#the therapist wasn't even doing anything but telling random stories

[rainstormsandothersadthings]

There was an interesting thing Arthur learned when he was eight and three-quarters in the field on the right side of the castle. He was chasing the red ladybugs that flew and crawled up the castle walls as if unaware of the unavoidable chill of the stone; as if they didn’t know the castle was where things rot and everyone pretends they can’t smell the stench.

[homunculus-argument]

Sometimes in therapy I feel like I don't have trauma in some correct sort of way. Like I'll be explaining that my childhood wasn't even really traumatic, just kind of bleak and boring. The worst my parents ever made me feel was disappointed, but not surprised. it was all so very mundane. And whenever some therapist asks me what I mean, I'll tell some random story that I happen to remember off the top of my head of what my childhood was like, or one that I think illustrated what kind of people my parents were and what their relationship was like.

Like this one time I remember when I was like 10 or so, I can't remember where we were going but the whole family was getting into the car, and dad started bitching at mom about how come when their first car was in his name, it was their car, and then when they had their own cars they had his car and her car, but now that they only have one car again, it's still just her car.

And then mom bitterly pointed out that the reason why he doesn't have a company benefit car anymore is because he lost his lisence for driving drunk with the kids on board while she was on a business trip. (And while mom didn't bring it up at the time, he had also tried to cover this up and act like nothing had happened. And she wouldn't have found out if my (11/12-year-old at the time?) sister hadn't thought of calling one of mom's friends like "hey cops showed up and took dad so we're home alone now idk what we're supposed to do now" and she came to watch us and told mom.)

...And I was like 10 and sitting quietly on the back seat listening to them bickering about this because they still both bothered to be mad about it. Not mad enough to get divorced or anything, but still bitter enough to bitch at each other about each other. And a therapist will be like wow how did that make you feel, and ???

Bored of it? Disappointed, but not surprised? That was just what life was like. Quietly waiting for bitter adults to be done bickering with each other because you can't do anything to fix this and while they could, they won't do anything to improve their lives. Life was just like that.

[psychabolition]

A few things:

I'm not sure if this counts as anything, this is me asking to see if it would qualify as shitty therapist behavior, but-

My old therapist, when I first met her, purposefully led me astray when diagnosing me. I told her I thought I was dealing with OCD (I was, she later confirmed) and told her my symptoms. She said "Oh no lol that's actually just high anxiety latching onto a random thought" as a "test". She later explained she did that to see how confident I was generally (I think that was the explanation?) She wasn't even the one to initiate telling me I was right the first time; I had to bring it up again for her to confirm "Oh no you DEFINITELY have ocd"

Another thing she would do is purposefully bring up what she called hot-button topics for me - topics that would get me pretty emotional (I struggle with general moral obsessions, although it's better than before now.) Topics usually fell under politics and darker subjects (harm ocd is a motherfucker) to purposefully draw vulnerable emotions out of me via debating and prying. This is the one I'm most confused about because it felt good to feel that with someone when I didn't really feel safe doing it in front if family, but when I frame it as her purposefully attempting to distress me it becomes a bit more...huh. weird. Especially to do to a 16-17 y/o. It was a running joke in the later sessions.

And this is a smaller one but one I actually did kinda. Not resent but I'm not thrilled about it to present day bc now I'm really confused. I once brought up the idea of an autism diagnosis and she denied it outright. I think she thought I was ocd-obsessing over it but she rejected it so flatly that I didn't feel comfortable bringing it up again.

I know these aren't the worst stories and honestly I do appreciate some of what she did - but hearing others stories in hindsight make me wonder if these behaviors were like...weird/possibly malpractice? I never had a therapist before or since so I don't have a frame of reference. And I feel bad questioning it bc to get better you do need too leave your comfort zone; I just can't tell if what she did was too much

-🪷 (hope you don't mind the signoff; it's just so I can find this later)

I mean . I dont believe in therapy or diagnoses in general . And it truly is something you have to believe in because psychology is really badly practiced science. The validity and reliability of diagnoses and treatment is really really low. This is not my opinion, its scientific fact and every psychologist knows this .

In my opinion, that your therapist didnt listen to you and didnt perceive your own experiences and judgements about yourself as real and true and also more accurate than anyones elses including hers is really normal therapist-behavior . To me that doesnt make it okay, what she did was 101psych-every day-oppression. Making you doubt your own judgments about yourself and implicitly telling you that you need to submit to expert clinical management and surveillance. Its not malpractice, the psych system was built this way.

Also this is my personal opinion but if you feel worse because of therapy you arent "feeling worse before you eventually feel better" .lf youre doing worse then youre just doing worse thats it .Fuck that therapist bullshit about how "we need to feel awful to feel better" how does that even make sense ????? like sorry but fuck tolerating their bullshit treatment that only makes us worse . We know what we need and what helps and what hurts us and others should always listen to this knowledge that we have about ourselves .

[awkw4rdtoxicity]

Ahhahaha....

//Vent (Kind of covered up non-con touching)

Hahahahhaha..- I don't know how to put this into words or where to even start but- I still kind of wanna make it just to like- Get it off my chest because I can't talk about it with my therapist without skewing the story to make it seem like I'm just being dramatic apparently. 👍

Since I was like- I dunno, 7 or so, my brother would tickle me or adjacent to tickling whenever he wanted to annoy me or he was greeting me and we were alone or whatever. But when I was like- 10(For context he was 23.) I noticed that he would go especially near my inner thighs or my chest area, specifically when I went through puberty. I was a bit uncomfortable but I didn't really say anything for a while since it was just our "thing" and no one else saw it as wrong so why should I? But after awhile the discomfort began to grow and I asked him to stop but he didn't. For a couple years now I'd had random thoughts popping into my head when he's getting to close to my privates that what if he's doing it on purpose? I tend to steer away from trying to think that but it's not really something I can control. I of course researched what SA was to try to prove myself wrong and tell myself everything is fine cause like, who wants to think your brother is SAing you? Especially since he's been your foundation for so long? And I found out that touching someone's bare private parts was a part of SA. Now, here's something I forgot to note, he would often go under my clothes when he tickled me. And I was kind of shocked and I got really anxious, so much so that I had to be put on meds because I kept having panic attacks and it was screwing with my heart. But I still had my doubts, and kept telling myself since I didn't really say no that maybe he thought it was okay or that when I did say no I wasn't clear that I was being serious enough since I was nervous when I was saying no and I laugh a lot when I'm nervous. One I often thought was that he never really held me down or forced it onto me so I wasn't really being.. held there. Though he would usually grab me it was kind of loose, but he would pull me back when I tried to get away. I don't know- Thanks for reading my long ass vent- Uhhh... Peace ;-;

[minevn]

(I'm sorry for the mistakes) Are you okay? Sorry to intrude, but I hope your mental/physical state is ok and you are taking good care of yourself! (^-^*)/

Hi! It's okay, thank you for asking! I typically like to do asks in order, but I thought this would be a good ask to kind of get things out there and talk about what's been going on with me and Mine!

As for if I'm okay, I don't really know. I can't say I'm okay but I know that it could be a lot worse(because I've felt way lower then this before) I'm not really sure how to take care of myself other then repressing things but I am seeing a therapist and we've been talking about how to handle my emotions as they come. I do wish that I was able to see a therapist before my repressive coping habits took over but due to circumstances I'll get into later I just wasn't able to.

As for Mine stuff, I am still very slowly but surely working on my asks. I do have a few done but once again I like to answer my asks in order. Last night I thought it would also be smarter to do my asks backwards from how I've received them so that way I could just que them all up instead of writing the first ask I got and then lacking motivation and ideas for the later asks. I guess rn I'm going through a bit of writers block? I think it's that mixed with my extreme lack of motivation. As for my event, I have thought about lowering the number and then raising the numbers again for a later milestone! I tend to always put a lot on my plate and 50 requests may have been a bit more then what I could handle as of now. Another thing as well is that even though I love drawing, I don't draw super often. I get hit with random waves of motivation and it's very easy for me to lose that motivation. So I have the sketches mostly done for the drawing requests I've gotten, but if I have no motivation to draw then the drawings turn out looking wonky and just all wrong and then I'm no longer proud of them. I still plan on doing the events and I'm so sorry that my lack of motivation happened like as soon as I hit 100 followers, It doesn't feel fair to you all but I seriously cannot thank you enough for your continued support. Everyone has been so nice and no one has come into my dms rushing me with anything, seriously thank you all so much for that! Another thing as well is that Mine is not my only story, if you follow my main account I have most of my stories listed there and there's like over 50 stories. it's like that because I have so many ideas but once again I lose motivation so easily, and as mentioned earlier I like to put a lot on my plate, I don't like to just work on one story at a time and it causes me to get burnout which I'm sadly going through with Mine. I was answering asks nonstop when I got them, getting asks motivated me to get up out of bed, I was so happy and overjoyed to get asks, and don't get me wrong I still am! I love getting asks and seeing what ideas you want me to write for, although I was also overwhelmed at first, I had gotten so much support which I hadn't expected to ever. I honestly wasn't expecting anyone to like my stuff but I was ready to still work on Mine because I work for ME. But I wasn't happy with how the sprites were turning out, I wasn't getting inspiration for any music soundtracks, and I'm struggling on the script, I've got Minato's week planned mostly but it just feels so BORING! He's the first route, it needs to drag you in a bit more. So far there's been like no yandere tendencies which sure maybe that fits for Minato, but I'm just not proud of it at all so I need to rewrite Minato's week planning. The more I wrote asks the more I felt disconnected to these characters, it felt like I wasn't writing them like I was before, which I tried telling myself that it was fine because when I first made this blog Mine hadn't even been in the process for a year and I thought we could go through developing these characters together, but it just didn't feel right. I also started to dislike their designs. I felt that I had designed more interesting characters before and they just felt so boring, I like their hair and faces, mainly clothes design is where it felt lacking. Jun, Aki, and Yani have the designs I like the best honestly, their clothes feel more intricate.

Anyways yeah that's me and what's been happening, sorry for the long post and venting. I'm still working on asks when I find the motivation to and I did make some progress on them a day or two ago. I hope I can get out of this slump and come back better then ever. Once again thank you all for being patient with me and for supporting me still! I love you all!💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

I'm going to go a bit more in depth with things, sorry for the long post! You don't have to read what below if you don't want to, it mostly explains more of what's been happening with me, but I've also touched on a lot of my reasons for not posting above! Honestly I lot of it is venting, so please don't read if you're struggling with any below!

