#i hope next time i get a therapist or psychiatrist i can try to talk about it?

[missvelvetsstuff]

Where you goin, Star?  

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Reader meets Bucky when the truck hauling her show horses breaks down as she is trying to leave for an event and he works for the mechanic. Passionate, secret love affair ensues. After a confrontation with her father, Bucky decides she deserves better than a poor biker like him and leaves town with his friends Steve and Sam.

Three years later, reader is trapped in an abusive relationship and about to give up hope of things ever improving, when Bucky comes back.

Chapter 10

Warnings: swearing, angst

The next morning Star spent 2 hours with the physical therapist, who gave her stretches and exercises she could use to build her strength back up.

Then she spent an hour with a nutritionist to help learn how to gain the weight she had lost, healthily.

Then a psychiatrist who specialised in addiction and PTSD.

Each one left her with a stack of papers and scheduled appointments for the coming week.

By the end of the day she was released from the hospital and taken in Tony's car to Stark Tower. Pepper showed her to a beautiful suite with a small kitchenette, fully stocked with healthy snacks and treats.

"You can make your own meals but we have a chef who can whip something up any time you need." Pepper smiled at her.

Star teared up. It had been so long since anyone even tried to be nice to her that she felt overwhelmed. Everything felt like too much. "Thank you Pepper. I think right now I could use some sleep."

Pepper gave her a gentle hug "Of course. There's a Stark phone on the desk with instructions included. It has the numbers you will need here. Me and Tony, the chef, the detectives. That sort of thing."

She showed Star the dresser and closet, filled with clothes.

"I guessed on your sizes but these will get you started and we can go shopping when you're up to it. Try to get some sleep and I'll see you tomorrow" and left Star alone with him.

Bucky sat on the couch in the living area "Do you want me to leave too? I don't wanna-"

"No, please stay" she blurted out then covered her mouth. "I'm sorry, I just don't want to be alone."

Bucky shook his head "You don't have to apologize to me, I'll be here as much or as little as you need.

I know that we need to have a talk but no pressure. I'll be here when you're ready. Do you want me to put my number in your phone? In case you need me?" He looked at her hopefully.

She handed him her phone. "I think I'm going to take a bath, wash that hospital smell off." And grabbed some pajamas.

The bath was wonderful, deep tub with jets and never seemed to run out of hot water. When she left the bathroom she saw Bucky dozing on the sofa so she gently laid a blanket over him and went to bed.

Star crashed hard but woke up in a cold sweat and ached all over, her head pounding. She shook her head, which made it ache more, and reminded herself that this was just part of the withdrawals and they will pass with time.

When Star was up to it a few days later the detectives and a couple of attorneys that Tony recommended came in to discuss her accusations against John, a divorce, her inheritance from her grandmother and her fathers fortunes. Everything was all intertwined.

The divorce papers were drawn up quickly and were very simple. The majority of John's possessions were in fact hers and she was giving him nothing since she had evidence of infidelity and abuse. She braced herself for the drama because she knew John wouldn't just walk away. The last 3 years with her father's money and connections had emboldened him. She was honestly surprised that he hadn't shown up already.

Star wasn't doing well emotionally. Going over the horrible things that John and Brock did to her was difficult and reliving it all was giving her nightmares.

Bucky held her hand through all of it, she really didn't have anyone else but the more she remembered the more questions she had for him. She wasn't up to dealing with that yet. While she felt safe in Stark tower she worried about her horses so Tony sent a security detail to keep them safe.

On the third day, after lunch, she received a text from Tony's bodyguard, Happy Hogan. John was downstairs in reception demanding to see her and Happy was asking what she wanted him to do. She called her attorneys to see if they could come in and when they both confirmed, had Happy tell John to come back in 2 hours, so she had time to eat, shower and wait for them to show up.

After her shower, Star looked through the closet to find something comfortable but not too casual. She found a short sleeved green wrap style dress and sandals, impressed at how perfectly the dress fit. She made herself a mental note to thank Pepper and compliment her eye for size and style.

Bucky had told her he had business with Tony, Steve and Sam today so wouldn't be around until the evening. She had gotten used to having him around all the time so felt a little exposed seeing John for the first time but she knew that Happy and Rhodey would keep her safe. She did send Bucky a text to let him know John was coming over.

When Happy knocked on her door she had been sitting on the couch, daydreaming about getting back to her horses and the life she wanted. None of her dreams gave her any insight on how or where Bucky would fit in all of it.

The knocking startled her out of her thoughts so she stood up, smoothed her dress down and took his arm as he escorted her down to the conference room where she saw Rhodey waiting. He gave her a quick hug and whispered reassurances in her ear.

Star took a deep breath and entered the room to see John sitting and Clint standing behind him. She wondered briefly where Brock and Jack had gone but was relieved they weren't there and figured John had fired them for letting her survive and get away from them.

John stood and smiled at her "Sweetheart I've been so worried about you" he reached towards her which made her flinch and Rhodey stepped up between her and John.

That pissed him off "Whats this about? I cant even get near my wife? What the fuck is this game, Y/N?"

Happy looked at him coldly "I already advised you of the conditions for this meeting. If you try to touch Ms Pierce again, you'll be escorted out of the building."

John tried to look loving but didn't have it in him "Ms Pierce? I don't understand. My wife has been missing for days and I just want to take her home."

"Why? So you can finish the job?" She spat at him then Star sat, with Happy on one side, Rhodey standing behind her and her attorneys on her other side.

John forehead wrinkled "Finish what job? I'm just glad you are safe and-"

"No thanks to you. Don't play innocent John. We all know what you've done. I was willing to let you walk away with your secrets but you had to try to hurt me even more."

Her lawyer, Jeri Hogarth stood up "Alright folks, lets get started here.

Mr Walker, I'm Jeri Hogarth and this is my associate Desmond Tobey. We've been hired by Ms Pierce to handle your divorce and her inheritance.

Did you receive the divorce settlement that was sent to your office?"

John nodded but before he could speak she continued.

"Good. Have you retained someone to represent you in the divorce?"

John shook his head "No one will be getting divorced here. I'm taking my wife home with me."

Y/N shook her head and chuckled.

John smirked at her evilly. "Now sweetheart, you know what happens if you divorce me. You'll lose everything. So let's go home and work this out."

Star scoffed "Work this out? You tried to kill me you bastard, there's nothing to work out."

John chuckled condescendingly "Honey, you know I would never hurt you. Your drug habit has gotten out of control and now you've brought all these other people into our personal problems, your delusions. You know how I feel about that."

Jeri interrupted "Mr Walker, unless you intend to sign the divorce settlement as is then you should hire an attorney to represent you."

John shook his head "Don't need one."

Jeri sighed "Very well then the notes from this meeting will indicate that you have declined representation at this time." She looked at her associate "Desmond"

Desmond Tobey stood "My client has indicated that the settlement as written is the only offer that she will make. If it has to go before a judge she will produce evidence of Mr Walker's infidelity and physical abuse. Meaning the media will soon have access to said evidence which will affect his current job." He looked John in the eyes "Do you understand that, Mr Walker? She is willing to air out all of your dirty laundry for the world to see. Based on what I have seen so far it would be enough to destroy your political ambitions and make finding any employment difficult."

"But her father wanted-"

Desmond cut him off "Mr Pierce is deceased and the allegations would affect the stipulations of your inheritance."

John looked at Y/N "Are you sure you wanna do that honey? Tell the whole world you're a drug addict?"

Y/N glared at him "I wouldn't have even taken any pain pills if Brock hadn't beat me until I miscarried, while you watched. I wouldn't have kept taking them if you hadn't worked so hard to make my life miserable. I've been clean for almost a week and have no desire to take them again. I wouldn't have overdosed if you hadn't had Brock drug me."

John shook his head "No honey, that's not what happened. Brock caught you when you fainted after taking too many pills and drinking alcohol on your lunch with Pepper." He looked to her attorneys "The drugs made her confused but I'm so glad you're getting clean, baby."

Jeri sighed "We have a syringe with traces of morphine and two sets of fingerprints one belonging to Brock Rumlow and the other Jack Rollins. Ms Pierce was drugged"

"I told Brock to take her to the house and meet our doctor. Brock must have done something after her left with her. I had a meeting with an important donor that I couldnt miss." He made himself tear up "He worked for her father and was her bodyguard for years. I thought I could trust him." He looked at Y/N "Baby I'm so sorry that I-"

Jeri cut him off "The NYPD picked Rumlow and Rollins up at a motel near the airport this morning. They had tickets to Rio. No extradition treaty with Brazil." She looked through some paperwork "Rumlow isn't talking but Rollins on the other hand. We'll just call him the Canary because he won't stop singing."

John laughed nervously, his face visibly paling "He's just making shit up to save his own ass."

Jeri nodded "I can see how one might think that, he has admitted to some heinous crimes but he has all kinds of proof. Claims he knew Rumlow couldn't be trusted and he wanted to cover his ass. Pictures, paperwork, recordings, it's pretty extensive."

Desmond spoke up again "Are you still sure you don't want to sign the settlement?"

John gulped loudly "I'm sure. I think you're bluffing. If you really had all that evidence then you would just arrest me."

Y/N sighed "I just wanted this over. I don't want to spend months dealing with divorce court and a criminal trial but if that's what it takes to be rid of you and keep what is rightfully mine, I'm in." She looked at Jeri "I think that's enough for today. I need to rest."

John stood and hit the table angrily "Absolutely not! Y/N you are my wife and are coming home with me. Today. Right fucking now! I don't know who you people think you are but you have no right to keep me from my wife." He reached for her but was slammed against the table, hands held behind his back before he knew what hit him.

Happy had to hold back a laugh as John started squirming and yelling for Rhodey to let him go. Clint stood back with his hands up, giving Y/N an apologetic look before quickly leaving.

Jeri looked at him squawking like a chicken and shook her head "Looks like we're done for today. Mr Walker, there are two NYPD detectives waiting outside of this room who will be taking you in to be booked. I would recommend you find an attorney asap. Tomorrow I'll be speaking to a judge about returning the Pierce inheritance and properties to Ms Pierce so if you do make bail you'll need to find a place to live quickly. If you have any questions, feel free to call me. After you get out, of course, I don't take collect calls, unless it's a client."

Y/N stayed where she was while John was handcuffed and read his rights. Someone had called the press so John's perpwalk would make it to the evening news.

Happy looked to her once John was on the elevator "You ok ma'am?" She looked at him and nodded "Lets get you back home then." He helped her up and they took the elevator up to the top floor.

When they entered her suite, Bucky was waiting at the table with take out for dinner. He looked at Happy questioningly, Happy nodded that she was ok, just shaken up and left her with Bucky.

Bucky smiled gently at her "Hey Star. I heard you had some company."

She grimaced "I knew I would have to see him again eventually but it still caught me off guard." Bucky helped her sit on the couch and sat across from her waiting for her to continue.

"John refused to sign the papers, insisted he did nothing wrong. Even when they told him that Rumlow and Rollins were arrested and Rollins is singing. He still seems to think my father will somehow protect him."

She sniffed "something smells good. Did you make dinner" and smirked at him.

Bucky feigned shock "Now Star, you know damn well I can't boil water on my own."

She giggled "I thought you might have learned something in 3 years. Poor Peggy having to feed all of you all this time."

Bucky shook his head "I'm afraid the only thing I learned was that I can't live without you."

She rolled her eyes "Yes, I'm sure you were terribly lonely. Even Dot wasn't enough to assuage your loneliness."

Bucky looked confused "Dot? Why would she be with me?"

Star shrugged "Beats me, she was with you when you came to my father's wake. Brock said you took her with you when you left town"

Bucky shook his head "We know how trustworthy Brock is. We stopped at the clubhouse the morning of the funeral, she was there and claimed she wanted to pay her respects and be there for me. First time I saw her since we left. I barely even noticed she was there."

Star rolled her eyes "I'm sure. It wasn't Dot that kept you away so long? Your letter said a year at most but you were gone 3 years."

She looked at him with tears in her eyes "I kept thinking you would come back and tell me it was a mistake. That you would save me. I thought you'd stop the wedding but you never did and I gave up."

Bucky reached out to hold her hand and was encouraged when she didn't pull away.  Tears forming in his eyes as he answered. "I meant to come back sooner, I just I just. Everything got all fucked up." He looked at the floor.

Star sat quietly as he composed himself. He finally looked back up at her. "I planned to be back sooner. I figured I'd get the Harley mechanic certificate and then take some business classes here.

When Wanda told Peggy about your engagement it hit me hard. I was almost convinced that you were better off with John. He had your fathers support and was on his way up. Steve and Sam talked me down after a week long bender, reminded me that it was your father telling me I wasn't good enough. Told me Brock probably hadn't had the chance to give my letter to you. I threw myself back into the classes and was really doing well.

Then you got married and it was all over the news, up and coming candidate and heiress marry, wedding of the year, fairytale romance and all the other bullshit the media put out.

I saw your wedding picture on the front of one of the tabloids. You looked so beautiful but your eyes still looked so sad. I felt like a failure. I left you to your father's devices and it was my fault you weren't happy. I told myself you had the letter but still chose John."

He stood and started pacing, running hus hand through his hair.

"I thought you deserved better than a man who ran away like I did. I knew that I would never deserve you again, could never be good enough. I dove into a bottle of Jack Daniels and refused to leave. For months I barely left the house except to the liquor store. Finally one day I saw some tv interview with John and lost it. Tore the house up, put my boot through the tv.

Peggy came home that night and that was it, Steve tossed me into the shower until I sobered up and read me the riot act. Told me that a violent, drunken asshole definitely didn't deserve you and I better get it together or I would lose the few friends I had. So I cleaned up, joined AA and haven't had more than a couple of drinks since." He paused for a breath "Ok full disclosure, I got a little drunk after I tried to talk to you at your stable. I went to your parents house to confront you and Brock but John's car was there and Nick showed up to stop me. He bought me a couple of drinks after that."

"I'm so sorry, Star. I failed you so many times that I'll understand if you can't forgive me." He sat back down and took her hands "I didn't know what to do. When I met you I was sure I'd never be able to settle down. I figured any real relationships I tried were doomed to repeat my parents history. Dad in jail and mom forever alone because she couldn't bear another heartbreak.

You just blew me away with your free spirit and how you loved me so easily regardless of the fact that I was a dirt poor biker who couldn't afford his own apartment. The world felt brighter when I was with you. I thought we had a real chance.

Then we came home to your dad and I felt like he was reality showing me how impossible we were. I tried to stay hopeful that I could make myself good enough for you but obviously didn't do a great job.

I know now that I will never be good enough in some people's eyes including my own but I'm gonna try. I realized that the only opinion I care about is yours. If you think I'm good enough then I will keep trying to be. I don't want to live without you again, even if we're only friends. I haven't touched anyone else since you and I meant it when I said you're it for me. I love you, Star and I'll spend the rest of my life showing you how much. If you let me."

@pattiemac1

Before Star could respond they were startled by loud banging on the door.

