now he’ll hurt me. Now he’ll see why Owen had to.
But Jake doesn’t get closer, doesn’t shove a finger in Kauri’s face, doesn’t grab him by his shirt or his arm or his hand, doesn’t slap him doesn’t hit doesn’t scream. All he does is sigh, and look away, down the street in the direction he must have left his car. His shoulders shift. Kauri can see the anger in him, but it doesn’t rise, it isn’t wielded. It... fades, after a second, and leaves behind a weary look. An emotion Kauri can’t read. “Kauri. I’m not doing this. I’m not having this fight, not this late, not now. If you want to argue this in the morning, fine, but... god. I need to go home, okay?”
“Then go home,” Kauri says. He feels tears in his eyes, suddenly, and he can’t understand why. “Leave. No one’s stopping you.”
“You called me to come get you,” Jake says, but he knows where this is going, Kauri can see it in the way his shoulders slump, in how his hand moves into his pocket to dig his keys out. “Just come get in the car, okay? If you want to argue all the way home, it’s fine, but-”
“I already told you it’s not my fucking home. Go, Jake. I’m sorry I called. I won’t call you again.”
“Yes, you will.” Jake looks at him, an expression of almost comical confusion and hurt, and Kauri’s heart aches. “You will, right?”
But he sets his jaw. “No, I won’t. Don’t worry, I can handle myself.”
“Did you call me out here just to start a fight, Kaur?” 
Kauri doesn’t know how to answer, because he hadn’t, but now that he has started a fight he doesn’t want to admit it was an accident. He just swallows back the apology that tries to find its way out, forces it down. He sits back against the bench and shrugs, crossing his arms in front of himself. 
The silence draws out. 
As though the silence in itself said something - and maybe it did, really - Jake nods, finally, and pulls his keys out from his pocket. “Fine. I’m sorry it went this way tonight. Please... please call me.”
Kauri doesn’t answer, because if he opens his mouth, he’ll apologize for doing this, he’ll beg Jake not to hate him for it, and he can’t do that. He doesn’t know why, but there’s a rock in his mind blocking him from taking the first step to mend the break he made.
“Get some sleep, Saint Stanton. Maybe I’ll be pathetic enough to call you in the morning. We can go back to pretending you give a fuck about who I am as a person and not just as the little rescue who needs you. Make up for whatever fucked you up before that makes you want to work with us.”
That hits home. Kauri sees Jake wince, sees his hurt feelings written all over his face. Sees Jake consider arguing, give up. Sees the second Jake decides to stop trying.
That’s right. Stop trying. I’m not worth it. I don’t deserve you.
Kauri tries to feel that sense of victory from before, but all he feels now is cold - and as Jake turns and walks away, the cold slips from his heart into his fingertips, all the way down to his toes.
Cold, and alone.
“Congratulations,” He whispers to himself, watching Jake’s back as he walks away, until he turns a corner and is gone. “Good job, Kauri Grant. You got exactly what you wanted.”
Now all he wants is to take it back.
-
Tagging: @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @whumpfigure @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @orchidscript @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @wildfaewhump @whumptywhumpdump 
196 notes · View notes
thetravelerwrites · 4 years ago
Text
Urgan (Orc)
Tumblr media
Rating: Mature Relationship: Male Human/Male Orc Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Orc, Male Reader, MLM, Gay Reader, Football Captain, College, Friends to Lovers Content Warnings: Alcohol Poisoning, Children, Kids, Pregnancy, Unwanted Pregnacy, Mention of Abortion, College Drop-Out, Strong Language, Drug Use, Angst, Super Angst, ALL THE ANGST Words: 4385
A super duper angsty commission by the wonderful @severedreamerbeard​​! Urgan is the captain of his college football team and all around cool dude. He's an extremely reliable guy with his whole life ahead of him... until the woman he's been dating winds up pregnant, which turns his entire world upside down. The reader, Urgan's best friend, tries to help as much as he can while watching Urgan's life fall apart. Please reblog and leave feedback!
The Traveler's Masterlist  
Tumblr media
Urgan had been your best friend since preschool. You were human and he was an orc, but you were both jocks growing up, both in sports, both athletic. He’d been there with you through all the major events in your life. He was there when your parents divorced, when you came out as gay in middle school, and when the teammates who had once been friends started bullying you because of it. He was always there.
You hoped you had been as good a friend to him as he had been to you. You were there when his dad died, when his mom remarried someone he hated, and when his highschool sweetheart cheated on him. After all that, the two of you were closer than brothers.
College life was easier on both of you. You both had gotten a sports scholarship and found a friend group that was a lot of fun to hang out with. Parties were epic, classes were less so, but you were living the life and loving every second of it.
Then it changed. Not for everyone, not even for you. Or at least, it didn’t have to. You could have made different choices. It would have been far easier if you had, you were sure. But…
“How long have you been dating Kelly?” You asked him over a beer. The two of you were sitting out on the front porch of a house party currently in full swing.
“Who?” He snorted, half-asleep. He’d pulled an all-nighter the day before preparing for his psych exam.
“Kelly,” You said, pointing into the open door at the girl wearing a halter with a half-empty vodka bottle in her hand, some of which she’d spilled on her chest, grinding on another girl who was sucking the vodka off of her clavicle.
“I wouldn’t say we’re ‘dating’,” He replied, throwing back a large swig of his beer. “Fucking, yes. I’m not trying to date anyone right now. I don’t have the time.” He threw his beer bottle into a large trash barrel and stood up. “Where’s Derek? He owes me fifty bucks.”
“For what?” You asked, standing up and following him through the house. He slapped Kelly’s ass as he passed her on the way inside, and she laughed.
“I borrowed it to buy coke three weeks ago,” He said.
“Didn’t he almost OD?” You asked.
“Yeah, but that ain’t my fault, I want my money,” Urgan said, muscling his way through the crowd.
“Don’t be an asshole, bro,” You said, still following him.
“I’m not being an asshole! It’s not like he learned anything, I bet you five bucks he’s doing coke right now.”
“Yeah, I’m not taking that bet,” You laughed. “I don’t know of a time when he’s not on coke. I think he was high when we first met.”
“That’s my point. You know I’m cool about that stuff normally, but it’s affecting his performance on the field,” Urgan grumbled. “I’m team captain, and if he doesn’t straighten up, I have to kick him off the team, friend or not. We lost to E.U. because of him.”
You grimaced. E.U. had been your school’s rival for generations. The loss hurt and was a huge blow to Urgan. It didn’t help that it was televised nationally.
“If you kick him off the team, the other guys will be pissed,” You reasoned.
“I know that,” He said grumpily. “But managing the team internally is my job. If I don’t do something about it, coach will either demote me or kick me off with him for not handling it when I should have. I can’t afford to lose my scholarship over some douchebag’s coke habit.” He made his way into the garage at the opposite end of the house and smacked a seated Derek on the back of the head. “Hey, Derek! Money! Now!”
“Dude, back off!” Derek protested. “I’ll get it to you when I get it, damn!”
“Not good enough,” Urgan said, kicking the mirror that was in front of Derek. Powder went flying.
“Hey!” Derek said, standing up and taking a swing at Urgan. Urgan ducked and caught Derek’s arm, pinning it behind him. He was always quick.
“Quit the coke or quit the team,” Urgan said, snarling. “We’re not losing another game because you’re too high to play.”
“The fuck are you talking about, man?” Derek said, struggling. “Don’t blame that shit on me! It’s not my fault you can’t organize your team!”
“I’m serious, dude,” Urgan said, pushing Derek to the ground. “I’m not getting punished for you. Straighten up or fuck off.”
“Suck my dick, asshole,” Derek said. He jerked his chin at you. “Or get your boyfriend to do it.”
Words like that were water off your back at this point, but it always riled Urgan up. You could already see him tensing.