TW FOR SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, DEATH, ABUSE(?), MENTAL ILLNESSES

So a couple years ago I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and I didn't really understand it, like it didn't feel like it's affected me that much but I've learned a lot more about it and can definitely see in which ways it has impacted me. When I started Mine I wasn't exactly in a high state of Mine but getting asks and seeing people like my work for once in my life really raised my moods, but I really struggle with staying happy. No matter how much I want happiness to stay, it always leaves. Right now I'm going through one of my lows. Honestly, I typically ignore my lows the best I can, It sometimes work and sometimes it doesn't, this is one of the times where I can't repress my feelings, and as mentioned earlier I do think a part of it is because I've been talking to my therapist about embracing the negative feeling, admit that I'm not happy and work through it instead of hiding it. Not that I blame my therapist, I'm really hoping that it works and I'm choosing to listen to my therapist because I want to get better, honestly I could've ignored everything she told me and kept repressing my feelings but I want to be happy so I'm really trying to embrace the fact that I'm not okay and work through it! I don't know how long this low will last, but when I get out of this low I want to work on Mine and get the same excited and happy feelings I had when I first started. Mine might go through some changes but overall I want these characters to have the same personalities and backstories, the only thing that might change with them is their clothes.

Along with my bipolar disorder, I've been diagnosed with major depression with psychotic features, anxiety, ADHD, and PTSD. Needless to say these all impact me greatly. The lack of motivation, struggling to get up out of bed or go to sleep at a normal time, and even eating and drinking and going to the bathroom. I've always found it easier to take care of others rather then myself because that's just how I was raised. To always put others above myself. As I've gotten older I realized that that's not how that should work, but it was already pushed into my brain and I still struggle to take care of myself. I'm always stressed, can't sleep right and I can't wake up before 5pm. Sometimes I'll sit in one spot, fidgeting while I wait for some motivation to strike. But I can't even think because of course when I think my mind never goes to good things. Thoughts about just wanting to give up(Which don't worry too much, I won't do it, even if the thoughts get to be too much), my repressed memories coming back, mom and her death and neglect before dying, dad and his temper tantrums, my grandma and how she's one of the only people in my life to care and love me, and how I wish I could talk to others easily but of course my mind gets fuzzy and I can't speak and how almost all of my friends have left me, how I feel defective and unlovable. The thoughts don't stop, every time it just gets worse and worse and I can't stop questioning what I did wrong and why no one wants to be my friend. People just use you and then toss you out when they're done and it's so cruel, I want someone who actually wants me in their life and who values me as much as I value them, someone who treats me like a person with actual feelings rather then a robot or an object. But it's so hard to find people like that, as I said there's a lot of cruel people out there and to those who aren't cruel I have a hard time trusting them due to past experiences and I know it's not fair to those kind people but gosh being vulnerable is so hard. And I know it's really early to question if I'll ever meet anyone I can trust 100% because I'm only 18 but gosh do I know about death, I know that death doesn't care about your age. I could die later tonight or sometime this week or next month or maybe I do die in many years, but then what about the people I meet and value, will they be taken away from me as well? Do I want to put my heart on the line just to end up losing them eventually? Could I handle another death? I don't know? I really don't, It already hurts to think about losing my sister and my bestest friend in the entire world, I'm already so lucky to have them in my life, what if I lose them too?

I'm going to start getting into things that I didn't get into earlier this post. I put it down here because it might be triggering and I didn't want anything too sensitive to be at the beginning, I want people to be able to skip this stuff for their own mental health. As mentioned earlier I wasn't able to get therapy for a bit because I didn't have a legal guardian. My mother passed when I was 11 and I've never met my biological dad. My sister I mentioned earlier is my half-sister(I call her sister cause it's easier and no matter what she's still my sister) and her dad took me in very shortly after my mother had passed(I won't be calling him my stepdad, once again because it's easier to just say dad and no matter what he's still my dad, no matter what grudges I have against him) Anyways I didn't have a legal guardian for 6 years, finally getting adopted in January. I had no insurance as well(Btw I don't blame my dad for any of this, he kept getting scammed by the shitty lawyer. So yeah I couldn't get therapy and well I learned how to repress my feelings because of my dad, because y'know he can throw tantrums and be angry and cry all he wants but god forbid someone else is angry or sad. Looking back at it though, mom played a part as well, she just neglected me and didn't give a shit and I learned that no one cares about me.

On a lighter note because gosh I need it. I don't plan on going until I get out all or most of my stories! But my stories have a lot of morbid themes and concepts. One because me too, but I still think it's important to touch on things I haven't been through because others might have and it's a morbid world. I want those people who feel alone in this world to feel seen and heard. Abuse does happen, death happens, suicide is very real, hate crimes happen every day and yet I feel people don't talk about it as much as they should. Like sure the topic will blow up, but after like a couple weeks or months, boom it's forgotten and that's just...wrong. I plan on making it very clear that the topics I write about in my stories are not meant to idolize or romanticize these topics or to make jokes at them, it's just that messed up things do happen. I know how it feels to be and feel alone, like no one will ever understand what you've been through, and I want my stories to be some kind of comfort for those people. I'll put clear disclaimers and tw's on my games and stories so those who don't want to witness that stuff can avoid it. I understand that as well! Like yeah the world is messed up but I already go through that and I don't want to see it in media and stuff, I've definitely been there too. I think I want my games to encourage people who might be struggling to not give up though! You see these characters go through something tough but they're still alive and they get there happy ending(Though not all of my stories have happy endings)

Anyways yeah that's me and what's been happening, sorry for the long post and venting. I'm still working on asks when I find the motivation to and I did make some progress on them a day or two ago. I hope I can get out of this slump and come back better then ever. If any of you are struggling with anything mentioned above, I hope you're able to get help, please don't give up, you're important! Once again thank you all for being patient with me and for supporting me still! I love you all!💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

[cainite-bite]

"shouldn't life altering surgeries be greatly restricted? I don't think most people should or need to have access to any of it."

My gallbladder was in pretty awful shape and had some stones in it. All it took was one appointment to get an ultrasound set up, and then after said ultrasound was the surgery. Easy peasy- getting it removed changed my life greatly in the way of the horrible pain I was having every day that made it hard to eat, and therefore hard to live, was gone.

A friend of mine had a bad knee that mad it difficult to walk. He got a surgery for it, and some days it works and he can walk. Other days it gives him worse pain than it ever did before and no amount of a cane or a wheelchair will fix that part now. But one way or another it changed his life massively.

A relative of mine had a deformity with her arm and hand. It wasn't big in the way of it actually effected how she handled day to day life, it didn't hinder the hand or the arms function. But she had the doctors help remove and reshape things purely for the sake of cosmetics. It left her with a scar of course, but she doesn't feel insecure about it and people don't make remarks like they used to. At most they sometimes ask where she got the scar from, and now she can make up all sorts of stories she wants to and she does. But it changed the quality of her life quite a bit and made her happier.

None of us had to have a lot of consultations for it. None of us had our hands forced into seeing therapist after therapist after therapist, and for a few years, before we were told we could just have these things. Not a lot blocked us from our surgeries. Hell, I wasn't even really informed of some of the side effects that could happen with my surgery. But the point I want to round out to is for all of us our lives were greatly impacted by the procedures we had done- for better or for worse or for not much at all. And it gets me when people say things like that because should we have been barred off from having our life altering surgeries?

Oh wait, when people say that they don't mean it in good faith and they're going to argue that somehow it's different, that they don't mean us- even that cosmetic one- and that it should be different because it's for trans people. All I can say is you are right in that it is a little different; as in there are more hoops trans people have to walk through in order to even so much as get hormones than any of us ever had to for getting the surgeries we did. It's different in the way of trans people have less rates of regretting their surgeries than people who have had knee replacements do. It's different in the way of people will gladly tell 20-somethings to not even have a social transition but yet they don't say anything to the parents of young 14-16 year old daughters who are already ponying up the cash to get her breast implants for one reason or another the parents deem.

People's choices should be left between them and their doctor. Not to some random know-it-all, bad faithed, goober on the internet.

[debatenarutooocs]

Hi, this is one of Seelen's pal. 

She asked me to submit the allegedly "Naruto x Kushina" Hentai photo because she doesn't have time to provide evidence to refute it due to work. https://imgur.com/7MToDpc

The first picture is a commission Hentai of BraveKingShishio's character Makali and Kushina that Seelen created in 2018 for BraveKingShishio. I censored it of course. https://imgur.com/3PnHq3K

The second image is an edited version that a random person made of the commission and submitted to rule34. 

If you look closely, you can tell that the image has been modified in several different places.

1. Skin tone that is the same to that of the original OC.

2. The logo of Seelenkaetzchen The editor neglected to fill in the white gaps of the original white background of the image in her logo when creating the colorful background.

3. Hair from "Naruto" The shading in particular reveals that the hair's color was altered in several places. You just have to take a closer look.

I didn't predict anything more from Rin/Rin Defender than a last-ditch effort to grasp at anything to cast Seelen in a negative light. But anons statement was once more shown to be untrue. Keep in mind Rin or Rin defender that it was Rins fault and that she deserved to be criticized for what she did to Seelen and all of the other people including a big number of other Gaara x Oc creators, a few artists Rin commissioned, and Rins former closest friend Kora Bani / Koemi Chinoike. In fact Rin was the one to get things going by publishing untruths about Seelen and thenerdscorner publically in her stories and demonized descriptions in her subsequent image uploads. Having the nerve to tag their accounts even. Rin didn't want to and still refuse to apologize to Seelen for calling her out in the stories  she made up about her filled with lies and false accusations and I won't go into detail about anything else she did because it was made public. Additionally, Seelen is aware that Rin continues to misrepresent everything that occured to other people because they approached her to address it.

Now that Kora Bani expressed regret for her actions as an adult and made amends with Seelen, Rin obviously can't get over what happened because she's still bitter we all seen how Rin mistreated a lot of people including her buddy. 

Rin, you're the root of the issues you refuse to address. Leave Seelen alone and carry on with your miserable life.

Wow so someone stole Seelen's cm that she drew for braveking (kushina x male oc) and edited out to try to frame her as "incest" shipper? Yikes.

The truth will always come out! Now we all see the proof that it wasn't her who drew kushina x naruto incest art. Right now it must be embarassing for Rin defenders who litterally slandered Seeleen.

I dont get why Rin hates Seelen so badly, and to be obsessed to ruin Seelen's reputation.... it's not normal.Rin Mori needs to see a therapist to talk it out. She is so deluded to think she must drag and blame seelen who had nothing to do with original situation.

I honestly can't believe Rin won't acknowledge her mistakes and for wrongly accusing random people. It is unfortunately because in my opinion her behavior shows she feels no remorse nor guilt for hurting innocent people. It is concerning. She should learn from her friend korabani at least she took responsability of her actions and apologized to Seelen.

[oncetherenowhere]

We have new insurance info now, so I'm going to start the process of looking for a therapist again. The past few therapists were either not helpful, or actively set me back...especially the last one. H has a fantastic therapist that he's been seeing for a couple years now, and I'm hoping I can find someone with that sort of connection. There's a lot I want to work on...I want to work on my avoidance behaviors, my ruminating thoughts, my self-advocacy skills...I want to develop a personality that's my own, not something created for Everyone Else.

Fair warning- this post talks about bad experiences I've had in therapy. My intention is not to discourage anyone from therapy. They are a few of my experiences that I have been struggling to process.