Chapter 11

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #angst with a happy ending #biker bucky

[somephilosophercat]

Drained

Well everything sucks. At least my head sucks. It's a sunny day outside but it doesn't really reach me. I am off my meds completely for 3 weeks now. I have been at appointment with my psychiatrist and he is not thrilled but he won't push me. We agreed to leave basic amount of meds in my chart so if I decide to drink it again I can access it. But I told him that I want to see what is going to happen without it. Because I was already so bad before stopping it. And something is wrong with my metabolism and body. I am exhausted and cannot concentrate or work, my cycle is completely off and my weight is abnormal. So maybe losing meds will help with adjusting some things. I have been drinking antidepressants for a 5 years now and we finally did find something that works but I still feel shity. I should really do some more appointments but I just don't want to. Because everyone keeps ignoring things I feel the hardest. Also I don't have much noticeable withdrawal symptoms but I do have brain zaps. They are not the worst but they are still anoying. I struggled to explain what is the thing I am feeling and then I found out brain zaps are very often while getting off antidepressants fast. Because I just cut it out.

After almost two years of being back to work and all the ups and downs I talked with my bosses and manage to get myself a paid week off to try to reset. I didn't go to details with them but the main boss promised me two years ago when we talked that if I am on verge of breaking that I can get some time off. I haven't used it by now but I just couldn't go on. Even though I did the task I had, but I was constantly on egde of my mind and nerves. One thing I am afraid off is that even after this week I just won't be any better. And I have to go back.

I am terrible financially because I need food and shopping to calm me down. And my apartment is a total mess, but I am trying to do some small things. But even by my standards it's pigsty. I am putting my hopes in this break to be able to sort it out a little because two weekend days are just barely enough to recuperate afted work week so I hope I will have some will to do some more small stuff.

Anyway.. only one inperson session left with T. I am completely broken about it. And the "best" part about it is that I have to go back in hometown for Easter to "celebrate" with my mom and brother next weekend and neither T or I (other therapist) are back in days after that catastrophe so I have to deal with it alone.

I just know something is awfully wrong with me and nobody listen or can do anything about it. Perfect..

Oh, and this cute boy celebrated a big eight birthday last week! He is just such a kind and beautiful boy. I love him so much 🥰🥳

#24/03/24

[glitterpeachtree]

Dani's Little Sister: Part 2

Trigger warning: Self Harm

You were Dani's little sister. You liked spending time with Dani and Six. However, you didn't like how Dani and Six treated you. They would sometimes treat you as if you were glass. A story in which Dani and Six live together, and you, have Schizoaffective Disorder.

It was one of those days. One of those days where you didn't want to leave your bed (with no snakes this time). It was one of those days where Dani sat in a chair next to your bed, and held your hand, trying to get you to talk, or drink, or eat, or persuade you to take meds. I wouldn't move for hours, I would just stare off into space. I couldn't control myself. I just felt tired. So tired. I felt like I was in a dream and I was frozen. I knew Dani was there. I knew she was talking. I just couldn't understand what she was saying. It sounded like she was talking to me underwater.

....

"(Y/N)? Hey I'm gonna go make lunch okay. I'll just be in the kitchen. And Court will be here if you need anything. I promise I'll be right back. Maybe you'll want to eat something by then? How does that sound, hmm?" She stroked my hair. I heard her footsteps getting quieter as she walked away.

......

"She responsive yet?" Court asked, as he sipped his coffee. He always gave Dani and (Y/N) space. He got nervous when (Y/N) wasn't doing well. He wanted to support the both of you, but didn't not interfere at the same time. He didn't want to overstep any boundaries.

"No. I feel like she's getting worse. These catatonic days are getting more frequent. I'm scared." Dani set 2 slices of bread aside for her sandwich. Then she opened a can of soup for (Y/N).

"It'll be okay. We're going to figure this out. Maybe they just need to adjust her meds again." Court put his hand on Dani's shoulder and stared into Dani's eyes. Dani put her hand on his hand, and she took a deep breath. "Could you just, sit with her while I get this ready?"

"Yeah." Court walked to (Y/N)'s room. He sat down and took her hand, rubbing his thumb over your inner wrist. He looked at you and sighed. He did this for about 10 minutes before Dani walked in with a soup bowl in one hand and her half eaten sandwich in another.

"Hey look. You hungry?" Court looked at you hopeful, like you were going to answer. But you didn't. You just sat there paralyzed and underwater.

"C'mon. Please come back. Please just do something so I know you're in there." Dani was begging you to wake up. But you just couldn't.

.....

After this everything was a blur. You recall hearing something about a hospital, but that's about it. About an hour later you started waking up out of your daze. You start moving your head around, fluttering your eyes. You see Dani sitting in the chair next to you reading a book, and Court was leaning up against the doorframe.

"Hey." He signalled to Dani, indicating that he saw your wake in consciousness.

"(Y/N). Hey. You with us?" Dani took both her hands and leaned forward rubbing your arm as if you were cold.

You started breathing heavily, and teared up. It was almost traumatic coming out of these states. Overwhelming even.

"Can you tell me what my name is? Say my name." She always asks basic questions when I come to. Like I'm a child or something. Court got up and left. He thought it would be less overwhelming with him there. He stood outside the door and listened in to make sure nothing bad was happening.

"I'm not stupid." I sighed.

.....

Later on that day, Dani told you that they found a psychiatrist that can make house calls. He's coming tomorrow, no excuses.

"What?!" I exclaimed. I hated talking to shrinks. Let's just say I had my fair share of therapists.

"He can help you. Better than we can." Court and Dani both looked at me with puppy eyes.

"No! I'm not going to talk. I'm not going to talk to him!" I shouted as I went into my room and slammed the door. There were no locks on the doors. Court had replaced them after I had threatened to kill myself one summer. So I wedged a hard back book into the seam of the door. I wanted to be alone. I heard Court and Dani's footsteps frantically behind me.

"(Y/N)? Hey open the door. I know you are mad right now. But we can't leave you alone. Just open the door so we know you're safe. Please." Court knocked on the door, waiting to hear a response. When he didn't hear anything, you heard him say that he was going to kick the door down to Dani. You didn't care. You just needed to be alone. You started scratching at your wrists. It was something you sometimes did as a result of stress.

BANG!

The door slammed open. They both ran in. Dani saw your wrists. She sighed and knelt down next to you and restrained you from doing more harm. Court went into the bathroom and got a wet washcloth and first aid kit.

"Court? I think we should go to the hospital." She looked him straight in the eyes.

"Is it really that bad?" He looked shocked.

"Her wrists aren't that bad. But I think she needs to be seen by professional, like right now." He did notice right away that you were mumbling something over and over, and that your breathing was irregular. You started to wriggle out of her grasp, but she held on tighter as Court called an ambulance.

To Be Continued.

.....

#ryan gosling imagine #fanfiction #ao3 #fanfic #ryan gosling #the gray man #sierra six x you #sierra six x y/n #sierra six #courtland gentry #dani miranda

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Hello,

tw suicide, hospitalization, ed, transphobia

Can one be traumatized by being in psychiatry (voluntarily)?

It's getting long, sorry.

I am usually not talking about this because I don't want to discourage people from seeking help so, you can decide if you want to post this.

When I was 14 I got myself into psychiatry (not living in the US so it didn't cost anything) because I was suicidal and also because I was hoping CPS would take me out of my family once they hear, what's happening there.

And it wasn't horrible but... I feel it left a trauma on me. Most of the nurses and doctors were always expecting the worst. I didn't stay in bed because of my depression or because I had bad period cramps, no, I was just refusing to go to school or work with them. I often had to change rooms (from shared rooms to a single room and back) because they always wanted me in a single room because they were hoping, I would get that lonely that I would start talking to the nurses. And when they got a person, who really needed a single room, I had to move again. They once convinced my roommate to tell me, it was because she was uncomfortable with me (she later told me, she wasn't, but had to say it) again because they were hoping I'd go to the nurses to cry or something. I know from other inmates (during my time and people I met later who were in the same hospital) that they often did such "tricks" (and even worse ones).

They also always believed I was.... bad or refusing or anything, while I did my best (which might not have been incredibile much all the time, but still). We were divided in groups and every group had their room to take meals and every patient had their assigned seat (though it wasn't handled that strict). I once came into this room, absolutely brain afk and went to my seat and was pulling the seat from the table, to sit down. The same second another girl was trying to sit down on my chair and, because I had pulled it away, fell on her bum. I apologized (I really didn't even realize that she was there) but I was forced to stay in my room for the rest of the day, write an apology letter (which I did but it was a blank lie because, she fell in her bum and stood up again, it wasn't too dramatic, why apologize over and over again?) and and nurses were really pissed at me because they believed it was my intention to hurt that girl. Ngl, I probably had somewhat a devil-may-care attitude, the kind that you have when you are suicidal, but I never hurt people, neither emotionally nor physically, that's not how I am, not even close.

I also once was forced to stay a whole day in the communal room because "I was too much in my room". All the noises and people (most of the patients were younger than I)... It was a really horrible day for me.

It was just... Whatever I did or said, their first thought was "that must have been meant in a bad way" even super harmless and casual things I said were later written in my letter (that I should show my next therapist) as "angry, trying to piss the nurses of". A psychiatrist of this clinic (which I later occasionally visited to get my meds prescribed) told me that all of the letters sound like that and that that was the reason why he stopped reading them anyways. But still. I am a people pleasure, it hurts me when people think bad of me for no reason.

But as I said, they weren't just to me like that. They were also pretty transphobic, trans ppl (no matter at which point in there transition) were denied to use their chosen bathroom, were stick together with patients of their assigned gender, deadnamed etc. I was living together with a trans guy for my last weeks and at some point the nurses told me (when he was standing by, and I guess at purpose so that he'd hear it) "You should really break up contact, once you are outside, he (not the pronouns they used) is a bad influence!". Which is so confusing because I live in such a liberal country, and you'd expect a psychiatry to be even more open. (It was no Christian one, as you maybe expect it to be). Plus, he was a really nice guy and roommate.

I also at some point stopped eating (for no reason, I just stopped feeling hungry and wanted to lose weight anyways) and the nurses just said (loud, while we were sitting in the group)"Oh, you want our attention? We will punish you by ignoring it completely." (which was pretty convinient for me and led to years long anorexia).

I didn't care too much about all of this, while I was there and it didn't happen too often. I was there for 6 months it's not like every other day such an event happened. But the whole first year after I left I had nightmares about it. Every single day. I dreamt about them yelling at me, about my doctor (who really liked me and made all if this bearable) believing them and hating me too etc. And I think now, that the whole atmospheres, them having all of the control, me having no chance, not even to convince them I didn't mean something in a bad way, made it very horrible for me. I had absolutely no control, which is the opposite of my trauma coping strategy.

And now, years later and me being a bit healthier and caring more about myself, feeling more emotions, I have really issues even thinking of that time without crying. I feel sick thinking about it, though when it happened I would've said "it's ok". They had so much power over me, even though I decided to go there (because I was more mature than my parents) my parents and the nurses made the decisions, which meds I should take (at some point I just accepted it and swallowed them without asking though I often had serious side effects) how long I should stay etc. My abusive parents and the nurses, that hated me, made the decisions and I was only told the result.

It's just, that I have this reaction that much later (it's been 8 years by now and I have issues with it for maybe 2) and me not having any issues accepting the situation, once I was there, makes me wonder, if that can even be something serious.

Hi anon, 

In all honesty that does sound horrible. The way you were treated is not okay, and you deserved so much better. But with that said, even if the staff were fantastic, you would still be valid to have trauma. It can be isolating and scary. Things are different. For me, I felt a loss of control when I was in a psych unit even though the staff were mostly great. 

Being traumatized by being in a psychiatric facility or unit is actually not uncommon and you and your feelings are valid. “ There's no "normal" reaction to any kind of event.  Everyone reacts differently.  Whether something is traumatic is about both what happened as well as the context in which it happened.  Pre-existing stress, lack of coping skills, or lack of support after a negative event can make something much more traumatic to you than it would be to someone who is in a much more stable and supported point in their life. “

It can absolutely be serious and it is normal for trauma symptoms to appear later down the line, even years. 

I hope that you are somewhere safe now, because you deserve to be safe. You deserve to heal. You deserved so much better. 

April 

#tw ed #tw suicide #tw transphobia #tw psych ward #tw ableism #tw hospitilization #trauma talks #mod april

[flowergrownbeyondthestone]

It turns out that with enough caffeine in my system I can make it through most of the day without absolutely dying, so that’s something. I’m realizing this blog or whatever it is, is becoming more and more like a diary, but hey, why not I guess! I’ve slept not great once again, including very creepy dreams about chasing huge spiders across the room and a hot actress who turned out to be a serial killer. What the hell is going on with my brain? I really miss being able to sleep normally and even medicine doesn’t fully solve that issue. I also miss being able to fall asleep cuddled up to you (yes, you, reading it, if you still do, hah). It was like the ultimate level of safety and comfort. Meep. Oh well, I have to settle for the plushies, better than nothing. Either way, random stuff aside, yesterday I didn’t even have enough energy to include all the details of my wonderful day, such as trying to call the psychiatrists with a referral for the adhd assessment. Had a lovely experience being told that currently the waiting time is several YEARS. UH. Nevermind then I guess. I’ll have to think about whether I feel like it’s worth it to pay for a private assessment with polish doctors, but due to my current general lack of options I’ve had to consider where to go from here. Now I have a talk with a psychologist scheduled for next week, since their whole clinic focuses on working with neurodivergent people and she’s audhd I’m hoping that it will at least be a better experience than everything I’ve gone through so far. It is just a consultation since I feel like I’ve hit a point where I don’t quite know how to address any of the practical issues in my life and hope that there is something that can be done to contribute to a better standard of living. Of course nobody can just hand me a solution, but again, I don’t exactly feel like I’m ready to make any major life changes in regards to work or other related things, so I need to start somewhere. My wallet will cry but hopefully I won’t. I could have just gone the other route and tried to find someone here with the referral I got, but I genuinely don’t have the courage or trust in just choosing a random person and hoping that somehow they will be the right one, at least not with my already limited trust towards therapists due to my past experiences. There are absolutely good ones out there, but I really want to increase my chances of finding the right one, even if that means becoming a bit more poor. All in all despite still being very tired it’s been a better day, I only need to get through work tomorrow and then I can recharge in any way I need, so that definitely makes me happy. Things might not be perfect, but it’s also a relief to know and see that now even if I have a worse moment it’s very much temporary and in many cases just letting myself cry makes everything feel so much lighter. I don’t get stuck in a slump of depression, I don’t go down a self hate spiral. Of course I’d want many things to be better and easier, I do hope they eventually will, but it’s still a big improvement from… well, majority of my life in past

[dopaminergicaddictions]

The hallucination got to much worse yesterday. I wonder why? I couldn't focus cause I was so tired.. I heard it talking at me during therapy it went from inaudible just i could hear it trying to it was saying full sentences. This is why I always worry about sleeping cause when I talk to someone I can drown it out very easily when I actually slepe even when it's 5 hours of sleep.