“Let it go, dude,” You said, pulling him back. “Derek, seriously, you’re bringing the whole team down. Lay off the drugs, at least until after the championship.”
“Get the fuck out of my house if you’re going to act all high and mighty,” Derek said, pushing past you. “And you can forget that fifty bucks. It’s all over the ground now.”
Urgan’s fists were balled up and he was breathing hard.
“He’s not going to stop,” Urgan said.
“Come on, dude,” You said, smacking him on the shoulder. “You’re not going to accomplish anything here. Take it to the field. Show him why you’re captain.”
“I guess,” He said. “I’m hungry, man, let’s grab something.”
“Sure,” You said. “Kelly’s coming over to your place after the party, though, right?”
“Yeah, but she won’t be any shape to do anything but sleep. She knows where the key is, she’ll be fine.”
Tumblr media
Finals were coming up, and most people were holed up in their rooms or dorms studying. Urgan was a decent student and never really worried about tests, though you hadn’t heard from him in a couple of days, which was odd. He could have been working a lot; he had a part-time job to pay for his own studio apartment. He said the dorms were too small for him.
“Urgan? No, I haven’t seen him in a week.” Joey said. Joey was a coworker from the bar where Urgan worked and also an ex-boyfriend of yours. You bumped into him at the university’s library while looking for Urgan. Urgan hadn’t answered his door when you went to check on him, so you figured he had to be here.
“Is he sick?” You asked, taking out your phone. You’d texted him awhile ago and you saw that he had seen it, but he hadn’t responded.
“I dunno,” Joey said. “All I know is that he asked the boss for some personal time. It could just be finals getting to him.”
You frowned. “Hmm… I’m going back to his apartment. He’s never been this quiet before. Something’s not right.”
“Tell him to come back to work. All the girls try to flirt with me when he’s not there. I need him to be my shield.”
You laughed and waved him off, heading out.
“Urgan!” You called, knocking insistently on his door. “Open the door! Are you alright?”
No answer. Frustrated, you got the spare key that was hidden in a slit of the doormat and unlocked the door. His apartment was dark and looked normal. Urgan was a fairly tidy guy, and nothing was really out of place.
“Urgan!” You called again, walking around the partition that obscured his bed. There he was, passed out on top of his blankets. There were empty bottles of liquor everywhere. Your heart stopped.
“Oh, fuck, please don’t be dead,” You said, crawling on the bed to slap him in the face. “Urgan, wake up!” His skin was cold, which scared the shit out of you, but after a minute feeling for a pulse on his neck you found a heartbeat, and you could see him breathing very slowly, so at least he was alive. But he wasn’t responding to your attempts to rouse him.
“Shit.” You took out your phone and called and called emergency services.
“911, what’s the nature of your emergency?”
“Hey, I need an ambulance, I think my friend has alcohol poisoning.” You said quickly, hoping it was intelligible, and gave them the address.
“Okay, sir, how long has this been going on?”
“I’m not sure, I just found him. I haven’t heard from him in days. He’s got a pulse, but he won’t wake up.”
“Is he cold to the touch?”
“Yes.”
“Is he breathing?”
“Slowly, but yes.”
“Can you make sure his airway is clear?”
You put the phone down and opened his mouth. There didn’t seem to be anything in the way.
“It’s clear,” You said.
“Alright, sir, I’ve got an ambulance on the way. Do me a favor and turn him on his side and bend the leg that’s on the top. Keep his airway clear and keep an eye on his breathing.”
“Okay,” You said, doing as the operator said and trying to keep calm.
The ambulance arrived within minutes, and after several moments of the EMTs attempting to wake him and failing, they loaded him in the rig. You were able to ride with him to the hospital. They took you both to a room, and you stood back as they began hooking Urgan up to all sorts of tubes and wires. They put a tube in his mouth because his breathing was weak and slowing down. They put him on a heavy saline drip and debated whether or not to pump his stomach. Eventually, they left him to rest and you sat with him.
“What the fuck is happening with you, man?” You asked him quietly as he slept.
Eventually, you fell asleep, and when you woke up, they were taking the air tube out of his throat. Urgan was awake and groaning in discomfort as it was removed.
“Dude, what the hell?” You said, standing up.
His eyes were bloodshot and he looked extremely sick, but at least he was awake. He waited for the doctors and the nurses to leave so that it was just you and him before he answered you.
“Kelly’s pregnant,” He said hoarsely. “It’s mine. She’s sure of it.”
“Oh, shit,” You said, sitting back down in the chair next to him. “I thought you used protection.”
“I do,” He said in frustration. “The condom must have broken or something. She told me she was on the pill. I don’t know what happened. I’m so fucking screwed.”
“You may not be,” You said, trying to comfort him, but you knew he was right. Being team captain meant that you put the team before everything. If you had another priority, you couldn’t be team captain. Not to mention the scandal of having a kid during the height of his college career would destroy his reputation and make him seem irresponsible. A baby right now was going to ruin him.
“Don’t bullshit me. I can’t show my face at school. Coach is going to kick my ass as soon as he finds out. My life is over.”
“Don’t talk like that, man,” You said. “What’s Kelly saying about all this? Has she told anyone?”
“No, not yet,” He said, covering his eyes. “Well, she hadn’t when I started drinking, but I don’t know if she has now.”
“She wants to keep it?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t get farther than ‘I’m having a baby and it’s yours’. And then I just started drinking and didn’t stop.”
“How far along is she?”
“Three months, she said.”
“How does she know it’s yours?”
“I was the only person she was sleeping with at the time. We were thinking about dating seriously, but it didn’t work out that way.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I don’t know. We’ll find out, I guess.”
You frowned deeply. “She’s… been partying pretty hard in the last three months.”
Urgan rubbed his face. “I know. I’m scared shitless the kid is going to be born fucked up.”
“Do you… think you can talk her into giving it up? For adoption, I mean? She doesn’t seem like mom material.”
“I don’t know,” He said. “I don’t know what she’ll do.”
“What about…” You hesitated to mention it. “What about an abortion?”
“That’s her decision,” He said vaguely. “It’s her body.”
“Do you want me to talk to her?”
“No, don’t,” He said. “I’ll do it when I’ve got my head on right.”
“Dude, look where you are right now,” You said, gesturing vaguely. “Let me at least call her.”
He sighed. “Fine.”
You took Urgan’s phone, which was in his back pocket when he was brought in, and called Kelly. She was surprised to hear about Urgan’s condition and said she’d come up to the hospital.
She arrived an hour later and you gave them some privacy to talk. It was a while, so you went to grab a soda. When you came back, Kelly was leaving with tears on her face. You went in and saw Urgan sitting up in bed. His eyes were red from crying.
“Hey man, are you okay?”
“No,” He said, wiping his face and sniffing. “She’s going to keep it. I’m leaving school.”
“What?” You said, coming around. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m gonna finish out the semester but I’m leaving before the baby is born. I have to find a better job. I’m hoping I can come back when the baby is a bit older, like when they start school or something, and finish my degree.”
“But you only have a year left! Are you sure this is what you want to do?”
“No!” He shouted. “I don’t want to leave school! I’ve been dreaming of this scholarship since I was a kid! It was my dad’s dream! But I’m not going to be a deadbeat! I have to find a decent job before the baby is born. I don’t have a choice.”
You were stunned to silence and just listen to him breathe through his tears.
“Are you and Kelly staying together?”
“Fuck no,” He said vehemently. “We both know that would be stupid. She’s going to stay in school as long as she can. She’s supposed to be due in winter sometime, so I should have enough saved up by then to give her for the baby, to make sure they’re comfortable.” He scowled. “I’m sure Derek is going to be thrilled. I can just see the look on his face now.”
“Don’t worry about that jackass,” You said. “Dude, I… Is there anything I can do to help out?”