This is a big vent about a lot of random stuff, I'm just emotional this morning. I'll make some more cheerful posts later, because it's good to balance things out, and there are some good things I've been trying to do recently, too.

It's a bit frustrating. I don't know why I've been so unlucky with therapists. I've been trying for three years to find someone who can help me. One therapist I had refused to make anything but small talk for the entire hour...whenever I tried to talk about things bothering me, she would turn the conversation back around to "So what are you doing this weekend?" and wouldn't address it. It was absolutely bizarre.

Another therapist specialized in mental health for autistic people, so I thought I had lucked out, but when my cousin died in a horribly tragic and sudden way, she didn't want to help me. She stared at me while I cried, but she didn't say anything at all. She seemed annoyed, but I couldn't tell, because, again, she wouldn't say anything. I was in so much pain, and felt so alone. It still crushes me.

My last therapist...thinking about her makes me panic. I was able to tell her straight up what I was looking for, what boundaries I had, and she was so sweet and accepting at first. Then she started forgetting everything about me, session by session. Not small stuff either, I'm talking huge things, the reasons I was there in the first place. Her sweetness turned into frustration when she couldn't understand why I was upset.

When I talked about teachers who had been cruel to me, she was on the teachers side, since she used to be one, and tried to tell me I had misunderstood them. When I insisted this wasn't a matter of perception, she got short with me, and moved on.

She wasn't good with queer issues, couldn't use they/them pronouns, and when I told her a story about being bullied for dating another girl in high school and how I was a closeted back then, she turned the conversation into how I was a liar for not being honest about my sexuality.

Our last session, she exploded at me about how the world wasn't a good place, and how everyone sucked, and nobody was kind- looking back, I think it was some form of angry sarcasm where she was trying to "repeat" what she believed I was saying. It terrified me though.

But, I was able to say, "I would like to end the session early."

When I did, her attitude changed. She suddenly started asking if I was safe, or if I would hurt myself. That terrified me more. I'd never even SPOKEN to her about self harm or suicidal ideation. I had to convince her I wasn't in danger. Then...

She started asking if I was mad at her. For five minutes, I had to reassure her that I wasn't mad. I did it because I felt I had to. I was scared that if I just up and left, she would call the police and claim I was a danger to myself and lie. So I had to sit there and reassure her until it was okay for me to leave with her permission.

It was so scary. Even thinking about it, I'm shaking. I'm so angry at her for putting me through that. She called me on my cell phone later to apologize...but then made me reassure her AGAIN. I ended up sending her a text that stated "I am not a danger to myself, I am safe and secure, I am canceling our future sessions."

I need a good therapist. I know they exist. I even had one, once, but she moved to a practice that would have cost me 200 dollars a session.

It just feels SO BAD to do all the steps society says to take to care for your mental health and better yourself, only to get shut down at every turn.

I need help! This mental pain is too much on my own! I am suffering! I just want one professional to believe me and help me. I don't want to be like this. I can't live like this! I have been touching it out myself for so long, and I just want help. I'm so desperate. I feel like I can't exist in society without someone either pointing and laughing, or getting angry with me. Do you know what that's like? To be treated badly every day by strangers? Even if the incidents are small, they're constant.

I do all the things. I journal, I meditate, I try to exercise, I do gratefulness exercises, I treat myself like a pet, but nothing is fixing the problem. Everything is a band-aid solution to get me through another difficult day. It helps, because if I don't do it, I break down, but I'm so tired of doing this alone. I'm trying to hard. I just need one professional to believe me.

I wish I had a better head. I wish I didn't have these mental health problems. I know this isn't good to say, but I wish I wasn't autistic either sometimes. I'm in so much pain. I just want to have a normal life. I want to get brunch with friends, and have dinner parties, and go to fun events...I want to do everything without getting stressed and panicked and EXHAUSTED.

H and I saw a movie last night, and I almost broke down in front of the soda fountain because they were out of the lids for the size of drink we got, and the people behind us got jokingly annoyed, but I was so panicked that I couldn't process the joke aspect until after, so I almost cried. Crying over lids! I can't do this! I want to work on this! I don't want to be like this. It hurts. I want to be charming, and joke back, and laugh, because it was so low stakes, it didn't matter, but my body processes everything as a threat.

I'm crying as I'm writing this. I just want help. I don't know how to not be like this. I feel like I'm in survival mode constantly and I'm tired. This blog is the only place where I can talk about these things in a candid, personal way, where I don't have to worry about being judged or seen as less than. I can talk to H, but I can't...I just CAN'T put ALL of this on him. He already helps me so much, and he has his own problems, and I love him so much. I can't do that to him. So I have this blog.

But I want a therapist. I want friends. I feel like I'm less than a human being every single day, and nobody seems to believe me when I try to say I'm struggling.

But I'm thankful I can write here. Even if nobody ever read this, it's so helpful to write here. Traditional journaling hasn't clicked the same way for whatever reason. Sometimes I even write big long posts and just stick them in my drafts. It feels good. It feels good to say all of this. I'm thankful I live in the age of the internet.

[journalofsorts2]

i didn't really realize this was a thing that had happened to other people, but i just saw a video on tiktok that said "it is what it is (i stopped listening to music)" and i was confused at first but then i figured out that other people had that period in their life where they just like didn't think. where they were floating through life and spent a good amount of time listening to music or other media to drown out the thoughts of anything. at least i think that was the context of the video. but like, a couple years ago i had this phase where just nothing happened. i don't really know how to explain it. but just nothing happened. i spent my time doing one activity exclusively, only taking breaks for eating, sleeping, and school. for a bit of time that activity was playing this one picross game with a specific mother mother playlist in the background. and it was a playlist made by spotify so it got changed one day and it set me off really bad, but i remembered the order of the songs so i just remade it. another time it was playing gta v story mode. not online, not the random side quest, just the story mode. i beat it like 7 times actually, or 8 idk. another time it was watching bob's burgers in on tab and playing tetris in the other. another time it was tracing people's art and coloring it (i never posted or claimed as my own) with those stupid my story animated videos for background noise. the point is, they were these really repetitive activities that i did for hours and hours, and days and weeks and months. and i just didn't think while i did my activity. i don't remember much from those couple years, i had breaks from the activity every once in a while but they lasted at most like a month. except for her. she broke me out of the cycle for a long time. i fell in love with her and when she decided she was done with me, it hurt like hell, but the cycle of activity she put me in would be the last time i got stuck in the cycle so i thank her for that. but i was like barely living during this time. and it's so easy to slip back into that routine of overstimulation to escape living, but i'm more capable of catching it nowadays. and it wasn't even like i was obsessed with what i was doing or something (maybe a bit with gta v but whatever) but like i wasn't overly hyped about playing picross or watching bob's burgers, they just happened to be the activity i got stuck in. i feel like this cycle was my compromise on living. i didn't want to be alive, i didn't want to keep waking up every morning, but i have a little furball that i wasn't about to die on, so i stayed alive but i stopped living. my body kept existing but my thoughts died. i was so empty. and over the years, bit by bit, i've started putting myself back together. but back then i just barely existed. i don't know. this is the kinda shit i want to work through in therapy. why don't i remember a good chunk of my life? why was i so empty? i can't remember the good stuff, but why can't i remember the bad stuff? but instead i'm too much of a coward to tell my therapist the stuff i want to talk about. idk man

[lexifer-666]

Got some more thoughts. Same warnings as before, still under the cut.

To an extent I still have some of those walls I built up during childhood. I broke a lot of them down, tossed just about every piece of armor into a river... But fuck man. Some of them are still here. A lot of my friends are very physically affectionate. They platonically cuddle and lounge on eachother... And I literally never join in. I want to! So bad! I would love to just fucking. Hug someone or play with their hair, or laugh my ass off in their lap. But there's this wall I hit every time. Like... Somehow it's not okay for *me* to do it. Like if I were to do it, even if everyone else im the friendgroup is okay with touching and being touched, that it would be wrong and I would be fucking up. Like I am the exception. And logically, I know where that comes from. I spent a lifetime watching my siblings get attention and care I was denied. I was too clingy, somehow. Even though I was a child, and my siblings were grown fucking adults. But I cannot for the life of me... Gods. I have this one friend... Who might be reading this. (Love you btw) They're very huggy, very touchy. It took me forever to hug them back when they hugged me. And it wasn't because they made me uncomfortable or anything, but it was like my brain short circuited, telling me if I hugged them back even though they were actively squeezing my damn ribcage I would be evil and horrible and crossing a line I was NOT allowed to cross.

I wish I could get over this last bit. I'm a naturally touchy person. Physical touch is like the one thing I want in life. I used to be really affectionate with others! But I got worn down. It's taken me a year and a half to play-punch my roomate back when he does it to me, or grab his hand back when he grabs mine. Or poke him to annoy him. (Though he never does get annoyed.) I think I'm making progress, but then I go to hug someone, and it's Error 404 all over again.

My family like... I don't know. My mom stopped hugging me when I was like 6, because I was 'too old' for it. My dad is just a naturally closed off person... And my stepdad was the LAST person I wanted touching me. I hugged my mom at christmas this year, though. It was... I don't know. We both acted like the other person was made of glass. My brother told me some stories about our mom's childhood. It makes me wonder.... What the fuck happened to her? It. Doesn't make any of how she raised me, okay. Or right. But.. It explains a lot. Sometimes when I lay in bed too long, or when I leave the same few pots in the sink for days on end, I can kind of understand the mindset she had to have been in when she was actively neglecting me. Doesn't mean I'm excusing any of it, or... Forgiving her, really. Just means... I kind of get how it happened. That's... The one thing about my stupid ass brain. It never rests until I figure out the REASON things happened. Drives me up the wall when there is no reason, no solid explanation, because everything has one. Nothings truly random, right?

I also have a really bad problem with control. I have a hell of a time giving up control over anything. At the dentists, I don't let them use the gas on me. I sit there and deal with it even as my body starts shaking from... Whatever happens to my nervous system when I'm under the drill. The eye doctor hasn't been able to get an eye pressure reading on me in a year or so. Last time, I had to have someone hold my head in place. I tell him yes, please just do it and get it over with. I want to monitor my eye pressure, it's an important part of the shit that's wrong with my eyes. I sit there, I steel myself, I keep my eyes open wide-- And my fucking head jerks back on it's own the moment the air starts blowing out on the thing. I physically cannot make myself stop. I hate it! And I really should do therapy about all this, but holy shit therapists are NOT working for me. They all want to just listen to me talk, not help me think things through and figure things out.

Gods, speaking of control. There's very few people I let see my body. And i mean. T-shirt and boxers level of body. My current roomate, and this one friend of mine (yes you, I know youre probably reading.) are the only people who haven't made me feel weird for how my legs look. Like... beneath a layer of fat is just. Sinew. Barely any muscle, and it looks so fucking weird compared to the rest of me. I wear baggy jeans to hide it, but lately I haven't been able to hide the way my feet turn inward when I walk. That bothers me to no end. Not being able to control my own body is.... Gods. Something I have to work on accepting.