I took maximum dose at 5:35 last night and laid down at 6:30. I got up a few times over the night and had to take like 30 to 40 minutes to knock back out but I woke up at 6 am. I am staying up. It fixed my schedule and the hallucination went back to the way it was. Quieter and less distracting and I can focus again. I prob got 7 to 9 hours but it's so segmented with bathroom breaks. That's its somewhere in between.

My will to live went from 2 to like 8. My doctors don't want to increase from 1.0 to 1.5..... I'm having my therapist Erin call in cause of they can just get me to fucking February 21st sleeping every fucking night. I'd need two weeks without weed and I'm going to go back to fucking normal.

I'm requesting a gene test and a hair test for the 22nd... I want to rule out the gene thing... cause I mean tbh.... with the onset. How it visited everyday and went away after I stopped being high it it's so obvious thc... but until i see that I don't have the gene and as long as I hallucinate I'm going to keeo worrying...

I worry that I have the gene but thc started it..... if that's the case I'd wait until the thc drained out and end it if it hasn't left once I get the thc out.. when I sleep regularly and everything it seems to get minorly and I mean minoely better every single day...

I'm worried I won't slept tonight. My doctor is pushing me to see a psychiatrist to take over and percribe a higher dose.... it's making me lose hope cause just push me through the next month and half. It could be done tomorrow or next week or even before the 22nd.... maybe it'll be Feb 10th... but I need to SLEEP EVERY SINGLE DAY. I'm going to take less than maximum dose at 10 tonight and if I'm not sleeping by 12 I'm going to raise it so hopefully I'm our by 2. At least now my 17 hour mark is fucking 10 pm... 10 pm seems like so fucking long from now. I wish I could take it at 8 but I tried 12 hours, I tried 15-`16. I guess my body needs 17 waking hours.

Wish me luck as if Erin can't get them to push it to 1.5... I'm going to have major issues Well before this goes away. Getting in with a psychiatrist is almost impossible and they are going to push fucking antipsychotics and anticholinergics... and prob antidepressants for christ sake. I won't take any of those EVER... and it could be a useless thing to do If they won't increase it.

I'm hoping that after my doctor has another provider in the loop they'll consider it. At least they'll give me 1 for the foreseeable future but I can't scarfice one night of sleep.

I'm not joking yesterday it might as well even been November 15th when I couldn't even watch a movie or talk in therapy without the voice taking away my entire fucking focus... and today it's like wait it's Jan. 12th and It's like it even improved from the day before I didn't sleep...

[starcolle-archive]

Honestly, I think the fact that Saturday I unintentionally dressed up looking like Loki in the scene with him on his knees with the collar says a LOT about me ...my subconscious mind is ridiculous. 😅

I almost didn't go. I felt like this was gonna be too much. Not even clingy anymore; my roommate commented that it was technically stalking. It almost pushed me to not drive out there ...maybe I shouldn't have? But I don't regret it.

Because graduations are important to me. I missed the last one, and never forgave myself. She may want nothing to do with me, but gxddamn even if we never speak again (which ofc I hope that isn't the case; the exact opposite obviously), I wanted to be able to say that I supported her as much as I could.

Still not sure why she responded to my text when I said it didn't need nor was I looking for one ...I'd like to believe she knew I was hoping for one. I just worry that she ended up not getting my last message 😒

Fuck it, here it is:

Sorry, that was an unnecessarily long way of saying I was confused by your decision to respond; or at least what could've been interpreted as an incredibly soft response. If I'm not blocked, my question still stands and would like to know why you chose to not block me. A response, regardless of its breadth, would be greatly appreciated; or if it works better for you: a confirmation response & the "actual" response.

A more proper continuation of honesty is this: [with no prior expectations of my own] I strongly believe that we have both reached positions in our lives where we can attempt to begin having open dialogue again. If that desire is shared in any way, I want & need to start our dialogue with discussing conversational boundaries.

Look, I know I'm (probably) fucked up in the head to still care about my best friend, even though we haven't actually talked in forever. (It's one thing for me to have the interest; but if for some unrealistic reason it was mutual, then it wouldn't *actually* be fucked up.)

I summed it up best when I sent this to a friend:

[REDACTED] I'd rather get to at least know she's being loved by someone else than constantly wondering if she's getting & feeling the degree of love I know she truly deserves.

Fucking hell, changing therapists sucks 😒

I hate that I come off as a creep; technically yeah I am, and so I have no intention of defending my actions. I just try to channel them into positive outlets. Having an obsessive personality can be a blessing when it's wanted (by myself or by others), but it's very VERY often a curse.

I need a new psychiatrist too.

That said, driving home from the graduation I was more clear headed than I can remember in recent memory (ironic phrasing, I know); I know that was technically "all me," but yeah, even the tiniest of interactions with her seems to do that with me. I often fear it's the exact opposite for her, or arguably worse: just another apathetic waste of her time.

Whatever, it helped me put some things into perspective; things I was having trouble zeroing in. A refresh to wanting to live my life, I guess.

Earlier tonight, the whole "What's done is done" finally set in. Yeah, it took that long; bite me.

I really just wanna keep moving forward; I wonder if that Anon who said the same was her. Whatever, I'm very open about my desire for healthy communication & she's got my number. Any time, literally ANY time, she realizes she wants to talk, we can go from there.

And yes, I do have a running list of boundaries & such we'll need to discuss written down already, but those can be slid into the conversation and not attempted to be tackled all at once.

I just want honesty; even if each other's honesty comes slowly, we'll still get it. I also wish this wasn't all just hypothetical; maybe that's the other way she can apologize. And next time she (ideally not) drops the conversation for the sake of a boyfriend, she'll tell me why she's doing it.

I can't blame her for doing it either; I'd rather just get the chance to understand who she is now.

#personal #keep moving forward #I specifically said roommate for a reason #that reason is personal & I only talk about it in #one-on-one conversations

[rommahh]

{this show was off the walls. He looked so good. And the energy was just??}

You stood uncomfortably at your flights gate with Harry. After being with Harry for five shows, your anxiety had reached a peak leaving you to be faced with one of your worst panic attacks before the St. Louis show. Harry didn’t want you to feel so much mental pressure so he suggested that you go home, he even bought you a ticket without consulting with you.

Your shoulders were tense as you stood rigid next to Harry. You were beyond upset and sad. You felt like a burden who being sent away to make everyone else feel better.

“Love, it will be ok. I’ll see you in two weeks for the Nashville show.” Harry comments watching your face scrunch up withholding the tears. “I just want you to see your therapist for a few days.”

“I don’t wanna go. It was one panic attack. Ive done fine every other night and on the bus.” You huff not making eye contact with Harry. “You’re just sending me away.”

Harry feels his heart break in two. “That’s not-“

“We are now welcoming our first class passengers.” He was cut off by the attendant. You grab your duffle on the ground, opening your phone to the electronic ticket. You moved to get in the line but Harry was quick to grab your arm to stop you. You couldn’t stop the tears from welling in your eyes at the look of hurt on his face.

“You’re not even gonna say goodbye?” He whispers.

“Why should I? You said it for me when you purchased the ticket without even talking to me about it. I’ll call you when I land, I love you and goodbye.” You snatched your arm away, rushing to the slowly growing line of passengers.

Harry watched in defeat as you trudged onto the bridge that boarded onto the plane. You felt those traitorous tears push past the surface, your feet feeling like they were dragging behind you- wanting you to go back to your heart.

The entire flight home was painful. All hours spent on the flight looking lifelessly out of the window. Harry put you in first class but none of the comfortable perks could make you happy.

It was weird to walk back into your home with no one there walking in with you or even waiting for you. The house was dark and quiet and you felt scared to even be in the stupid beach side mansion all alone. Times like this made you regret moving in with Harry. This house only felt like home when he was there, any other time felt like your own personal solitary confinement.

Hey lovie, hope you’re flight went well. Having groceries delivered to the house for you. I love you and miss you. Xxx H.

You scoffed. That anger from before bubbling within you. He misses you? You left him on read, the pettiness easing the anger.

Harry’s eyebrows shot up at the small read notification under his sent message. He waited a few moments thinking maybe you just forgot to press send. Minutes turned to hours and hours turned into the next day.

You sat at the dining room table watching the waves eat up the sand and pull granules away at a time. Your laptop sat in front of you after you finished a telehealth therapy appointment. A ring sounded from the laptop signaling that someone was FaceTiming you.

Harry’s icon popped up in the corner of the screen. You hesitated before answering. You couldn’t bare to look at yourself in the camera knowing you looked a mess. Your eyes swollen from the sobbing during therapy. Harry thought you looked beautiful nonetheless.

“Good morning baby.” He broke the silence.

“Hi.” Was all you could muster. This wasn’t the two of you. You both would normally fill a space with sound and giggles and now it was just silence.

“How did you sleep?” He asks. He looked as disheveled as you. Hair messy, face red and puffy.

“Fine.” You didn’t look at him, playing with the frayed edges of your Live on Tour hoodie. Harry huffed in frustration.

“Is this how it will be from now on?” He snapped. Your head snapped up out of shock.

“You’re getting at me like somethings my fault!” You snapped back.

“Well, we didn’t leave on the right foot.”

“You sent me away!” You retaliate.

“No, I did not. You had a panic attack before I went on stage. I had to come on stage late because I was consoling you.”

You flinched at his comment and tone of voice.

“So it’s my fault? I can’t control the panic attacks. It wasn’t like I conjured one up for attention.” His lack of response broke you. “Really?”

“No, I don’t think you did it for attention but it’s a lot Y/N. I want to take you on tour with me but it’s a lot for me and you know it’s a lot for you.” He tries. His words hurt though. You’ve felt like a burden your entire life and to feel that way because of the love of your life hurts even more.

“Ok. Um, I have to go.” You choke out. Harry shakes his head, the weight of his words catching up with you.

“I didn’t mean it in that way. I love you and I only want to protect you.”

“Yeah, protect me by sending me away when things get tough. I’m sorry for being a burden Harry.” You hang up before he could get the last word in.

Harry sat on his hotel bed shocked. He doesn’t know how things escalated the way they did. He made her feel like a burden. His body racks with sobs as he thinks of how his love must be feeling.

The day of Harry’s Philly show you felt uneasy. You didn’t like not being with Harry. You got so used to your preshow rituals with him. It hurt to be left out after being so involved.

Harry felt the same way. His regret evident in the way that he couldn’t stop blowing up your phone with short apologies and messages. He woke up alone in the hotel room on the day of a show feeling like utter crap.

His stomach was in knots and his heart couldn’t stop pounding. Normally before a show you both would share a light meal and have small discussions about nothing. You both would take silly selfies together or watch tiktoks. But now it was just Harry.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, impulsively clicking your contact to face time.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up…” He mutters. He lets out a sigh of relief when your face reveals.

“Hi, Harry.” You murmur, your face squished into a pillow, his pillow because it smells good.

“Hi-hi baby.” He stutters fidgeting in his seat.

“What do you need?”

“I need you. You’re not a burden. I want you here, not there but here. I have a show in a few hours and all I can think about is how you’re not here with me.” He cries. You sit up in the bed, tearing up watching your boyfriend cry. His shoulders shook with the sobs that wracked through his chest.

“Harry, please breathe. Your gonna hurt yourself.” You try to calm him down but can tell it’s not working.

“Come back.” He whimpers.

“I-I think I’m going to stay home until Nashville. We both need a breather from each other and I know I need to see my psychiatrist and probably get some new anxiety medication. Which will take the two weeks to kick in you know?” You reason. Harry wiped his face of tears nodding understandingly.

“Ok. I miss you though. I fucked up horribly by making you feel less than. I know you’re not a burden and I’d do anything for you. The stress of tour is starting to weigh on me and I took it out in you when I shouldnt have. I also thought I was keeping you safe by sending you home, but I shouldn’t have done that. Because we are a team, I shouldn’t be making choices for you.”

“Thank you for apologizing. I understand why you did what you did. You were trying to protect me, I know. I love you Bubby.” Harry felt his world come back together at the nickname, a signal that you two would be alright. “You have a show in like three hours, you need to get ready. Eat some food, drink water please, and I’ll go and scroll through TikTok and send you all of my faves ok?”

“Ok. Thank you for being everything to me. I couldn’t do what I do today if I didn’t have you in my life.” Harry’s sincerity made your heart swell.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. We will be alright. Now go!” You urged him to hang up the phone. He gave you one last smile before hanging up.

Watching Harry through some Instagram live wasn’t what you had planned for but it felt good to see him. He even wore the outfit you picked out with Harry lambert, the blue and pink paying homage to fine line. You’re heart gushes when he tells the crowd that he’s feeling really happy.

The next day you have another therapy appointment with your regular therapist, you even phone in Harry to join the call. You felt warm on the inside as your therapist reassured that you and Harry’s relationship was on the right path. She even said that you and Harry were meant to be together.

She didn’t have to tell Harry that for him to already know that information. I mean he had the ring sitting in his pocket to prove it.

#harry styles angst #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles love on tour #hslot #harry styles fic #harry styles

[nerdshrimp19]

I just need to talk about this...

This is going to be something completely different from my usual content on my blog, but I need to talk about this because I am still livid.

This is most likely going to turn into a long-winded rant, so I will provide a TLDR.

TLDR: A psychiatric nurse practitioner said it would not be worth doing diagnostic testing for Autism and ADD/ADHD because I have good grades and a healthy long term romantic relationship.

For some background, I have been doing online college for two years and with the pandemic I have been by myself a lot more. This gave me more time for self-reflection, and I have always been interested in psychology. I decided to look into ADHD for a new topic to learn about, and when researching I related to the symptoms associated with it. I found myself diving deep into this topic like I do with everything I enjoy learning about and eventually found myself researching Autism because of the comorbidity of the conditions. I also related with some, if not most, of the symptoms associated with Autism, to some degree.

So, I slowly introduced the idea to my parents and boyfriend that I thought I might have both or one of the conditions. My parents were quite dismissive, but my boyfriend thought that my suspicions held some merit. But that was enough for me to go back to getting mental health services. My anxiety and depression were/are also worsening, so I wanted to get back into it anyway. I got a therapist and told her about my suspicions, and we talked about it. She also thought that it would be worth getting me tested for the conditions. So, she got me set up with a psychiatrist to possibly get me set for testing. (Quick side note: the last time I was tested for anything was when I was around the age of twelve and I almost twenty now.)

Surprisingly, I was looking forward to this appointment because of the prospect of getting testing planned, which my therapist assured me I could set up. If you have had a psychiatric appointment, you will know that they will take your medical information like weight, height, etc. That portion went without a hitch, but I was still masking like I usually do with strangers in public.