He shook his head. “Kelly and I are going to keep this quiet until the end of the semester so that we don’t have to deal with anyone bullshit. After that, we’ll start telling people.”
“You’re not going to tell your mom?”
“Not yet. I can’t face her yet. She’s going to be so disappointed in me.” His tears began to fall again, and all you could do was put a hand on his shoulder and be there for him.
“I won’t say anything to anyone,” You told him. “I’m still your best friend, no matter what. If you need anything, you know I got you.”
“Thanks, man,” He said, his voice breaking.
Tumblr media
Urgan finished out school as he planned, barely scraping a passing grade, and then notified everyone that he wouldn’t be returning. As expected, his coach was furious, his mom was disappointed, and the team was dumbfounded. Derek was the only person who seemed to be enjoying the situation.
During summer, he asked for an amniocentesis, both to prove whether or not Urgan was the father, and also to check for any genetic conditions, since Kelly’s family had a history of genetic diseases. Urgan was hoping that she was lying about only sleeping with him around the time she conceived and that he would wind up not the father so he could go back to school, but the test was conclusive. The baby was his.
Urgan found work pretty quickly at a seafood processing plant near town. It was grueling work and it didn’t pay much, but it was a full-time job and had healthcare benefits, which was the best he could hope for in these circumstances. He began saving immediately to buy clothes and diapers for his kid, which he recently found out was a little girl, and was in frequent contact with Kelly. He didn’t attend any of the doctor’s visits at Kelly’s request. Not that he wanted to be there in the first place.
You continued with college and partied like a normal college guy, stayed on the football team, and was promoted to captain. Urgan seemed happy for you and gave you pointers on leadership. If he resented you for it, he gave no sign.
Many of Urgan’s old friends, mostly team members, dropped him immediately. They no longer invited him to parties or events, and when you mentioned inviting him, they shot you down. As far as you knew, the only one who still stood by him was you, and you couldn’t be there as much as you wanted to as you now had responsibilities with the team.
Even still, if he called, you dropped what you were doing and went over. You promised you’d be there, and you were going to keep that promise. He was your best friend and you were going to stand with him. No matter what.
Tumblr media
Urgan’s daughter, Roga, was born in November. She was small, even for a half-orc. You were there in the waiting room for the birth with the grandparents. It might have been your presence that stopped them from being at each other’s throats; the animosity in the air was palpable. Kelly’s dad was there, looking not-best-pleased at Urgan’s mom, despite her being nearly twice his size, but no harsh words were said.
Urgan came out in the full paper surgical outfit, holding the baby. He even seemed happy.
“Here she is,” He said, holding her out for the grandparents to see.
“Oh, isn’t she precious,” Urgan’s mom, Reana, said. “She’s got your eyes, Urg.”
“Yeah,” He said, smiling. “She looks a bit like dad, don’t you think?”
“She does!” Reana said brightly. “That nose definitely looks like his.”
The grandparents took turns holding the baby, and then went in to see the mother.
“Hey,” Urgan said to you, the only one left in the room. “Do you want to hold her?”
You chuckled nervously. “I dunno, man, I’ve never held a baby.”
“Neither have I, before today,” He said. “You don’t have to. I just wanted to offer since everyone else got to.”
“Yeah, but they’re family.”
“You’re family, too,” He said, looking at you like you were being an idiot.
You smiled a little and held out your arms, and Urgan carefully lay the baby into them. She was small and squishy and her face was all wrinkly. Babies all looked like potatoes to you. But she reached out and yawned and grabbed at your hand, and you couldn’t help but smile.
“She’s cute,” You said, letting her grip your finger.
“Yeah,” He said, grinning.
“How’s Kelly?”
“She hates my guts, but she’s okay.” Urgan reached out to take the baby, and you handed her over. “I should take Roga back. The lactation specialist wants to work with her.”
“I didn’t know there was a such thing as a lactation specialist,” You said with a laugh.
“Oh, yeah,” Urgan said. “The last nine months have been extremely informative.”
You snorted. “I bet.”
He took the baby back to Kelly and you sat in the waiting room, feeling a little awkward. Why were you here? You weren’t really family. You knew you were supporting Urgan, but… he didn’t really need you there right now. He seemed fine. Happy even, considering the circumstances. Maybe… maybe you should go. You really didn’t belong here.
You texted Urgan to let him know something had come up and to call you if you needed him, and he told you that it was okay, and to be careful going home. As you left, you sighed in relief. But you also felt a little guilty.
Tumblr media
Six months later was graduation. You finished top of your class and made valedictorian. You knew that if Urgan had still been in school, he’d have gotten that honor, but…
Urgan didn’t come to graduation, and you understood why. Kelly crossed the stage and accepted her diploma, and you couldn’t help feel a little resentful at her, despite the fact that it wasn’t her fault that Urgan wasn’t there, either. They really had done everything they were supposed to do--used protection, used birth control, was careful--but things just happen sometimes. Even still, it felt like Urgan was the one who had sacrificed the most and had gotten nothing in return.
You managed to get a job at an accounting firm almost immediately after graduation. It was a boring job but the money was good. You were hoping it would be a stepping stone to a better career later.
Since getting the job, you hadn’t really seen or spoken to Urgan much. You were still his best friend, but… you had your own life to live. You felt guilty about it, but your world couldn’t stop just because his had.
Urgan was still working at the fish processing plant, working long hours to support Roga. Urgan was basically paying Kelly’s rent and bills plus everything Roga needed for both homes, since he took her on the weekends from Friday night to Monday morning, when he dropped her off on the way to work.
However, a month after graduation, Urgan called you in a panic.
“Kelly’s gone,” He said. “She’s left. I got a text from her saying she’s gone to Canada.”
“What?” You asked in disbelief. “Did she take Roga?”
“No, I’ve got her here.” He said, his voice shaking. “When she texted me, I was scared she had run off with the baby, but she left Roga with her stepdad. I just picked her up and I’m bringing her back home with me.”
You felt terrible for hoping Kelly had taken Roga with her to Canada. Even though you knew it wasn’t Roga’s fault, all you wanted was for Urgan’s life to go back to normal. You just wanted him to have the things he should have had if Roga hadn’t been born. And you hated yourself for thinking that.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” He said. He sounded extremely distressed. “Can you meet me at my apartment, please? I need someone to talk to. You’re all I have left.”
“Yeah, of course, I’ll be right there,” You said, picking up your keys.
“Thank you,” He said, and then hung up. He was audibly crying.
You made it to Urgan’s apartment before he did, and you saw him step out of the elevator carrying a ton of baby stuff in one arm and hauling Roga in her carseat in the other.
“Can you take her, please?” Urgan said. He looked pale and in shock.
“Yeah, of course,” You said, taking her carrier and looking inside. She was sleeping with a stuffed griffon clutched in her baby hands. “Is she okay?”
“I think so,” He said, unlocking his door. His apartment was strewn with kid stuff. It was so much different than the last time you’d seen it.
“I’m sorry about the mess,” He said, dropping the load he was carrying in the middle of the floor.
“Dude, I don’t care about the mess, are you okay?” You asked.
“I…” He ran his fingers through his hair. He was visibly shaking. “I don’t know if I can do this alone. I had accepted being a dad, but I don’t know if I can be… the only parent. I… I don’t know any babysitters for when I’m working. I don’t… is she off breastmilk? When was her last check up? When is she supposed to see the doctor again? Kelly didn’t tell me those things because I.. I figured she had it handled. I was making sure they had everything they needed. I didn’t think I’d…”
“Okay, calm down,” You said. “Roga is fine. You can find all of that stuff out. I’ll help, I’ll help however I can, okay?”