What sucks is... I think I know the reason why I'm such a minor-control-freak. I had zero control over any aspect of my life growing up. Want to go to the same, prestigious middle school/highschool as your best friend? Because you really need every opportunity you can get to get into a good college? Sorry! We are moving to a town where the best thing they can teach you is how to castrate a bull. Want to learn judo? Or literally any martial art? Actually attend basketball practice and get to school on time for track? Sorry. Too much effort. Gas ain't cheap, you know.

It wasn't even just the big stuff, either. Where I ate, down to the seat at the table was controlled. What I said, how I said it, what I wore, all of that I didn't really have any say in. My house was more like a prison than anything.

Which is why..... All of this freaks me out. My brain keeps mulling everything over, searching for some trap. Some manipulation tactic they must be using. My brother always gave our family too many chances. He was always too trusting, to eager to have a normal family. I always prided myself on not being as foolish as him, on keeping a critical eye and not letting myself get hurt if I could help it. But... I cannot find anything... Decietful? All of it was too thoughtful, too genuine. It was completely different from any other way they've treated me, and... I don't know. I think they're being real with me. I can't find any way it wouldn't be real.... But the part of my brain that hunts down potential danger is rooting around, constantly. Trying so, so hard to find out what they're *really* up to. Even though it doesn't make any sense that they would be up to something. They know all it takes is one wrong word, and I cut them all off again. They know I'm my father's son, and if I don't want to be found, the only person who would ever be able to actually find me would be my dad. And that's just because he's the one who taught me how to dissappear in the first place.

I think... Maybe they've finally realized, theyre missing out? That they don't actually know me? I think that's the "why". I haven't quite figured out the "how". Like... How did they all simultaneously come to this conclusion? Its it because Im graduating soon? Or because I got diagnosed with muscular dystrophy? (Which my brother and sister both refuse to believe. Despite the fact that they haven't seen my legs. In years. They have no idea how atrophied they are. Despite the fact that there are MANY subtypes of the damn disease and it's looking like I have a mild-ish one.)

Whatever it is... idk. I hope this is real. I trusted a lot of people these past 5 years, and some of them burnt me, but also... Some of them turned out to be people I genuinely trust with my life. So... I'm giving my family one more chance, despite myself. I don't know why.

It's the new year and I've got weird family stuff happening I need to rant about. Under the cut. CW/TW for: mentions of emotional and physical neglect, manipulation, general abuse, homophobia, transphobia, ableism. Basically a huuuge traumadump post because i gotta have some place to work shit out. There's a silver lining at the end if you're willing to read.

so like. I spent years… YEARS being the family scapegoat. Everything I did was wrong. Everything about who I was… Was wrong. I spent the majority of my life building up walls and armor, carefully constructing this Person I should be. Quiet, calm, invisible. Never allowing myself to exist, never letting anyone know who I was. I hid so many aspects of myself- My gender, my religion, even the music I listened to, the books I read… The shows I watched. Because each of these things were weaknesses my family used against me. To belittle and manipulate me. There was… So much abuse and neglect. I've finally kind of accepted myself for being disabled, but I spent the better part of 3 years trying to convince my family that I wasn't faking or being dramatic, that there was actually something seriously wrong. It's been… 5 years since I moved out. I spent a lot of that time healing, letting the people around me see me for who I was. I stopped masking as much, and let my neurodivergent qualities show. I was floored when I would tell someone about something I was interested in, and instead of mockery I was met with genuine interest. I came out as trans openly, changed my name, started T. All the while… I had little to no contact with my family. I only showed up for funerals and shit like that.

In the past… Year? Ish? My family have all done a complete 180. They no longer act like I'm some demonic, sinner child. They all actually took the whole trans thing pretty well.. Which was a stark contrast to the hours-long lecture I got whenever I came home from my dad's house wearing men's clothing on my 14th birthday. It… Weirds me the fuck out. They actually treat me like a part of the family, they're listening to me when I talk instead of just talking over me. (I spent the ages of 16-17 barely speaking to anyone because I had literally fucking given up.) It's… I went to christmas this year. Voluntarily. I drove there myself. No one yelled. No one beat the shit out of eachother. I didn't feel disrespected at all-- The only time it even got close was when my mom was worriedly asking me if I could carry my own plate, to which I told her "I do this every day, mom." (I was doing things one handed, forearm crutch and all.) But…. I don't know. I should be happy that they're taking an interest in who I am now. I should be ecstatic! I might actually be able to have a relationship with my family! And… I am, to an extent. I'm… Happy I actually have a relationship with them now. Rocky, fresh, like I just got adopted and I'm still testing the waters.

But… There's also resentment. I spent my whole childhood, and 5 years of college and couch hopping, not feeling like I belonged anywhere. Of hating myself. They come to me now? After I've healed from them? After I already grew and moved on, began to accept myself, made real, genuine connections with other people? They enter my life with real love and acceptance now? When I don't fucking need them? Where were they when I was homeless? Where were they when I felt like my life was worthless? When I felt like only 3 people in this entire world actually cared for me and loved me? There's also guilt. I built friendships where… I related to my friends on the basis of. Oh fuck, none of us have good relationships with our family, we're all kind of outcast and scapegoated. Now… That's changing for me. And… I feel guilty. Because my friends deserve to have a family too. I shouldn't be the only one who gets to have this. All I can do is not.. Talk about it too much. It would feel like rubbing salt in the wound, and I do not want to hurt them like that. Soooo. I'm sitting here. At 5am. It feels like I've been sucked into an alternate reality where my family is… Not a bunch of traumatized, cycle-repeating abusive religious zealots.

My mother has discord? And knows what pronouns are? She straight up said "I'm sorry, I'm not meaning to disrespect your pronouns, I'm still getting used to this." Like… Jesus christ man she's 61. 61, ex-mormon, now evangelical, lives in a small town of literally 200 people. My stepdad didn't even really talk to me, either. Normally he would have some smartass thing to say, something to get under my skin and make me snap at him. And I was prepared to, he can't hit me now that I'm an adult without going to jail…. But he didn't even try. In fact, when the tarp on my car tore, he went to the next town over and bought me two rolls of expensive ass tape to fix it. Didn't even ask me to pay him back. I… Don't really know what to make of all this. The tiny, jaded 14 year old Lex that still lives in my heart is screaming at me. He's pissed, he doesn't want me to trust them a bit. But…. I don't know. I'm tired of not having a family.

[chefdoeuvre]

Aftermath

Jay Halstead

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Sister!Reader

Description: People always tend to forget about the aftermath.

Words: 2,122

Requested: yes by anonymous; second, if it's ok i wanted to request a part two to the imagine? i was wondering if you could just explore the aftermath of her assault, as she continues to heal and accept what's happened to her. by this i mean experiencing ptsd and having nightmares, flashbacks and dealing with certain triggers. also, maybe she could still sometimes turn to substances as many survivors do, and just break down sometimes. obviously since it's a halstead sister fic and i love the support system in the last story, i'd love to see jay helping her through everything and being super protective + some scenes with the rest of intelligence? but it's obviously up to you. thank you so much <3

Warnings: mention of drinking, sexual assault, drugs, language, PTSD, Jay Halstead and all of Intelligence being the best.

A/N: This is the long awaited part two to Infliction, and by long-awaited I mean like a month later. I tried to make the end light hearted because it seemed like a good way to go. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors.

—

It had been a few weeks since the party and things were beginning to look up. You and Brayden started hanging out more and it was safe to say the two of you were on your way to becoming best friends. The group of guys had all been arrested and sent far away from you. You, Jay, and Will have been having more frequent family movie nights instead of them heading out to Molly's every free night they got. Intelligence had basically adopted you as one of their own and even went out of their way to hang out with you. Kim and Hailey had girls nights away from the ever-annoying guys they work with. Adam and Kevin practically chauffeured you to hangouts with Brayden and took you out to your favorite diner on the weekends. Even Hank had called you once in a while as a check-in and to keep you informed about your case. Overall things seemed to be getting better for you.

Except for one little detail. Your PTSD was hitting you like a truck. Of course, the only person who even remotely knew what was happening was Brayden because he was the one person you spent most of your time with. Thankfully he was there to help ground you and calm you down when it all became too much for you. This wasn't sudden, it's been building up since it happened and clearly you needed to work on accepting it rather than shoving it all down. That's one thing you and Jay had in common, the two of you always had trouble addressing your problems no matter how big they became.

Currently, you were laying in bed and staring up at your ceiling that Jay had covered in stars for you. If there was one thing about you is that you still are a child at heart. You had been shocked awake by your recurring nightmare. It always followed the same premise of the night of the party but every night there were either different people, points of view, or different actions you took that still led you to the same outcome. There were dried tears staining your cheeks that you hadn't bothered to wipe away and every few moments there would be a soft sniffle to break the eerie silence.

Having enough of staring up at your ceiling you let out a low huff and pushed yourself up to a sitting position. You turned to the side and looked at the clock resting on your nightstand. The clock read 4:19 AM which was clearly too early for you to be up but too late for you to try and go back to sleep before Jay's rustling while getting ready would wake you up. Reaching over to open the drawer in your nightstand you checked the small bottle hidden under the glasses case that held your blue light ones. It was three-quarters full of vodka you had inconspicuously stolen from Jay's cabinet. You kept promising yourself that you wouldn't drink anymore, but clearly, that wasn't really panning out in your favor. Sure you would have a swig or two before braving yourself and heading off to school but it was to take the edge off, not to get drunk.

If Jay were to check through your drawer he'd probably think otherwise. You had stopped with the pills since he had found you, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him so you continued to drink. Obviously, it wasn't a lot and definitely not enough to get you drunk off your ass. You just wanted to be buzzed enough to have the courage to walk into your dreaded school every morning and deal with the numerous triggers you kept on discovering.

Eventually, it was time for you actually start getting ready for school. Jay had already left for work a while ago, leaving a kiss on your head before stepping out the door. You pulled on a random outfit that was comfortable and your usual pair of shoes before throwing your backpack over your shoulder and walked downstairs. Deciding against your worst judgment you made the choice to brave the day without the buzz of alcohol. Waiting at the front entrance of your building was Brayden. Like every morning the two of you would walk to school together if Jay had to go into the district early. If Jay only had paperwork that day he would drive the two of you to school instead, but that didn't happen very often.

The two of you walked to school silently, only exchanging a few words of greeting. Once you had made it to the large building you both had to split up for your classes. The day went on like usual, boring teachers droning on about upcoming assignments and tests. Lunch had arrived after what seemed like forever and you sat at an empty table practically half asleep. You held your head in your hand as you kept your eyes from slipping shut at the exhaustion.

"You not feeling too hot there?" One of your classmates from English asked as he passed by.

You froze at the familiar words before shaking yourself out of the memory.

"Fine, just tired." You brushed off their comment as he nodded with an understanding smile before continuing to his table.

Moments later the door opened and you picked your head up reluctantly. It was a few guys on the football team.

"You not feeling too hot there?" One of the seniors asked you.

You simply shook your head which only worsened the pain in it. The boys walked a few steps closer before placing their hands on your shoulders. They shoved you back onto the bed and immediately your body began to react.

You kicked and punched aimlessly to get them off of you but your movements were uncoordinated and your mind was foggy. There were too many of them and they began to overpower you, their hands wandering to unwanted places.

“Y/N?” Brayden’s voice pulled you out of the flashback.

“Huh?” Your teary eyes darted around his face before focusing on his concerned expression.

“Let’s head to the library, all right?” Brayden suggested already standing up from his seat across from you.

You nodded silently before hiking your bag over your shoulder and walked to the library beside him. Luckily at your school, they were lenient enough to let you head to the library during lunch. Usually, the kids didn’t take advantage of it but it was an unspoken spot of peace for you and Brayden.

The two of you sat at a table near the back and Brayden pulled a chair up beside you.

“Want to talk about what happened back at lunch?” Brayden asked softly.

You bit your lip in contemplation. This had been happening for weeks and every time you’d shake your head and change the subject. But the fact was it wasn’t getting better and you just needed to tell somebody that you weren’t okay. A few tears slipped out of your eyes which led to quiet sobs escaping from your lips. Brayden offered you a hug with outstretched arms, making sure to check if you were okay with it. You leaned forward into his embrace and squeezed his waist tightly. He held you there while rubbing soothing circles on your back until your cries stopped. You lifted your head off his chest and wiped away the remained tears on your cheeks before speaking up.

“Uh, flashbacks. I’ve been getting them for a while. I thought they’d go away, but they haven’t.” You explained with a sigh, avoiding his gaze and instead taking interest in your hands.

“Okay first, if they happen again tell me, or pull on my sleeve and I’ll get you somewhere quiet. Got it?” Brayden bent his head to try and get into your eye line.

You nodded your head with a hum before he spoke up again, “since they haven’t gone away maybe you should talk to someone. Preferably a professional, but if you’re only comfortable telling me then I’m all ears. Although, I’m not sure that I can cure you with magic, wish I could though.” Brayden tried to lighten the mood with his magic comment.

“Thanks, Brayden. Jay actually has been bugging me about seeing a therapist. Said it helped him with his PTSD, I think I might take him up on it.” You looked up at the boy with pursed lips.

“That’s good. Just know we’re not trying to force you into anything, we just want you to feel better however long that may take.” Brayden gave you a soft smile.

“You are wise beyond your years, you know that?” You smiled back with a small laugh.

“I try, I try.” Brayden shrugged nonchalantly.

“Can you come with me to the district after school?” You asked cautiously.

“Of course, not like I’d rather do my homework.” Brayden laughed.

“And there’s the Brayden I know.” You smiled widely.

Soon enough you and Brayden had been making your way to the twenty-first district to talk with Jay and probably the rest of Intelligence. The air was lighter between the two of you once you had finally started to open up. Of course, you hadn’t spilled everything but the little you had told him made the weight on your shoulders lessen slightly.

“Ah, baby Halstead and company, what brings you here?” Trudy greeted from the front desk with a tight-lipped smile. Even if she didn’t want to admit it, she had a soft spot for you.

“Can you ring us upstairs? I need to talk with Jay.” You asked.

“You’re lucky they haven’t caught a case today.” Trudy walked out from behind her desk and led you and Brayden upstairs.

“Thank you, Trudy.” You smiled and followed the woman.

“I have a special delivery for Detective Chuckles.” Trudy spoke up once the three of you reached the top of the steps.

Jay’s head snapped up from his desk with a look of confusion when his eyes landed on you. He quickly stood up and scanned you over for anything.

“What happened, are you all right?” Jay cupped your cheek in concern before sparing a glance at Brayden for any sign of something bad.

“I’m okay, I just needed to talk to you.” You reassured him.

“All right. You wanna head into the kitchen?” Jay asked.

“No, we could talk at your desk. They’re all gonna find out anyway.” You gestured to the rest of the unit who was watching the two of you intently.

Jay nodded his head and led you to his desk. You reached out and held onto Brayden’s arm as you pulled him along to take a seat and sit beside you. Of course, at this, the entire unit had gathered around with concerned faces once you started to explain to them. Jay’s expression was held with soft eyes as he listened to you agree with wanting to try therapy and asking for help.

Once you were done Jay stood up and placed a kiss on the top of your head before whispering into your hair, “I’m proud of you.” Jay pulled away to give you a warm smile.

“All right come here you little muffin.” Kim held out her arms with a smile.

You stepped forward into her embrace as she squeezed you tightly, she rocked the two of you from side to side eliciting a small giggle out of you. Hailey joined the hug with a laugh once Kim pulled her by the arm.

Antonio placed a hand on your shoulder once you, Hailey, and Kim pulled away, “I’m proud of you, kiddo.” He offered you a kind nod.

“So proud.” Kevin gave you one of his signature bear hugs.

“Okay, it’s my turn.” Adam squeezed his way to stand in front of you. Which caused everyone to laugh at his eagerness.

“I could never forget about you, Ruz.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he lifted your toes off the ground.

“Are we done yet? You guys are treating my sister like an attraction.” Jay sassed.

“You’re just mad that you only got to kiss me on the head and not a hug.” You retorted from leaning back into Brayden with a smirk.

“No, not true.” Jay shook his head with furrowed brows.

“Yup, totally jealous.” You nodded convinced.

“How did we go from a serious topic to Halstead and mini Halstead having a sarcasm battle?” Adam questioned with a confused expression.

“I learned to stop questioning it.” Brayden shrugged from behind you.

“It’s how we cope. Halstead thing, I guess.” You said with raised brows.

“Fair enough.” Jay sighed.

[a-tiny-frog-girl]

For the emoji ask game: 👊🥞🎂🍓🌙🙈🙊🙉🌌🪤🖍❇️💧☁️💗♥️💖

I have a many questions lol❤️

This is for Mars!! I love talking about her so much you don't even know 😭😭

👊 (are they quick to violence?) It would take someone hurting her friends for her to even get angry, and then she'd mostly just yell, so no lol.

🥞 (comfort breakfast?) Mars doesn't really have any type of favorite foods, but she does have a sweet tooth, so as long as it's sweet, she'd enjoy it and she'd still eat it even if it isn't.

🎂 (when is their birthday and do they like to celebrate?) Mars' birthday was not recorded because in my story, borrowers don't do human time. (semi spoilers now) However, she does know she was born in early Autumn, and the first time her birthday goes happens, she's not in a good place. So the next year the team goes all out to remind her that she's loved and to distract her, even giving her an official birthdate for fun. She does enjoy celebrating her birthday :).

🍓 (do they like fruit and veg? favorite fruit and veg?) Mars doesn't particularly like any food over another with an exception of sugary foods. She would definitely be excited to try fresh fruit and veggies, but she'd take some chocolate over it any day.

🌙(greatest wish? how far will they go for it?) I think Mars' greatest wish would just be to be enough for the people around her. She would drive herself into the ground physically and emotionally if it meant people liked her.

🙈(what part of themselves do they not want people to see?) Basically anything but what she considers perfect; which would be smart, able-bodied, agile, selfless, etc, etc.

🙊(what will they not stay silent about?) When her loved ones are mean to themselves, especially when they're straight up incorrect. She will have a literal debate with them about why they are a good person.

🙉(what is the worst thing someone could say to them?) Something along the lines of pointing out several mistakes and then saying that they or a loved one better off without her.

🌌(what inspired this oc? what was the first thing you knew about them?) I don't remember since I feel like I've known her for so long, but I remember knowing her name right at the very beginning. I think some of her first character traits were anxiety and loving space, if I can recall.

🪤 (what will always lure them into certain danger?) Loved ones in danger or loved ones telling Mars to go into certain danger for whatever reason. She would easily swap herself with any one of the people she loves if she felt that was the best way to get them home safely.

🖍️ (what advice would you give them?) I based Mars a lot on my younger self who struggled with self worth a ton. I would give her the coping mechanisms my therapist gave me and ask her to try to be kind to herself.

❇️ (what is their most prized possession? what do they value?) Two most prized possessions: Her yellow hair ribbon which was given to her by her mom when she was very small, and a green scarf knit specifically for her by a friend.

💧 (random angst headcanon) Mars' mom sort of gave up on her when she was a tween. She used to praise Mars all the time, but Mars started not being a smaller version of herself and she wasn't happy with her. Mars constantly thinks about what her mom would say or do in situations despite her being awful to Mars for years.

☁️ (random soft headcanon) Mars is INCREDIBLY curious about everything that she doesn't know. She loves learning more than anything and she is a very quick study. She could definitely be a genius with access to enough knowledge.

💗 (if they have a crush, is it noticeable? what changes?) Mars would probably go out of her way to get things for her crush and spend time with them and be too shy to touch them. Most noticeably, I think she'd be nervous talking to them even if she's known them for a while.

♥️ (their love language?) Touch!! Being in physical contact with someone makes Mars so happy and much more grounded. She actively seeks out to sit as close to her loved ones as possible.

💖 (are they a subtle or a showy lover?) Subtle because she's afraid that either she'll annoy them or they secretly don't care about her. The most showy she is would be with her trust when she decides to trust someone.

[boldlyvoid]

Intro to Criminal Minds: Why They Did It

Criminal Minds x MINDHUNTER AU

Spencer Reid x Margaret Carr (OC)

Part 1: Ed Kemper.

Summary: Spencer is teaching a 7-week seminar on the most interesting criminal cases, explaining their actions to understand why they took place. Only, not everyone in the audience is a student.

warnings: graphic details of a real rape and murder case, like every trigger in the book, applies to this fic so read with caution (if you watch either show you're used to it, however), it's all real and did actually happen and I don't support any of it. strangers to lovers, mutual pining, flirting, fluff, eventual smut, idiots in love, OC is Wendy Carr's daughter, her bio father is Jason Gideon

word count: 3.9K

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't having fun teaching.

He started with guest speaking, moving to special seminars a few times a year. But he wanted something more, settling for a 7-week criminal justice elective of his choosing.

Intro to Criminal Minds: why they did it. Giving Spencer an excuse to share the most intimate facts about serial offenders in a setting where no one could tell him to shut up.

14 students total signed up for the two-hour Seminar, taking place every Thursday at 11 am from September until Halloween. Over the 7 weeks, he would explain the fascinating insights of the most successful killers in the United States. Only asking that his students write about a prolific crime they find interesting by the end of term, for their full grade.

All he wanted was to read about obscure killers from around the world, from the perspective of aspiring profilers.

The first Thursday, he came prepared with his coffee a half hour before the class. He wanted to write the main points on the whiteboard in advance, nice and neatly.

To his surprise, a student was already there waiting for him. "Oh, hello,” he smiled softly.

She was sitting with a book in her hands, she pushed her glasses up her nose to look at him as he walked in. She was older than his typical student, around 35. Probably finishing up a degree or adding something to what she already had.

"Hi," she smiled at him. “Sorry, I’m early, I was visiting my mom at Quantico earlier.” She explained. "I'm not a teacher's pet or anything. Promise, I’m not even a student.”

It made him laugh slightly, correcting him like she read his mind. "It's okay, I'm Doctor Reid," he introduced himself softly.

“Margaret Carr, Peggy is also fine.”

"Pleasure to meet you," he said quickly before focusing his attention on the whiteboard.

He could feel her eyes on him the whole time he wrote, not wanting to turn around and catch her. "That's so interesting," he heard her mumble under her breath.

"Hmm?" He turned around.

"It's just that, everyday occurrences that never phase the regular person somehow cause psychopaths to kill," she read the board back to him.

"I was reading a study a while back about how psycho killers medulla oblongata is approximately 19% smaller than the average human’s. Based on the way they're nurtured as children affects if they grow up to kill. The ones that don't often end up in law enforcement and other positions of power where their psychopathic tendencies can come to play."

He was taken aback for a moment. He had never experienced a student who was like him before. Someone who just pulled facts into conversations like it was nothing.

"I read that as well," he smiled. "It is fascinating. The smallest amount of bullying and abuse from a mother or disappearance of a father figure can set them off."

"Or, on the other hand, there are people like Ted Bundy," she added. "He was well-loved and taken care of, but it went to his head. His god complex and affinity for lying led him to be incredibly charismatic and enabled his killing."

"You're very educated on this already; are you just interested in hearing me speak today?" He asked, not wanting her to leave, finding it interesting that she was there.

"Oh," she blushed. "I was going to talk to you more about it after the seminar actually."

“Okay, I’ll be waiting for you,” he felt a little giddy at the prospect.

"Thanks," she laughed. "Seriously though, I'm a big fan of your teaching style, I saw a few of your classes when my dad was teaching at the academy in 2005. It's a lot easier to remember facts if the lecturer genuinely loves what they're talking about."

"You're going to like this Seminar then. It’s basically just a way for me to get paid while unloading all the random facts I have,” he warned her with a smile.

"I know." She smiled back at him.

The rest of his students filed in slowly. By 11 am, 14 faces were staring back at him.

"Hello," he waved awkwardly. "I'm dr. Spencer Reid. For the last 12 years, I've worked with the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit. Catching serial offenders across the country."

He took a deep breath, letting the nerves find their way out of him. "I've been asked time and time again who my favourite serial killer is, which is a peculiar way to phrase the question. It feels morally wrong to have a favourite in the way people do with baseball players.

"I am, however, fascinated with several serial offenders' reasoning and explanation for why they did what they did. Every single killer is different, but it all comes back to 1 thing. Do you know what that is?"

They all shook their heads. “What is your relationship with your parents like?" He asked. 

Everyone in the room reacted; some students sighed, some rolled their eyes as they recalled their parents and childhoods to memory.

"When a person decides to kill, it's often never in the moment. It's in childhood. The majority of serial offender's stories start the same; their mother didn't love them, their father left. Someone at home abused them or put them down repeatedly."

"Thus, causing a hatred so primal to bubble. No matter how hard they try and fight it, the bubble always bursts. They go from fantasizing to killing in retaliation for their abuse, taking the anger out in stages."

He referred to the board. "Every killer has a stressor and a trigger—something that causes the urge to bubble and the event that causes the bubble to rupture.”

"Edmund Kemper is a fascinating example of this. He grew up with a family for the first few years of his life before his father fully abandoned them. His mother handled the situation by turning her anger onto her son; it was his fault his father left, he looked just like him, Ed was just another useless man who would never amount to anything," he emphasized the words. Hoping the class sees the effects words have on children.

"He started by cutting up dolls, stealing his sister's barbies and cutting their heads off. In his mind, he was getting out his anger and hatred for how his mother saw him. She hated men, causing him to mature with a warped idea of what women are truly like."

"His attraction to killing worsened his mother's hatred; she could tell something was wrong with him, that he didn't react to everyday situations the way he should. By the time he was ten, she was locking him in the basement for days on end, telling him he was a monster and her biggest regret."

"The change in her rage amplified his own. He hated hearing her speak. He hated the way she walked around, thinking she was better than him. That just because she was a mother and a working woman, she deserved respect and submissive’s. All he could see was a woman with a big head who needed to be humbled. This is the moment when the psychotic side of his brain blended his hatred of his mother with how good it felt to kill."

"Is that why he, you know?" Peggy cut in, running her finger along her neck as she pretended to cut her head off.

He pressed his lips together in an awkward smile, nodding. "His signature, as it's called, was decapitation. But more specifically necrophiling the severed head of his victims."

The whole class let out a disgusted noise, Peggy and Spencer making eye contact while they shrugged, it wasn't news to them.

"At age ten, he moved from barbies to cats and dogs, never leaving them around for his mother to see. While he hated her, he was also absolutely terrified of her. Breading a special type of killer. When you think of school shooters or preferential predators, what do they have in common?" He asked.

He pointed at a student in the back. "They have a specific type of victim they’re after?"

"Exactly. Most serial offenders want to go after the cause of their pain or attraction. However, Ed wasn't able to kill the source of his rage for a long time. His mother mentally abused him so intensely that he believed she was in control of him and that her opinion of him mattered. He saw her as his God, he loved her, but he also knew that he disappointed her.

"He ran away soon after to find his father. Travelling to California, only to be told he was unwanted there as well. It wasn't just his mother that his father was escaping; it was the fundamental aspect of family that he didn't want. Ed defiantly didn't want to go back to his mother after that, so he moved in with his paternal grandparents."

He kept catching the looks on Peggy's face. She knew the story already, waiting patiently to hear the words he chose to make the horrific acts seem a little more conversational.

"His grandmother was exactly like his mother. If I had to guess, his father most likely had a distaste for his own mother and thus divorced Ed's mom. Only he never grew up to be a killer, just an absent father—his absence doing to Ed what never happened to him."

"Ed killed his grandparents when he was 15. Telling the police and his therapists that they had beaten him constantly, they refused to feed him and called him names. He said he snapped from the trauma; it was self-defence."

Peggy laughed to herself, making him smile softly. "Sending him to a mental hospital instead of a juvenile facility was the worst thing they could've done for him," Spencer added.

"Why?" A student asked.

"Ed is a psychopath." He reminded them. "He doesn't feel empathy the way we do. You can admit that you feel bad for him, yes? If you understand why he killed people, it doesn't make you sick, like him, it makes you human. You see a hurt person hurting others; Ed Kemper sees himself as a new sort of God, choosing who dies, how and when."

"He was brilliant, having the exact IQ as I do," just a humblebrag, "the staff trusted him. He looked like an innocent boy, smart enough to take matters into his own hands for the betterment of his life. They gave him computer privileges, they let him work the front desk and file patient information. Giving him all the resources to learn about who he was inside and how to get away with it perfectly."

"Damn," another kid added. "When did he get out?"

"At 21.” He answered the student quickly. “Ed was interviewed by my mentor Jason Gideon, in the 70s. Where he explained that being locked up during his sexual prime, as well as the access to information, is what truly set him off more than his mother.

"He moved back in with her and his sister when he came out of the institution, immediately returning to the constant ridicule. He went from being told all the time that he was a smart and charming young man, capable of rehabilitation to a useless, no-good son, who would have been better off collecting in a condom or running down her leg."

The whole class laughed, shocked at his repetition of Ed's mother's words.

"He got his licence when he was released. And remember, this was prime time for hitchhiking in California; everyone and their mother walked the roads with a thumb in the air. It was the birth of free love and recreational marijuana usage. It was also the best hunting ground for a learning serial killer."

"He was able to pick women up, but like I said, missing his sexual prime while in an institution made him almost impotent. He didn't know how to speak to women; he had to create a fantasy in his mind every time, one that involved killing, before he could look at a woman."

"How did he get them in his car then?" A voice asked from the back.

"He was 6'9, 300lbs; he looked like a big teddy bear. And his mother was the local college administrative assistant, so the whole town knew him anyway. If Ed offered to give them a ride, it wouldn't be that bad, right?" Peggy turned around to face the class as she explained for Spencer, who just shook his head.

"He only wanted to rape the victims, originally," Spencer added. "But he couldn't. There was no release of the tension. The bubble that had been growing inside him was at its breaking point; he needed to just do it. Get it over with and move on."

"He killed 6 women in succession after that. Gaining the name "The Co-Ed Killer," well before anyone even suspected Ed Kemper," Spencer took a sip of coffee, feeling his throat start to dry as they reached the insane part.

"He was overly friendly with the cops; he wanted to get his record expunged and join the force.” Spencer finally continued. “Being told, "don't worry about your record, worry about your weight.""

"Most killers enjoy wearing a uniform for the power and talking to the police about their cases, in the hopes of gauging how smart they really are—taking pride in the fact that they are getting away with it for so long."

"He watched all the cop shows, and he read all the books. He knew that in order to get away with it, he had to do it where no one could trace it back to him. He knew he had to keep his cool and avoid looking obsessed with the case, but just curious enough to gain insight into how they thought he was doing it. It went on for years, and they had absolutely zero leads, finding headless bodies every few months before they finally received a call." He left them hanging, walking over to his sheet of paper and pretending to read it while they anticipated the catch.

"Ed always knew that he wanted to kill his mother. He just never knew when,” Spencer teased the story along. Noticing as the students fidgeted in their seats as they wondered what happened next.

“In his interview with Gideon, Ed said that he knew she would die 7 days before he killed her. He walked into her room that night to find her reading, with the audacity to ask if he wanted to come in and chat all night. Teasing him for the way he rambled to her. It was the last time she ever did that."

"It's hard to imagine his signature with the fact his second last victim was his mother," Peggy added, cringing at the thought.

"Wait," another student interjected. "Who was his last kill then if he only really wanted to kill her?"

"Remember how I said he lacked empathy?" Spencer asked. "He loved his mother in the same way a prisoner can end up loving their captor."

Peggy nods at the comparison, looking like she's never thought of it that way before, then smiling at him.

"You grow a bond through the trauma and when the only thing you've ever known is violence and hate, you don't know what to do when that's gone, it's hard to cope."

"He said he killed his mother so that she never had to know what he did. She'd never have to sit at his court hearings or be able to tell the media that she always knew he was a killer."

"His last kill was his mother's best friend," He finally answered the question.

"He didn't want his mother to be even more disappointed in him, but he also didn't want his mother's best friend to find her like that and be upset. So the obvious answer to him was to kill her too."

"What the fuck?" He heard a couple of kids say under their breath.

"Yeah," he agreed with an almost chuckle. "This is what I mean by their answers are fascinating. It makes so much sense to them; clearly, if I kill my mother, her friend will be upset, so the best answer would be to put her out of her misery as well. He sees them as objects, like a matching set. One would lose value without the other."

Everyone was silent then. The students took in all the information they had just received, staring up at him with a look of disgust mixed with wonder.

"Any questions?"

Peggy raised her hand for a change; he pointed towards her in approval. "You missed the part where he specifically took the heads from the three women before his mother and brought them back home with him. He buried them in the yard outside her bedroom window, making sure they were always looking up to her."

Spencer was amazed that she knew the details. "Yes, I guess I did."

"I always found that part particularly interesting in this case," Peggy added. "Her opinion mattered so much to him. He knew how much she loved her co-ed's and how they looked up to her so much. They'd be exactly like her. He felt trapped in a town of women who were exactly like his nightmare, and his response was to make them physically look up to her for the rest of her life."

"Exactly." Spencer smiled. "understanding how he sees the situation and how the events played out in his mind is the key in figuring out who he is."

"If you were on the case in '72 when the first victims were discovered, how would you have handled it, Dr. Reid?" A male student in the back asked in the silence between answers, taking his shot before Peggy and Spencer went any further in their discussion.

“That's a hard thing to answer, connecting evidence back then was a lot harder than it is today, if it wasn’t for men like Ed there wouldn’t really be this many answers,” Spencer said honestly.

Another student put her hand up, “what’s the worst thing he did in your opinion?”

That racked his brain, there was a handful of horrific things he did that were particularly horrific, “probably his mother's entire murder.”

“What did he do?”

Before Spencer could answer he saw Peggy open her mouth and start explaining. “He not only cut off her head and fucked her neck, but he also took her vocal cords out and shoved them down the garbage disposal. And before he called the cops, he cleaned everything up and made her look presentable because he said his mother wouldn’t want guests to see the mess.”

The class all cringed, sinking into their seats with disgust. But that didn’t stop Peggy from explaining it all further.

“He used to go to a bar all the cops went to and he would talk about his case. They would always one-up themselves and say they were close which gave him this false idea that they were on his tail and they’d find his mother soon. But when they didn’t, he called it in from a payphone and said he’d come over and explain it all. And boy did he ever, the cops said he wouldn’t shut up. And then when they put him in the cop car finally, a woman walked past him and he threw up.”

Spencer watched her with awe, the way she could call information to memory like that was beautiful. He listened to her like he’s never heard a fact before, she was so intriguing.

“Thank you for the detail,” he teased her lightly. “Sometimes I get so caught up that the really gross parts get swept aside.”

The class smiled at him, he had gained their trust and attention within only 1 hour of class.

“I know you said you don’t have a favourite,” another student asked from the back. “I agree it’s weird, but who is the one you gravitate towards the most?”

“I’ve met hundreds of serial killers, I’ve read about thousands,” he explained. “I think Ed Kemper is the one I gravitate the most around because he was so willing and open to explaining why he is the way he is. Going as far as to say that the only way they could keep women safe is to give him a lobotomy. He didn’t believe there was any correcting to be done, only removal of the evil within him.”

He heard slight mumbles as everyone took in what he said. “Does anyone here have a killer or a case that interested them in learning more, or just introduced you to the chase of justice?”

Peggy put her hand up, “I personally think BTK is the scariest, most tactical, and just downright evil man to ever exist. He scares me to no end but he’s so interesting to learn about.”

“Ahh,” Spencer agreed. “Too bad you won't be here for week 3. But with that I think I’ll end the class, next week we’ll be discussing the difference between Ted Bundy and Richard Speck.” He nodded lightly, watching the majority of them close their books and had on out.

“I really enjoyed the class,” she said softly. Holding her purse in one hand, a collection of files in the other.

Spencer turned to look at her then, smiling right back. “It was a pleasure to teach alongside you.”

“What do you mean?” She teased, “it’s not like my mom and dad were the ones who did all the interviews."

“Carr,” he repeats her last name. The gears turning in his mind as he brings all the information forth.

“Your mother is Wendy Carr, she was recruited after the BTK case with Bill Tench, she’s who was behind that study you mentioned.”

“I know,” she smiled.

“Who’s your father?”

“Guess,” she looked at him with an unimpressed look on her face, pushing her glasses up slightly.

“You’re kidding? Gideon never said he had a daughter let alone a,” he stops himself before he can embarrass himself any further.

She smiled at the implication of his words, “but he’s told me all about you Dr. Reid, that’s why I'm here.”

“You need help with a case and I’m the only agent in Virginia currently,” he pressed his lips together awkwardly. Knowing it was too good to be true that she would have any interest in him in the slightest.

“No actually, I have a case I’ve been working on privately and I need some help. I asked my dad but he said you’d be able to help me the best. I agree,” she corrected him softly. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was a big fan of yours. When I would sit in and watch his lectures, before he knew I was his kid, you would always step in at the best parts, adding the smallest details to the story that the average person would forget. It’s magnificent.”

He laughed slightly, tugging at his collar as she complimented him. “Thank you, you’re quite magnificent as well,” he replied with a blush and a smile

She didn’t look like Gideon, probably because she smiled so much. Like sunshine on legs, she beamed, all but blinding him with her smile as she stared at him, “do you want to get lunch and go over this case with me?”

“I’d love to.”

taglist: (message me if you want to be added or removed)

@shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

[ofchrysoprase]

He had to fight hard, very hard, against his instincts in this particular moment. It was ten years of experience, knowing Duckie and his aversion to any attempts at coddling their parents had mistakenly made. Hoseok wasn't a physical person, per se — he very much valued his personal space and was not comfortable with random people touching him. His mother hadn't had a habit of holding him ever since he was old enough to walk and so he would still tense up whenever someone tried to hug him. It was foreign and it felt like a trap.

There were exceptions he'd had to make. Jiwon was a very clingy person and so his best friend was probably one of the few people he regularly allowed in his comfort zone. The other people? Probably just his adoptive parents, purely to benefit them and not himself.

Still, he couldn't help the urge inside of him to do something, anything, to physically provide comfort. He wasn't stupid, he could tell that Duckie was in the middle of hatching an escape plan and who could blame him, really? Hospitals were uncomfortable, no matter how hard the personnel tried to make things as accommodating as possible. Hoseok didn't envy their work, having to deal with all sorts of crazy emergencies, especially in a town where multiple killers roamed freely.

He winced when Duckie confirmed the broken arm and then provided the added information that his ribs were also broken. Jesus. Hoseok couldn't imagine how fucking painful that had to be, even while on painkillers. He had never broken a bone in his life, nor did he want to know what it felt like. But he was positive that Duckie felt nothing short of broken, at least from a physical point of view, if not also mentally.

He could feel his heart hurting when Duckie spoke again, this time asking him to take him home. Even if it hadn't been for the eternity it had taken him to get to the hospital through the results of the blizzard, he knew very well that he wouldn't be able to provide the medical care that Duckie required right now. "I understand," He started, trying to keep his voice as levelled as possible, despite all of the emotions that threatened to alter it. "I mean, I know being here sucks. When I was in the hospital, before we met, I also just wanted to go home. That was all I wanted." He tried to empathize, though he doubted that it was what Duckie was looking for. His brother likely didn't give a fuck about stories from the past right now, after everything he had just been through.

"There's still a blizzard outside," He then carefully added, though it wasn't even relevant right now. "Is it okay if I stay here with you? It's going to be hard to get home." He bit down into his bottom lip, anxious eyes locking with Duckie's. He didn't want to show how much he worried, didn't want to ruin their mutual silent agreement to stay out of each other's business and peacefully exist alongside each other, without any questions asked or any demands for displays of affection.

Hoseok then took a deep breath, averting his eyes for a moment as he braced himself for the reaction he was about to evoke. "I know you probably don't want to hear or even believe this. But you're safe here and I'm not going anywhere. We don't have to talk, I can even sit outside if you want me to. But what you went through... Nobody should have to. And I know those words are fucking cliché and make me sound like your average therapist, but I also know how sometimes it's important to hear it." He paused, hesitated. "I brought some books, if you'd like me to read to you or... we could just mindlessly watch shitty tv. Whatever you need."

duckie had found himself in terrible situations before ; his experience at the mall wasn't the first time he had suffered great harm , or endured severe trauma . that being the case , however , did nothing to help duckie through what had happened . something about the attack , and particularly the aftermath of it , felt so different . he couldn't even begin to properly process all that had happened , and all that he felt about it . it was far too soon , and far too much had happened that duckie's mind couldn't yet allow him to properly unpack , but even so , there was no escaping what had happened to him .

as he sat in the hospital bed , he was fortunate to be on such strong medication . the painkillers that altered his state and his mind helped not only the physical pain , but the mental pain , too . though he was still in great amounts of pain - both physically and mentally - his current state helped him to not do anything dumb , like trying to flee from the hospital far before he should . but even as duckie was slightly woozy , feeling completely out of it , battling with repetitive and muddled up thoughts and memories of the horrors endured , he was himself enough to already be conscious of too much .

duckie knew that he didn't want to be there , he was aware enough to feel trapped and out of control , stuck and horrifically vulnerable . as he battled the feeling , flashes of memories from the attack overwhelmed him with discomfort and unease . perhaps the worst feeling in the world for duckie was vulnerability , but he had been forced to be his most vulnerable during the attack , and in an attempt to regain power , he had ended up lying unconscious in the snow on the roof of the mall ... as he thought about the last moments of the attack that he could remember , he shivered . despite being safely inside of the hospital , duckie still felt cold .

he was really struggling to come to terms with the position he was forced into in the attack , and the position that he was stuck in now . stuck . that really was one of the strongest feelings duckie felt right now , and it was horrendous . as much as duckie hated vulnerability , he needed control , and to be stuck without a single ounce of control , it was more than distressing . the more his medication began to wear off , the harder it was for duckie to just sit there . slowly but surely he began working himself up more and more .

when hoseok walked in , suddenly and unexpectedly , duckie had been trying his hardest to manoeuvre his body into a position where he could rip his iv out . with broken ribs , severe bruising , cuts and stitches all over his body , and his dominant arm broken , it was almost impossible to move anywhere near a position in which he could do so . he had his good arm lifted as high as it could go - which wasn't very - and his head bowed down as far as it could go - again , not very - but he couldn't grab the iv or even any of the tubing to pull it out with his teeth as planned . he swiftly gave up upon seeing hoseok ; he didn't need him alerting the nurses that he was a risk to himself , or a potential run away patient - not that leaving felt possible after the miserable attempt to even just move a little .

he didn't want hoseok to be there . it wasn't that duckie didn't care for his brother - though honestly , duckie struggled to care for anyone - it was all just too much . duckie was combative in response to care , and with ability to be combative stripped from him , it was something else that added to that dreaded feeling of vulnerability . he began feeling nauseous , his body's natural response to his fight or flight mode that had been activated since the very beginning of the attack . at least in the state he was in , he struggled to show any signs of not wanting his brother there .

he couldn't find the words to respond to his brother at first , and it was strange , for duckie to be the silent one . he swallowed thickly , and the action was enough to hurt him ; he looked up to meet hoseok's eyes only once , before looking away . he felt deep shame , for being in such a vulnerable position , and for being unable to pull himself out of it . when hoseok spoke again , duckie finally did respond , though his voice was quieter and raspier than usual due to his injuries . " one of them broke my arm . " he confirmed . " not before another one broke my ribs . " perhaps the worst of his pain right now , as no inch of him could move without his breathing feeling restricted and his chest feeling beaten in all over again .

he had the nagging feeling that he should say more , say something else , but he couldn't conjure the ability to all on his own . what else could he say ? his mind wasn't forgiving , it wouldn't allow him to think of something to say that wasn't directly about the elephant in the room , but to speak too much of the attack only risked him describing how weak and how compromised he was . it was a disgusting feeling , to be so uncomfortable , and duckie was working himself up all over again . " can you take me home ? i don't need to be here . " he lied , though not with the intention of lying , as part of duckie truly believed that he didn't need to be there , that he would fare just as well on his own , at home .