When I was called back, I was initially encouraged by the fact he was younger than any of my previous psychiatrists hoping that he would be more open minded. I decided that I was not going to mask when I was in the room, so hopefully he can get a more accurate visual assessment. Then when my mother and I got to the room and sat down he introduced himself as a “mental health nurse practitioner.” But I was under the impression that he was a doctor, I brushed this off as a misunderstanding on my part because it is something I often do. Since it was a first visit, we went over the basics like medical history, mental health history, medications, etc. But, when I brought up the possibility of me having something else besides/alongside my current diagnoses, I was dismissed. Then I finally brought up getting testing done for ADD/ADHD and Autism Spectrum Disorder, and he asked me how I am doing in school. And I had good grades last semester. Next, he asked about my relationships, and of course I told him that I have a boyfriend who I have been with for almost four years. He decided that those two things alone were enough to say that he did not see a need for testing. Because according to him “it is not affecting me enough for it to be worth getting a diagnosis.” This man had the nerve to tell me that with me rocking back and forth, playing with a fidget toy to keep me calm and present, me making very little eye contact, both or one of my legs bouncing, and even after I told him that my father has diagnosed ADD and my brother has diagnosed ASD. Maybe if he looked anywhere besides my chest for a few seconds, he might have seen some of what I was doing. He attributed everything he was seeing and what I was telling him to my anxiety. Yes, I was quite anxious because I am horrible with crowds and strangers, which I told him. I also have lots of anxiety regarding medical settings because of chronic illnesses and mental issues. But of course, my people pleasing self just accepted this and did not press any further.

As soon as I was out of the building, I began telling my mom that it was not fair at all that he would not even consider letting me get testing. I also explained to her that he was going based of the typical, male associated symptoms of both conditions. “Does he not know that both ADHD and Autism present differently in women,” was what I asked my mom while trying not to cry out of anger in the car. Because I thought that I could finally get an explanation and label for why I am so different, and it was just taken from me. Even though this happened only a few days ago, I feel so much more isolated and invalidated than I did before the appointment. Having the opportunity to make sense of my life and myself being ripped away from me has effected much more than I thought it would.

I knew that it was harder for females to get a diagnosis for these things, but I was at least hoping that it would not be the case for me. It sounds naïve now, but my therapist validating me gave me hope that it would be different. My mom and I are looking into other people who might give me a chance to get tested and hopefully it will go better than that did. Although, I should not be surprised about any of this happening, mental health services in my state are a joke anyway.

Anyway, if you made it this far congrats you made it too the end of this way too long post. Thanks for reading what I had to say. This is not really adding anything to the discussion, but I just needed to tell someone, so again thank you for reading.

#mental health #mental illness #autism #adult adhd #add #adhd #neurodivergencies #asd #neurodivergent #undiagnosed autism #undiagnosed neurodivergent #emotional #feelings #tw rant #autistic women #adhd women #disability #mental help #neurodiversity #vent #rant post #invalidation #nd #aspergers #autistic spectrum #autism spectrum condition #attention defecit #attention deficit hyperactivity disorder #vent post #undiagnosed adhd

[luminous-studiess]

how to study with a mental illness!!!! aka a guide to simultaneously caring for yourself and your academics

(disclaimer: this is from purely personal experience and is not a substitute for seeking professional help. these are just personal tips as i was formally diagnosed with depression and anxiety in the third year of college, but had been showing symptoms even in high school. different methods help for different people, but i really hope some of these things can help a struggling student out, because one of the reasons i went on studyblr in the first place was that i felt really lost and anxious.)

1. done is better than none. sometimes an assignment you have to turn in would be objectively easy to complete, but it takes longer to do so because you’re afraid that the final product won’t be as good as you want it to be, or as good as a professor expects it to be. it’s hard to remove those expectations, but it is a little easier when you remember that getting some points (no matter how many they are) are better than getting a deduction for late submissions or not turning in the project at all. many people -- including myself -- suffer from perfectionism in university, but it is overall more important to complete something to the best of your own ability, and learn from the feedback on the project later on. more importantly, often, you’re doing better than you think you’re doing, so surprise yourself. you can do it. just start.  2.  keep careful track of your deadlines.  much of my undergrad anxiety came from the fact that i knew something was due, but couldn’t keep track of it, or didn’t want to confront it. it’s better to confront it because you have more time to do it slowly and thoroughly. as soon as you hear about an impending exam or paper deadline, keep track of it. personally, i use google calendar. from there, you can make smaller plans and break down your goals to make it more doable! 3. don’t be afraid to ask for help.  there used to be a huge stigma against mental illness, but thankfully, many educational institutions are much kinder and more considerate about it. if you really can’t meet a deadline or come to class, let your professor know. most professors are kind, reasonable people who genuinely care about you and your well-being. even one of my scariest professors granted extensions to a girl who was genuinely struggling with serious depression, and the college of law i’m in takes mental health very seriously to the point that they instruct faculty how to deal with such cases.  if you’re not able to talk to a professor, try to ask help from a classmate or a friend who can share notes or fill you in on how they accomplished a certain assignment. many people will be happy to help. you are not a burden, love. 4. be kinder to yourself.  mental illness is like any illness. it often keeps us from doing as well as we’d like to be because it’s a genuine and serious health problem. sometimes it helps to keep this in mind when we flub a report in class (as i did several tens of times in undergrad), get a bad score, say something ridiculous during recitation, or mess up a paper. it’s okay to do your best while you heal. you know you’re trying your best, and slow growth is still growth. 5. on that note, care for your other needs.  one of my happiest and most fulfilled semesters (even though it was my busiest) was when i had time to see a psychiatrist, run, pack lunches and fruit to school to eat healthy, and have a reasonable-ish sleep schedule. this was during my thesis semester. while i had to take an incomplete, and finish my thesis the next sem, because i was attending to my own needs, i felt like a living, breathing, learning, happy person. and i finished my thesis the next semester. it’s better to look after your own physical health and needs before your academics. 6. sometimes, it’s better to do nothing and rest. you deserve it.  part of the reason i’d been doing horribly in law school was that i didn’t sleep and it was making me mildly unbalanced and incredibly suicidal; not to mention the fact that i wasn’t really retaining any information or performing well. rest days are just as important as days when you study because rest IS productivity.  7. take your meds. see your psych or therapist if you have one. avail yourself of mental health services on campus if there are any. these genuinely saved my life at a time that i thought i was beyond saving. please go seek help if you can.  BONUS: MY STUDY SETUP ON A TERRIBLE MENTAL HEALTH DAY (like today) - i try to clear the space and clean up as much as possible. it makes me feel like i have things under control, and have my work things where i can see them. - i eat something healthy, like fruit, and get a lot of water. i keep a water jug on my desk because it clears my thoughts and helps me replenish the fluids lost from crying (1/2jk). it also really keeps up my strength for the study process. - i turn on a calming playlist, like a jazz or lofi or ghibli playlist. in another window, i turn on a rain sound video on a softer volume, and it helps center me. - it helps when you have a soft or calming scent to calm you down. i use a lavender room spray, and it makes me feel cozy and productive, but in undergrad, i used this tea-tree lavender mix and it smelled like sunny afternoons and guitar coffeshop playlists. it really is nice. - there are breathing exercises and gifs all over the internet. they help calm you down when things seem Too Much.  i really hope this helps, guys. don’t hesitate to message me if you’ve been having a hard time with school or life or anything. please, please care for yourselves. you can do it.  -- sam

#study #study tips #studyblr #law #law school #mental health #mental health support #student mental health #lawblr #studyspo #study motivation #study inspiration #mental illness #depression #anxiety #stillstudies #studypetals #studylustre #studyplants #einstetic #heyreva #emmastudies #heysareena #obsidianstudy #college tips #uni tips #uni #freshman advice #tbhstudying #eintsein

[hockeyforthefirsttime]

Home For Christmas- Mat Barzal

AN: This is no shame, I started this before Christmas with the intention of finishing it as well... bitch I didn’t, so here we are.

Word count: 4k

TW: bad parenting, mentions of cheating, kind of angst? idk 

Sitting alone by the kitchen table, you watch the snow fall heavy over the town. You’re supposed to be working on your masters thesis, but your mind is a thousand miles away, 2 185,4 miles to be exact. 

And even that far away, Mat is still everywhere to be seen in a town he’s never been in. He’s in the cafe with the really bad coffee and the really good cakes, he’s in the window reflection in the old thrift shop you used to go to when you were younger. And you can imagine him so easily outside on the front porch, playing in the snow. 

In all honesty that would be ideal, having him here. But he’s not, he didn’t have the opportunity to come. You understand that. You understand that he’s got his own traditions, family and friends to see. 

But when you left JFK to come to the cabin in Alta, you wished that he was by your side, you by his. Instead of the snoring man that sat on your right hand side the entire flight. At least you got the window seat. 

Your parents went out to have dinner or visit some friends, you don’t care enough to remember. 

All you could think of was how Mat had been babbling about how excited he was for Christmas, and going home. And how you deep inside dreaded coming here. It’s not that your parents don’t love you, they just love the idea of the past you. Mat cares for you a lot, you know that, you’ve settled for that. But you haven’t had the heart to tell him how your parents only care for perfect facades and flaunting their riches. That's also why you haven’t told them about Mat. 

The snow is still falling over the perfectly decorated front lawn. 

You’re still thinking of Mat and how he would look with rosy cheeks from the cold, when your parents move in through the front door whilst talking in low murmurs. 

“Y/N, darling? You’re still awake?” 

Your mother asks, not yelling though, never yelling. She waits until she can see you from the hallway. 

“Yes, still kind of working.”

You answer politely. 

“Oh, you’re still writing your thesis?” 

Quickly as she comes around the table, you switch from the spotify tab, to the uni home page.The lie comes smoothly and she doesn’t notice, she never does. 

“My little hard worker, you’re gonna be such a good psychiatrist one day.” 

And your heart sinks all the way down to your stomach. You’ve never told them that you switched majors three years ago. Or that you’re not writing a dissection of the human mind, but rather a song. As well as a thesis. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go to my room.” 

Your mom nods at you with what almost resembled a fond smile. Passing your father in the hallway you see him slip something into the pocket of his already hung coat. 

“Night sweetheart.” 

“Night dad” 

You smile half heartedly while balancing your books and laptop in your hands. 

No matter how nicely the property is decorated, no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be what your parents expect you to be. They are much like their cabin in your opinion, pretty and inviting on the outside, shallow on the inside. 

You don’t know how to handle this. Because while you grew up a lot around here, New York feels like your home now. With pictures on the walls and tiny memories littered around the place. The bedroom you’ve always had in the cabin hasn’t changed much since you last were here. Pictures of people you no longer talk to still hang on the vanity you never used. 

Crawling underneath the thick duvet, you pull your phone off the charger on your nightstand. There are a few messages on snap chat and instagram you’ve missed. Mostly friends from college, all in their respective homes with their old friends and family. 

You close both of the apps, and sigh when you see the wallpaper of your phone. It’s a picture of you and Mat. You’re dressed in a hoodie with his jersey over it and his arms slung around your middle from behind, the both of you smiling at Beau behind the camera. You remember that day. 

It was in the early days of your relationship and only the second or third game you had been too of his. The Islanders had played the Rangers and won, Mat scored twice and it was overall a good game. The WAG’s had all started to head for the locker room hallway, while you set your path for the exit, planning on meeting Mat back at his apartment. Lauren was the first to see you trying to sneak out. And had instantly called you out on it. She’s a miracle worker with people, and within seconds she had figured out how scared you were that Mat wouldn’t want you there. After all this was a team win, and you didn’t quite feel like you were a part of the team. Not yet at least. 

And despite your fears, Lauren convinced you that he would love to see you first thing as he exited. And he had been. His already beaming face had swept you up in his strong arms and spun you around. Mat truly was and still is at times more excitable than a puppy.

-----

You wake up abruptly from someone yelling. That someone you quickly recognize as your father's voice. And your heart drops, even though the words are muffled, you can imagine the scene. Your mother, sitting at the kitchen table, in the same spot as you sat last night, telling him to calm down and stop yelling. Your father pacing in front of her, screaming about something you can’t quite figure out what is yet. He is obviously ignoring her.

Picking your phone up from the mattress as you sit up, there doesn’t seem to be anything new. You enter the messages app and shoot Mat a message, telling him to call you in thirty minutes. 

With a sigh, you pull the warm, comfortable duvet off yourself and drag your body out of the bed. Everything in the room seems a little colder, and you know it’s probably because of the badly isolated windows. That’s probably why the cool floorboards tickle your feet when you step on them. Luckily there is a pair of thick socks on the floor next to the bed, so you pull them on and walk to the door. 

Carefully you let the door creep open silently. 

“- and why couldn’t you just leave it be?” 

You hear your father yelling. 

“Because you’re my husband and I love you, you’re not supposed to have a second phone, much less a second girlfriend.” 

Immediately your stomach sinks. Your dad has a mistress? Then it was probably the second phone he slipped into the coat pocket last night. God, christmas spirit, eh? You shut the fight out of your mind instantly, not wanting this to be your christmas. In this moment you hate all the bad hallmark movies you’ve watched with Mat. Not for having watched them, but for letting them give you hope of a normal christmas.

On autopilot, you start packing the bag you never finished unpacking. It takes fifteen minutes for you to finish. Your phone starts ringing as soon as you zip the back shut. With a deep sigh you answer the phone. 

“Hi Mat.” 

“Hey, babe. You okay?” 

You can hear laughter in the background and the smile in his voice. You hate yourself for the next words. 

“No, not really.” 

The admittance lies heavy in your chest, but some of the weight seems to lift off when you speak the feelings into existence. 

“I’m sorry, is there anything I can do?” 

It's like the world disappears for a minute, and just hearing his voice calms you down. 

“No, I don’t think so, I just don’t think I can handle this right now. ‘M just gonna head home to my apartment. I can’t take my parents right now.”

It’s a relief to get the words out of your mouth and into existence. You can imagine him right now, with the cute frown on his face and the cogs and wheels in his brain turning.

“Hold on, you’re not gonna spend christmas morning alone are you?” 

“Why not? It’s not really different from what I’m used to, and it’s already the 23rd today anyway.” 

“That gives you just enough time to fly here!” 

 Your heart soars at the thought of waking up with Mat in his childhood home, but reason strikes you seconds later. 

“Mathew, I’m not gonna intrude on your family like that.” 

The sigh he releases on the other end of the phone, is followed by a small chuckle. 

“You’re not intruding. I promise. Plus they all love you.” 

------

You order an uber straight after calling Mathew. When you open the door to your bedroom, the yelling still hasn’t stopped. The log walls have always been pretty soundproof, but you swear, right now there is an echo in the house. Silently you close the door behind you. Your dad is still ranting on about how none of this is his fault, and how some things women simply don’t understand. 

You sigh and take off your shoes to make your steps even quieter than usual.It’s not that your father isn’t kind, it’s just that he seems to have been too kind to another woman. And it puts a great deal of fear into your heart. It makes you scared that Mat might do the same. 

You shake the thought (almost) out of your head, Mat is not your father, and you are not your mother. Still, you can’t help but feel like your mother deserves better. Leaning against the door frame, you pull up your phone and start scouring the web. 