“Okay,” He said, sitting on his couch heavily. “Okay.” He reached down into her carseat and unstrapped her, putting her against his shoulder, clutching her as if she was a warm stone and he was freezing. He was certainly shaking like he was.
This was the first time you’d seen Roga since she was born. Now that she’d had a chance to grow, she did look a lot like Urgan. It made you feel worse for resenting her.
“Look, can you watch her for a few minutes?” He asked suddenly. “I’m almost out of formula and I didn’t expect to have her right now. I was going to go Thursday to stock up. I don’t want to run out.”
“I…” You hesitated.
“Please,” He begged quietly. “Please. Ten minutes. I promise.”
You sighed. “Okay.”
He transferred Roga from his shoulder to yours. Uncertainly, you gripped her firmly.
“I’ll be right back, I promise,” Urgan said, and he was out the door.
There was a rocking bassinet near Urgan’s bed behind the divider, and you settled Roga in it, staring down at her peacefully sleeping form.
“I wish I didn’t hate you,” You told her, tears welling up in your eyes and falling down your cheeks. “But you took everything from him. I know it’s not your fault, but it doesn’t change anything. He’ll never be the man he should have been because of you.”
Roga sighed in her sleep and snugged into her bed without waking. You did nothing but sit on Urgan’s bed and stare at her the entire time Urgan was gone, allowing yourself to hate her and Kelly and the team at school and everyone who turned their back on Urgan when he needed them the most. When Urgan returned, your tears had dried, and you left.
Roga was still sleeping.
Tumblr media
Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal!
Thanks for reading!
My Masterlist
The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist
170 notes · View notes
searchingwardrobes · 3 years ago
Text
Ivory Runs Red: 5/6
Tumblr media
First off, massive thanks to the @cssns​, my beta @demisexualemmaswan​, and my artist @cocohook38​. Cocohook created this amazing cover art, and she is working on something else too to go with this story. The rough sketch made my jaw drop, so I can’t wait for ya’ll to see it!
This part  is going to be a little long, but I need to address something that I got multiple comments about. Just bear with me; this is the only way I can think to clear things up. I was really surprised to see that some people were angry at David and Mary Margaret for not doing anything to find Emma and/or "allowing" her relationship with Neal. Others simply expressed things along the lines of "I hope you explain what David and Mary Margaret did about all this." The reason this reaction surprised me so much is because I thought it was clear that they HAD done something. Why would the Golds need to get rid of police files if the Swans never reported Emma missing? Why would issues of the newspaper be missing from the library if Emma's disappearance wasn't reported on? Obviously, David and Mary Margaret did something! As for Neal, they had no idea Emma was seeing him. If you'll recall, in a previous chapter, Emma told Killian she had to sneak out at night to meet Neal. So that wasn't Snowing's fault either. Also, how would any of these characters know what David and Mary Margaret did or didn't do for their daughter? This is almost a hundred years later, and Emma's memories are dulled from being a ghost for so long. The only way I could spell out clearly how Snowing handled their daughter's disappearance would be some sort of convoluted info-dump, and I didn't want to destroy the tone and mood of the story to do that. But just so everyone knows: Yes, Emma's parents were devastated. They did everything in their power to find her, never giving up hope (which is so in character for them!). They died still believing she was either still out there or that crimes against her had gone unpunished. It broke their hearts. The Golds spread rumors that Emma was some kind of slut who ran away with a guy, and the people of Storybrooke overall thought the Swans had gone crazy. So there it is, that's the back story that I just couldn't figure out how to fit in the story, lol.
I'm not mad at the questions, to be clear. I was just surprised by them. I guess I blame the show for ruining these two as parents the last couple of seasons. Maybe that's why everyone jumped on them so fast. I was also honestly worried that ya'll would be upset with me for not addressing the topic, hence this long explanation! No one was rude by any means, so don't go trying to defend me from nonexistent trolls, lol! My feelings have NOT been hurt. I simply wanted to address the questions that were asked and the misplaced anger toward Snowing. (Not anger towards me - but fictional characters!)
Okay, now that I've cleared all THAT up, let's get on with the next chapter, shall we? And I'll go ahead and warn you: this is gonna hurt . . .
Summary: When ebony flashes gold, blood runs cold. When ivory runs red, you’ll be dead. Killian Jones had heard the old rhyme his entire life. Every child did in Storybrooke, Maine. They heard it whispered in the dark at sleepovers as children; taunted as a challenge as teenagers. Killian never believed it was actually true. Until that fateful night …
Rated M for graphic depictions of violence, abusive relationships, and major character death (I mean, it’s a ghost story ya’ll, people are dead. BUT I promise, there is a happy ending. Trust me? *peeks from around a corner*)
Length: 6 chapters, complete, updated every Friday
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four
Also on Ao3
Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @kmomof4​ @xhookswenchx​ @let-it-raines​ @bethacaciakay​ @tiganasummertree​ @shireness-says​ @stahlop​ @scientificapricot​ @spartanguard​ @welllpthisishappening​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @thislassishooked​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @kday426​ @ekr032-blog-blog​ @lfh1226-linda​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @ohmakemeahercules​ @carpedzem​ @branlovestowrite​ @superchocovian​ @hollyethecurious​ @vvbooklady1256​ @winterbaby89​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​ @jennjenn615​ @snidgetsafan​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @lassluna​ @distant-rose​ @courtorderedcake​ @winterbythesea​ @thesschesthair​ @killian-whump​ @thisonesatellite​ @batana54​ @it-meant-something​ @xsajx​ @therooksshiningknight​ @gingerchangeling​​
Chapter Five: Run
“You’ve got to tell them what you saw - what you’ve learned,” Killian pleaded. 
Graham shook his head, his curly hair falling in his eyes as he stared at the slender hands he clasped in his. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw sported far more facial hair than it normally did, and Killian didn’t have to ask if he’d slept in the past forty-eight hours. 
“They won’t believe me.”
Killian’s jaw clenched in frustration. “But if I saw Emma, and you saw her, then maybe they’ll believe -”
“That Belle saw a ghost push Mike Gaston off the troll bridge? They’ll believe that? Really?” Graham let out a sarcastic, bitter laugh. “You really are just a naive kid if that’s what you're thinking.”
“But you’re a cop!”
“I’m still only nineteen! They’ll think we’re just over-imaginative teenagers.” Graham paused, reaching up with one hand to trace the curve of Belle’s cheek as she slept in her drug-induced prison. “That will land us in rooms just down the hall with our own IV full of an antipsychotic cocktail. How will I help her then?”
“You’ve fallen in love with her.” It wasn’t a question. 
Graham sighed. “How could I not? And how could he -” He broke off, his blue eyes flashing. “I’m not sorry he’s dead. If I’d been there and saw him hurt her -”
“Shh, I wouldn’t say things like that. Not here.”
Killian’s gaze fell to the bruises around Belle’s neck, and he didn’t blame Graham at all. It terrified him to think what could have happened if Emma hadn’t shown up.
“History repeats itself,” he murmured under his breath. 
*************************************************
Killian had scarcely arrived at the bridge when headlights blinded him. He turned away, blinking, stumbling, refusing to be stopped. 
“Emma! Emma!” he shouted. He tripped and dropped his flashlight. It broke as it hit the ground, rolling to the edge of the bridge. Now all he could see was ebony before him and radiant luminescence behind him. 
His palms scraped against the asphalt as Liam hauled him to his feet. His brother gripped his upper arms so tightly it was almost painful, and he gave him a brief shake. 
“You’ve got to stop this!”
Killian fought him. “I have to see her!”
Liam had always been broader than Killian with an unfair advantage in all their childhood tussles. Even now, Killian was no match for him as he lifted him bodily with one arm and hauled him over to his car. 
“You need help!” Liam literally tossed him into the backseat. 
“I’m not going home!” Killian tried to scramble out, but Liam just shoved him back inside. 