[bucky-till-the-end-of-the-line]

In the Meantime | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: when Bucky took Steve out of the water he left behind everything that kept him captive the last 70 years. So he had another mission and that was restore the man he was one day. In the meantime he meets someone who helps him go through everything, his very own ride or die.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings ⚠️: mentions of trauma, murders, sad bucky, fluff at the end

Author's note: I'm very insecure with almost everything I do in my life so if you're enjoying the turn the story is having please let me know. If you have any suggestions let me know as well

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Four months have passed since we went to the museum. He was very quiet the first days, I had to start working so I had to leave him alone for most part of the day. He seemed to appreciate that time alone because when I returned home he helped me cook dinner, wash the dishes and even start conversations.

The first memory he told me, 4 weeks ago, was about Steve, Captain America himself, they were old friends for what he can remember. They were inseparable, he looked after him a lot because Steve was bullied and always ended up in fights.

-And then he had to wore newspaper on his shoes because he wasn't as tall as he is now, after the serum and all. He thought no one noticed but his mom and I often joked around him telling that some random guy walking by and laughing was mocking him for that- he said laughing, his smile was beautiful. He was really reliving that moment

-I can't believe it. He seems such a powerful soldier now, how things change- I answer while calming down for the outburst of laugh.

-Yeah... I guess some things can change after all- he said with one last smile and looking down at his glass of wine.

-So... what happened to you all this years? Any news on that subject?

-I got blurry memories, the things I recall I'm not ready to tell you yet- he said looking in the eyes with total honesty.

-I get that, it's okay, whenever you're ready. Maybe if you didn't tell me and talked with another person...- I said trying to sugest something and he interrupted me.

-There's no way I'm going to a therapist, I told you- he said, not mad, not screaming, just resigned

-But why?

-I don't even know what is legal and what no anymore. I can't talk about my past or the things that keep me up at night because I'm going to end up in jail or in a mental institution.

-James you have to talk to me then, I can help you. But if you keep drifting me apart I won't be able to understand and do something about your situation- I said grabbing his flesh hand and playing with his fingers while he watched my moves.

-It's just...- he seemed so embarrassed- Okay remember the other day while we were watching the magic box? The girl in there talked about The Winter Soldier?- he said looking to my eyes, he was having a hard time talking to me. We had passed the times where he couldn't talked to me and now we were back.

-What about it?- I said listening carefully

-Well I'm him, I'm the ghost story, the winter soldier- he said putting his hands in his face and rubbing his eyes.

I didn't know what to do with that information, I mean I support him because clearly he didn't want to do all the things the TV said he did, he didn't behave like a serial killer, but in the other hand what could I do? A newbie journalist in a city far away from home, with none experience at all in this sort of things, super soldiers, avengers, villains kind of thing. But I was going to find a way, something will come up. For now he have to stay low profile. I was thinking on finding him a job or anything but now this changes everything. He can't leave the house because any minute now the FBI, CIA, Captain America or Iron Man is gonna show up in my door and take him. And neither of us wanted that.

-Please say something- he is scared of my reaction, I can tell that.

-I'm not mad or scared Buck, I just need to know, why you did all those things that lady said?- After the problems in D.C. all Hydra and the Avengers's files and secrets were out in the web for everyone to read. The media began to inquire and found a lot of stuff to harm everyone. But something was clear, that ghost story was real. Since that file went public every single wrongful murder in the last 70 years made sense. It made an impact on people, in the media I worked it's a news that must cover any section everyday.

-I... I'm sorry Y/N, I told you it was bad, I never meant to do all that things, but I'm starting to remember everything, and every victim, every moment, I recall their faces and their fear and that is what keeps me up at night, I'm sorry- he said again, looking at me and rubbing his eyes in an attempt to hold his tears back. His voice was shaky- If you want me to go I will, if you are here protecting me... if they got me... they will lock you up as an accomplice- he grab gently my face so I can look him in the eyes- I don't want anything bad happens to you.

-It's okay, I'm not letting you go anywhere Buck, I just want to know what is happening. What happened with all of that murders? What make you do it?- I said trying to understand, grabbing his hands and intertwining our fingers.

-In the war they captured me, they tested in me some variation of the super soldier' serum the states used on Steve- he said looking at some spot in the wall. Our hands still together

-Who are they?- he turned his gaze to me.

-HYDRA, the scientific division of Hitler, they were the ones trying to create the perfect soldier and the superior race humans. They used enemies soldier to test in them. Anyway when I fell off the train in 44 they captured me, they brainwashed me and put me in cryogenesis to sleep until I was useful again. They said I was shaping the century, whatever that means. I don't recall having a life other than those damn words and the moment I kill the target- that last words were the ones that break him, it was something so big what was he telling me. Of course, hearing his story for the point of view of what they say on the news he was a deadliest mercenary but in reality he is the victim here not the victimizer.

-What words bae?- I said unconsciously, cleaning one of the tears on his cheek.

-They programmed me to kill, so each time I wake up from being frozen I tried to run, leave the place, found Steve, Mr. Stark, my family, someone who can help me. But all those years of lobotomies paid the price and after some time instead of fried my brain they said a bunch of words that had the same effect, the effect to put me in the winter soldier mood, ready to comply every task they gave me- I look in his eyes, after all he said tonight I think he is relieved, obviously he is sad, and we're not even close to his sanity but this was a hell of a step, he did so much by remember all this things and telling me. Now we can work together and focus on restore the man he was before Hydra, the brainwash, the war, everything.

-Okay now, is there anything else you want to talk with me?- I asked, waiting for him to feel comfortable again to talk like he just did.

-Maybe in another time- he looked tired- I just wanna go to sleep and thank the gods they sent me you- he said and my heart shudder. I wasn't going to lie, the last month was something, he was a very kind man, caring and tender. There were days when he didn't want to came out of his room, and I understood that. But the other days where just wonderful. I was developing some kind of feelings towards him but come on, he was a 100 year old men who was really trying to understand the 21st century and help me with everything that surpasses me. It was impossible not to fall.

And that was the night I knew his story, who he was the last 70 years. In the museum we found a little thread that we kept pulling from until found out all he has told me. I suspect that there is more. But the last time was a lot of information. He and I were overwhelmed so it was fine not to talk about that for a while, he will when he is ready. Besides I wanted to give him a rest.

I had an idea, something that might help him. There was a veteran support group near my home, he could even walk there. I have to convince him tho that was the difficult part. He was so terrified of anyone recognizing him that he nearly left the house.

-What do you wanna eat tonight Bubby?- he said my nickname, since I told him that was how my father call me when I was little he didn't call me other way and I found it adorable. He walk in the kitchen and pour two glasses of wine. We we're watching a movie in the living room, I was relaxing after a long day of work, it was finally friday. Lately those were my favorite days because the next 48 hours I could spent time with my favorite super soldier. Truth is the feelings towards him were growing stronger. It scared me a little but that was it. I couldn't deny the reality.

-I don't know, maybe we can order something?

-Okay, I pay- he said with a huge smile

-What?

-What you've heard, I got my money now- he said very proud of himself, sitting beside me again in the couch.

-How...?- I said in disbelief, as far as I'm concerned he didn't have a job, he didn't even leave the house when I was at work.

-Well... there is a mechanic shop a few blocks from here, I was walking one day and he needed help with one car and we kind of made friends, we don't talk much tho, just fix cars together and he pays me for that- he walked me through his job, he was saving his money to take me out for dinner but he wasn't so sure to step into the public yet. But he was delighted with the idea of deliveries. Back in the day that wasn't so common.

-I'm impressed, you are a big kid now- I said giving smiling and giving him a kiss on his cheek- I'm so proud of you. You are the strongest men on earth.

-Thank you bubs, I was motivated because I want one of those things in my bedroom- he said pointing at the TV.

-Ohhh I like that idea, it's good to have something that motivates you- he looked at me and smile, he moved closer to me and put his arm around my shoulders- Can you order the food from your telephone?

-Yes, I'll call right now- I deal the number asked for the pizza and we waited for it while watching the movie together.

After the dinner we stayed in the kitchen a while, talking about how things have changed from the 20th century to the 21st, what he loved the most about the future and what he missed from the 40s.

-I know a place, you can go after your job. I think you would like it, or maybe just give it a try you know- I said looking at him while playing with my fingers, I was a little nervous.

-Where?

-There is a veteran support group 5 minutes from here. I think you can share life experiences with them, maybe you can find yourself comfortable there- I looked at him, waiting for his expressions. I didn't want him to think I didn't wanted to hear him or I wasn't interested in his stories- they might have more psychological tools that I have. I don't know, it was just a thought.

-I found extremely kind and loving you spending time on thinking how can I feel more comfortable or better- he smiled at me, I felt relieved- I'm going to give it a try- he stopped- when I'm ready

-YES! Thank you buck- I hug him and stayed there for a while, between his arms. It was the first time we were this close. At first he didn't react, but after a while he wrapped his arms around me and hide his face in my neck. He gave me a kiss in my cheek and immediately got away from me.

-I think I'm going to go to the bed now, I was a lovely night Y/N- he said as he used to every night.

.

-Have a good night Buck- I watched him walked away from the kitchen. I was so proud of him. But there were boundaries that got him tensed, we were gonna get there and break those. I knew it.

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Chapter IV

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[chronal-anomaly]

Lena, would you rather go back to being lost in the slipstream or make someone else take your place?

Random anons | always accepting!

There was a long pause, as Lena pondered the question. A combination of the orange flight goggles and a well-crafted persona kept the array of emotions from her face, refusing to display her thoughts for the unknown asker. There were things in Time she was open with - different timelines, the different jobs she had worked for something to eat, a place to stay. Shopkeeper and tea master, even one odd trip to a remote tribe who respected her as something holy. Lena would share these stories with her friends and family as the timeline would allow.

But there are different stories. Darker stories. Watching her family die in her hands. Feeling their bodies pass through her as if she was nothing, as if she wasn't even there. Watching the monstrosities that humans were capable of, powerless to do anything. Death, destruction, disease. Many of these stories she's avoided telling even the team of therapists assigned to her once she had returned. It was impossible to parse through them, to process them, if she ever spoke them outloud.

Lena's smiling when she looks up. "Nah, it wasn't all bad. Plus, if there were two Tracers floating around, I think I'd be more concerned about tha'!"