The uber app alerts you of your rides arrival, and you go into your travel backpack and pull out a piece of paper and a pen. Quickly you write down the number and name of both a divorce lawyer and a couples therapist. Your coat is already on and your bag doesn't have wheels, so it’s a silent endeavour to the other bedroom in use on this floor. Your parent’s room. 

It looks like it always has. Everything is neatly put behind closed doors and the bed is perfectly made. No knick knacks on the bedside table, not even a book or an alarm clock. You sigh, put the note on your mothers side of the bed and leave.

You’re glad the kitchen doesn ‘t have a clear view of the hallway, your parents are too immersed in their fight, to notice the fact that their child is slipping through their fingers. They don’t notice you walking away from them.

------

The airport is not so surprisingly filled only with stragglers and people who are most likely working this christmas. The pine trees are decorated and everywhere, but you don’t feel as sick to your stomach as you usually do. Quickly you find your gate. It’s got a great view and you watch the snow fall under the lights of the airport and sip the holiday drink you uncharacteristically got from the coffee shop beside the gate. You have already checked in the luggage, so yet again you pull out a pen, but also a worn and torn leather bound notebook that’s been with you since the start of your degree. 

The songs usually come from poems but somehow this one is different. You start the melody quickly, writing down notes and sometimes little words that you feel make sense with the melody. Your hands start to itch for the ivory and ebony keys of a piano, but just as the feeling arrives the flight attendant calls up your flight and you have to pack up. 

 The plane is only half full, so you get a row to yourself. Resting your feet across the two free seats is a little uncomfortable, you’ll admit as much, but the feeling of having the piano at least on your computer is settling some of the itch. 

-----

Mat comes alone to pick you up from the airport. He’s standing in the parking lot leaning against his car. The second he hears you approaching he looks up from his phone, pockets it and meets you halfway. Immediately he hugs you tight.

“Hi babe, I missed you.” 

He says with a low voice into the scarf wrapped around your neck. You just hug him tighter. The tension that took a hold of your body during the layover, is releasing from your body. Mat’s entire being is like a weighted blanket covering you. 

When he lets you go, you miss his warmth, but it’s short lived. He picks up the bag you dropped to the snow covered ground and puts in the trunk before opening the passenger door for you. Upon entering the car, you are engulfed in everything Mat and warmth. 

“You gonna tell me what’s going on with your family?”

You sigh at the question, knowing it was going to come sooner or later. To be honest you’re glad he asked now, and not back home, back with his family. It’s just, how do you explain the entire messy situation to Mat, without getting pity points? You don’t want to feel like some charity case or, even worse, like some spoilt child who can’t handle the situation.

Instead of dwelling over it for too long, you decide to jump into it as he starts the car and enters the freeway. 

“My dad is cheating on my mom, and she found out last night. I think they were up the entire night just arguing. I just left a note on mom’s bed with the number of both a divorce lawyer as well as a couples therapist.”

You rant off, state it matter of factly. Trying to shut off your emotions. 

“Are you okay Y/N?” 

Mat asks. Simple as that. He asks you if you’re okay, and you can’t quite handle it. The tears are pressing on behind your eyes. And you look out the window, trying to hold them back. But when he puts a hand on your thigh, you let the first tear fall. 

“No.” 

And it really is as simple as that. You’re not okay. And you hate it. Just in that second your phone starts ringing in your back pocket.

“Sorry.”  

You say as Mat looks at you. He just gives you a soft smile. You check the caller id, and see it’s your mom. Quickly you clear your throat and wipe your tears away. 

“Hello mom.” 

You answer, trying to sound neutral. 

“Y/N, where are you? Did you go to one of your friends here? I can’t find any of your things.” 

She sounds confused to be honest. 

“Yeah no, I left, I’m on my way to my boyfriend’s house.” 

You hear her suck in a breath. Probably trying to calm down. You do the same, hoping for a calm conversation. 

“You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend? Where are you?” 

You sigh, know it’s gonna be a long conversation. 

“No, I know, I didn’t tell you on purpose. He lives in New York usually, but he’s from Canada.” 

Ideally, you know, this would be a conversation to have with Mat, about why you haven’t told them about him, before you had it with your mother. 

“You’re in Canada?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, what does he do then?” 

“Mom..” 

You start to avoid the question, but she interrupts you. 

“No, I want to know what he does that makes you think it’s okay for you to run away from your family right before christmas.”

In that second, just a split second, you get a little fight in you. 

“First of all, it wasn’t his call, he invited me, when I called him. Originally I was just gonna go back to New York. Alone. Second of all, I am not interested in spending christmas around you and dad when you can’t figure out your lives. Third of all, he makes me feel safe and appreciated and I can’t imagine being anywhere else right now.” 

You can feel the tears streaming down your face, but you don’t care. 

“Fine, if you are going to be like that then.” 

“I am gonna be like this mom.” 

“Fine.” 

She says, and then she hangs up the phone. And to be honest you’re kind of glad she did. 

“That sounded rough.” 

You nod and close your eyes. You don’t want things to be this way. You truly don’t, but it the way it is. 

“You didn’t tell them about me?” 

Mat asks. Possibly sounding hurt. 

“No, I was scared that they were gonna be who I know them to be, especially upon finding out that you play hockey for a living.”

He sinks a bit back in the driver’s seat.

“You think they wouldn’t like me?” 

He definitely sounds hurt. 

“I think they would like your image, your paycheck and what you could do for them publicly.”  

You answer earnestly. Before continuing. 

“They want a solid paycheck and all the nice things in life. The things that prove that they’ve got a lot of money, and that about sums it up.” 

“Oh, well that’s not good.” 

Letting out a sad chuckle, you nod your head. You can tell you’re closing up on his house because he seems to be driving slower now.

“I hope you know I’m not into you for the paychecks.” 

“No I know-”  

He turns and smiles at you. 

“You’re in this, for the amazing sex, eh?”

“Oh, for sure.”  

You smile and take his hand.

---

Waking up is always kind of heavier in the winter, but with Mat’s arms wrapped around you in the morning, it’s just something else. You fell asleep in one of his hoodies and flannel pj pants. You’ll admit it, it is a bit too warm, but hell it’s so worth it. 

You can feel him behind you, bare chest rising slow and steady. Soft snores escape him every now and then, but his arm around your waist stays there. Mindlessly, you start tracing shapes and letters on the back of his hand. You feel his hand start twitching, and all of a sudden he squeezes you tight and pulls you on top of himself. 

“I love you too.” 

He smiles up at you with his bleary eyes. Your cheeks heat up. You didn’t think he’d actually notice the letters you had been spelling out on his hand. So you hide your face on his shoulder and stay there. Just placing small, light kisses there. 

“Can you say it? Like out loud?” 

He asks you, quietly. 

“That I love you?” 

Immediately you feel him smile into your hair. 

“I love you Mat Barzal.” 

And you swear, you can feel his heart skip a beat in his chest.  

“Merry Christmas, by the way.” 

You say, feeling content. This is by far the best Christmas morning you’ve had, and you haven’t even gotten out of bed. 

“Oh shit, it’s Christmas morning!”

And before you know it, the light is on, and he’s out of bed and pulling on a shirt and a pair of sweats. He turns and looks at you expectantly. 

“Well, aren’t you coming?” 

He asks, moving in your direction. Mat all but drags you out of the bed and barely let’s you go to the bathroom to brush your teeth, before meeting his family downstairs. And it’s a glorious sight that meets your eyes. The christmas tree is decorated with little lights and different colour baubles?, as well as glitter. It looks homemade, and not like the perfectly decorated trees that have made their mark on your childhood. 

The sight of it causes you to stop dead in your tracks. God, how you love the normalcy of this. The morning is filled with laughter, jokes and copious amounts of hot chocolate. It’s not until the end of the gift unwrapping, that Mat slips away from you, claiming that he has to go to the toilet. 

He returns a few minutes later, carrying a big box wrapped in paper. It doesn’t take you long to notice that all eyes are on you. 

“Maty, I told you no gifts.”

You sigh, but you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your lips as you see how giddy he is. 

“I know I know, and originally I was going to stick to it, but I saw this in the store and I know you said you’d manage without it, but I just couldn’t help myself.” 

And as you listen to him rant his heart out to you, realization dawns on you. 

“You didn’t seriously..” 

Your sentence trails off as you watch him carefully place the box down on the dinner table. 

“Please, just open it?” 

And he knows you could never resist his pleading, just as well as you do. Nodding, you head to the table and start unwrapping the way too expensive gift. Soon the logo of the electric keyboard begins to unravel to you, and tears are seriously prickling behind your eyes.You pull the sleeves of the hoodie over your hands and wipe the tears away.

“Mathew, this is seriously the best christmas gift I have ever gotten.”

You mumble. He comes over and wraps you up in his arms again, and you can feel him smiling, how his entire being is happy, and maybe a little proud of himself. His mom and dad gush over how cute the two of you are, whilst Liana rolls her eyes with a fond smile. 

“Well, why don’t you play us something sweetie?” 

Mats mother asks you carefully once you unwrap yourself from Mat. 

“Yeah, I can do that.” 

And just like that the living room is cleared enough for you to set up the keyboard along with a chair from the kitchen. You even go back upstairs and find the chords you have written down for the song you wrote in the airport.

Testingly, you play a few chords. That is the moment you notice how quiet they’ve all gotten, so you decide to speak up, just to shake the nerves a little. 

“Okay, so this is kind of a rushed song, I wrote it on my way here, but I do hope you like it.” 

And then you start playing the first notes. You do love how the keys seem to find their way to you right away, like you’ve been playing this keyboard for a long time already. And then the words spill from your mouth. And you just sing. 

Careful what you say

This time of year

Tends to weaken me

And have a little decency

And let me cry in peace

But there's a place where I

Erase the challenges I've been through

Where he knows every corner

Every street-name

All by heart

And so it is a part of my

Courageous plan to leave

With a broken heart

Tucked away under my sleeve

I wanna find home for Christmas

Let me find home this year

I wanna find home for Christmas

Let me find home this year

I'll pack my bags

And leave before the sun rises tomorrow

'Cause we act more like strangers for each day

That I am here

But I have someone close to me

Who never will desert me

Who remind me frequently

What I I can truly be 

And so it is a part of my

Courageous plan to leave

With a broken heart

Tucked away under my sleeve

I wanna find home this Christmas

Let me find home this year

I wanna find home this Christmas

Let me find home this year

I don't know what my future holds

But I know who will love me

I can’t tell you where I'm from

But this one loved me to life

And so it is a part of my

Courageous plan to leave

With a broken heart

Tucked away under my sleeve

I wanna find home this Christmas

Let me find home this year

I wanna find home this Christmas

Let me find home this year

Playing the finishing keys, you look up from the keys, and see both Liana and Nadia smiling through a few tears. Mike is holding his wife close as he smiles at you. But Mat, he looks at you like you hung the stars in the night sky. 

Quickly you get up from the chair and wrap your arms around his neck. Closing your eyes, just letting yourself be completely enveloped in him. 

For a second though, he pulls slightly away, just enough so he can look you in the eyes. 

“I love you so much, and you’ll always have a home with me.”

Your heart swells ten times bigger than what your chest is made to encompass. 

“I know. I love you too.”

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal fic #new york islanders #new york islanders imagine #new york islander fic #new york islanders blurb #nhl imagine #nhl new york islanders #nhl fic #nhl blurb

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

the wolf should’ve been afraid of me.

Titans 3.04

just under the wire! ... i hope.

like with the previous review, i’m typing this up as i see the episode. here we go!

spoilers ahead.

1. ... well. that was an interesting cold open.

1.25. i don’t know whether to admire this show’s restraint when it comes to gotham and its excesses, particularly arkham asylum. it’d be easy to go hammer and tongs, like suicide squad (2016) did, or any number of bat media did, at a tropey, colourful~~insanity~~ that can be quite damaging, casting mental illness in strangeness and criminality. it definitely shows gotham as... separate from the rest of the country, its own ecosystem of heroes and villains, a sort of rogue state. 

but that ecosystem is still human, with its heroes needing to clip parts of themselves away just to survive, growing old and needing to be recycled, its villains languishing in the same kinds of systems that fail everybody else who needs to be helped. it’s a quieter, tenser sort of wrongness: not strange enough that you can dissociate, but not close enough that you can completely empathise. gotham is its own creature.

1.5. i know that the reasoning behind this is more doylist than anything, but i’m so glad that joker was killed off with little fanfare right at the start of the season. he is the one man in the batverse that’s transcended its confines as this sort of ethereal boogeyman/eternal edgelord and to justify his presence in the series would mean giving him this tired, overblown importance and too much of a stab at colourful, tropey “madness” in this otherwise-subdued series. i wish all batmedia would follow suit and get rid of this fucker.

1.75. so jason is bucking scarecrow’s control! or reminding him of who exactly holds all the cards right now. circling back to what i talked about in the last review, it’s remarkable just how little time it’s been since jason’s “death” and he’s already got ‘minions’ and elaborately set up plans to track, break and kill the titans. just how long has he been planning this? when did he first look at WE weapons prototypes and think that’s something i can use to blow somebody up? and the most unsettling question: did he plan his own death at the hands of the joker just so that he could break batman?

at this point it’s obvious that the scarecrow at least started jason down this path, but it’s frightening just how far he’s travelled already.

1.8. aaagh, less than one minute in! i’ll shut up. 

2. conner washing his hands at the sink reminds me that he was directly in the line of explosion when hank got blown up and he’s probably got atomised hank-bits all over his skin that he’s desperately trying to wash off.

... you’re welcome.

2.25. conner, don’t you speak to gar fucking logan like that, sir, no!

2.3. if anything it’s the lex part of him that gave him the knowhow to recognise the weapon and build a de-activator for it. 

anyway, for that ‘half-breed’ and ‘talking tiger’ comment?

(i wish, tho, that we actually see conner more interested in the superman part of his legacy, like maybe listening to stories from gar, or even better, dick, so we get a better idea of the pressure he’s feeling to live up to that part of him and not the part that’s lex.)

((i talked about conner’s stages of moral development in his introductory episode last season, but i wonder if the next stage of his self-actualisation would be to further integrate the parts of himself and realise that they are only parts and he, conner, is an entirely different person unto himself that can make decisions on how to use what he has and what he knows. his superman abilities can be used to destroy. his lex knowledge can be used to save.))

3. oh dawn :((

3.25. is this the last we see of dawn and hank? i mean, we know donna is coming back; would it be a stretch to think they’ll try to have a go at resurrecting hank as well?

3.5. “deathstroke didn’t make us into killers.” good, because deathstroke didn’t make jason a killer either. there’s a missing step there you need to be looking for, dick. 

3.75. dick did try to break the cycle, step away from gotham, run from the possibility that he could turn into batman. it didn’t help; he couldn’t fully withdraw from his vigilante persona the same time he loathed it, and batman literally haunted him both asleep and awake. but maybe gotham doesn’t have to turn anybody into anything. maybe gotham has nothing to do with it at all. it’s about taking responsibility, realising some sacrifices are pure bullshit, and building an actual family instead of merely a team.

anyway: hugs!