“Good, because I’m not taking you home.”
*******************************************************
“Why won’t you be straight with us, kid?”
Killian glared at the detective with a cynical sneer. The psychiatrist on the cop’s left frowned at Killian’s attitude. The choice of words was cruel considering he was in a literal straightjacket. His vision of the two men was obscured by the long strands of dark hair before his eyes. Haircuts were apparently seen as a luxury on the psych ward. 
“I’ve answered all your questions,” Killian finally told them wearily, “you just don’t like what I had to say.”
“Because we want the truth,” the psychiatrist, Dr. Archie Hopper, said gently. He was clearly playing the part of “good cop.” Or “good doctor.” Whatever.
“I told you the truth.”
“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
Killian snorted a laugh. “Tell that to Mike Gaston.”
The detective’s voice took on a harsh, warning tone. “Mike Gaston was the victim of murder.”
“The victim!” Killian cried, his voice snapping up. “What about the bruises he put on Belle? Or the fact that I nearly died when he tied me to that bridge!”
The detective’s lips curled up in a lewd sneer as he lit a cigarette. “If some horny teenager likes it a bit rough, that’s none of my business.”
Killian fought his bonds, his jaw clenching at the detective’s insinuation. He was as bad as Neal Gold, maybe worse. He had to be pushing fifty at least, and a pot belly strained at his button up shirt. His eyes widened as Killian raged.
“Bothers you though, I see.” He leaned forward. “Nobody blames you for wanting her, kid. Nobody blames you for being jealous. But murder? That’s a different story.”
“I told you I had nothing to do with that!”
The detective glanced at Dr. Hopper, and the soft spoken psychiatrist took over. “Killian, start at the beginning for us. What did Belle say when she called you that night?”
“I’m telling you, she didn’t call me, she didn’t come to my house. I saw her early that afternoon at the library. That was it. Then my brother got a phone call that there had been an accident, and we came to the hospital.”
“You and Belle were at the library together a lot,” Hopper said softly, “what did you two do there?”
Killian rolled his eyes. He hated the patronizing way the man asked the question. “We studied. Did our homework. We were friends.”
The detective snorted again, and Killian wanted to scream. “Drop the act, kid. You really expect us to believe that you spent all that time with her, all that time with a hot chick, and you never fucked her?”
Dr. Hopper recoiled at the foul language, and Killian thought his own jaw might actually break. 
“You’re just as much a misogynistic, narrow-minded, neanderthal as Mike Gaston.”
The detective grinned and slapped Dr. Hopper on the knee. “You were right, shrink, this kid’s smart.” He took another puff of his cigarette as he eyed Killian. “Smart enough to plan an elaborate murder with your knocked-up girlfriend?”
“That’s the most ridiculous - wait - did you say knocked up?”
“Hm,” the detective mused, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his five o’clock shadow. “You didn’t know?”
Killian was horrified when a laugh slipped past his lips. Another bitter laugh followed, then another, until before he knew it, he was shaking with them. He was laughing hysterically while wearing a straightjacket. That thought made him laugh even more, and if he didn’t seem like a lunatic before, he sure as hell did now. 
“What the hell is so funny?” thundered the detective.
Killian’s laughter stopped abruptly and he leveled the man with an intense stare. “History repeating itself. That’s what’s so funny.”
A smile that he knew bordered on manic curled his lips. Yes, history had repeated itself, and this time, Emma Swan had won. 
************************************************************
They didn’t have enough to charge him, or Belle, or anyone else really with Gaston’s murder. It was officially declared an accident, and theoretically, Belle French and Killian Jones were free to move on. 
Killian wouldn’t say it was easy for Belle. She had severe trauma from that terrifying night, and she ended up losing the baby because of it. Nevertheless, she had Dr. Hopper’s patient help, her father’s support, and Graham’s unwavering devotion. Soon, though it would be a long time before she was truly healed, she was able to go home. 
Killian, on the other hand, didn’t really want to go home. For one, he, unlike Belle and Graham, refused to stop talking about Emma - refused to lie and say he made it up. He didn’t fault his friends for it; didn’t take it as a betrayal. He even understood their reasoning when they begged him to do the same and just play along, damn it. He simply couldn’t do it. Emma was too real, too precious. He knew her in a way they never would. He knew the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that go.
The psych ward wasn’t so bad. The drugs numbed him to the point that he sailed on a sea of oblivion half the time. He’d stopped fighting, so there was no more straight jacket, no more bed straps. 
And she came to him. Sometimes the drugs meant he wasn’t lucid enough to really carry on a conversation. On those nights, she curled up next to him on the bed. She ran her fingers through his hair and caressed his cheeks. She pressed kisses to his lips, and sometimes he could respond in kind. 
Other times, though admittedly rare, they would talk. About everything and nothing at all. One night, they talked about their dreams for later, after high school, and suddenly Emma began to weep. 
“I know,” he soothed, brushing her forehead with a kiss, “you fear you can never have that. But maybe we can figure it out. If we somehow get the truth out. About your murder -”
Emma silenced him with a finger to his lips. “That isn’t it, Killian. It’s you. I have no more tomorrows but you can.”
His brow furrowed, and she sighed and soothed the lines away with the pad of her thumb. 
“But not if you keep holding onto me.”
His arms instinctively pulled her closer. “I’ll never let you go.”
She sighed, and sadness filled her eyes. She slipped out of his embrace and rose from the bed. Her skin grew white, her gown floated in an ethereal way at her feet. He frowned and scrambled to a sitting position. 
“I have to say goodbye,” she told him. She said it with an edge of discovery in her voice. Her lips turned up in a soft smile even as a tear slipped down her cheek. 
He shook his head and tried to reach for her, to leave the bed, but he had just enough drugs in his system to make his movements sluggish and ineffectual. 
“I won’t let you see me again.”
“No, Emma, please! I love you!”
“And I love you. That’s why I have to do this.” 
She was already fading away. Killian made a fist and slammed it into his thigh. Tears stung his eyes. 
“Be happy,” she told him, “for me.”
Then she was gone.
65 notes · View notes
dykevillanelle · 4 years ago
Note
Okay so, maybe this will be a big question, but after season 3 especially villanelle background episode and the fact she doesn't want to kill anymore, I feel like it formed a question "Is she really a psycopath or the circumstances make her like this?" and I would love to read your opinion about it.
[your disclaimer that i don’t claim to be an expert on psychopathy/ASPD though i have read a lot of research, and that psychology writ large is a deeply flawed and complicated field despite me signing my entire life and career over to it]
TLDR: killing eve, like pretty much every tv show in the entire world, reduced “psychopathy” to a set of media tropes and tried clumsily to do a “nature versus nurture” conflict that, in my opinion, fell flat. in this post: me bagging on psychologists from the 40s, overanalysis of pre-eve villanelle, and quotes from my reluctantly-owned copy of the DSM-5.
the fundamental assertion of villanelle as psychopath has never sat right with me. she certainly exhibits many of the traits that would be considered within the “dark triad” (yes, it’s really called that, i hate psych scholarship), and she technically meets the criteria for ASPD, but she violates many of the core tenets of “psychopathy” as it’s currently understood. she is, of course, a fictional character and therefore a creation of people who were working off of popular tropes of psychopathy. but i’m going to overanalyze her anyway and YOU CAN’T STOP ME.
(an aside: you can’t be diagnosed with psychopathy, you get diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder or ASPD, and the criteria are influenced by the paradigmatic text of psychopathy scholarship written by legendary homophobe and freudian disaster hervey m. cleckley in the 40s. literally, i’ve read this guy’s book, and it’s 500 pages of absolute wildness. further, the whole section on personality disorders in the DSM is highly controversial and by a lot of beliefs, mostly useless.)
(another aside: that dude they brought in for s2 to give a presentation on psychopathy said literally nothing correct. while you are free to disagree with my opinions, do NOT use that as a refutation!!!)
if we take the diagnostic criteria as at face value, one of the commonalities of those with ASPD who act criminally is that they will typically do so in absence of any significant external reward. villanelle’s first kill (to our knowledge, besides whoever might have died in the fire she set at the orphanage) was anna’s husband..and y’all, villanelle was sixteen and having sex with an adult teacher. you really think anna had no part to play in all that? anyway, after that, villanelle has very CLEAR external rewards for criminality--she’s literally bankrolled by murder. so her criminal behavior in connection to the twelve isn’t necessarily evidence of psychopathy.
“impulsivity and failure to plan ahead” is another important criteria, which villanelle does NOT show at all--we see her obsessively planning, adjusting and readjusting on a dime, learning skills and languages to do her job, etc. “reckless disregard for safety of self or others” also doesn’t really describe her--before she meets eve, she actually has pretty admirable self control (we don’t see her drink or use drugs to excess except in connection with eve, she has a very strong sense of self-preservation). “consistent irresponsibility” also isn’t quite there--though she goes off the rails (again after meeting eve), she’s shown to be relied on by the twelve to get her jobs done and done well.
however, villanelle also isn’t just a product of her circumstances. she’s shown a predilection for violence from a young age, but having a terrible mother and growing up in an orphanage after being abandoned isn’t prescriptive of becoming a career criminal. she has trauma in spades and that certainly contributes to the choices that she makes, but it feels completely reductive to her intelligence and character to just say “the circumstances made her do it.” which is why i found the shift in season 3 pretty jarring, and it didn’t make a lot of sense to me.
my preferred interpretation of villanelle is that she’s a hot evil lady who is assumed by some to be an emotionless killing machine and to others as a pathetic victim of circumstance, and who is actually neither of those things. she knows how to play both parts, and she does it to her advantage. she loves deeply, shows it in the most fucked-up ways imaginable, is traumatized and anxious, and also incredibly intelligent and motivated.
93 notes · View notes
dangermousie · 3 years ago
Text
CFC 187
1. The chapter title is “You Lied to Me!” I can already see we are going to get utter sweetness for Valentines Day!
2. Red dresses and silver masks - are they going to a drug drop or an Eyes Wide Shut party?
3. A cure for what is He Yu asking about? I am inclined to think it’s a front to make Duan trust him (because he will think He Yu needs psych ebola desperately) because nothing in his thoughts indicates he knows XQC is gravely ill.
4. Woo, more corpses for Valentines’ Day. Alas this murder is unlikely to be followed by fucking.
5. This is Meatbun’s delightfully bleak sense of humor to a T:
Tumblr media
6. He Yu got shot in the lungs?!?! Either my MTL is wrong or I better hope the org has amazing medicine since normally this is hope you prepaid for your gravestone territory. I do not like how this chapter makes me feel - paaaain!
7. He Yu sitting there, alone and numb and waiting for death, too tired to even care his whole plan, his whole life, just got blown up, all alone as always and the XQC calls. Somehow I don’t see a cessation of pain there. Meatbun is out with more knives than a fancy steak house!
8. He Yu crying and bleeding on the phone. Just what I yearned for. NOTTT
Tumblr media
9. The thing that keeps hitting me over and over again is how little He Yu can survive on, how little care he needs to keep going - he will take just crumbs and subsist on them. Here he is, thinking XQC betrayed him, used his one weakness against him - to get him caught and possibly killed - and now that he’s accepted he loves him, his reaction to this supposed betrayal, which is much worse than any betrayal he snapped over after the tower, is not to want to destroy XQC or to hurt him but to hang onto the tiny bit of comfort that even in that betrayal, XQC did not give up fully.
Tumblr media
His capacity for love, and to love without expectation of equal return, is astonishing.
10. HY finally picks up the phone with trembling hands and hears the worried XQC and maybe there was a small chance to avoid maximum pain (small - since he’s terribly wounded and about to be arrested) but then the door breaks open and Chen Man is leading the raid. OK, time out from angsting over He Yu to say that officially I AM REALLY REALLY REALLY FUCKING TIRED OF THAT GUY!!! There is a Russian saying “в каждой бочке затычка“ which literally means someone “is a plug for every keg” but as a saying means someone who is always intruding and getting in the middle of every interaction and conversation and I swear to God, whoever the long-dead Russian was who came up with that saying, must have met Chen Man, impossible though this is. Ugh. (Yes, objectively, Chen Man is largely doing his job and even his less OK motives aren’t exactly serial killer level. But he’s a fictional character so I don’t need to care if he’s objectively an OK person, all I need to care about is whether he’s fucking annoying me to death and HE IS!!!!)
11. But yeah, HY was still thinking that maybe XQC betrayed him because he had no choice (accurate!) until he saw Chen Man, and then of course now he jumps to the worst conclusion. And I don’t blame him. He’s young, seriously wounded (and pain clouds judgment), under extreme psychological stress and suffering for well over a month, has been told by XQC repeatedly XQC does not love him, is vvvv jealous of Chen Man, XQC told HY he’d oppose himif HY did bad stuff etc etc etc. And in a way, HY is both wrong and not wrong - XQC did not willingly betray HY and he does not fancy Chen Man or join this because of him, but XQC would have never even known about the raid and got dragged inif it wasn’t for Chen “cork in every keg” Man.
12. The fact that HY is so envious of Chen Man being able to stay in the light, having comrades etc - my heart. Because it is about jealousy over XQC,yes, but it’s more than that too - Chen Man has a loving family, Chen Man has a societally praised job, Chen Man had XQC’s steady care and regard, Chen Man got infected by RN13 and cured without any bad aftereffects (at least so far, as far as we and HY know) etc etc etc. It’s like HY has a thin slice of bread and Chen Man has a feast and now Chen Man is trying for HY’s last slice.
13. HY trying to get Chen Man to kill him. Oh my God. And then there is an explosion. I bet something on that misbegotten ship blew up and took the ship down. My guess is that everyone will think He Yu died in the explosion and XQC will feel distraught (as he fucking should!!!! Maybe if you didn’t keep pushing HY away for the dumbest reasons, none of this would have come to pass. Also, while we are at it, even little grandmas know to password lock their phone!) and probably collapse and end up in the hospital. Maybe the truth about his condition will come out then, but I only give it 50-50. I think XQC will have to confront how he felt for HY and how his course of action was wrong though, which is GOOD. Meanwhile, HY will be saved by the org and join them and I think after this little episode, he’s just hollowed out and while he will want to bring the org down (I can’t see this changing, they did so much awful stuff and HY never vibed with torture of innocents), he will have emotionally written XQC off and not hope for anything there any more and just carry the heartbreak and anger within him (and an inability to move on but layered with acceptance and rage) - think Mo Xi at the start of Yuwu. I hope this eventually leads to XQC having to fucking chase and take initiative for once, but not without a lot more pain for both of them, I am afraid.
In conclusion, this was a Valentines Day chapter all right! Insofar as:
Tumblr media
Pretty much the same vibe!
12 notes · View notes
falsegoodnight · 4 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
this is part two of my december fic rec! this list encompasses the fics i’ve read from the 18th to the 28th!! it’s also my birthday today which makes it even more special! i can think of no better way to spend today than spreading positivity! :)
you can find part one of this month here
✰ there’s happiness because of you by @hadestyles | NR | 1k - (so soft, tender, and beautiful!! rori’s writing amazes me always! and this was written for my birthday because they’re an angel <3)
Thursday mornings have always been their favourite.
✰ and it gets colder and colder by @hadestyles | E | 2K - (another rori fic!! once again, beautiful prose! made me feel emotional!)
Harry wants to take care of Louis. Things take a turn.