(oh, also? mr “i hate flying”? i mean, there’s perfectly valid reasons to hate flying that’s not related to childhood trauma, but then again, this guy was literally a ‘flying grayson’ once. also also, remember that he also gets sea-sick. must’ve a lot of fun stories to tell.)

4. ooh that gar/kory confrontation was brief but cool!

listen, i have never seen a psychiatrist with that extravagant an office and SIR I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW HOW--

4.5. kory’s so unused to reaching out for help and it’s breaking my heart that HPG likely is some kind of impostor that’s maybe causing her symptoms in the first place. 

kory and dick have mostly been apart this season but it’s remarkable how their journeys have paralleled each other; kory processes her grief, isolation and existential dread into a determination to take care of this new family she has, no matter what it takes; dick does much the same, forging ahead with plans and solutions until he has no fuel left in him and spirals into a massive breakdown.

4.25. listen titans this really is a TERRIBLE continuity error. we aren’t goldfish; we can clearly remember that two minutes ago it was gar’s upper arm that was burned, not his forearm. COME ON.

“sensory deprivation tank” *SNORT*

anyway, gar is the BEST

4.5. i wonder where these visions of experimentation took place. was it on tamaran, or on earth, after she came to hunt down rachel/trigon and before she lost all her memories? is HPG a part of the scientist group that experimented on her? ... god, i hope not. i mean, i think he is, but it would be cool to have some positive therapist representation in media. 

5. you’d think the van transporting a dangerous supervillain that only batman could catch would be more secure but... i’m also not entirely surprised. 

5.15. i love dick gives ZERO shits about hiding himself or even ensuring scarecrow is adequately contained. just turns away after kidnapping him in BROAD DAYLIGHT and says ‘let’s go’. I LOVE THIS DUMBASS

6. lmao gar is having a really really shitty day SOMEONE GIVE THIS MAN A BREAK or just a goddamn story arc of his own

6.5. i’m really confused about the timeline here. so... sometime ago, kory came down to earth to hunt down trigon, yeah? at some further point down the line she and her sister were kidnapped and experimented on. THEN she somehow escapes but... loses her memory? a few months pass and then we see blackfire alive and well and free; she kills faddei, can impersonate other people, and is clearly seeking out kory. but now she’s still in the experiment facility...? what’s going on?

i’m not entirely surprised about the facility being mostly deserted. either the biggest investors in this project gave up on it and it was left to the most fanatic to carry on, or they were deliberately trying to lure kory and get her to free blackfire--expand the environs of the experiment, so to speak.

7. hopefully barbara is going to get something to do other than listen to various men give her Attitude

8. how do you terrorise a terrorist? well:

i love when dick is a scary-competent motherfucker.

8.25. ooooh, the attack on crane at arkham a ploy to get crane to blackgate? nice one dick, i didn’t even think of that. but why though? to protect crane from the titans? to intercept the van to blackgate and “rescue” him? seems likely--red hood was there, except dick got to crane quicker.

9. still reeeallly unclear about the komand’r situation. was komand’r captured after s2? is this all A TRAP?? if so, why are you stepping into the only thing that can contain you, kory????

9.25. so... definite parallels between dick/jason and kory/kom here. i’m just. i’m still. really confused. i’ll shut up now.

10. this may be my favourite dick look yet:

woodsman!dick in a beanie.

10.5. i unironically love how titans has made this bizarrely-devoted-to-his-moniker, toxin-spewing supervillain into a tamer version of hannibal, psychoanalysing his victims into submission. it’s of a piece with how inward looking titans is, the way all of its villains are obsessed with how our protagonists’ minds work, to the point where they would actually spend time inside of them. 

there are no big plots to end the world. no apocalypses or endgames here. these villains collect the titans’ insecurities like infinity stones. the way the titans defeat them is by achieving character growth--literally winning by the power of love. literally “the real superpower is the friends we made along the way”!

10.7. anyway, i’m betting dick is used to this bullshit from crane and is humouring him in the service of getting more information. the story about the wolf? an implicit threat, not to mention dick getting to control what crane knows about him and what methods he would use to manipulate him.

am i giving dick too much credit here? i don’t think so. he’s really impressed me so far this season.

10.75. like. there’s a real unreliable narrator vibe coming off with every person that talks about bruce (much like how the various members of the titans talked about jason’s motivations) and to buy into crane’s talk about bruce being a psychopath is to fall for the same manipulation that jason fell for. dick is the only person who hasn’t really psychoanalysed bruce this season, and i think some part of his detective brain is piecing things together into a bigger picture.

11. i’m glad kory rescued kom but did she have to kill the scientist?

(i mean, yeah, probably - the less people know that kom escaped the less likely they’re going to have the fucking govt on their doorstep, but still.)

11.5. dick’s gonna come back to wayne manor, stare straight at komand’r and go, well which room would you like? because the team might as well adopt ANOTHER person, yeah?

12. oh MAN that red hood/nightwing fight was AMAZING! and he did the thing! the boomerang escrima thing! i’m so delighted!

12.5. the anger and disbelief in dick’s voice when he says you told crane EVERYTHING?! tells me that he knew exactly what he was telling crane himself.

12.75. “everything you are is because of him” - oh that reminds me of halluci!bruce from last season. i hope we see halluci!bruce again--he is so vicious but so entertaining... so much more effective at tearing dick down than crane or jason combined. goes to show that dick’s biggest enemy is own fucking head.

12.8. oh no! dick’s shot! crane is in the wind with red hood! blackfire is now with the titans! i love it!

honestly this season’s pacing is such a big step up from the last couple. gold star, show.

#titans #titans spoilers #meta #dick grayson #koriand'r #garfield logan #komand'r #conner kent #dawn granger #jason todd #jonathan crane #a byronic cupcake #badass strawberry truffle #manic pixie pop tart #a tragic jalebi

[tempestsreach-blog]

Fuck Diet Culture

This is going to be long.  It’s going to be rambly.  It’s going to be sad.  It’s going to be angry.  There’s going to be language some people don’t like. I can’t NOT talk about it though. 

Fuck diet culture.  Let me say that again.  Fuck. Diet. Culture. It has taken such a huge chunk out of my life.  I have lost pieces of myself I’m not sure I’ll ever get back.  The only way to heal is to go through.  I can’t go back.  I have to move forward.  But I can’t do it quietly.  I can’t hide.  I can’t live in the same shame I’ve spent the last 40 years in.  Literally.  40 years of my life wasted to this.  I can’t bear to live the back half of my life in the same way.  What the hell is the point? I’m not going to write this in any particular order because all of the thoughts and feelings swimming around are snapshots of things in my life that diet culture has broken in me or stolen from me. A lot of you aren’t going to agree with me.  That’s okay.  Truly.  This is about ME.  This is to help ME heal.  You can talk to me about your struggles, your diets, your ups and downs, your successes and whatnot.  I am here for you in all of it. But I won’t diet with you anymore.  Never again.

Currently I am having severe knee pain.  One knee is worse than the other, but both are bad.  I should go to the doctor.  I should have gone to the doctor years ago for it.  Want to know why I didn’t?  My weight.  I have injuries from overuse and over exercise and I am terrified that I am going to go to the doctor and the first words they’re going to say are “Well, if you lost 20, 30, 40, 50 pounds, it probably wouldn’t hurt so much.” instead of listening to me, examining me, scanning my knees and HELPING me.  I don’t feel this way irrationally.  This shit happens.  I am in pain.  I don’t know how to get help without being told to go on another diet that will not work.

Because diets don’t work.  Not long term.  I am excellent at losing weight!  I’ve done it over and over and over.  Then I stop restricting, counting, starving, and pushing myself.  Then my body says “What the fuck were you doing?” and puts it back. I lost the ability years ago to know whether I’m actually hungry or not.  I eat too fast when I do eat because if I snarf it down super fast I can get it in before my brain says “You’ve had too much.  Did you count those calories?  How many miles on a treadmill will you do to make up for that?  Did you actually earn this meal?”

Every time.  Every meal.  Every morsel.

I have never been officially diagnosed with an eating disorder.  Only been told by therapists and psychiatrists that I definitely engage in disordered eating.

No shit.

Every diet under the sun.  Cabbage soup.  Phen Fen.  Weight watchers (MULTIPLE TIMES), TOPS, Noom, My Fitness Pal calorie counting, intermittent fasting,  and every whacky bullshit thing in between promising results.  I’ve purchased fancy scales.  I’ve even tried one that wouldn’t show you your weight, but the color of your progress in the app.  Here’s a hint… if you gain, your color is black like death.  I’ve failed a million times and I’ve blamed myself.  I am the failure.  So I hate my body a little more every day and I stress about how I’m going to NOT pass my disordered eating and my food issues onto my kids.  My stress levels are through the roof and 98% of it is diet culture related. What the fuck is that about? Every time I start a program I hit it hard.  Last time I tried anything involving tracking or counting I was so starving by the time I got home from work that I almost ripped a child’s head off (not literally OBVIOUSLY) but I screamed at her at the top of my lungs because she hurt my feelings.  It wasn’t until after finally allowing myself to eat another morsel of food that I realized I was hangry.

Why is living in a larger body not acceptable?  We all talk about diversity and equality as though we believe it with our whole hearts, but that doesn’t cross over to fat.  Or skinny if we’re really being honest.  How many times have you heard or seen online “Oh my god, she’s so skinny.  Feed her a damn cheeseburger!  She looks anorexic.”  I know I have.  I know I’ve said those words.  I will punch myself in the gut if I ever say them again.  

Every body is different.  We are supposed to be.  Let’s not BLAME genetics like it’s a bad thing.  Let’s realize that it’s what nature has intended.  My father is over 6 feet tall and a large man.  He’s just a big man.  He went on Nutri System when I was young, lost a ton of weight, and put a bunch back on over the years because he is a big man.  My mother was not tall, but was always large.  I hated her body because HER PARENTS told her all the time she was fat and unworthy and cautioned me not to grow up to be like her in any way.  Even when she was poor and homeless she was still large.  That was the way her body was.  I wonder how different her life might have been if the size of her body hadn’t been a factor in the way she was raised or treated.  How might that have made my life different?

I know a lot of you are probably rolling your eyes at me right now about being vocal about another health plan or saying to yourself “just because you have trouble with diets doesn’t mean they don’t work”  I know there are people close to me thinking “She just always gets excited when she discovers a new diet, that’s probably what this is.”  NO.  

This is me finally realizing that I can heal and healing doesn’t mean I need to weigh 157 pounds. (That’s the weight limit for women my height to enter the air force when I did in 1992) This is me finally realizing that I’ve been lying about the weight on my drivers license for 30 years because gods forbid anyone saw my real weight on that document. This is me realizing that I’ve spent my life trying to live up to other people’s ideals of what I should look like because I assumed they wouldn’t like me otherwise. This is me realizing how much unintentional harm I could have been doing when sharing another diet, another idea, another bout of “well this is working really well for me!” with people I care about. This is me realizing how much damage I’ve been doing to myself living with this level of shame for 40 years. Hiding what I’m doing.  Suffering in silence.  Hiding food. Restricting.  Binging.  Over exercising to compensate.  Spending money on one last diet.  Spending emotional energy on one last hope. We were in Las Vegas for what was supposed to be a fun vacation last week and I was so hot and miserable and so steeped in hating my body because my painful knees were betraying me that my internal monologue was a never ending loop of “I’ll hit weight watchers REALLY HARD when we get home and get rid of this weight, then I’ll figure out my knees and work on maintenance” Let me say that again, clearly.  I struggled to enjoy my vacation because I was obsessing about restricting food AFTER my vacation. One last time.  One last meal.

BULLSHIT.

We walked by shops with weird and pretty fashion dresses. (I freely admit I don’t understand fashion) the husband and I would both point out ones we thought were pretty.  My brain would get stuck on “Yeah, but they don’t make them in my size” or “Yeah, that would NOT look good on me.  It looks fine on that size 0 mannequin”  Pretty on other people.  Other people are pretty.  Not me. Diet culture is pervasive and all consuming.  In big ways and little ways.  I’m 5 ft 9.  I’m not a tiny person at any weight.  I’ve always been told I’m too big.  Even when I sit, I slouch a little and/or tuck my legs and feet up under me to try to make myself appear smaller and less invasive.  This is subconscious.  I don’t always realize I’m doing it until my knees remind me. Most of my life has been things that get in the way of my diets.  “I should start the diet today, but it’ll have to wait until next week because so and so’s birthday is this week and I want to be able to enjoy that.”  or “It’s late fall, I should just start now but first there’s my birthday, and then Thanksgiving, and December happens and there’s all kinds of treats then.  Better wait until January, but not the first because that’s new year’s...maybe the following Monday.” or the ever popular “I already had a bad eating day today, I’m a failure.  Why bother?  Fuck it.  I’ll try again tomorrow.”  That one was always followed by binging because of the last supper mentality.  If I’m starting a diet tomorrow I better eat EVERYTHING NOW. This is how I’ve lived my whole life.  The time not spent dieting was just the time in between diets where I was planning my next diet.  So much life wasted.  The only time I was not actively dieting or planning the next diet or suffering from “I’m just too exhausting to put effort into food right now” was during my 4 pregnancies.  I let myself eat whatever and whenever because I was nauseous all the time anyway and something in my brain made me fuel my body for the babies. When the youngest was born and the on call doctor who delivered her told me I was too fat to have my tubes tied I definitely started planning diets again in that moment.  I believe now, years later, that my diet and diet culture ruined mind and body is part of what kept me from being as successful at nursing the kids as I wished I had been.  I assumed my body was broken and not good enough for my babies.  The last time I lost a LOT of weight it was because I didn’t want to ruin someone’s wedding pictures.  True story.  This was nothing that person felt or anything they told me.  IT’s what my brain said to me.  It’s how I de-valued myself.  There are very few current pictures of me now because I’ve been stuck in a place where I feel shame when I see them. When I’m dead, memories and pictures are all my kids and grandkids will have, and I hate myself too much to let anyone take them. That’s not okay.

I dream about food.  I daydream about food.  Food I “shouldn’t” eat.  Food I “should” eat.  When to eat.  When not to eat.  Every spare ounce of energy is spent thinking about food or hating myself which leads to more thinking about food. I am not in a place where I can prepare dinner for my family right now because it’s too hard to put that much energy into food.  I force myself to pick the recipes from the app and get the shopping done via instacart so all anyone else has to do is pull up the recipe and make the food.  If I’m looking at the ingredients or trying to prep anything I stare at every individual thing debating whether or not I “should” eat it.  This is going to take me a long time to break free from.  Today I finally feel like I CAN break free. There is nothing wrong with being in a large body or a small body.  Food is not good or bad.  Food is food.  I have to say these things.  I have to repeat them to myself or I fall down the rabbit hole again.  None of this is work anyone can do for me.  I have to live it.  I have to work through it.  I have to figure it out. If you read this far, my statement stands.  If you’re on a diet, I will listen to your woes and hold your hand and I will not judge you for it.  This was very hard to write because I am certain some of you who believe in diets, ways of life, and wellness eating may block me now because I spoke my mind.  I’ve clung so tight to the people I love and refrained from being honest and speaking my mind for fear of abandonment.  I’ll have to live with it if that’s the case here, because people sometimes need to do what’s best for them.  Airing this out is one of those things for me.  It’s a scary thing for sure. I also want to say that I’m happy for this to lead to discussion.  I’m not going to shut anyone down for wanting to talk to me about this.  I am always open to learn new information and see different perspectives.  Just know that if I’m emotional and feeling a lot of strong things about how my life has been up to this point, and I am entitled to believe what I believe just as you all are.  I’m happy to share sources and books I’ve been reading on the subject.  They are not diet books.