✰ make my wish come true by @soldouthaz | M | 3k - (drabble from this series) (so cute, lovely, soft, amazing!!! made my heart so happy! this is also dedicated to me which :’) sarah angel chant)
The taste of Christmas cookies fresh out of the oven and peppermint hot chocolate is still heavy on his tongue. Harry’s sweater provides some warmth and it still smells of him from before he left for his internship two weeks ago, but it’s nowhere near the feeling of his arms wrapped around him. Louis shivers despite the blankets.
✰ spirit meets the bones by @hadestyles​ | E | 3k - (i had to edit to add this because rori wrote another beautiful little fic for me :’) beautiful prose, beautiful emotions, so so so beautiful, gosh. pure poetry!)
The action shouldn’t fill his eyes with tears but it does. These small gestures mean the world to him. A steady reminder that Harry does notice all the tiny, seemingly insignificant details that make Louis him.
✰ 29 Blows by @quelquesetoiles | E | 4k - (super hot but also so cute!! love the concept of the birthday tradition in this one!!!)
For over a decade now, Harry has had his little tradition. It wouldn't be a Louis Tomlinson birthday without his best friend finding new, ingenious ways to make his life more difficult.
It's cute, it's funny, it's theirs, until Harry takes it a step too far on Louis' 29th birthday.
✰ calm me down (before i sleep) by @erodiansunflower | E | 7k - (a pwp and super hot, but also super cute??)
Prompt 24: Harry is a sex shop owner that has a crush on Louis, the shy customer who flirts with him while buying cute buttplugs, lace panties, and collars. One day, Louis asked Harry to help him put on a corset (they end up fucking in the dressing room). Things escalate quickly from there, so they start seeing each other seriously while trying other sex stuff.
✰ You’re Never Alone With a Moon This Bright by @helloamhere | T | 8k - (part one of this series) (WOW this was incredible and i am ENTRANCED! this author is an all-time favorite and idk why it took me so long to get to this series but i’m here now!! and loving it!!)
Louis was a monster. But sometimes, even monsters get a Christmas.
✰ Be a Good Girl For Me by @sincetheywere16and18 | E | 9k - (really hot and cute!!!)
Based on this prompt: “AU where Harry is Louis’ older brother’s best friend. He catches Louis dancing around his room in panties and blackmails him, saying that louis has to do anything he says or else he’ll tell Louis’ family that he wears girly underwear. Secretly soft for him, Harry gives him easy tasks and uses the whole thing to spend more time with Louis. Eventually, the orders begin to escalate and Harry teases Lou about his secret, making Louis shy and embarrassed. Louis loves the attention though, and forms a crush on his brother’s best friend. Lots of feminization, secret relationship, and enemies to lovers. Thank you!”
✰ it’s hard to fight naked by @loustarlight | E | 11k - (LOVED this so much!!! a big fan of enemies/flatmates to lovers especially when there’s a walk-in involved!!)
Louis leaves dirty socks on the couch, Zayn does assignments while he's high, and Harry is hopelessly crushing on his roommate.
✰ Sweet Scary Creatures by @specklelouis | M | 13k - (jurassic park au!! so cute and fun!!! loved louis’ character growth in this in particular!)
They stare into each other's eyes for a while until Louis remembers this is too intimate and looks at Harry’s hands on his thigh. It spans a big portion of his thigh and Louis has always been insecure about how thick he is, so he loves that Harry has huge, dustbin hands that hold him and makes him feel smaller, safer.
✰ hereafter (ad infinitum) by @larryent | M | 13k - (this was absolutely beautiful!! the writing was incredible, the contrast between the old timeline and new one impeccable, and the letters!!! love them!! and vampire harry is always a win!)
"A legacy is every life you’ve touched. And you’ve touched mine twice."
On the coast of San Francisco in 2024 is when Harry falls in love all over again.
✰ Believe Me When I Say You Have It All by @helloamhere | T | 20k - (part two of this series) (loved this even more than it’s predecessor. not to be dramatic, but i’d die for the louis and harry in this series. this whole world has my heart)
Harry had never faced anything in this forest that had actually succeeded in scaring him. Louis was no exception.
✰ Yours to Lose by @loulicate-recs | M | 26k - (so cute and soft and sweet!!! louis and harry were both angels and IAN <3 little cutie!!! so proud of you hanis!)
Louis always gets distracted with his mummy duty and he eventually catches Harry's attention.
✰ But It’s Useless by @thinlinez | E | 26k - (this put such a big smile on my face!! so cute and lovely!! louis was a relatable and adorable menace and harry was a smitten idiot but they both got there in the end!!)
Omega Louis would never guess that he would be trying to hack into Alpha Harry's Wifi. That is until everything changes when he tries to get to know his enemy.
✰ Stuck On You by Writewhatiwant | E | 34k - (so so sweet! loved the aspect of stickers in this fic and how louis found joy in them!! really loved how both louis and harry (especially harry) grew throughout this story and how they found peace at the end!)
Louis’ life revolves around his stickers. Harry’s life revolves around his job. The universe has decided their worlds should revolve around each other.
✰ smoke between your teeth by @soldouthaz | E | 37k - (i think everyone knows how much i adore sarah and her fics but this one just might be a new favorite! loved all the psych stuff, the pining, the rom-com worthy confession <3 brilliant!)
Louis tries to stop his addiction to cigarettes and discovers he's been addicted to Harry for much, much longer.
✰ Your Life Worth Walking on a Bright Morning by @helloamhere | T | 38k - (part three of this series) (it just keeps getting better and better <3 so comforting and consistent and beautiful!)
For all its complexity, Louis sometimes reminded himself, life could always be simplified into a series of forks in the road. Even overwhelmingly big things were survivable when you broke them down to their choice. One path or the other, left or right.
✰ On The Edge by @zanniscaramouche | E | 47k - (so crazy good!! zanni is always amazing me!! loved the ice skating, the hockey, the misunderstandings, the multi-faced and beautiful characters and relationships - all so perfect!)
Figure skating is as vital to Louis’ identity as his DNA, so when his skates go missing right before the last Olympics of his career there may be a meltdown only vanilla bath salts can fix. Well, that and the stupidly charming hockey player he met on the plane.
Harry’s too old to be the wonder kid and too young to be taken seriously in the NHL. As an alternate thrown in at the last second, he fights to prove himself on the national team at the largest sporting event known to man. Or he will, once he gets off this flight and can focus on something other than the fussy figure skater and his stunningly blue eyes.
A baggage mix-up skews both of their perfectly laid plans for gold, forcing the two to work together as the clock clicks towards the minute they’re expected to shine on centre ice.
✰ made for lovin’ you by @cuddlerlouis | E | 53k - (loved this so much!! touch depri/accidental bonds are my favorite and this was no exception!!! the characterizations, the tension, the misunderstandings, the tenderness, the fluff!!! so good!)
A quick, horny decision ruins Louis’ summer plans, but may also lead to unexpected discoveries. Featuring the road trip of dreams, misunderstandings, and a bit of fate.
✰ social cues by @outropeace | E | 56k - (so fucking good!! the slow burn in this was impeccable!!! pair it with friends with benefits, mutual pining, angst, misunderstandings... amazing <3)
To Harry, Louis was becoming as tangible and essential as music in his life. He still was a mystery but at the same time, he was one of the most real things Harry had. He just hoped he could live up to the image Louis probably had in his mind of him.
He could play the part, after all, what was published of him wasn’t as detached from reality. He didn’t think of himself as a rockstar cliche, although he couldn't deny he did sleep around, partied a lot, and did some drugs. But then again, wasn’t that what the majority of his friends back in his hometown were doing at college?
Harry wanted to impress Louis, he didn’t want to disappoint or leave his expectations unfulfilled, so he’d give him the full rockstar experience.
It was a very simple plan, what could possibly go wrong?
✰ dripping like spider milk by @raspberryoatss | E | 64k - (pip amazing me with her talent? a common occurrence. this was so wonderfully written and so well done!! loved the characterizations, the dynamic, the angst, the miscommunication, the pining, the HUMOR!!! it was all so amazing!!)
When he sees the alpha, his brown hair curling around the top of his neck and his broad back that’s filled out over the past couple of years, Louis freezes for a moment. The alpha turns around, Louis’ surprised expression mirrored on his own for a fraction of a second before he schools it into a big, yet shy grin and a wave of his huge hand. With his nostrils flared, Louis knows that he can smell him, too.
They never hired alphas, except for—
“Harry.”
✰ a taste of freedom and sweetened passion by @tomlinvelvetfics | M | 74k - (okay technically haven’t finished reading this one yet but i want to get this up early and i already know this is amazing because it’s LATE and she’s incredible!!! and, i mean, anne of green gables?? abo?? best birthday gift ever!! will be spending the day reading this in bliss <3)
“Are you mad?” he explodes, throwing his hands up, groaning. “I was so, so close to reaching my goal, and your stupid, stalking ass had to creep up on me, hm?”
Harry is trying to keep his laughter in, walking closer to him, eyes soft. He doesn’t like the way those eyes make him feel, an odd, dangerous mix of nervous and flustered, so he bends down to pick up the books, raising an eyebrow when Harry growls in protest.
“I wanted to pick them up for you,” the alpha pouts, and Louis glares at him, getting into position and lowering the pile of yellowed pages over the top of his head.
“I’m a functional human being, thank you very much,” he grits out as he begins to walk and mentally count the amount of steps he takes. One, two, three, for heaven’s sake Harry fuck off!, four, five. He doesn’t let himself be distracted as the alpha walks along with him despite the slow pace, green eyes focused on him in a way that would, in any other cases, compelled him to throw a book in the alpha’s face.
He doesn’t know why he doesn’t do it and certainly doesn’t want to think about the reason, whatever it might be.
If you read any of these lovely fics, remember to leave kudos and comment to show your appreciation!
*if i made any errors, please let me know :)
enjoy!
131 notes · View notes
whatiswhump · 3 years ago
Note
Love your work, and would love another Bucky fanfic of Bucky in being involuntarily admitted to a psych hospital!!
Okay... so this is another one of after he's captured in CAWS, the poor boy is confused. Hurts much.
I'd also like to do one when he's more in his normal life and then has issues that require care.
(P.S. this is like a year late.... eep)
TW: Forced sedation, mental health, confusion
-
“He can’t be trusted on his own.”
“But does that mean we have to keep him as a prisoner? None of it was his fault.”
“No, that doesn’t change what he is capable of. He needs help and he needs to be kept away from the wrong people, this is our only option.”
The Soldier’s head lolled forward, he was fighting but the drugs were threatening to pull him under again. The men outside the holding cell were talking about him. With effort he dragged his gaze up to the reinforced window separating them from him. A coterie of men in suits and uniforms were watching him. Despite the heavy sedation that kept him crumpled on the floor he felt his face flush red in embarrassment, the pure helplessness of the situation-- he had new masters. He should have known he couldn’t stay gone. He would never be free-
That something like him was created to be owned and to be used.
“He’s been given enough sedation to take down a horse and somehow he’s still conscious. Kind of amazing.”
“Martin, you won’t think it’s so amazing when you’re the one tasked with keeping him docile.”
“I’m not worried about that, you know we have our methods. But it is hard to believe he’s the world’s most dangerous assassin when he’s drooling on the floor like that. Looks as harmless as a kitten.”
The soldier let his eyes fall. He didn’t even know why he was even trying to bother with listening to them. Why did it matter for him to figure out what they would do with him? It was foolish to even pretend like he had a choice.
If only he hadn’t squatted in that apartment for two nights in a row. He had gotten tired- no, lazy, it was no wonder they found him.
Now it would just be easiest if he let them do what they wanted. He didn’t want to fight anymore. If he was lucky maybe the Americans would wipe him again. At least then he wouldn’t have to be there for whatever they would make him do.
---
“Hey there, buddy. Can you look at me? Yeah attaboy, that’s it.” There was a bright light in his eyes, strong fingers were holding his chin. When he drowsily tried to pull away they tightened.
“Ah- ah, be a good boy, let me look at your eyes.”
The Soldier did as the man asked and stilled.
“Good,” The man cooed in a falsely gentle tone, “Not so much fight left anymore, huh?”
Don’t respond. He wasn’t allowed to respond to the scientists unless ordered. Pierce liked to punish him for that one.
“Damn they sure trained him, when does he snap out of the drooling mess and into an assassin?” A disembodied voice rang out from behind the man with the light.
The Soldier blinked again, were the scientists going to actually do something?
“He’s cleared for another dose, everything looks normal.”
“There’s my answer then. Hey James, time to take the little pills again.” The voice from behind was giddy, the soldier didn’t understand.
But then a cup was being foisted into his vision much too quickly and his head was being tilted back by another pair of hands. He opened his mouth willingly, perhaps they would actually knock him out for this experiment?
---
“Shit. I mean he wants to see him. We can’t very well say no to Captain America.”
“We can and we will. Mr. Barnes is much too unstable at the moment.”
“He’s already here and the director has already ordered that we allow it.”
Who was Mr. Barnes?
“Jesus, they’re gonna send him off the deep end again, he’s just barely responding as it is now. Doesn't even know where he is...”
“We’ll keep him restrained, it’ll be fine.”
The Soldier continued to stare at the wall that faced away from the cell door. They might stare at him but he at least liked to ignore it. He knew he wasn’t supposed to mind. Someone had told him that once. At least he thought? Someone with cold eyes.
---
They had him set up at a table, attached to a chair with a jacket with no ends to the sleeves that wrapped around himself.
He had forgotten himself as he sat there, empty. He remembered he was good at that.
A door opened but at first no one came through. The Soldier could only think that he was tired. He wished they’d put him back into cryo.
“Buck.”
A man had appeared, was standing right in front of him. He looked ... in pain?
“Hi, Bucky, they said you might not remember me,” The blonde man laughed uncertainly, “Judging by the look on your face, guess they were right.”
A sad smile replaced the wry one that had appeared during the laugh.
The Soldier stared back, confused. This didn't make sense.
“Is this a memory?” The Soldier couldn’t help feeling like he had seen this man before, an old handler long gone?
For a moment the other man’s face lit up, but just as quickly it fell back into the creased forehead, “It’s been that bad huh?”
What had been bad? The mission?
“Permission to speak?”
The creases grew deeper, was he making the handler unhappy?
“No, you don’t have to-" The man started but then stopped himself, seemed to think and then continue with that same heart broken look in his eyes, "Um yes, you can speak.”
“Something is wrong with my programming, sir. I do not-”
He had relived memories before, Zola had liked to play around with it actually. This must be Pierce. Back before.
Where was Pierce?
The mission failed.
What mission?
“Bucky, do you remember meeting me? A few months ago? You saved my life.”
He wasn’t supposed to save lives? Was this a test?
He was going to be punished. They liked these games. He was playing it wrong.
“Captain, sir, I’m sorry to interrupt, but he’s becoming agitated, we don’t think that he- well that he understands where he is- thinks this is Hydra.”
Where did the new person come from? The Soldier hadn’t even noticed them.
“I’m sorry but we need to administer additional sedation,”
The Soldier jerked back in the chair he was attached to, what were they-? There were more people, nothing was moving like it was supposed to- That face.
But I knew him.
Pain overwhelmed his senses, punishment, Pierce said.
There were more hands on him. Voices, too many voices.
Someone was screaming, crying too.
Then cool silent nothingness.
43 notes · View notes