Here’s to doing better from here on out.

Here’s to finally being free.

#intuitive eating #anti diet #mental health #fuck diet culture

[saturnsringsnthings]

man.

for the longest time I've been almost positive I have adhd, and despite my family's limited knowledge of mental health i decided to reach out to my mother seeking her help and approval. after a few times of suggesting it she finally agreed, making me an appointment with a psychiatrist.

meanwhile i was telling my therapist of my concerns, in which she agreed, telling me it seemed very likely i had adhd. i took that little crumb of hope and i ran away with it.

the day of the appointment finally comes, i can barely contain my excitement and anxiety. i was finally getting somewhere, and even if it wasn't far, i was no longer at rock fucking bottom and that was good enough for me.

i talked to the psychiatrist, i thought things went really well. she mainly just asked me a lot of questions, but i could tell some were related to adhd. she told me "it seems likely you have it". she followed up with my mom.

when she hung up, i quickly asked my mom what she said about me, to which she responded the psychiatrist just recommended we discuss if i should start anti-depressants or not (my mom refuses to let me take them and at this point I don't care anymore). i was left confused, and my questions remained unanswered.

at my next therapy appointment, i expressed my concerns and curiosity to my therapist, telling her about everything that happened and how i just wanted an answer. she checked something out for me, and proceeded to tell me that the psychiatrist ruled out adhd. she told me it seemed likely i had it, and then proceeded to write down that i didn't meet the fucking criteria.

i don't know what to do. im almost positive my mom only went along with this to ease my concerns, and i feel like now if i try to bring it up to her again she'll just say i don't have it. i just want someone to listen to me. my family won't listen. my therapist won't listen. im out of options until i can manage to figure something else out.

im just,, so fucking upset, man.

#adhd diagnosis #personal vent #vent #living with adhd #probably adhd

[lokis-little-kitten]

Teaching Assistant 13

When you wake up it is the next morning. You have been transferred to a recovery room. It is quite spacious and light. Your bag and other belongings laid on a table next to your bed. An IV was in your right arm connected to a bag of fluid. 

You look down and notice your left shoulder is all bandaged up. You can see some angry bruises peek out from under it. The room was awfully quiet and you felt anxious. You wanted to know what was going on. You press the call button and wait for a nurse to come and take a look at you. 

A young girl walks in with a large smile on her face when she sees you. She has short black hair and a radiant smile. She seems South Asian. She takes a look at the machines on your bedside as she starts to ask questions. 

“Hello. I’m Maya. How are you feeling?” You try to shrug but because of your bandaged up shoulder you can’t. 

“Okay, I think. I feel really tired…” The nurse nods and writes it down on the notepad she carries with her. 

“That is completely normal. You are on some really strong pain meds. The doctor will come and take a look at you in a little bit. Is there anything I can do?” You look around the room and then lock in on your bag. 

“My phone. Can you plug it in so I can charge it? There should be a charger on my bag.” Maya nods and checks your bag. She pulls out the cord and your phone. She plugs it in and lays the phone on your lap. You quickly thank her. 

“Anything else?” 

You think for a second before you remember. You’re surprised you can. You usually try to forget this. “I have an appointment with Doctor Eric Wilson here at 4… Can you let him know I had an accident?” She assures you that she will and then leaves again.

When she leaves you quickly turn on your phone. A few spam emails pop up on the screen and a few texts. One from Dimitri and a few from Loki. You first open the one from Dimitri but as you do he calls you. You pick up and put the phone on speaker. 

“Hey, you missed the first lesson. Are you alright,” he asks in a worried tone. There is some buzzing behind him. He is clearly in between classes. 

“I had an accident, last night. I’m in the hospital,” you croak out. Your throat is as dry as sandpaper. 

“Seriously? I’ll come right away,” he tells you and you hear him starting to walk faster to call in sick. 

“Thank you,” you reply. Dimitri tells you to sit tight and that he will be there shortly. You hang up and then check Loki’s texts. 

Daddyi. 

Did you get home safe?

Darling?

Answer me! 

Where are you? 

Why aren’t you in my class?

You are in so much trouble. 

Please answer me. I’m worried. Did I do something wrong? Did something happen? 

Answer me or I’m coming to your flat! 

The last message was only sent a few minutes ago. Quickly you call Loki up as well but he doesn’t pick up. He would probably be teaching a class right now. You leave him a voice note explaining your situation and tell him not to worry. 

After that your doctor did come in and check up on you for a moment. She explained what they did in the surgery and what was going to happen afterwards. You came out reasonably unscratched for a motorcycle accident. You had a broken collarbone, a bruised rib and a small head wound. They did want to do a brain scan to make sure there was no other damage done. 

You would have to receive a lot of physical therapy for it to heal properly. You would also have to wear a sling the next few weeks. The doctor asked you once again if she could call someone for you. You told her Dimitri was on his way. 

A few minutes later he indeed arrived. He looked rather pale when he walked in. It must have been a bit of a worrying sight. You were in a very oversized hospital gown and all alone in the rather empty and sterile room. He sat down on the bed with you and grabbed your hand.  

“How are you, babe?” He looks at you with large puppy eyes. 

“I’m alright. The painkillers do their job.” You give him a short smile and then take a deep breath. You tell him you still need a brain scan and that you need to wear a sling the next few weeks. Dimitri offers to get you some stuff from home, like your laptop, clothes and other things. 

When he leaves you go for the brain scan, which is frightening. The room was dark and the machine was scary. You had to lay still as the machine was scanning you. You were very happy when you got out of it. 

Once back in your room Loki still hasn't replied or even seen your messages. Dimitri returned with some of your stuff. You watch a bit of a movie until he is sent out as well. You take a short nap since the anesthetic made you drowsy. 

Around four someone knocks on your door. When you look who it is you are surprised it is Eric. He is the psychiatrist treating you for your eating disorder and anxiety. He was absolutely wonderful. You are so lucky to have found him! He takes a chair and sits down next to your bed. 

“Hey there,” he smiles as he takes off his official doctor's coat. “You didn’t think I would skip out on you only because of a little motorcycle accident.” He gives you a funny smirk that manages to make you laugh. 

“Of course not. I think I’d have to actually pass away to skip an appointment.” Eric chuckles a bit and then opens his file. 

“So, how are you in regards to the accident,” he asks in a serious tone. You think for a moment and want to sit up but your shoulder prevents you from doing so. You slumb back into the pillows before replying. 

“This is gonna sound strange, but I’m alright. I don’t know if it’s just the shock but I sort of needed this…” As the words leave your mouth you feel crazy. The brain scan came back clear but maybe they missed something. 

“You needed a near death experience,” the psychiatrist asks you as he changes his sitting position. There is a thin frown upon his forehead. 

“Yes… in a way. I tried to stay here, to stay awake. I was actively finding ways to stay here and to help the doctors. A few months ago I would have let myself drift off but I didn’t. I wanted to live,” you explain. 

It was true. A few months back when you were deep in your eating disorder and filled with anxiety you had at some point nearly died. You didn’t care whether you lived or died. You just wanted your suffering to be over. Now, after some of the hardest months of your life it changed. You wanted to live. You wanted to make the most of it. You wanted to study, to graduate and make something of yourself. It was a big difference and the accident reminded you of that. 

“You should be proud of yourself,” Eric agreed, “that is a big change. Although, you should not need a near death experience every time to remind you of that.” The last bit he says as a joke but it’s tinted with seriousness. 

When the session is slowly coming to an end your phone rings. The screen was still upwards and the words ‘DADDY’ appeared largely on the screen. Doctor Eric looks at the phone as you quickly click it away. You look up at his confused face and wait for him to say something. 

“I thought you didn’t talk to your father anymore,” he asks with suspicion written all over his face. He knows very well you haven’t talked to him since you were ten. 

“I’m not,” you reply and avert your eyes from him. Loki could not have called on a worse moment. You do not want to talk about your love/sex life with your psychiatrist. The fact that this is illegal doesn’t help. 

“So you’re seeing someone. Why didn’t you tell me,” he asks in a serious tone before switching to dramatics. “I thought we told each other everything.” He makes some fake crying noises and slowly slides from his chair. You can’t help but chuckle at the ethics.

“It’s still pretty new. I just don’t feel like talking about it. I didn’t think it was important,” you say, hoping Eric will stop questioning. He struggles back onto his chair and gives you a serious look. As he does you have to hang up another call from Loki.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it with an old dude like me, but I do feel like we should talk about it. You have never had a good example of relationships and you are in treatment for an eating disorder, depression and anxiety. This could turn toxic if you’re not careful.” You just stare at your therapist for a second. 

“Well thank you for listing all that,” you mutter as you slide down in your bed a little more. Eric gives you an unimpressed look. “But I guess you make a point. Next session,” you suggest as you look at the clock. Your hour is over. Eric luckily agrees and then leaves the room. 

 When he leaves you quickly call Loki back. He answers rather fast and distressed this time. A plethora of questions immediately roll off his tongue. You quickly stop him halfway. 

“Loki, I’m alright. Sorry I didn’t pick up. I was with a doctor.” You can hear him sigh in relief. 

“I was so worried when I didn’t hear from you and you didn’t show up today. I knew I should have driven you home last night!” You stop him again before he starts to ramble again. 

“It’s not your fault. There was a broken traffic light.” 

“How are you feeling? Can I come over?” 

“I’m alright. On a lot of painkillers. I don’t think you should. It would be suspicious. The doctors told me I will be discharged soon. I’ll see you then.” Loki doesn’t like the idea of you being in the hospital all alone but eventually agrees. You talk a little longer until Loki has to go home from the university. 

The next two days pass by slowly. Dimitri comes by in the afternoon but the rest is rather boring. When you are finally discharged you are over the moon. Dimitri came and picked you up. He brought you home, did some meal prepping since your left arm was completely useless. 

He stays over the night and helps you in the morning to figure things out. Getting dressed was absolute hell. Luckily the hospital had given you some painkillers for your arm and bruised ribs. Dimitri is also nice enough to carry your bag into college. 

It was difficult to get through Loki’s class. You were craving one of his hugs and to just talk to him for a moment. You wanted to dig your nose in his neck and take in his scent. When class is finally over Loki tells you to stay behind. 

You walk up to him when students leave the classroom. He starts to talk to you about work you missed and whether you would have to catch it up. Once everyone is gone Loki rushes to the door, closes it and turns the lock. He pulls down the curtain that allows you to look into the room. 

When the coast is finally clear Loki immediately pulls you in for a kiss. He holds both his hands on your cheeks as he does so. You lay your good hand on his shoulder and pull him nice and close to you. When he let's go you press your body against his. You press your head in the crook up of his neck. Loki puts his arms around you in return as gently as he can. One arm he moves to your head and gently cradles it. 

“I’m so happy you’re okay,” he mumbles before kissing your hair. You don’t reply but just place a gentle kiss on his soft skin. 

[sherrybaby14]

Blue Spiders

A/N:  This is chapter one in a series!  I think it is going to be 3 parts, but if more is requested I do have an outline where I could take it to 10.  (Updates on Thursdays)

Pairing: AU Psychiatrist Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Words:  3700

Summary:  An interview with a charming doctor leads to more

Warnings:  This chapter, mentions of violence and murder, alcohol.  I HAVE NOT WARNED FOR EVERYTHING POSSIBLE.  PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.  

   Smoothing out your blazer and squaring your shoulders you rose your fist and knocked on the door.  

   It swung open, taking your breath away at the swiftness of the response.  Your jaw dropped for a moment, but you shook the nerves away, always the professional.  He was more gorgeous in person with blond hair and blue eyes.  The All-American man.

   “Dr. Rogers?”  You asked.  

   “So I’ve been called.”  He stepped to the side.  “Please come in.”

   Your eyes went up at the expanse of his office.  It had a balcony going around the entire space, floor to ceiling in books.  The main floor was open with a huge mahogany desk behind bright windows.  There was a sitting area with two chairs, a couch, and a coffee table.  On the wall hung a giant painting.

   “Is that a Jackson Pollock?”  You were surprised to see such a chaotic artist hung in a therapist’s office.  

   “I know it’s not the traditional calming image you would expect a doctor to hang, but I find it opens people up on the subconscious and allows my patients to see the beauty in madness.”   His voice made the hairs on your body rise, so calm and collected.  

   “Are most of your patients mad?”  You looked over your shoulder to see icy blue eyes taking in your face.  

   “We’re not here to discuss my patients Miss, that is private information.”  He wagged a finger in your face before moving toward the sitting area. “I was very clear when I agreed to the interview.”  

   “Of course, Dr. Rogers.”  You followed and sat down opposite him.  “I am sure my editor went over the basics with you, but this is for a feature we do monthly on interesting people in the area.  There is nothing to worry about, it is not investigative journalism, only a puff piece for our readers looking for human interest stories.”  

   “Yes, I am still uncertain why I was selected.”  The man adjusted his tie that was tucked into a vest.  He wore those clothes well.  “I fear I am not that interesting.”

   “You were instrumental in the capture of the Canary Killer.”  You were shocked by his modesty.  “The FBI has praised your work and referred to you as an essential asset even though you are not an agent.  That alone makes you very fascinating.”

   “The Canary Killer.”  Dr. Rogers rolled his eyes.  “I am not a fan of those nicknames.  They devalue the lives of the victims, and criminals are not my expertise.”  

   “Do you mind?”  You reached into your bag and pulled out a tape recorder.  “I did not expect to start this soon.”

   “Please.”  He crossed his legs and his lips turned into a small smirk.  “And tell me, why would your readers care about a murderer in Iowa?  I am sure they are locally based.”  

   “Yes.  We are out of Washington D.C., readership largely in Maryland and Virginia.  The surrounding areas, but a killer like this facinates anyone regardless of region.”  As his smile dropped you worried you were coming off too forward.  “And, the focus of the piece is on you, not the killings.  We want to know your background, your story.  I am sure it is more exciting than you give yourself credit for.”  

   “Your dialect is strange.”  He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.  “I can’t quite place where you are from.”  

   “I moved around a lot as a child.”  You looked away from his deep stare.  “Is linguistics one of your hobbies? Would you like to expand on that?”  

   “It is fascinating. Almost as if you have no accent at all.  Very unheard of.  Tell me, are you trying to disguise your voice?”  His teeth ran over his lip, sending a tremble down your spine.  

   “Doctor, I appreciate the question, but I don’t think I could afford your hourly rate.”  You weren’t used to your subjects asking you many questions.  “How about you?  Where were you born? What drew you to therapy?”  

   “Right.”  His smirk returned.  “I was born abroad.  My parents passed when I was twelve, I became responsible for my younger sister and believe it or not we snuck in illegally.”  

   The doctor’s comment on your accent threw you off, especially when he himself was born abroad but had no trace of one.  He continued on with his life story and you barely had to ask a question.  Everything about the man was fascinating.  

   “After my years in general surgery I discovered that most of my patients were more concerned with the mental effects and less with the recovery.  I enjoyed helping them with any resulting depression or anxiety and realized my love for the blade was second to my love of the mind.”  Dr. Rogers glanced toward the window.  “People are fascinating and I want to help in any way I can.”  

   “That is very noble of you.”  The jitters you had about his attractiveness were now dwarfed compared to the intensity of his wisdom and compassion.  “I know we are running low on time.  Is there any personal anecdote you want to include?  Wife or kids?  Dog?”  

   His smile brightened the room as he let out a laugh.

   “Unfortunately my dedication to my work has left no time for any personal life.”  He rose from his seat.  “Though since this is a human interest piece, I would say my main hobbies are music and cooking.”  

   “Wow. Even your hobbies are impressive.”  You followed his lead, grabbing your recorder and hitting stop.  “You don’t have any unproductive time.  Never lose yourself in a television show? Read a pulp novel?”  

   “I do not enjoy fiction much.”  He shrugged.  “What is the point when the real world is so interesting?”  

   “I never thought about it that way.”  You smiled.  “Thank you for your time.  As a courtesy I will send over the article before it is published, not for your approval of course, but your awareness.”  

   “I am sure it will be as dull as me talking about myself has been.”  He held a hand toward the door.  

   “That is a way to put it, especially since hearing you talk about yourself was the opposite of dull.”  You couldn’t find the right words to say, but that did not stop you from speaking.  “You see the world through a unique lens and have had very unique experiences.  Almost as if, as a species, we are lucky to have you.”  

   You felt like you should cringe or apologize, but something about the man made you speak your mind.  

   “And you must be very good at your job, because I felt comfortable saying that to you and I am not even a patient.”  You stopped at the door to his office.  

   The two of you faced each other, his hand went for the knob, but he paused.  

   “You are not my patient.”  Dr. Roger’s eyes glanced over your face, then stopped at your own.  The two of you stared at each other and you did not look away as a chill went down your spine, the intensity of the man.  

   He was about to speak again when a boom landed on the door.  You jumped and put your hand to your heart, your adrenaline flaring.  

   “I’m sorry Dr. Rogers.”  The door swung open and a familiar face walked in.  “But I need to see you right away.”  

   The new guest’s voice trailed off as he spotted you.  His face scrunched and a look of disgust came over.

   “What are you doing here?”  Blue eyes glared into your soul.  

   A smirk crossed your face as you folded your arms.  

   “Hello Agent Barnes, always a pleasure.”  You should have figured he was a patient.  “I am writing a human interest piece on Dr. Rogers.”  

   “You talked to her?”  James looked to the doctor.  “About me?”  

   “I didn’t mean to create more problems for you to discuss.”  You bit back the urge to fire a crack about his narcissism.  “Thank you again Doctor.  I will send you the piece in the next week or so.”  

   You held out your hand and watched as the blonde man shook it with hesitation.  

   That deep intense stare was gone.  Your heart deflated as you left the office, trying to hold your head high and shoulders square.  It felt like he was going to ask you out on a date for a moment, one you would have gladly expected.  

   The cringe you were fighting came forward as you left the swanky office building.  Agent Barnes interference or not it was a stupid fantasy.  This man was too good for you.

~~

   Steve considered his ability to read people top notch.  Even though he was the one speaking he spent the past hour studying the journalist and to say she was intriguing was an understatement.  

   In fact, he was interested enough he was on the verge of asking the woman to dinner.  

   Bucky’s apparent hatred toward the woman was not expected and Steve found himself mentally recapping the interview to see if he missed something.  

   Before he could assess the situation she stormed off.  Her quip about Bucky being a patient was ruder than he found acceptable.  

   “You gave an interview to Miranda Balfour?”  Bucky gripped his long dark hair as he walked into the office.  “What were you thinking?”

   “What?”  Steve shut the door.  “That was not her name.”

   “Of course she gave you a fake name.”  Bucky scoffed.  “I hope you are prepared to have your reputation trashed.  Did you think to, google whatever name she gave you?”  

   “I did and she checked out.”  Steve's intrigue for the woman was turning to anger.  “Now who are you claiming she is?”  

   “She is Miranda Balfour.  She runs a murder blog, always posting sensational stories.  She gave extensive coverage to the Canary Killer.”  Bucky ran his hands over his face. “Nothing better than a gossip rag.  I’m surprised you haven’t noticed her.  She’s always lurking around any local crime scene.  Trying to get pictures and interviews like she is a legitimate source.  It is disgraceful.”  

   Steve could feel his body temperature start to rise.  He thought about walking over to his desk and sweeping everything off, then taking an axe to the thing.  He imagined the wood slowly turning into the face of Miranda Balfour as she took a whack to the head, splintering as easy as a tree stump.  

   “Well if I have been duped, it is nobody’s fault but my own.”  Steve shut the door to his office.  “What brings you by so urgently Buck?”

   “The New England Butcher.”  Bucky shook his head.  “I stayed up late last night, going over every murder in the area that even remotely fit his MO.”  

   “There is one issue off the bat.”  Steve took a seat in the chair, knowing Bucky preferred to pace while he spoke.  “Lack of sleep.”

   “Six murders in three years.  Each gruesome in their own way.  The randomness of the kills, the victims.  It is like we were only able to string them together because he wanted us to.”  Bucky stopped.  “And that is what caught my attention.  What about the ones he doesn’t want us to?”

   Bucky sat down and dropped a file on the table.  Steve was annoyed at the waste of paper when an email would have sufficed, but he indulged Bucky and picked up the file.  

   The first photo was of a dismembered man found in a ditch.  Steve knew the date off the top of his head, July 2nd 2013.  Blake Corenzo.  He was a pig of a man.

   “That is a murder from 2013.  Blake Corenzo.  He was stabbed and chopped post mortem.”  James glared as Steve looked up, waiting for his punchline.  “I think he was the Butcher’s first victim.”

Steve bit back a laugh with expertise.  

“The brutality matches.  But what was missing?”  Steve was curious if the Agent was going to connect the dots.  

“Nothing.”  He sighed and pressed his hand to his forehead.  “Or something we missed.  But I have seven more bodies I believe are connected.  We know that as killers go on they get lazier, think they are unwatchable, but the Butcher, he is different.  We are not going to catch him on a technicality or sloppiness.  He is too good.”  

Steve did enjoy the flattery.  

“We have to find his first kill.  It always starts with someone they know.  Always.”  Bucky had a desperation to his voice.

“So you believe that this Blake Corenzo knew the Butcher?”  Steve watched Bucky struggle to connect the dots, not realizing he was the fish on the hook in this game he was not even aware he was playing.  “Have you told Anthony Stark?”  

“Yes.” The air deflated out of Bucky as he fell back into the couch.  “He told me mandatory session with you before I am cleared to return to work.”  

“If I check my e-mail will there be one from him?  Is that what it will say?”  Steve appreciated the protectiveness Tony had for Bucky. In a way it was as if Stark saw Barnes’ brain as a fragile asset.  One he was constantly concerned was about to break.  

“It will say I can’t go back until you clear me.”  Bucky tried to hide the humiliation.

A man in his 30s being controlled by his boss and therapist as if he were a child.  Steve recognized something in Bucky, an equality almost.  Because Tony Stark’s concern were not without merit.  James Buchanan Barnes did have a brain that could operate like no other and if anyone were to catch the Butcher Steve was certain it was the Agent in front of him.  

“You are obsessing again.”  Steve crossed his legs.  “It is not healthy.  You are getting too involved.  The Butcher hasn’t struck in three months and twice already this year.  It’s likely he will not attack for some time.  You are trying to create leads.”  

“You sound like Tony.”  Bucky scoffed and looked away.  “When I sleep,  I see their faces.”

“Whose faces?”  Steve leaned in, unsure what Bucky was going to say next.  

“The ones, the ones I didn’t save.” Tears glossed over Bucky’s eyes.  “Not the ones who have already died.  The ones who will if I don’t stop him.  Their faces are blurry but they’re pleading with me.”  

“People die every day.  You cannot carry that guilt.  It will destroy you.”  Steve reached for his rx pad.  

“I can’t help the people who die every day, but I can help these people.  If I can stop the Butcher.”  Bucky’s jaw tightened.  

“You keep saying ‘I’ when it is a team effort.  You are not a superhero.  You cannot do this alone.”  Steve wrote out a medication.  

“I have to since none of you will listen to me.  Not Tony, not you.”  Bucky rolled his eyes.  “Even Natasha told me to give it a rest.”  

“Maybe that says something.”  Steve handed Bucky the prescription.  “That will stop the dreams.  Take one before bed and get some sleep.”  

“And then what?”  Bucky looked up, lips parted.  

“And then come and see me in the morning.  Once you are rested we will have a conversation about Blake Corenzo and I will talk to Mr. Stark.”  Steve watched as relief flooded Bucky’s face.  

“Thanks.”  He looked at the prescription before shoving it in his pocket and letting out a yawn.  “And sorry, for what I said earlier about Miranda.  She won’t be able to tarnish your reputation.”  

“I am aware. The most salacious detail I gave her is already public knowledge.”  Steve rose.  “I only regret my own error in judgment.  Now get some sleep.”  

Bucky nodded as they walked to the door.  Steve kept his calm as he let the FBI Agent out.  

Then he walked back to the table and picked up the file.  He set out the photos of the four crime scenes Bucky wanted to tie to the Butcher.  

“Very clever Agent Barnes.”  All of them were done by Steve.  In a way seeing the photos was like revisiting an old friend.  

Corenzo was far from Steve’s first kill though.  He had watched the man use a racial slur and a racist imitation at a dry cleaner.  Another rude person the world did not need.  

Steve flashed back to Miranda’s comment about the human race being lucky to have him.  She was right of course, on more levels than she realized.  He was purging the world of the disgusting people who did not belong.  

After Agent Barnes’ proclamation Miranda Balfour’s name had landed on that list.

~~

Steve was a patient man.  He sometimes marked his victims for years before they met their demise.  

When he got home, to what his visitor’s refered to as architectural magic, he went straight for the kitchen.  It was on the level of any executive chef’s dream.  

He would cook tonight.  Channel his anger over the reporter, but not before adding her name to his list.

He went to the recipe drawer.  It looked more like a filing cabinet, filled with Rolodexes of index cards with carefully printed ingredients and instructions.  He had order them online since the entire world had gone digital.

On the rare occasion he had a guest they poked at his old fashioned nature.  He remembered the first time he had Bucky over for dinner.

“You live in such a modern house, and appear a very modern man, but that recipe system reminds me of my grandmother.”  Bucky laughed as he sipped his wine.

“And I bet your grandmother’s cooking was far superior to your own.”  Steve raised as eyebrow as Bucky frowned.

The memory vanished as Steve pulled out the Rolodex he wanted.  This one did not have recipes, it was for its original purpose, filled with business card collected over the years.  

He grabbed one at random.  Donna Chung.  He closed his eyes and remembered her behavior,  the way she was screaming at her child in the grocery store.  The child could have been no more than three and was crying over not being able to drop a quarter in a donation box.  

“You get nothing from that.  Here I’ll buy you a candy bar instead.”  

Steve followed her home that night.  Googled the address and the next day walked into her real estate office.  He picked up a business card and dropped her in his Rolodex.  That was almost eighteen months ago.  

She was not a candidate for a butcher murder.  Besides, the day left Steve uninspired.  But still he set her card to the side.  

He picked up an empty one and wrote the name Miranda Balfour, along with the phony one she had given him and the contact e-mail.  Then he closed up the Rolodex and put it back in its place.  

Steve poured a glass of wine and walked over to his computer.  He fired up the laptop.  

Grabbing a remote he turned on the fireplace and some music as he sat on his overly plush blue sofa.  Calm colors was what his interior designer recommended.   He was grateful for that advice.  She was someone who brought beauty to the world.  

As soon as Steve typed Miranda Balfour into the search her blog popped up first thing.  The title was “Miranda’s Macabre Museum”.  

Steve rolled his eyes as he went to the first post.  It was from two days ago.  

Murder

Victim:  Lawrence Engle

Death:  Stab wounds

Date:  April 12th, 1985

Location:  Mobile, Alabama

What followed was a summary of the facts.  Steve was expecting more of a tattle-tale type scenario.  But he did not see anything salacious.  If anything it was very matter-of-fact with little insight.  

At the end there were links to photos with appropriate warnings and links to sources.

Then there was a section titled editorial.  

“Here we go.”  Steve readied to read the sordid opinion.

The motive in this murder was money.  While the law, for the most part, disregards the motive as important to the trial my long time readers know I disagree.  Until we change as a society and value human life over finances we will be doomed to see unnecessary killings as this continue to happen.  That does not mean the killer should be pardoned for his crime because society as a whole is at fault.  On the contrary.  He is part of the problem and should be punished.  

Sentence:  Death by lethal injection.

“Interesting.”  Steve found his mind going back to his initial opinion of Miranda or whatever her name was.

He noticed a search option on her blog and typed in his name.  Several posts on Canary victims came up, but he found he was only mentioned in the source articles or the summary.  

He did the same for Agent Barnes and saw the results light up.  He scrolled the posts for the highlighted name and came across a murder from three years ago.  

Editorial:   The lead Agent on this case has shown textbook narcissism.  His attempt to relate to the killer to solve the crime failed here, because the murder was not about him, but he found a way to make it so.  The last victim’s death would have been preventable if Agent Barnes listened to anyone but himself.

“That explains Bucky’s dislike.”  Steve shut the laptop and pinched his eyes shut.

When he googled the first name, multiple stories came up that were as she said human interest pieces.  Did she lie just to get the interview?  Pose as the other woman?  

Lie.  What difference did it make?  She was a liar and had earned a spot in his Rolodex.  

This one felt personal though.  In a way Steve did not enjoy.  She made him feel...comfortable.  Or made him feel something.  The way her eyes were so inquisitive and she seemed to hang on every work with genuine interest.  When in fact he was intentionally trying to bore her.  

That would not stand.  This woman would not sit in the Rolodex for years.  Her time would be shorter.  Steve stood up from the couch and went back to the kitchen.  He picked up Donna Chung’s card and returned it with the other, instead setting the card he’d just drafted on the counter.  

He would start tomorrow.

~~

A/N:  Thank you so much for reading!  I really appreciate every like/comment/reblog!  I haven’t done a series in a long time so I am excited!  And if you didn’t figure it out this is....

Hannibal AU :). 

#Steve rogers x reader #au steve rogers #steve rogers x you #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction