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negasonicimagines · 3 years

Text

Revelation; Part One

warnings/kinks: a/b/o (if you’re penis-repulsed this isn’t for you), smut (duh), brief daddy kink, even briefer mommy kink, cum-eating, cum-marking, cockwarming? (does it count if it’s a/b/o?), light bloodplay, borderline somniphilia (consensual), poisoning, suicidal ideation, allusions to cheating, mentions of conversion therapy, vague mentions of s*xual ass*ult (it doesn’t actually happen in the story, it’s just referred to a lot due to the nature of this universe)

uh… this is another one of those stories that’s just kinda Heavy, please be careful & don��t continue reading if doing so is unsafe for you. I have a variety of other works that don’t have such intense themes, which you can find on my masterlist!

request (+details): Omegaverse: Alphas Yukio and Ellie with a beta reader, but it turns out that reader is a late-bloomer omega who goes into her first heat unexpectedly. / Omegaverse: The setting could be anywhere. The three of them waking up with reader burning hot, believing to be sick but is actually going into heat. The reader could be by themselves when it happens and her alphas come home to a omega in heat / I can’t get this omegaverse idea out of my head, and I hope you don’t mind me telling you this. Reader being alone and confused when her heat came, her alphas gone on a mission. During the time they were gone, Reader made a nest of her alphas’s clothes out of instinct on their bed. By the time Yukio and Ellie returned, Reader is a hot mess from trying to get off, moaning their names and begging for her alphas to help her for she don’t know why she feels like this and is scared.)

synopsis: After Wade discovers you're dealing with suicidal thoughts, he takes it upon himself to help you out, leading to one disaster after another.

author’s note: thank you so much to the lovely anon who requested this for spending so much time with me & making sure everything was juuuust right! Fun fact: we pined, started dating, and broke up, started dating again, and broke up again all before this was published 🙃 sorry everybody, it’s been a rocky road for the past… forever.

Standing guard after school for a few extra bucks is a pretty sweet deal, you have to admit. You mostly just sit around with a pair of binoculars munching on your snack of choice, using a gun loaded with tranquilizer darts to drop anyone who threatens the safety of the school and its residents. If given permission, or an order to do so, you can use your bow and arrow to really take down your enemies.

You’re pretty lucky in life overall, you also have to admit, with two alpha girlfriends and a variety of friends and acquaintances, not to mention the advantages your mutation gives you.

It makes you feel even more guilty for what you’re really thinking about right now. Not Ellie, not Yukio, not keeping an eye out for threats, nothing but a simple question:

Would it be more efficient to slit your wrists with the point of one of your arrows, or to fling yourself from the top of this turret? Which would hurt worse? You look from the sharp arrow you hold in your hand to the plush grass below, managed by some of the other students.

It’s far cheaper to pay students to maintain the yard and house, not to mention it gives students like you a way of earning the kind of spending money that other students receive from their parents or from jobs in town. Your post would be snatched up in no time if you were to pass.

Speaking of parents.

Your father’s exact words to your mother were “I hate that you use a highschool mistake to keep me trapped with you forever!” the last time you happened to hear them argue. They were no longer invited to parent-teacher conferences after that.

It’s a fine reason for him to be angry, but, unfortunately, you’re the highschool mistake he was talking about. The one he’s always talking about whenever they fight. Maybe if you were gone, he’d finally be free. Maybe you’d finally be free from his resentment. He, fortunately enough, rarely lashes out at you directly; however… There’s always been a distance.

Would he love you more if you were gone? If you saved him from… Well, you? You’ve always wanted him to love you, to look at you with something other than anger or resentment. Would he finally be proud of you, for owning up to every horrible thing you are and have done by paying the ultimate price? Would everyone?

You’re holding the bladed tip of the arrow right against your wrist, almost like a normal person might hold a bracelet to their wrist -- trying it on for size, without really thinking about it.

Suddenly, though, Wade’s here. And he’s definitely thinking about it. He yanks the arrow out of your hand, accidentally snapping the wood that makes up its length.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I- Uh, I don’t know,” you mumble, embarrassed, because you honestly don’t. Being alone with your thoughts gives them the space to grow from their poisoned roots into something dark you don’t really recognize as yours.

“You- You don’t know?!” Wade questions, and the unusual severity of his tone stuns you to the point of laughter. “This isn’t fucking funny, what the hell is wrong with you? Why were you-?! What were you-?! What the fuck are you doing?!”

“I’m standing guard. What the fuck are you doing?” you echo dryly, resorting to quips to avoid telling him any more than he already knows.

“I’m freaking out! I can’t kill you for apparently wanting to kill you, so that’s all I can do! I thought you were on antidepressants!”

“I am. Have been for years. They don’t cure depression, they make it easier to manage.”

“Apparently fucking not! Come on, let’s go talk to somebody and get you an appointment with a psychiatrist. You’ve been on the same prescription all these years, right? Maybe you just need your dosage upped.” Wade’s not asking, he’s telling, his hand wrapped around your bicep to pull you along, although his grip isn’t as tight as you’d expect for a man of his stature, let alone an alpha.

Why does he care so much? He’s always so gentle, even when you piss him off like this. Tears well up in your eyes but you blink hard. You know he’s been through worse. That most people here have. You have no right to cry.

Wade yells at a surprised Charles Xavier until an appointment is set up, which goes pretty well. Four days after that incident, you meet with the psychiatrist who agrees that upping your dosage is the smartest decision, frankly, she’s surprised it wasn’t done sooner. And, after about a week of your new dosage level, you’re feeling better than ever.

Way better.

“You… You’d really wanna do that? For everyone to know I’m yours?”

Ellie nods, cheeks darkened. You’re straddling her, and the two of you have been trading heated kisses with Yukio. Who would’ve thought more of the medication you were sure killed your libido before you could even develop one would be what rescued it?

“Of course we would. I know you don’t like to stereotype, but some of the stereotypes have truth to them. We’re… Territorial,” Yukio reminds you.

“I’m… A beta,” you remind her in a teasing echo of her tone.

“Our beta,” Ellie cuts back in. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Even if I’d rather not let you guys, y’know…” Your hand rubs at the space between your neck and your shoulder - where they’d likely mark you with their teeth - nervously. “...today? Or go farther than what we’re doing right now?”

“Of course, baby! The fact that you’ve even done this much…” Yukio trails off, looking over you. Your lips are swollen and still slightly parted as you continue to pant a little. The top few buttons of your (well, borrowed from Ellie) flannel are undone.

“We’re so grateful, and so proud of you,” Ellie continues, drawing your attention back to her. “We’re willing to wait as long as you need, even if that waiting only ends because you’ve decided that being with us like that isn’t something you want.”

“I do. I always have, I just… I don’t know.”

“The feeling’s still there, in your stomach, right?” Yukio wonders.

“Yeah, a little. It’s like… I know it’s not wrong, but something doesn’t feel quite right. Maybe I should just try to ignore it, I mean, you two have needs-”

“Hey. You know better than that, Y/N. We don’t, okay, babe? Not like that. We wanna have sex with you, not- Not hurt you. You understand that, right?” Ellie reassures you.

“I do, I just feel bad for being such a- I don’t know, a tease?”

“We love you. As in, you. If you forced yourself to do something you didn’t want to, just for us, how would we forgive ourselves?” Yukio says what she’s said a million times, but every time it surprises you. You tend to see yourself as only being valuable in what you can offer others— protection, a laugh, some good advice every now and then —you never expect anyone to care for you outside of that. But here they are. Absolutely perfect.

And you were thinking of flinging yourself off a tower a couple weeks ago. Should you tell them? They just think you went for an overdue checkup, which is technically the case. You don’t know what’s worse, hiding it or telling them. You’ll have to talk to Wade, he’s good at giving advice. Might not be good advice, but he’s definitely good at giving it.

“Everything okay, sharpshooter?” Ellie hands gently squeeze your hips to get your attention.

You blink back out of your thoughts, smiling a little and blushing at the nickname.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry, I just zoned out. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

“Everything okay?” your alphas ask, again, in unison. Your alphas. They probably couldn’t handle it if you had a problem they couldn’t solve, the guilt of not being able to provide for you would overwhelm them.

“Yeah, totally,” you reply, because it is, now, especially here with them. Ellie starts to button up your flannel.

“Oh, we don’t have to-”

Ellie gives you a pointed look, then looks down at her crotch, then back up at you. Your blush deepens.

“Yeah, I’m guessing a cold shower’s in order,” Yukio agrees. “El, you can go first.”

“We can’t go together?” Ellie asks.

“Well, I don’t wanna leave Y/N alone. Our brave little beta did a lot more than usual. Don’t want you to feel used, baby,” Yukio explains to you both.

“Oh, duh,” Ellie agrees. You give her a quick smooch on the forehead before dismounting her and allowing yourself to be pulled into Yukio’s arms. Ellie grabs some clean clothes and heads off. As soon as the door shuts, Yukio giggles, and you look to her with a curious, confused expression.

“Now you’re all mine to cuddle.” Yukio gloats, kissing the top of your head. “Mm… You smell really good, babe. New shampoo?”

“Ish, yeah,” you agree, despite the fact that you started using it nearly a month ago at this point. Maybe the body heat you built up from the makeout session made it smell stronger, though.

Yukio keeps sniffing you, but you don’t call her out on it. She’s a little bit quirky, sure, but there’s no need to make her feel self-conscious about it when the tickling sensation feels kinda nice. She tosses in a few soft presses of her lips against your skin, too, so it’s not like she’s the only one who benefits.

Yukio eventually stops this, though, instead requesting to scent you. You’ve told the girls before that they don’t have to ask, but they— especially Yukio —seem to prefer to. You figure it’s likely to reassure them that you not only tolerate but appreciate their alphahood.

“I love you, you know that? Not just ‘cause you make me smell like petrichor. I’m surprised Ellie doesn’t spend all day huffing your scent, I… I know I would, if I could smell it.” You didn’t mean for the sad envy to ring so clearly in your words, but it’s as sharp as a knife, cutting deep enough to make Yukio gasp softly with sympathy as she rubs your wrist against her scent gland, eyes snapping open.

“Well, next time it’s about to rain, we’ll go outside, then. Every time it’s about to rain,” Yukio insists. “Who- Who told you?”

“Wade. I was just curious. He said Ellie smells like a campfire, the scent even clings like it. He even said I smell a little weird. Most betas smell like something, but I’m just… A blank canvas.”

You feel her rumble a bit with a growl, and her arms wrap tightly around you… Protectively? You blush.

“Y-Yukio?” you nervously ask, caught off guard. Ellie’s usually more of the growling type. Yukio’s pretty good about keeping her possessiveness and any other “negative” alpha traits in check. This side of her doesn’t come out often.

“What was he doing that close to you?” she snarls protectively, and if the growl wasn’t enough to get your heart racing, that was. “Sm- Smelling you?”

“Yukes, Wade’s the same age as my parents. Honestly, he’s- He’s kinda- He’s nice to me. We’re friends. I think if he was going to hurt me, he would’ve done it by now. You two keep forgetting I’m just a beta. No one wants a piece of this pie except for you and Ellie.”

“You’d be surprised at the way some alphas… It’s sick, but they- Because betas, you know, they don’t really produce slick like omegas do, and they don’t have quite as much give, uh… So, some alphas, um, they… Just let me hold you, okay?” Yukio requests. “I can’t talk about it, it’ll make me too mad.”

“I respect that. Thank you. I, uh, I didn’t realize that at all, so thank you for helping me be even safer,” you reassure her. She’s trembling. “Do you want me to hold you, instead?”

“No, no, this will make me feel better. I just… I love you. Can you just…? Just- Just say you’re mine.” This is a request Yukio has semi-often. When she feels weak in comparison to other alphas, when she feels overshadowed by Ellie, any time she needs reassurance or is just feeling bad, she’ll probably ask. You get it, being hers (and Ellie’s, of course) makes you feel better, too.

“I’m yours, Yukio. Always yours. You make me so happy, both of you. Happier than- You make me feel so-“ You get a bit choked up. These girls, these alphas… They’re so important to you.

“Oh, no, baby, please don’t cry,” Yukio implores, watching your eyes water. You turn so that your face doesn’t just rest on her chest but is buried in it.

“It’s just that no one ever loved me before you two. No one, ever. Not my parents, not my ’friends,’ no one. I don’t know why I’ve been so emotional lately, I’m sorry.”

“No one at all?” Yukio questions, but that’s the missing puzzle piece, she realizes. You’re always treating hers and Ellie’s love for you like it’s something you have to earn, no matter how much they insist being yourself is enough. She fully grasps now that it’s never been enough before.

She holds you even tighter.

“Mm-mm,” you confirm, shaking your head a little. “You and Ellie just mean the whole world to me. And- And… Wade’s my friend, too. Can I still, y’know, spend time with him?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I just- He’s a nice guy, but… I don’t want him to put you in danger. You can handle yourself, though. Can’t you, sharpshooter?” Her fingers trickle up your ribs as she says the nickname, making you giggle and squirm.

“Absolutely, but it is nice to have two strong, sexy alphas take care of me instead every now and then,” you admit, albeit a bit teasingly, blushing softly. You turn back so that you can see her adorable face.

“Really?” Yukio asks, but she knows.

“Really,” you agree with a smile.

“I’m yours, too. You know that, right?” Yukio checks, fiddling with your hair a bit.

“Mhm. It’s nice to hear you say it like that, though.”

“I can think of other ways you might like to hear it,” Yukio flirts.

“Yeah, you think so? Show me,” you tease back.

“I will…” Yukio trails off as she trails her finger along your jaw, tipping your head up to the perfect kissing angle and- “Eventually, little beta.”

“I- I’m taller than you,” you weakly protest.

“Your breath still hitched,” Yukio reminds you with a giggle and a gentle tap on the tip of your nose.

You stutter a little more before giving up, burying your face again and whining.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I just can’t help myself. You’re too cute,” Yukio half-heartedly apologizes, still chuckling to herself as she strokes your back.

Ellie returns from her shower, inky tendrils of hair ruffled around but with no product in.

“She’s asleep?” Ellie asks, sounding a bit disappointed, but there’s still a significant amount of fondness in her tone.

“She’s not,” you mumble back, and both girls chuckle, Yukio untangling herself from you. You can’t help but pout a little, already missing the bubblegum-haired alpha.

“I know Yukio’s your favorite, but you could at least act a little bit happy to see me,” Ellie half-jokes, and you smile, pulling (though she doesn’t give any resistance) the girl back into your bed. She holds you the same way Yukio did, but you don’t really mind the lack of variety.

“You’re both my favorite,” you argue. Ellie takes a deep breath, likely taking in the way you’re completely embraced by Yukio’s scent.

“I don’t think that’s how favorites work,” she chuckles.

“Out of all the people in the world, you two are both my favorite,” you insist. She takes the hand you have resting on her ribcage and holds it inches from her scent gland. “Please,” you say, before she can even ask. Ellie takes a whiff again.

“Did she leave anywhere untouched?” She wonders.

“N-not really,” you stutter, because now you’re thinking of where she didn’t touch you.

“Well, she’ll have to share a little, then,” Ellie says.

You hum with delight as she scents you.

“You make a new friend?” Ellie questions.

“Huh?”

“You smell… Different,” she responds, looking at you… Well, differently. “Like roses.”

“I have a new-ish shampoo?” You offer, but that just seems to intensify the look.

Your phone rings. It’s Wade. You wriggle out of Ellie’s loose hold on you, answering.

“Hey, you know how I’m your academic advisor?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Well, apparently, thwarting your suicide attempts isn’t my only job. I also have to tell you when they need you in the office, which is now.”

“Seriously?! I didn’t even throw that pencil at Richard, and even if I did, he deserved it for being such a-“

“Oh, right! Should’ve opened with the good news. Your parents are here to visit.”

“What?! That’s-“ You sigh, not wanting to alarm Ellie any more than you already have. “Okay. I’ll be there. Just give me a second to get dressed.”

“Wow, no shame at all. I salute you. Toodles!” Wade hangs up before you realize he misunderstood you.

“What’s wrong?” Ellie asks.

“Nothing, just… My parents are here.”

“Your… Parents?”

“Kind of have to have those to exist, usually,” you remark, and she snorts.

“I know- I- Well, we’ve known each other for a while, and you don’t really talk about them, so I sort of assumed…” Ellie trails off.

“Oh, um, yeah, no, they’re very alive,” you confirm with an awkward chuckle.

“Right. I’ll go get ‘Kio, and we’ll all go, okay?”

“Uh- Um- Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“My parents, they kind of… They- I love you. And I’m not ashamed of you.”

“But they’ll be ashamed of you,” Ellie understands.

“I haven’t seen them in so long, they don’t even know that I like girls, let alone that I’m dating two, or that they’re both alphas… I want you and Yukio to come with me, but, if they start to- If they’re how they are, I-“

“Give my energy to helping you instead of hurting them,” Ellie uses Piotr’s words.

“Perfect,” you agree, and Ellie smiles back, but it falters. You didn’t mean to worry her so much.

“I’ll go get Yukio. You get changed, okay?”

“Mhm,” you agree, and she heads off to the bathroom. You steal one of Ellie’s band tees and an oversized cardigan of Yukio’s for comfort, finding a pair of high-waisted bottoms to tuck the tee shirt in. You throw on a pair of sneakers, and when the girls emerge from the bathroom, you pop in to freshen up.

Once you’re done, Yukio’s caught up on the situation and the three of you make your way to the front offices.

Wade meets you outside.

“Oh em gee, Y/N, you’ll never believe it, I actually went to high school with both of your parents.”

“Uh… Cool?” You respond, because you’re not entirely sure how to.

“Yeah, uh, I get now that it’s probably not really good news that they’re here, huh? No wonder I found you doing that the other day.”

“Doing what?” Yukio and Ellie ask, though for some reason, Ellie’s is tinged with suspicion, maybe even anger.

“I- Listen, it’s not a big deal, I got my prescription updated and all that good stuff, okay?” You prime them. “I was thinking about killing myself the other day and Wade caught me.”

“Thinking?! You’re gonna call holding the fucking tip of an arrow to your wrist thinking?!”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ellie sounds as angry as Wade does, but she looks pained. This is why you didn’t tell them.

“Hey, she doesn’t need this right now,” Yukio argues, but she looks hurt, too.

“I mean, I was just considering if it would be more painful than jumping off of the turret,” you mumble, your defense embarrassingly weak.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Ellie decides, and Yukio nods. You three follow Wade to Xavier’s office. Wade breezes in, but you’re practically stuck in the doorway, nervous to look at even the backs of their heads, before they turn around.

“Y/N,” your mom says with a grin, but you know all too well how fake that is. She approaches you, pulls you into a hug, and you want nothing more than to push her away and scrub yourself clean. She doesn’t really love you. The second you speak out of turn, or make a mistake, or give her any excuse, she’ll remind you of your worth. (Or, rather, the lack thereof.)

She slips back into her seat next to your father, in front of the desk where Xavier sits, simply observing.

“It’s been so long,” your father says, but his smile is almost blatantly fake. “Your hair, it’s different.”

“Like you said, it’s been a while,” you say, giving a grimace and an awkward chuckle.

“I don’t think I like it,” he says, like he’s giving his opinion on a sculpture in an art exhibit by some long-dead artist who doesn’t care what he thinks. Like it’s something just… Objective.

“Not sure what to do about that,” you reply sheepishly.

You don’t fully realize that you’re holding Ellie’s hand until she squeezes it reassuringly, three times. A secret code. You step further in to make room for the girls.

“So, uh, I have to ask… Why the sudden visit?”

“Well, we got an e-mail about your medicine, and we wanted to come check on you. Make sure this is the right environment for you,” your mother explains.

“You weren’t sure before you stopped talking to me for two years?” You half-joke, playing dumb.

“Has it really been two years?” A normal person would be asking this rhetorically, and they’d be embarrassed. Your mother, though, is simply trying to gaslight you.

“Longer,” you assure her.

“I thought this place was supposed to provide conversion therapy,” your father says, eyeing your hand, then Ellie’s other hand. “You’re such a fucking liar,” he hisses to your mother.

“Wow, maybe my mom dying when I was young was for the best. Better than this for sure,” Wade jokes, gently elbowing your side. You chuckle, grateful for even the slightest ounce of comic relief.

“You’re even more of a freak than you were in high school.” You squeeze Ellie’s hand tight as your father’s expression darkens even further.

“Funny you should say that, considering-“

“Wade,” your mother cuts him off.

That’s weird, to say the least. You just file that away for later. You have bigger fish to fry, like surviving this visit.

“Y/N, why’d you go for a check-up at all? You barely needed the anti-depressants in the first place,” your mother wonders.

“Because it wasn’t barely. Why else would they raise the dosage?” You ask, and the expression on her face is as stupid as the question she asked.

“Don’t speak to her that way,” your father scolds, like he didn’t just call your mother a fucking liar himself. “You are so ungrateful for everything we’ve done for you, do you realize that?”

“I’m sorry, what have you done for her, exactly? Answer quickly, please,” Ellie retorts.

“El-“ you start, but realize this isn’t anger, but advocacy.

“Well, we sheltered and fed her for over a decade,” your father remarks, smirking like he’s won.

“That’s your job!” Wade argues.

“Mr. and Mrs. L/N… I politely asked that you refrain from visiting the campus, and while I appreciate your concern for Y/N’s well-being, I must ask that you remain respectful of her, her fellow students, and my staff. Causing unnecessary conflict is exactly the reason you were almost banned when you last visited,” Professor Xavier finally speaks.

“Almost banned?!” Wade wheezes.

“Yeah,” you sigh, and Wade’s laughter immediately ceases. “I was cheating in school, according to- To Dad.” The word is poison in your mouth.

“Come on, we all know you’re not smart enough to get those grades on your own. Probably screwing some teacher, just like Mom.”

“That’s enough,” Ellie snarls, eyes glowing orange.

“I never screwed a teacher!” Your mother protests at the same time.

“Oh, that’s right, you just blew Mr. Morin. My bad. Wow, Y/N, you really must be something special for all these alphas to be fawning over you. Maybe I did fuck up once or twice, after all, I’ve heard daddy issues-“

“Well, you visited! Now get the fuck out,” Wade chirps.

“Mr. L/N, must I repeat myself? I know you and Mrs. L/N were interested in a tour. Perhaps a less crowded area would help ease your minds,” Xavier reminds you all of his presence once more.

“That sounds like a great idea,” your father agrees.

“I’m starting to get a bit of a headache, maybe you could show us your room first and I could lie down for a bit in there?”

“I-“ You look to the girls, not wanting them to have to deal with her alone.

“Actually, Miss Phimister and Miss Kitsuna would be perfect additions to a rescue team. The orphanage your friend Russell came from was actually part of a network for mutant trafficking, and we found another hub in Maine. The jet takes off in fifteen minutes, and you two will be back in time for dinner. Better get ready and briefed.”

“But-“ Yukio starts, looking to you.

“Go, be superheroes,” you tell them, and they head out. “Uh, how about we swing by the library first, to give them time to change, and then to our room?”

“You share a room with them? Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“We were roommates before we started dating,” you correct him.

“Dating… Aw, I bet you really think that’s what it is, too. Having parents in a sham of a marriage really did a number on you, huh?” Your father condescends.

“You know, it’s pretty fucked up how fixated you are on her sexuality. Do you like to picture it, you goddamn creep?” Wade defends you, and your skin crawls. You’d never thought of it that way before.

“Let’s just get that tour started, ‘kay?” You squeak. The sooner you get this over with, the sooner they’ll be on their way, hopefully.

“Good idea, Y/N,” Wade says. “Come on, Textbook, let’s go.”

“You didn’t just call me-“

“Oh, but I did, Textbook. Hey, Y/N, did you know that was your dad’s nickname in highschool? ‘Cause he was so fuckin’ easy to shove in a locker.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying not to laugh and failing.

“Just show us the library already, Y/N,” your mother says, pinching the bridge of her nose.

You take your parents to the library, as requested. Wade keeps pace with you while your parents fall back. You can’t hear their exact words, but you know your parents are bickering.

“You never said it was this bad.”

“It’s not that bad. It’s definitely been worse,” you admit, busying your eyes with the paintings that line the walls so that you don’t have to meet Wade’s gaze. You might just cry if you do; you can feel the sympathy radiating off of him.

In these past few months, Wade’s been more of a father than your dad, even more of a mother than your mom, but for some reason that doesn’t make you feel more justified in how you feel about your parents. In fact, it just makes you feel worse, and even if you’ve never actually expressed it, you’re still ashamed of the fact that you wish Wade was your father instead. He actually cares, while your parents are simply legally obligated.

From the day you met, Wade’s always been there for you. If you were to tell your parents what you almost did the other day, they’d just call you attention-seeking and insult you in other ways. All they’d do is make you want to try again.

You and Wade stop at the entrance to the library and wait for your parents to catch up. They do, and you open the double doors to reveal the room.

“It’s like Beauty and the Beast,” your mother gapes.

“I thought so, too,” you agree, attempting a smile, but your parents just ignore you, wandering around the large room. Your mother excuses herself after a few minutes of spinning, saying that the dizziness is making her headache worse.

“All these books and you’re still… The way you are,” your father comments, looking at you with such disdain.

“Winner of the science fair with her loving partners, three years in a row?” Wade questions. “Oh, or maybe you’re talking about the fact that she’s a published poet. How embarrassing for you, I’m sure.”

“Wade,” you protest under your breath, embarrassed. They don’t even know that stuff. After middle school, you stopped telling them about your accomplishments. You figured out that all they’d do is ruin them for you.

“No, no, trust me. It’s more about the fact that she’s slutting around with alphas and won’t even save us the embarrassment of them being girls,” you father spats.

“That’s enough,” Wade snarls.

“Oh, that’s right, we can’t forget that she’s yours, too. I guess anything with a dick is daddy considering I was too busy putting food on the table to play dollies,” he remarks, and you suddenly feel light-headed.

“Seriously, Textbook, I really don’t want to hurt you, especially not in front of Y/N, but I fucking will if you make me.”

“Just go,” you urge Wade, starting to feel a bit dizzy, surely from the stress. You brace yourself on him, disguising it as a touch meant to comfort him. He looks concerned as the edges of your vision start to darken a little.“I- What you’re doing, I appreciate it, but-“

“You appreciate it? You appreciate him disrespecting me, disrespecting our family?!”

“Our family?!” You finally snap. “All I ever wanted was for you to love me, and you couldn’t do that. You just couldn’t. And now we’re a family?! No. No, you…” You start to pant, your face feeling even hotter than before. “You… I hate you,” you manage to get out before your world goes completely dark.

“Fuck yeah, Y/N! I’m so prou-“

But when Wade turns to you, you’re halfway to the ground. He catches you, though, and he catches a whiff of something… Familiar.

Lavender. It’s not just the Wilson scent, sure, but it’d be too much of a coincidence. You smell just like him. You are him, or, rather, made of him.

He’s torn between ecstatic and furious.

“Hey, can we get some help over here?” your father calls out to no one. It’s not a school day, and lots of students are out on missions. He reaches out to you for once in your life, but Wade’s now sitting on the floor, cradling you in his arms.

“No,” Wade argues. “Not yours. Mine.”

“What?” You father asks incredulously. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“She’s. Not. Yours,” Wade repeats, and the more he inhales your scent, the more out of control yet calm he feels. Like he’s in the eye of a hurricane. “My baby. Mine.”

“You’re not saying…” your father trails off as Wade gets up, still cradling you. Wade has to take you to your room; help make you a nest, now. He can smell it on you.

You’re in heat.

He gets to your room quickly, practically tossing you onto your bed. Wait… Isn’t your mom supposed to be here?

And that’s when he hears the sound of pills spilling onto the floor.

He nearly rips the bathroom door off of its hinges. Luckily, your mother spilled what Wade quickly realizes is suppressants, and not your prescription.

“You. You could’ve killed her. You are very, very lucky that my baby-“

“Our baby,” your mother corrects.

“No, you take pills, you can’t even smell her, let alone feel her like I can. It- It’s so much it fucking hurts. I’ll say it again, you’re very lucky my baby is in heat, or your arteries would be emptying in that shower. Now, go. Don’t come back.”

You groan in pain, stirring, and your mother takes Wade’s advice. Wade calls Yukio. Then Ellie. Then Yukio. Then Ellie.

“What the fuck, dude?!”

“You need to turn around. Now. I don’t have the time to explain. It’s Y/N.”

“Is she okay?” Ellie, always skeptical, asks.

“Obviously fucking not, or I wouldn’t be calling. She’s in heat.”

“But-“

“I said that I don’t have time to explain, fucking turn around! I’m on the verge of going fucking feral, Ellie. You both need to get here, now.”

“Wade, get out,” Ellie immediately demands.

“I can’t,” he admits.

“Get out! Shit, Wolverine! We need to turn around!”

“I can’t. It’s not like that I swear, it’s… I’m going fucking crazy, just one of you will do, but someone needs to get here.”

“Wade, go.”

“I would never hurt her! Come home!” Wade barks before hanging up. He returns to your room to find you’ve made a nest instinctively - thank goodness for Yukio’s affinity for pillows and blankets - and now you’re curled up in pain in the center of it.

“Wade,” you whimper. He’s scared to step closer, not sure if he’s what you want, even if you despise who you thought was your father. “What’s happening to me? Everything hurts.”

“I really don’t know how to say this, but… You’re in heat.”

“But I’m a beta,” you argue, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“That’s what we all thought. But… Remember how you didn’t smell like anything before? Uh, let me start over. When did you start on your anti-depressants?”

“I was about twelve,” you confirm, not sure what that means.

“Yeah, I think those were suppressants. That it’s always been suppressants, no matter what the bottles said. Until you got a prescription without your mother knowing. Do you understand why your mother would do that?”

You shake your head, and he approaches the bed, sitting down carefully as not to disturb your work.

“Her boyfriend around the time she got pregnant with you was a beta. We know him as Textbook,” Wade teases, before continuing: “But, what no one realizes is that he was at Niagara Falls on spring break around the time when you were conceived, and she was hanging out with her next-door neighbor the whole time. Her next-door neighbor was me.”

“Oh, so I’m your highschool mistake,” you say, connecting the dots.

“Huh?”

“Ha, well, whenever my parents- Well, I guess not my parents, but that’s beside the point, uh, whenever they argue and it gets really bad, my father- Well, not my father, but, uh-“

“Continue,” Wade urges.

“Basically, sometimes he uses ‘a mistake I made in highschool’ as code for ‘Y/N,’” you explain. “But the truth is, I’m the mistake you made in highschool.”

“You’re not a mistake,” he disagrees. “You’re- You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. Lots of things are made by accident, but that doesn’t make them mistakes! Penicillin, potato chips, Post-It notes, popsicles! They were never supposed to exist but they do and the world is much better off with them in it.”

“You really do have a lot of useless knowledge,” you realize.

“So do you, that’s why our team always wins trivia night.” Wade slips off his boots, joining you in your rearranged bed. “C’mere,” he suggests, guiding your head to his neck.

“S’really you,” you mumble, already weary, and Wade worries for what’s to come. He almost doesn’t even want to let the girls in. He could get you pain medicine, he could probably even find sedatives. Then no one would ever be able to even touch you, let alone hurt you. “Lavender. You never mentioned the lavender, just the sandalwood.”

“I didn't think you’d be impressed,” Wade admits.

“It’s relaxing,” you tell him. “It’s nice to have things in common with someone.”

“You smell like roses, too, not just lavender,” he makes sure you know.

“Yeah, but I think that’s mostly concentrated in an area I’d rather not discuss with you.”

“Well, just make sure that if you do decide to do anything more with them than cuddle, which I can gladly go through the rest of my life without knowing, bee-tee-dubs, that the girls are wearing alpha condoms, especially if one of them knots you. Standard condoms work in a pinch if it’s just for one, y’know, go, but for heats they’re basically useless because of everything I just said. If they hurt you, I will make their deaths look like accidents.”

“S’not like I can get pregnant anyway…” You mumble, embarrassed. “I’m- I’m really glad it’s you. I- I wished so many times that it was you instead of him. Ow, ugh, that one was bad,” you groan, massaging your stomach.

Meanwhile, on the jet, Ellie is furious with herself.

“Yukio, you don’t get it, I smelled her. She smelled like an omega, but I thought- I assumed she was cheating on us. That maybe she didn’t want to be with us like that was because she wanted to- I don’t know, to be on top? It seems so stupid now.”

“Hey, I noticed she smelled different, too. There were other signs we both missed, anyways. Think about how emotional she’s been lately, or how much farther we’ve been going in other ways. How clingy she’s been, too.”

“I guess I didn’t really notice it because I liked her being more open and needing us more,” Ellie admits. “She- She almost fucking killed herself. And I thought cheating was what she was hiding. I- I just-“

“You can’t beat yourself up over it,” Yukio insists. “We’re on our way back, and Wade’s there to protect her.”

Speaking of Wade being there to protect you, he continues to comfort you as the pain gets worse.

“S’too hot,” you complain, and he releases you from his hold, rising from the bed. He knows he’ll have to leave you soon, because you’re likely going to need privacy before the girls get home, but it’s hard to part from you knowing you’re in pain.

“I’m gonna get you some water, okay? And after that, I’m just gonna stand guard outside the door until your girls get here. I know there’s some stuff you need to do, and that’s only gonna get worse.”

“It’s already awful,” you admit, and he chuckles.

“Good luck, kid. I love you.”

Wade gets a case of bottled water from the school’s industrial-sized pantry, bringing it to your room and tearing it open for you before leaving once more. You take one, immediately guzzling it down.

In privacy, you take off Yukio’s cardigan and your bottoms, leaving you in Ellie’s tee shirt and your underwear. You decide to go ahead and free yourself from the constriction that is your bra, feeling a bit embarrassed that you’re not leaving much to the girls’ imagination for your first time together. You eventually decide to undress completely, wondering when the hell your girls are gonna get here.

#a/b/o #yukisonic #yukisonic x reader #yukio x reader #negasonic teenage warhead x reader #ellie phimister x reader #yukio imagine #negasonic teenage warhead imagine #ellie phimister imagine #yukio #negasonic teenage warhead #ellie phimister #x-men imagine #x-men fanfiction #sapphic x reader #sapphic imagine #wlw x reader #wlw imagine

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nacrelyses · 3 years

Text

normal album analysis as a musical: the child

first a disclaimer: i know this interpretation was not will wood’s intention in making the album, this is just how the music resonates with me and i hope it helps other people as well.

now following up on my last post about the normal album potentially being interpreted as the life of a queer child in a conservative family (tw internalized and external queerphobia, gaslighting, mental illness).

let’s call this ..hmm.

a normal musical: the child.

suburbia overture: the aforementioned overture, the establishment of the musical setting as your typical white picket fence upper middle class suburb nuclear family. traditional values, traditional lifestyle, traditional children, with the vampire culture segment foreshadowing the way that imposing conservative values and self-loathing on a closeted queer child “sucks” the life out of them.

2econd-2ight-2eer: when the child starts questioning, the very act of questioning defies the moral compass their family has set out for them. possibly reflecting the way that questioning and exploring one’s identity, in addition to being rife with internalized queerphobia, is also fraught with the self-gaslighting that comes as a result of the internalized queerphobia, which might make the child believe they’re simply “losing it” or that whatever they’re experiencing is a mental illness. also the first stanza: “my grip on my secrets slipping while i’m speaking in tongues, screaming at the top of my lungs in the confession booth” religious trauma much?

laplace’s angel: the child has begun to come to terms with the fact that they are most likely queer, and the complete deterioration of their family’s imposed conservative values. this is the phase where the internalized queerphobia still makes them feel as though they’ve become a bad or evil person, thus laplace’s angel being them internally pleading for the world and for society to see them as they really are rather than a villain deviating from the norm. that if others were in their shoes, they’d walk the “same damn miles”, the same damn crises, the same damn emotional turmoil, that the child is currently going through .

i/me/myself: gender cannonball...need i say more? maybe the child believes, as a product of internalized transphobia, that it would be easier if they were their assigned gender - or perhaps, depending on the individual, maybe the child is wishing to be able to exist as their true gender. in either scenario, this song encapsulates the desperation that comes with exploring identity. the freedom that arrives with a revelation and the immediate restriction that comes with realizing that that revelation can never be truly realized in a queerphobic family. or even the bitterness at knowing their family makes such a huge deal about queerness, that queerness is somehow a gigantic roadblock their family will never be able to cross. both realizing your identity and still grappling with the idea that if you were born into the “norm”, you wouldn’t need to go through all this pain to try and figure out who you really are. it’s the turmoil of being genuine in a society that would actively oppress you for doing so and putting up a facade that somewhat lessens the aforementioned pain, but at the cost of further internal suffering.

also, to my fellow genderqueer and gender nonconforming will wood fans (and let’s face it, which one of us isn’t?): i see you. i see your spotify listening activity. i see the loop button. i would ask if you’re okay but i know we’re not

...well, better than the alternative: parenting angst here, maybe alluding to the parents themselves perpetuating toxic cycles that they never had the opportunities to realize or heal from. the child is born amid these toxic cycles, and although this toxicity (the queerphobia, for example) is the norm in this suburban family, deep down the parents don’t want their child to turn out the way they do. meanwhile, on the other end, the child is feeling as though “everybody’s up in my goddamn business” - maybe the parents are starting to suspect that their child is less than cishet (or maybe the child has come out to them), and within their denial of their child not turning out the way they want them to, maybe they unconsciously realize that it’s their own toxic parenting styles that have made their child so afraid and secretive about who they really are. if this is the scenario that the child has come out to their parents, they have decided that even if they are existing in a conservative family, they will be existing as themselves. or if it is a closet scenario, the child has decided that they will continue to hide themselves from their family for their own safety. in either situation, the child believes that the decision they made is “better than the alternative”

(this song also makes me remember hospitals a lot so there’s that)

outliars and hyppocrates: we start off with some more religious (trauma) imagery. maybe the metaphor of the apple is trying to indicate to the parents, through the conservative lens of seeing queerness as something bad, that the child was not “brainwashed” or “taught” to be this way. that they simply are. the rest of the song grapples with that internalized queerphobia, maybe the child feeling that they are less than human because of their queerness but who’d want to be human, be the norm, anyway? if the child is made to feel Other, then they ought to embrace and wear and own that Otherness - out of defiance, out of desperation, but ultimately out of a need for survival.

blackboxwarrior: i want to focus on the chorus here. the child’s mental struggles are exacerbated by the lack of acceptance they receive from their immediate environment, but the chorus acts as sort of a defiance against their internalized queerphobia. so what if their parents’ values portray queerness as an illness, something that will kill you? if it was going to kill the child, it would have by now; and it hasn’t, so surely the child is heading in a right direction to be exploring and reclaiming their identity. and then the bridge - “growing up, how was your relationship with the fundamentals of conscious existence?” ties back to i/me/myself’s grappling with the idea of self and existence in one’s body. growing up, how was the child’s relationship with the environment that dictated how they ought to exist and be perceived? and “what, you think ideas spread because they're good? / no, they spread because people like them” can be pointing to the conservative ideas that are perpetuated by the child’s family. these ideas do not spread because they’re good. they spread because the family wants an excuse from some higher power to discriminate against those they feel are outliers from the norm. “so here we are once again, holding, as it were, a mirror up to your mirror / i guess it's just something people do” can be pointing to how the way the child is trying to come to terms with their identity is by overcoming the toxic ways of thought that their parents taught them, and which their parents are still bound by. if the parents are to find out that their child is queer, their reaction will be to ask, “why? we don’t understand you?” but they are really only talking to the mirror, to the reflection they have constructed that they believe their child to be. their child is not that reflection, and they are going in circles, but that’s just what people do, i guess.

finally, the bridge being formatted sort of like one’s first session with a therapist or psychiatrist leads into marsha, thankk you for the dialectics.

marsha, thankk you for the dialectics: a heavily psychiatry-based song. marsha thankk is about the intertwining of the self with the illness and i value that meaning a lot. i can’t think of another way, nor do i particularly want to think of another way, to embed this song’s meaning into the child. it has grown obvious by this point that the child has their own mental illnesses to grapple with - whether they arose as a need to cope within their toxic home environment, or out of other factors, is not particularly important to be clarified. i would say that the meaning of this song in this musical is just what it was originally intended to be - the child, on their path to recovery, slowly separating those toxic coping mechanisms from themselves in order to really realize their identity.

love, me normally: i wrote a long ass post about this at 12am this morning.

memento mori: the musical’s closure. this song embodies a lot of nihilism about one’s existence and one’s meaning in existence, and i would like to think that this song being the musical’s closure is not closure in the sense that it gives you a “where are they now” glimpse, or that it gives you the final direction that the child has decided to head in. rather, memento mori exists in this musical as the child’s innermost thoughts about their own existence as somebody who seemingly defies the (supposed cishet) order of the universe. it is the child’s darkest, most shadowed and hidden ruminations about their life and what their death may bring, if anything at all. throughout the child’s life, throughout the musical, these thoughts have only been hidden, obscured and glimpsed in passing when the lyrical puzzles of the normal album’s previous songs unfurl (think, “if it was gonna kill you boy, it would have by now” and “am i pretty enough to fucking die” and “good news for the purists, they’ve discovered a cure for the symptoms of being alive / it’s a painless procedure with a low rate of failure, but very few patients survive”, etc). but as the musical’s finale, memento mori brings these thoughts into their very antithesis - into the light. it illuminates the rawness of the child’s pain in learning to accept and love themselves. it brings these thoughts into tangible and articulated reality for two reasons:

for the audience, as both a warning of the results of such a toxic and intolerant family/environment and an articulation of the thoughts perhaps many of us, ourselves, have to contend with at some point in our lives.

and for the child themselves, so that they can fully realize these thoughts. so that they can parse them, articulate them, unlearn them, and begin to heal.

memento mori in this musical is, paradoxically, a song about death that encourages life to heal.

anyways that’s what i’ve got so far now i have homework i should...do....oh god-

#will wood #will wood and the tapeworms #the normal album #suburbia overture #2econd 2ight 2eer #laplace's angel #i/me/myself #well better than the alternative #outliars and hyppocrates #blackboxwarrior #marsha thankk you for the dialectics #love me normally #memento mori #the normal album analysis #will wood analysis

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decayandfanfics · 3 years

Text

The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut later.

A/N: I’m trying so hard to write crusty boy here really in character. At least after AfO is taken. Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen.

__________________________________________________________

Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

Honesty is the best policy.

She’s odd.

And that’s rich coming from him.

She’s weird in a soft homely way. In the way she speaks kindly but firm, always minding her own business, but pretty aware of everything is happening inside her little apartment.

He watches her taking notes, reading something in her laptop, fully concentrated. A bunch of colored highlights and sticky notes spreading in the study her study space, in a corner of her room.

It’s funny how after an hour or so she melts in the chair and begins to cry quietly hiding her face on her hands.

Five minutes later the alarm goes off, she stands up, washes her face and resumes her task.

What the fuck?

It’s not like he cares for her or what she feels, but that little display is so fucking weird, it caught his attention, so he asks.

“why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying.” She says with a serene smile painted in her face.

“Liar. you were crying like...five minutes ago.”

I don’t appreciate liars. He thinks briefly.

“oh, that…I always cry when I study.”

“…why?” he’s completely confused at her explanation because it doesn’t match her tranquil face.

“because I’m stressed and I’m finding difficult to understand this topic, I grow desperate. So, I cry.”

He looks at her like she grew another head.

“…you cry when you are stressed?”

“When I’m college stressed, yes. I mean…college does that to you, to everybody. Half of my class is on anxiolytics.”

“are you on anxiolytics?” he asks more and more confused.

She laughs lighthearted.

“no, I don’t have the money to pay for a psychiatrist. But I manage…Tons of coffee and programed crying while I study does it good for me.”

Tomura looks at her puzzled. He rarely thought about what it is to be twenty something and have a normal life. This is not what he had in mind.

She keeps taking notes in complete silence, a picture of a nasty fracture with some screws attached on her screen, but she seems pretty okay with the gory part of her task.

“Why did you want to become a doctor?” he interrupts her again.

“hmmm…I guess I wanted to save people.”

“like a hero?” He asks, snarling the word.

“maybe, I think my concept of heroes might be different from yours.” She states keeping her eyes glued to the screen.

“how so?” he eyes her, suspicious.

“I think that hero es a very big word, like doctor. People call physicians doctors, but the true meaning is someone who has a PHD.”

“and…?”

“and you have these “heroes” who go saving the day because is their profession, but the true meaning of the word doesn’t have anything to do with agencies and schools. A hero is someone who helps others but does it by incarnating important traits for the ones he saves.”

“Traits?”

“yes, traits. Like…I can be saved for a so-called hero, but if he’s not kind in the meanwhile, I wouldn’t think of it as much as heroic. That’s why anyone can be a hero to someone else, and at the same time not all heroes are heroes for everybody. It’s the same for villains.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it depends on your own morals and needs. You could kill a man tomorrow and people would say you are a monster, and then find out he was violent to his wife and children, and somehow now you are a little boy’s hero because you freed him from his monstrous father.”

“You think evil is in the eye of the beholder?”

“Not evil perse, there are things that are just wrong, but I think villainy and heroics are a matter of perspective.”

He waits before asking the next.

“and what’s your perspective?”

She brushes off the answer like is nothing. Like his heart is not pounding heavily inside his cage, fixed in her expression trying to grasp any lie in her statement.

“It has to do with politics, to be honest. I think right now, a very specific part of heroes is being super idolized. The ones who fight are treated like royalty by the government, paying them with our taxes, when that money could be used for rehab, hospitals or mental illness treatment. You see, thieves and murderers are not a factor, but a product of lack of opportunities. Monsters are made, not born. Of course, there are evil people, psychopaths and all that, but they are a minority. So, we pay Endeavor tons of money for him to fight with some random criminal every week, meanwhile children are starving in the streets, then those same children turn to violence and crime and who’s fault is that? But it’s okay, we can always pay some random dude in a leotard to beat the shit out of them. I mean, I had the opportunity of an education that will allow me to live pretty well-off tomorrow, but how many people has that? I cannot ask a person who grew up in a violent environment, poverty or homeless to be well adjusted, because morals are a luxury when you are hungry, and there are so many ways to starve a child. Not only food, but guidance, care, and love, but you cannot measure it in numbers, so no one cares.”

He looks at her aghast. Something warm feeling the hole in his chest.

She looks so pretty when she talks like this. Full of resolve, her brilliance shining through her clear opinions.

“do you hate heroes?” he asks full of something akin to hope.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Shigaraki, but no. I don’t hate them. If anything, I feel sorry for them, because they have this massive impossible task of trying to save everyone, which is simply not accomplishable, meanwhile society keeps rolling over everything wrong like it’s not everybody’s business. I mean, it’s not Hawks or Endeavor, even All might’s obligation to care for the poor, the ill and the abandoned. That’s what’s the government is for.”

He licks his lips absentminded, thinking about her words for a moment. The great difference between them plainly obvious to him now.

She’s partial, compassionated and well adjusted to the model despite everything she knows. So, she works with what she has. Meanwhile he is an absolutist, he knows that. He doesn’t have in him the nerve to do anything in half. That’s why he hates and craves destruction as the only meaning to achieve his goal. As an outcast, he knows he’s every bit the monster society make him be and they all will pay for the life he didn’t got the chance to have.

Still, he takes what she offers as he always does. Her knowledge now saved like some advice, a confirmation of everything he wants to destroy.

A smile stretches across his face, his ruby eyes memorizing the curve or her cheeks.

Pretty when she smiles. He thinks, a self-indulgent thought he will allow for now.

“what?” she asks suddenly nervous, color rising to her ears out of the blue.

“you know what? You could be a wonderful villain.” He tells her smiling truly amused.

“oh” she smiles back “you have no idea.”

Chapter 7

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sweet-xoxo-thatcares · 3 years

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Just found out Grandma has cancer and she's moving in with the hospital bed package I helped put together today at the house.

The lady says she weighs less than 100 pounds and needs an oxygen tank.

This don't even feel real.

I'm helping the lady setup the bed, lifting stuff, and cleaning out the bunch of clothes and junk that nobody uses and it really didn't kick in...

It still hasn't.

My heart Andy hand was shaking as I had to sign the delivery note.

Not even a "Good luck with your Grandma" or "Condolences to you and your family" I told the delivery lady she had cancer and we're talking about it like its a happy topic on the news. She had music to keep her going as she picked up stuff off the truck. I wanted to tell her come back, wait...like are you sure you got the right house?

Like are you sure mom and dad or grandma isn't playing. Cause I haven't seen her in like a month. My clothes and stuff is still at her house in Grand Rapids.

And I don't wanna run into any arms. Like I don't wanna hear nothing but silence for the next 3 or 4hrs.

I'm trembling, shaking, paranoid.

I almost had a panic attack after that lady left. Well let's be real, I did.

But the fact that everybody else in this family is acting like this shit is normal and everybody wants me to behave....I can't say or do shit about it.

Like my room is connected to her room. Imma have to get used to walking past her bed just to use the bathroom. And eat?

I don't even know if I will, cause here's the thing....mom and dad are most likely gonna put me on duty. And last time when I spent a week with her, taking care of her...I was so stressed out, that I didn't even eat.

And cancer did pop in my head as a worst case scenario, because we had no clue what she had and she seemed ok when I got kicked out in March.

She avoided doctors and the hospital for years after her surgeries. I just....

I don't even know if I wanna know what stage she is at. Cause last time I stayed, when we had that argument, she wasn't eating too good, cheeks sunken in, I knew something was wrong. Even her house, her dishes were all piled up with black mould on em from being in the sink of dirty water too long. It felt like we stepped into a resident evil house from that one in the country. Even momma said that's not like her, because old ocd Clara, does not play about cleaning dishes. Soups did her no good and she was only getting down like 2-4 pieces of watermelon that daddy had brought. And her house in the summer is hot as heck, so I'm glad daddy had bought her that air purifying fan. She just did not go to the hospital. She said no for the longest when we offered to take her.

I'm glad she finally said yes.

But I don't know how far along she is. Everything has changed so much in less than a year.

I don't even know if I'll be the same after this. And I got a giant ear and toothache that keeps creeping in when I get too stressed like this.

I pray I stay away from drinking. Cause my hallucinations get worse after drinking...I really need to see a psychiatrist about that.

I just hope mom and dad don't start fussing again at home, it's already tight, mom is still going through alzheimers grief with our other grandma. Like she forgot her name already once. And these two strong black women that I grew up on are near 70. Clara, with cancer 67.

I don't even know what my father feels about this and that's what scares me the most. Cause he's mostly been the type to say he's okay, doing fine or alright if I ask him how he feels, buy he doesn't ever really change unless something super pisses him off...like cars parking too close when there's empty spots, drivers doing wide turns, people walking 8 ppl wide on the sidewalk at an amusement park or public event.

Or if he gets into with momma, but they haven't fought as much since I left in March...

But idk. With those two both on edge, the only time they can talk about emotions in a calm way is when they drink or go out to the bar, eat some wings, and get some drafts going while watching the game.

But that was younger dad, and this is now. Now...I assume he's gonna do a lot more golfing...

Idk how they're gonna manage us helping out.

But I pray I find my own job and apt soon. I wouldn't wanna live in chaos. Nor do I wanna fight about it either with my family, that have been known to push duties on me without really helping or noticing the people pleasing problem I learned from serving them all these years. I've never been allowed to say no to my mother and father. They always get upset with me when I do.

I don't wanna go through this alone, but as God showed me the ppl who really were a bad influence on my life, I don't have many friends to rely on to support me and pour my heart out too. After being hurt even when I dealt with the aftermath of that fight with mom, I found myself alone much more often than I thought. Missing the wrong ppl.

I'm not making that same mistake again. I'm not gonna make that silly mistake and call a guy only for him to take advantage of me sexually. I'm not having sex or making out with anybody unless we're committed to each other and he's already proven he's with me for love and not just sex.

Cause there are nice guys who try to outsmart women who would rather have sex after commitment, only to play them after giving the gf title.

How the fuck did I get to this topic, and I just found out Grandma Clara has cancer and we don't know how long for or what stage she's at?

See how far my mind overthinks in critical situations like this?

Now I'm off to watching Kenny Rogers cause I'm feeling a country craving right after I just cried my tears and helped clean her room, assembled her bed..

Ppl don't usually prepare for having a family member you didn't expect to take care of for cancer, it sorta feels low, because I don't know what to expect when she comes tomorrow...I don't know exactly what's gonna happen, but I pray I get a job close by so I can at least have a place to stay away from my already crazy home, and get moving on goals and dreams.

But I know why I feel so obligated to leave and to stay for grandma in flint...because I don't know what's going to happen to her or to me. And she's been apart of me for such a long time. She used to be the only person who understood me when I would get to sensitive or have depression, separation anxiety, seeing or feeling dead people, reading dreams intuitively together. Me and her was like the grandpa off of Roald Dahl's Willy Wonka story. She was the older version of me, and nobody understood me like her. Everybody else in my family would make fun of me for being like her. Whenever mom thought I did something that reminded her of Clara, she'd called me by her first name "Clara." Cause she raised me awhile when dad and sometimes mom went to work. Daddy at football games in college, but I think he had to drop out after me....I kinda thought back and thought I was a burden as the reason why they always seemed to overwork me so young as the oldest. Put a smile on your face and go to your room to cry. Kinda like cinderella. Well grandma Clara said it....she always worried about that when she visited.

Her personality was similar to how Ms. Lisa was on Sister Sister. Ms. Talkative, except her favorite color was purple 💜 and she always had an ego, and intuitive perspective on alot of things. She could see things as if she knew what was gonna happen next, like predicting a chess move. Very determined, independent, she hates being wrong, and she'll bark her mouth off if you tried to debate with her. She liked dressing up and going out. But when she's frugal, she'll cook something at the house. Oh, and she loved sweets. And she loved to talk.

I mean lots. I would say our usual was 2hrs, but that was so long ago. I definitely feel the change settling in. Only time will tell.

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stuckinapatriarchalbullshitland · 4 years

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So, my girl @blogbeautiffulthings showed me this article from the WallStreet Journal of Camila talking about her anxiety and is really sad but very informative. We can see a part of her we doesn’t see and it’s really good to see it.

“In her own words, 23-year-old Grammy-nominated singer/songwriter Camila Cabello talks about dealing with her internal struggles for Mental Health Month.If you look at the pictures I’ve posted on Instagram over the last year, you’ll find pictures of me writing in the studio, pictures in a hallway in a bomb-dot-com outfit before going onstage to perform, pictures of me cuddled up with my dog, Eugene, on a couch, and pictures of me bursting with excitement to play you my music.But here’s what there aren’t pictures of from the last year: me crying in the car talking to my mom about how much anxiety and how many symptoms of OCD [obsessive-compulsive disorder] I was experiencing. My mom and me in a hotel room reading books about OCD because I was desperate for relief. Me experiencing what felt like constant, unwavering, relentless anxiety that made day-to-day life painfully hard.I didn’t want to tell you what was going on for the same reason a lot of us don’t want to talk about what it feels like to be at war in our minds and in our bodies. I was embarrassed and ashamed. I didn’t want the people who thought I was strong and capable and confident—the people who most believed in me—to find out that I felt weak. The little voice in my head was telling me that if I was honest about my mental health struggle and my internal battles (i.e. being human), people would think there was something wrong with me, or that I wasn’t strong, or that I couldn’t handle things.That same little voice also told me maybe I was being ungrateful for all the good in my life—and that hiding the open wound I’d been avoiding the last few years was the easiest and fastest solution.But all of that is not the truth. There was something hurting inside me, and I didn’t have the skill to heal it or handle it. In order to heal it, I had to talk about it. Denying my suffering and berating myself didn’t help things. I needed to say those three revolutionary words: “I need help.”For a few months, I felt messed up, with a capital UP. My anxiety manifested in the form of obsessive compulsive disorder. OCD is not how it’s stereotyped, like,“She’s so OCD about her desk being organized, etc.” OCD can take many different forms, and for me it was obsessive thoughts and compulsive behaviors. To put it simply, it made me feel like my mind was playing a cruel trick on me. It affected me physically, too. I couldn’t sleep for a long time, I had a constant knot in my throat, I had chronic headaches, and my body went through what felt like multiple roller-coaster rides every day. I kept going and kept showing up, never letting people around me know how much I was really struggling. But you probably felt my distance on some level. All my loved ones did.It’s hard to be there for your people when you’re just trying to be OK yourself. That’s why being brave enough and loving yourself enough to speak up and get help is not only the best gift you can give yourself but the best gift you can give the people you care about. In the moments when I was battling my anxiety, I wasn’t present when my sister talked to me about her day, or I wasn’t present enough to notice that my mom had been quiet. I couldn’t ask my mom what was wrong, because my mind was making so much noise and my hands were full trying to handle my own pain. I knew I needed to take action and take ownership of the one mind and the one life I was given.I did a lot of work every day for months. Through the help of cognitive behavioral therapy, meditation (the most empowering thing I think a human being can do, whether you are struggling or not), breathwork and taking care of my body, I am not in that internal war that I was in every day. It also took a lot of self-love (believing I am inherently worthy of happiness, belonging, love and joy, no matter what), self-compassion (not emotionally beating myself up for struggling) and self-awareness (calling myself out on my shit).Today I am no longer in that internal war. I feel the healthiest and most connected to myself I’ve ever been, and nowadays I rarely suffer from OCD symptoms. Anxiety comes and goes, but now it feels like just another difficult emotion, as opposed to something that’s consuming my life. By doing the work and showing up for myself every day, I feel like I have more trust in myself than ever before.Still, I had to speak up. We have to have these conversations about mental health the same way we have them about physical health. If someone breaks their leg, we wouldn’t be calling them inadequate or weak. There would be no question that the next step is to go to the doctor and tend to it.For a long time, anxiety felt like it was robbing me of my humor, my joy, my creativity and my trust. But now anxiety and I are good friends. I listen to her, because I know she’s just trying to keep me safe, but I don’t give her too much attention. And I sure as hell don’t let her make any decisions.For any of you going through a hard time with your mental health, please speak up. We live in a culture that pursues an unattainable perfection. Social media can make us feel like we should be as perfect as everybody else seems to be. Far from being a sign of weakness, owning our struggles and taking the steps to heal is powerful.Just because you were born, you have the right—and the choice—to fight for your health and happiness, to show up for your one, precious life. Let’s not carry the heavy stuff alone—together we can walk a little lighter, free our arms up and dance again”.

Camila for Wall Street Journal

____

Camila has not talked about this in her stories or lives but we have seen it. We have seen that since 2019 she has been struggling with her anxiety and OCD because her expression has shown it. Her lack of energy, her decay. Everything in her has not been screaming all this time that she is not well and that she needs help. We know that the media pressure of the circus has not helped her either, but that is the details of something deeper than that. Not for nothing when we become aware of what she is going through do we publicly discuss it and ask that they take care of her because she needs it. Camila needs specialists to help her with her mental problems because it is important that they be taken care of. The extra help of meditation goes a long way, but if she needs traditional medicine, I think it is also important that she get help that way. The help of psychologists and psychiatrists can also help her and I hope she is trying. Her fans, the usual. Send her love and support, so that she knows that she is not alone and that we will always be aware that she is well because we only want to see her happy

#camila cabello #mental health #OCD #anxiety #wall street journal #article

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onthevirgeofdestruction · 4 years

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Dreaming While I Wake

Sanders Sides Foster Care AU - Roman-centric Angst & Hurt/Comfort & Abuse Recovery

Roman tries to be upbeat and hopeful despite all the shit that’s happened to him. And a lot of shit has. Luckily, his new foster home is with two literal rays of sunshine (and a sarcastic asshole).

Words: 3,354 Warnings: Spoilers and I’d consider checking them. Characters: Roman, Patton Universe: Dreaming While I Wake Genre: Power Angst

Chapter 20

chapter 1 for new readers - ffn mirror

“I’m so glad Mr. Hartley could find your brother and put us on the approved visitor list. It sounds like he had to pull a lot of strings to do it,” Patton flashed a smile quickly to Roman before looking back at the road. Roman fidgeted lightly with his hands and watched the road for a moment. He was still worried and was tired as shit for having to wake up early to drive out there for the visiting hours. Well, it was only a little early for the Sanders house but Roman still was the worst at sleeping. Especially when he knew he was going to finally see his brother the next day.

“Thanks again for being willing to drive me out,” Roman mumbled and curled into his jacket a bit. “You really don’t think he’ll be mad at me for not calling and stuff?” Roman asked nervously, glancing at Patton. Patton kept his eyes on the road.

“I think if you explain what happened he’ll probably understand,” Patton said plainly. That didn’t particularly inspire confidence in Roman. He side-eyed Patton for a moment, but Patton added nothing else.

“Hm, I’m hearing a maybe,” Roman said seriously, tugging at his seat belt to shift it away from his cracked rib again.

“Well, I can’t see everything, kiddo,” Patton smiled knowingly for someone saying he didn’t know. “But he’s your brother, and that didn’t go away with distance,” Roman hummed, not really agreeing or disagreeing. He wanted to believe Remus wouldn’t hate him. He just also had a ‘wildly miscalibrated’ sense of whether or not people hate him, according to Thomas. But even if his sense is off, it was a loud one and he didn’t know how to ignore it. Roman yawned and leaned back the seat a little, watching the road again.

“I know this is early for you. I can put the radio on classical or something and you can take a nap. The weekend visiting hours are offensively short and early,” Patton muttered bitterly. “You should be able to visit your kids and siblings all day on the weekend, not between 8 and 10 am. Who do they think they are? The state prison has better visiting hours!” Patton started ranting in frustration.

“I’m a 15-year-old felon, I can’t answer these questions,” Roman rubbed his head. It kind of hurt from Pat’s rambling. Or the lack of sleep. Or the knowledge there will be guards there. Or the roiling fear in him that Remus hated him now, and that he had every right to as someone in juvie while Roman had such a nice place to stay. Maybe there were lots of reasons his head could hurt.

“You’re not a felon, kiddo,” Patton furrowed his eyebrows, looking miffed. Roman just crossed his arms lightly and raised his eyebrow. “Well, not a convicted felon, anyway,” Patton trailed off slightly. “Let’s not bring up the whole drug trafficking thing at the JDC,” Patton chuckled nervously, shooting a look at Roman.

“Yeah, I definitely tell everybody about my crimes,” Roman’s tone was dripping with sarcasm as he rolled his eyes. “Thomas says I thought I was dead. That’s basically the only circumstance I ever planned to tell anyone,” Roman huffed angrily, though it was entirely at himself for letting it slip. He really didn’t like anybody knowing about it. Though Virgil was chill about it. At least that was something. Patton and Thomas, on the other hand? Roman wasn’t sure they had chill anymore.

“I suppose we should avoid panic attacks, then,” Patton said, sounding concerned and tapping his steering wheel with his fingers as he steered.

“Sure, I’ll turn off the panic switch,” Roman flipped his hand and mimed toggling a switch sarcastically. He looked out the passenger window, gripping his seatbelt in his hands both as something grounding but to keep it off his ribs again.

“Young man, I understand you’re scared and tired, but maybe turn down the sarcasm a notch,” Patton said seriously. Roman huffed indignantly, but sighed and dropped his arms after a moment.

“Sorry,” Roman mumbled and fiddled with his jeans.

“I don’t think marijuana charges should be a thing in the first place, by the way. I don’t think that in a just world you’d be a felon,” Patton said, consolingly. Roman winced and looked to Patton for a moment, deciding if he should correct him or not.

“You like honesty, right?” Roman sighed, looking over to Patton nervously. He may as well get this over with.

“Yes, I do! But I don’t like the sound of that question. Not in the context of this conversation, anyway,” Patton said nervously and gripped the steering wheel as if to brace himself.

“I guess because it’s hard to picture a teenager dealing anything harder than weed, or something? But there’s a reason I said drugs. It was just weed… at first. It… didn’t stay that way. Expenses went up. And it went from some very nice engineers who grew it outside of town to real mafia-type drug suppliers. That’s how the whole having guns pointed at me thing happened. We were kind of in over our heads, honestly. I was just making deliveries to white guys in flip-flops who’d tip well if I did magic tricks for them, other than visiting the engineers. It wasn’t that bad,” Roman swallowed. “Then it got worse, and I had to carry a gun just to protect myself and… it just wasn’t good. I’d still be a felon in a more just world,” Roman confessed quietly.

“You didn’t have to use the gun, did you, kiddo?” Patton asked, sounding deeply troubled and gripping the steering wheel enough to make his knuckles pale.

Roman held himself and swallowed heavily. “Can we not talk about this?” Roman mumbled, hating to have to remember this part. Hating himself for ever having to do it. Roman gripped his seatbelt again, unable to deal and trying to focus on literally anything else. Like the texture of the seat-belt strap and how it was weirdly sharp feeling or the signs through the window.

“I think we might need to,” Patton said carefully, but he was clearly holding back something by the expression on his face.

“First shot’s a warning shot. Second shot was to the legs,” Roman muttered. “That’s… that’s all I’m willing to say about it,” Roman said weakly, trying his damnedest not to remember.

“I suppose it’s a good thing you’re seeing a psychiatrist,” Patton swallowed. “I’m impressed at how strong you are to carry this guilt for so long, champ. At least you never intended to hurt anybody, right?” Patton said as evenly as Roman assumed as he could manage. He didn’t sound so sure that Roman never wanted to, though, and Roman felt like a dirtbag for it.

“No, I didn’t wake up thinking ‘I’m going to shoot some guy today’,” Roman said sarcastically. “I already know I’m not a good person. You don’t have to try to make excuses for me,” He added weakly and stared at his feet as the seatbelt cut into his hands from twisting it so tightly.

“Good and bad are a lot more complex than that. I know this stuff makes me uncomfortable, but your choices now are what matter. Not your choices when you had nothing but ultimatums in your life. It doesn’t sound like you wanted to make those choices, either,” Patton said thoughtfully, sounding resolute despite the shakiness in his voice.

“Learning to shoot a gun was cool,” Roman supplied weakly. There were things he liked that he knew he shouldn’t have. He enjoyed learning new stuff. He liked people cheering when he did sleight-of-hand tricks. He liked having enough money to buy his own clothes and pick what he ate and buy his own things. He liked some of the stoners. They were funny. He even liked Jet. “Jet’s a d-bag in high-pressure situations, but he was pretty chill most of the time. We hung out often, even though he’s years older than me. I didn’t hate all of it,” Roman admitted, loosening up on the seatbelt a bit.

Jet was the only person who knew, other than repeat customer stoners. But even they didn’t know it was Roman. There was one who invited him in to play Assassin’s Creed and Mortal Kombat, who saw him without the mask. Not that Roman would admit to playing those to Patton. Roman was certain that guy was just lonely and enjoyed talking to someone and probably thought Roman was older than he was. He was nice either way. He even let Roman stay with him one night to avoid a bad situation at home. There were plenty of things Roman liked about it that he knew he shouldn’t have.

“Finding joy when you’re in a terrible situation is okay and also doesn’t make you a bad person. It still just means you were trying to survive,” Patton reminded him. “You could have turned out much worse if you didn’t find ways to be happy with access to a gun and drugs. Well, you could have turned out much worse with any of those factors,” Patton said, sounding kind of strangely impressed.

“Yeah, I hope Jet’s okay,” Roman admitted quietly and looked back out the passenger window again.

“I hope he found a home that helped him out, too. But I am still proud of you for turning out so… okay, despite everything,” Patton offered, sounding genuinely pleased. Was that supposed to make sense?

“You and Thomas have done nothing but say I’m not okay since I got here,” Roman scoffed as he objected and rolled his eyes.

“Well, we had to re-evaluate where the bar was with new information. You’re okay, in a sense, for somebody in the situations you’ve been in… seeing as you don’t have a drug habit and are, well, you’re here. You still have to see the psychiatrist, though. You’re not okay in another sense,” Patton said resolutely.

“That’s so confusing,” Roman groaned and gestured in frustration. “Mr. Hartley said there’s no way to stop the state from having access to my medical records,” Roman pouted angrily. “You know I don’t want that.”

“We’re going to figure out the problems as they come. But Thomas and I aren’t equipped to help you. We will continue to be there for you and happy to assist, but you have lots of things that you need professional help to break down and rebuild into something healthier and more sustainable. For one, Thomas is really freaked out about you scratching at yourself when you panic. We don’t know how to stop that, and you can’t keep living life like that. It’s not safe or healthy,” Patton said firmly with a glance towards Roman.

“I can just wear gloves all the time like a movie villain,” Roman rolled his eyes. Patton was letting him leave them off for now, but they were in Roman’s pocket in case Patton changed his mind.

“Roman, it’s a temporary solution that you clearly don’t enjoy,” Patton said, shaking his head.

“I don’t like the reminder,” Roman sighed. “And I’m not wearing them at school. I’d get harassed non-stop,” Roman grumbled. “What if I pull a Virgil and refuse to see the psychiatrist?” Roman said hopefully, but it came out more aggressively than intended.

“We’re signing up Virgil for to talk to a psychiatrist online. We realize now that it’s dangerous to keep waiting for you two to want it for yourselves. Just because Virgil hasn’t had non-car related panic attacks we’ve seen doesn’t mean he’s not quietly at-risk while he sits alone in his room. He has trouble connecting to people, and we realize that it’s more dangerous to let go unchecked than we thought. We thought it just meant he couldn’t be around cars. We didn’t know there was a whole slew of other things that might be making his life harder,” Patton explained and used that serious parent tone.

“Thomas said that he had nine out of the fifteen things the ER doctor mentioned, and that’s without him talking to us. It will take some time to get him to talk to somebody, so setting up appointments now, even if doesn’t respond in earnest right away, is better than putting it off and it takes even longer. You boys might even need to be on some medications,” Patton said, sounding sympathetic despite the fact they were forcing this on him.

“I don’t want to go on meds,” Roman said angrily, refusing to meet his eyes and watching the rearview mirror.

“I’m on anti-depressants and Thomas is on anti-anxiety medications. There’s no shame in it. They seem scary at first, and they can be when you’re adjusting to them, but they’re there to improve your life and make it easier. It’s just like I have to take an allergy pill every day to treat cats. I could just suffer through the stuffy nose and watery eyes, but I don’t have to,” Patton admitted.

“Why in the world did you become a vet if you’re allergic to cats?” Roman asked incredulously.

“They’re just so fluffy! It’s not a severe allergy,” Patton cooed. “But seriously kiddo, kinda hoping to die quietly isn’t healthy. It might mean you have a chemical imbalance and need medical intervention so you don’t take risks since you don’t care if you live or die,” Patton said more seriously, looking sad.

“I care if I live,” Roman drawled defensively. “I wouldn’t have done anything I did to protect myself in the past if I didn’t care if I lived or not,” Roman spat bitterly, not able to even look at Patton.

“But you think things would be easier if you didn’t have to live anymore, right? That it would be nice if you just didn’t wake up one day? Maybe a coma sounds nice? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you died in a freak accident?” Patton insinuated and Roman bit his tongue with a frustrated exhale through his nose. “I told you kiddo, I’m on anti-depressants. I’m not in your exact same boat, but I do know a little about what you’re going through. You’re very high energy for somebody with depression, but I’m not a people doctor and there’s probably more going on than we see. Which is another excellent reason to get you properly diagnosed. So we can get you the right tools to cope and recovery for everything we know and don’t know you have,” Roman hated that this all started to make sense. He still didn’t want to do any of it. The thought terrified him. But he wished it didn’t make sense, still.

“You kinda get it, right? Is it… is it normal to still believe I’m okay and don’t need help?” Roman asked quietly.

“I think anybody who gets shut down when they ask for help long enough will eventually convince themselves they’re okay and fine on their own just to cope. But I also think both you and I know you’re not okay on some level and your brain’s just trying to play catch up with that fact since you’ve had to be ‘okay’ for so long,” Patton suggested kindly, but it still kind of hurt to hear. Roman curled in on himself slightly. Another thing he wished didn’t make sense.

“Try to sit up straight, Roman, your rib needs room to heal. I know it feels counter-intuitive when you feel vulnerable,” Roman wanted to object to being vulnerable, but he tried to straighten out, anyway. Maybe he was feeling vulnerable and not bitter. It sort of seemed like he’d have to re-learn some feelings from the ground up because he was doing them wrong.

“So, we’re almost there. Do you want to discuss what you will say to him to explain what happened?” Patton suggested genially. Roman considered it before shaking his head slowly.

“No, I’m not the best at following plans or even saying the things I mean to say. There’s not much of a point to that,” Roman sighed. “I’m just going to… try,” Roman said, kind of wishing he had something better to say. Or some way to convince Remus to forgive him. Or something better to give him. Just… he wished for lots of things.

“That’s all we can do sometimes,” Patton said brightly. It was weird how he could flip his moods like that. Roman still felt kind of off from their conversation. Maybe Patton was just good at hiding things. “Sorry that I accidentally kept you up instead of letting you nap on the way over,” Patton apologized.

“I’m probably too nervous about seeing Remus again to have taken a nap either way. I keep thinking I’m not going to recognize him for some reason. Or he won’t recognize me. But that doesn’t make any sense. And it’s not the only completely unreasonable thing going through my head,” Roman admitted sheepishly.

“It’s not unreasonable that he’d look different, kiddo, it’s been 4 years,” Patton said softly.

“What are you talking about?” Roman asked incredulously, looking to Patton and furrowing his eyebrows.

“Four years is a long time! You’ve both done lots of growing, I’m sure,” Patton possibly attempted to explain. What the hell was he talking about? Holy shit, did Patton not know? Oh, he had to see Patton’s face when he found out. Roman wasn’t saying a damn thing.

“Still. I just don’t think I would have rested well,” Roman said dismissively. He at least had something to look forward to. Remus used to love this kind of thing, too, so maybe Remus would laugh, and that would be worth it.

“All right, we need to leave our personal effects in the car according to the website. Put your phone, keys, and wallet in the glove box if you have any of them,” Patton said. Roman shifted slightly to extract his stuff while Patton pulled into the parking lot. Roman closed his things into the glove box and looked around the lot. God, this place was… depressing. It’s a giant concrete box, and it feels… wrong. Haunted, maybe. Just bad. Patton slipped his phone in the glove box and locked it before they both got out of the car.

Patton had to show his ID, and it took a bit of arguing, but they managed to find him and Roman on the approved visitor list after about 10 minutes. It was ridiculous that Roman wasn’t allowed to see his own brother under normal circumstances. Patton was right about that. They don’t have parents for Roman to come in with. Getting Patton and Roman on the approved list was probably the social worker equivalent of an act of god. Roman would have to thank him properly when he saw him next month. Maybe Patton would let him bake him cookies or something. Roman waited on one of the few chairs in the lobby until they were finally able to go through x-ray and security. They weren’t allowed to bring much to him, but Patton brought a bag of chocolates for Remus, which was nice.

The security guard brought them to a weird steel and concrete cafeteria-looking room, where they picked a table and were told to wait while they fetched Remus. Roman’s foot started tapping, and that hurt like a mother fuck, so he managed to move his nervous energy to drum on the table with his fingers. Patton tolerated the noise and offered him a soft smile every time he looked nervously to Patton as they waited. This part made Roman so restless it physically hurt. The guards made him nervous enough, but seeing his brother for the first time in 4 years was a whole new level. He fought to keep himself as level as he could with the sheer joy from the knowledge that at least, after all this time, he’d finally get to see Remus again.

Personal Taglist: @bunny222 @elizabutgayer @prinxietyforever @kanene-yaaay-o-retorno @the-sympathetic-villain @croftersjam15 @ollyollyoxinfree

the taglist repository:

High school: @dragonwithproblems @starlight-era @averykedavra @potatsanderssides

Roman Angst: @k1ngtok1

Hurt/Comfort: @callboxkat @nonasficcollection @supernovainthenightsky @evoodo123

Roman-Centric: @smileyzs @robinwritesshitposts @thatgaydemigodnerd

Fostering AU: @i-am-not-a-dinner-roll

literally everything sanders sides: @katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven @ananonsplace

#tsss #sanders sides #tsss fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #tsss fanfic #ayri writes #dreaming while I wake #angst #tw guns #tw drugs #tw suicidal ideation #death mention #tw severe depression #ts roman #roman angst #ts roman angst #chapter fic #fanfiction #ts patton

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mental-health-advice · 3 years

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I have been in this weird slump since two months. I can't seem to get the energy to get up from my bed and the interest to sit and study. I am not able to concentrate or feel motivated to do anything. I have been sad before but this is something I never experienced. I've gotten some sad news..about my grandma who I loved so freaking much and My dog (well kindof) was close to it anyway it died right before quarantine and I kindof disconnected with everybody had no social media for a while, now I talk to 2-3 people. I do criticize myself sometimes more than normal and feel worthless. I have sleepless nights sometimes and sometimes I just sleep for 14 hours a day. I've had some thoughts of killing myself but I know my cowardly behaviour so I'm sure I won't do it. But I feel stuck. Honestly I just want to get back and study for longer time so that I can get out of my home faster.

Do I see a psychiatrist or psychologist or is it just my laziness? And surprisingly psychologist are costlier than psychologist here and since I'm spending my pocket money I don't know what would be right choice here. Please help.

Hey there,

It sounds like lately you have been really struggling and finding things tough! It can be so hard to do anything when you simply do not have the energy to get up and do the things you need to attend to on a daily basis no matter how small the thing may be. For example, like you mentioned getting out of bed is really hard to do, and especially if you are not getting a proper nights sleep each night! I am not sure what’s behind you having sleepless nights but we do have a page on getting a good nights sleep which I encourage you to check out when you have some time, you may find a few helpful tips that help you sleep better at night and on a regular basis which overall will give you more energy and hopefully more motivation to do things like get out of bed and study throughout the days.

In the past when you have been sad, did you receive any professional help to help get you through? If so, was it helpful and what was it about them made it helpful? So for example, did they help you come up with some helpful coping strategies to help get you back on track, and if they did then could you try some of those coping strategies to see if it helps with how you are feeling now? Just an idea!

I’m so sorry to hear about your grandma and your dog. Getting bad news and losing a loved one (human or pet) can be so hard! Just try to be kind to yourself at this difficult time and know that you do not need to get through this alone! Grief affects us all very differently and there is no right or wrong way to grieve. Please do also check out our page on grief when you can!

I know that things can seem so helpless when you can’t seem to gather up enough energy and motivation to do things like study. Have you tried studying for maybe 15-20mins and then having a break and rewarding yourself? Another idea may be to write out a timetable or schedule for yourself and tick or cross things off as you complete them. Sometimes this can be helpful to keep yourself on track and give you a sense of accomplishing things! Just be mindful that it’s OK if you can’t do everything you write down each day, things happen in life that may make our days a bit crazier than expected and so you may have to adjust your schedule accordingly if that makes sense?

I don’t think that you are just being lazy, and getting professional help is a really good idea! The main difference between a psychiatrist and a psychologist is that a psychiatrist can prescribe medications but a psychologist mainly just focuses on therapy based help. There are some psychiatrists that also offers therapy but not all of them do so this is something to keep in mind also. A good starting point may be to see your local doctor or GP and have them assess you to help you decide whether seeing a psychiatrist or a psychologist would be best for you. Most doctors/ GP’s will also have a list of psychiatrists and psychologists that they know of which they can refer you on to or else you could do a simple google search and find one that you feel will be best for you! It’s also important to know that it’s completely OK to change psychiatrists or psychologists if you feel like who you are seeing is not helping you. They all work differently and so sometimes their approaches to therapy may not be best suited to you!

I really hope that this has been helpful and please do let us know if we can help you in any other way!

I’m thinking of you!

Take care,

Lauren

#mha-lauren #advice #advice blog #mental health advice #anonymous #sad #grief #sleepless nights #getting help #psychittrist #psychologist

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blueberrystrawberry · 4 years

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Interview:

What’s your profession

I am a medical psychiatrist and I specialize in oncology and trauma

I come across death and dying in both areas, in cancer a lot of the time its adjustment to the threat of dying as well as actually caring for people at end of life in trauma it would be car accident where somebody has died so mostly its grief and grievement

Because I’m a doctor it took me a year to get to stop seeking the medical model to reassure the patient they are going to be okay and simply be present and manage to accept and deal with the idea that they may be dying

What’s your experience like with death

In the beginning I was shocked when my patient died and now I sometimes still feel like its hard to predict I have a personal ritual of remembrance and taking time to honor the person and when I work with young adults who have children, I normally will have met with their partner and tried to assure their children have support

What are your patients typically most afraid of

So because death and dying is taboo. you have sex education in school and there’s nothing about death and dying, people are uncomfortable when people start talking about it and classically friends and family mistakenly think they are being supportive when telling patient they will be fine and just think positive

how does the conversation go

First of all I try to get the person to get the person more comfortable usually its a hidden fear and I use the sentence “we just take it out of the cupboard and put it back” usually people are frightened of one of two things, Either the process of dying, pain depending on others potential loss of dignity loss of function or they’re frightened of or very upset of leaving their loved ones. So they suffer from anticipatory grief

Most people if they do take it out of the cupboard and do take it back and they can identify what it is they need to think about and what their goals of care are and what’s important to them and I’m always amazed by peoples resilience and how pragmatic they are

What’s your opinion on euthanasia

We have medically assisted dying and certainly when I see people who have great deal of suffering and who know that they will die one of the options they have is to consider medically assisted dying.

Do you believe in life after death?

I think that working with people who die, and listening to peoples beliefs and experience near death has made me feel more spiritual

What do you mean by experience near death can you explain?

Its quite frequent that people dream of their loved ones who’ve died when they’re near deaths door and I don’t know if that’s because they realize they will go on the same journey so they come to mind but it seems like a universal experience.

What helps people in the process with coping with the fact they are dying?

Meaning and connection you have to accept the life that you’ve lived as well as your death in order to not be demoralized and despair, Ericksons last stage of life.

Anybody can feel relieved with having a sense of continuity and legacy.

What are your thoughts about suicide?

I think that its a real shame if people commit suicide if they haven’t had help for depression or a state of demoralization if they haven’t had help to find meaning or to accept the life they have. Pain

Do you think someone has to be mentally ill to commit suicide?

In order for someone to want to die by suicide (not because of cancer or illness) they have to have decided that life has more pain than meaning and connection. It's ironic because meaning and connection helps you accept and cope with dying but it also helps you want to live.

Are you afraid of dying

No im in the sad category, I would be sad about leaving my family I do not want to go yet.

Its a privilege to be apart of the process, help the family to name the elephant (the elephant being death) it can be quite comic I looked after a young man who had a young family near his end of life, we knew he had days to weeks to live at one point he had a lot of morphine so he wasn’t breathing very rapidly, his brother wasn’t sure if he was alive so he put his face right up to patient and the patient woke up and was irritated and his brother said I thought you’d died and they both laughed and he died two days later.

People don’t know how to manage the emotions and I tell people once they get sick they can help their family with the anticipatory grief let them have hope with legacy

All of us are like a stone and it hits the pond and it ripples and we stay alive by people living on in others memories.

The other thing ive thought about is it doesn’t matter how much money they have or how velvet lined their boxes are, everybody is equal, and everybody is born naked and they die in the same journey.

near death experiences

So most people are calm and they feel warm, they know it has to do with dying and they’re not frightened and mostly they try and live.

Have you ever had any patients who were sure they would go to hell

I haven’t had anyone who has told me that but I have had people who have trouble accepting the life lived, they can’t accept it because they had no meaning or they feel like they harmed people and did bad things so they don’t feel good about themselves so its hard to die. Regret is one of the most painful emotions to some extent we all have to be mature enough to face our regrets.

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marrysue · 4 years

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“Besides the three Triads, there is another important three-times-three grouping of the types, the Hornevian Groups, which we named in honor of Karen Horney, a psychiatrist who developed Freud’s work by identifying three fundamental ways in which people attempt to solve inner conflicts. We could also say that the Hornevian Groups indicate the “social style” of each type: there is an assertive style, a withdrawn style, and a compliant (to the superego, that is, “dutiful”) style. All nine types fall into these three major styles.

Each of the Hornevian Groups has an intrinsic sense of self in relation to other people. Recognizing and understanding the untruth of this “sense of self” can be extremely valuable for seeing through some of the major features of our ego.

The assertives (Horney’s “moving against people”) include the Threes, Sevens, and Eights. The assertive types are ego-oriented and ego-expansive. They respond to stress or difficulty by building up, reinforcing, or inflating their ego. They expand their ego in the face of difficulty rather than back down, withdraw, or seek protection from others. All three of these types have issues with processing their feelings.

A simple example will make this clear: if you were to walk into a room full of people, you would automatically experience yourself in a certain way. If you are in the assertive group, your first automatic response would be, “I am the center. I am what is important here. Now that I am here, something is going to happen.” Assertives automatically feel that everything meaningful happening is in relation to them.

Sevens and Eights naturally feel this way. Sevens come into a room and subconsciously think, “Here I am, everybody! Things are going to be more lively now!” Eights subconsciously think, “Okay, I’m here. Deal with me.” These types “take over” the space and expect others to react to them. Threes, however, do not easily or naturally feel like the center because, as we have seen, they are covertly dependent on the attention of others to feel valuable. As much as possible, Threes will find subtle ways to get positive regard from others so they will feel like the center, as if to say, “Look at what I have achieved. Look at me and affirm my value.”

The compliants (Homey’s “moving toward people”) include types One, Two, and Six. These three types share a need to be of service to other people. They are the advocates, crusaders, public servants, and committed workers. All three respond to difficulty and stress by consulting with their superego to find out what is the right thing to do, asking themselves, “How can I meet the demands of what others expect of me? How can I be a responsible person?”

It is important to understand that the compliant types are not necessarily compliant to other people; they are, however, highly compliant to the demands of their superegos. These three types try to obey the internalized rules, principles, and dictates that they have learned from childhood. As a result, they often become authority figures themselves—especially Sixes and Ones. (Twos can sometimes also be authority figures, although more often by trying to be the “good parent” or a trusted adviser to others.)

When a person whose type is in the compliant group enters a room, their automatic sense of self is that of being “better than” others, although how this is expressed is usually subtle. Ones may come into the room and subconsciously think, “This is so sloppy and disorganized. If I were in charge, things would not be such a mess.

Twos enter a room and subconsciously think, “These poor people! I wish I had time to give everyone my attention. They look troubled—they need my help!” By approaching others from the position of the “loving person” who gives their concern and service to others, Twos automatically put themselves in the superior role of being “better than” others.

Sixes are more troubled by inferiority feelings than Ones or Twos, but they get a sense of “better than” through their affiliations and social identifications. (“I’m a Democrat, and we are better than Republicans!” “I live in New York, which is a better city than Los Angeles.” “Nobody’s better than my team, the 49ers!”)

The withdrawns (Homey’s “moving away from people”) include types Four, Five, and Nine. These types do not have much differentiation between their conscious self and their unconscious, unprocessed feelings, thoughts, and impulses. Their unconscious is always welling up into consciousness through daydreams and fantasies.

All three types respond to stress by moving away from engagement with the world and into an “inner space” in their imagination. Nines withdraw into a safe and carefree Inner Sanctum, Fours withdraw into a romantic and idealized Fantasy Self, and Fives withdraw into a complex and cerebral Inner Tinker Toy. In common language, they all can “zone out” and go into their imaginations very easily. These types have problems with staying in their physicality and with getting out of their imaginations and into action.

The automatic sense of self that arises when they come into a room is, “I am not part of what is going on. I am not like these other people. I don’t fit in.” The Four and the Five most clearly feel separate from others. They reinforce their sense of self by staying apart and being different. In a room full of people. Fours would typically be standoffish and aloof and would act in some kind of “mysterious” fashion. On the other hand, if they were not in the proper mood, they might simply leave, especially since their sense of social obligation is tenuous (“It is too much for me. I’m just not up to it right now...”).

Fives might not mind being there, but they would be just as happy at home reading a book or pursuing their own interests. If they stayed, Fives would probably sit on the sidelines and watch everybody else. They would be more likely to socialize if they could have a context, like photographing the proceedings with a camcorder.

Nines might well enjoy the gathering and even participate, but they would remain disengaged. They might nod and smile while thinking about a fishing trip, or they might “tune out” almost entirely and simply “tag along” with someone, allowing the other person to do most of the social interacting while the Nine remains benignly silent, or good-humoredly unresponsive.

Earlier in this chapter, we saw that the Triads tell us what each type most wanted in childhood. The types in the Instinctive Triad most wanted autonomy: they sought independence, the ability to assert their own will and direct their own life. The types in the Feeling Triad most wanted attention: to be seen and validated by their parents. Lastly, the types in the Thinking Triad most wanted security: to know that their environment was safe and stable.

The Hornevian Groups tell us the strategy each type employs to get its needs met. The assertive types (Three, Seven, and Eight) insist or demand that they get what they want. Their approach is active and direct as they go after what they believe they need. The compliant types (One, Two, and Six) all attempt to earn something by placating their superego to get what they want. They do their best to be “good boys and girls” to get their needs met. The withdrawn types (Four, Five, and Nine) all withdraw to get what they want. They disengage from others to deal with their needs.

If we go around the Enneagram, we can put these three groups together in a way that succinctly characterizes each type’s core motivation and style. Beginning with the types in the Instinctive Triad we can see that the Eight demands autonomy, the Nine withdraws to gain autonomy (to have their own space), and the One attempts to earn autonomy (feeling that if they are perfect, others will not interfere with them).

Moving into the Feeling Triad, we see that the Two, a compliant type, tries to earn attention (serving and doing thoughtful things for others). The Three, being an assertive type, demands attention (doing whatever wins recognition and attention), and the Four, a withdrawn type, withdraws for attention (in the hope that someone will come and discover them).

In the Thinking Triad, the Five withdraws for security (“I will be safe if I stay away from others”), the Six tries to earn security (“I will be safe if I do what is expected of me”), and the Seven demands security (“I am going after whatever I need to feel secure.”

- The Wisdom of the Enneagram: The Complete Guide to Psychological and Spiritual Growth for the Nine Personality Types by Don Richard Riso and Ross Hudson

#info #hornevian groups #enneagram #one of the best things ab the ennea is the convenient ways you can group everything by three #it's so satsifying

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justreadingfics · 5 years

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Looking For a Heartbeat (8/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Series Summary: You and Bucky used to be in a relationship. Feelings were hurt, you left. It’s been two years and you’re back. You both will handle the reunion well, won’t you?

Chapter Summary: You and Bucky have an honest conversation.

Word Count: ~4K

Warnings for this chapter: angst.

A/N: @nedthegay was the wonderful beta and helped so much! Thanks babe! Please, let me know what you all think. Links are ruining posts, so you can find the the masterlist link on my description.

You’ve always hated Steve’s office. The colors are limited to shades of grey, the air conditioning forever set to freezing and it smelled like sweat and dirt. His desk is constantly covered in towers of papers with a thin layer of dust over it all, like it's been ages since he went over it, because, yes, it's obvious Steve himself doesn´t like in there either. You hate it. It always means trouble when you have to be in that room. And as a plus, the last thing you want is a one on one with the Captain when you’re tired as fuck and can’t think properly.

You waited and waited for Bucky. The whole night to be specific. Holding up to an illusion that he would want to talk to you at last, even if it was to just yell at you. But the truth is he didn’t come. Maybe he really didn’t care as much as you thought, or hoped, he still would. The other super soldier in front of you, on the other hand, could drill a hole into you with his piercing concerned stare.

“So?” You tap your fingers over his desk and raise a brow to your uncharacteristically silent friend.

“You know,” he sighs, leaning his elbows over the desk, “When Fury told me he had offered you the Director position in Europe, I was sure you deserved it, you already had a brilliant trajectory behind you,” he smiles, crossing his fingers in front of him, “But I wasn’t so sure you were gonna take the job.”

“And why was that?” Your question comes out in a rasped tone while fold your arms in front of your chest.

“Because you’re just like me,” he continues, unfazed by your defensive posture, “You hate all of this,” he waves his hands around the piles of dusting papers around his office, “You hate being trapped inside four walls, dealing with white collar people who have their own agendas, having a pen as your only weapon. You love the field, and you’re damn good at it.”

The tension slowly leaves your muscles as you hear Steve’s words, and you place your hands in your lap, refusing to look up at him. You see where this is going.

“You’re one of the best. The perfect professional, I’m not afraid to say that.” He shakes his head and leans over, closer to you, as his voice comes out small, “This is why your behavior yesterday scared the shit out of me. Out of everybody.”

Your gaze finally flicks up to him. His lips are pursed together and he stares at you with those worried blue eyes of his. You bite your cheek and look to the side, incapable to bear his stare.

“You’re a tornado on the field, Y/N. But you’ve never been so reckless, so negligent. During the whole mission, you showed so little concern as to what could happen to you and then, you said you said-”

“I meant that, Steve,” Your sudden comeback silences him and you lift your watery eyes to look at him, “I meant that,” you repeat, pressing your lips tight. You really did mean you didn’t care if you ended up dead right there. You didn’t want to admit it, but this fact also scared the shit out of you. Steve is right, you’re damn good at your job, but you were never so indifferent about what could happen to you. You were always one step ahead, watching over yourself and your teammates before anything. And you definitely have never been suicidal, not even close…

Steve reaches his hand for you and you accept it, gladly accepting the warm touch.

“Then you understand you need help to deal with it.” He squeezes your hand, waiting for your answer.

It takes you a minute or two, but you finally take a deep breath and nod at him, raising your look from your joined hands to his face.

He smiles and nod back, “I’ll sign you a leave, a few months off while you see a professional, how about that?”

You hate that, of course you do. Work is your whole life and you just came back to doing what you love with the teammates you love… But you’re not stupid. And if you’ve learned something these two years after you ran away is to not ignore your feelings anymore. And, right now? Right now you feel like shit and need help.

“Ok,” you whisper, squeezing his hand back.

“Everything will be fine, I promise. Soon you’ll be back on kicking lots and lots of ass, just the way you like it.”

You chuckle softly, trying desperately to believe your friend and Captain’s words.

~~~

The list of psychiatrists and psychologists that worked for the Avengers is clutched in your hand. Steve highlighted those he trusted the most. You can’t help but feel a bit nervous about it though. You’ve been to therapy before, of course, it was protocol for SHIELD and then the Avengers, but that was all it was it for you. Protocol. This would be your first time going through the process because you actually realized you needed it.

Walking back to your room, you think about doing a little research over the names, just in case...

When you open the door, the sight before you brings you to a complete halt. The man you just spent all night waiting for is sitting on the edge of your bed. Damp locks framing his clean shaved face, like he’s just gotten out of the shower. Handsome as ever. But what makes your heart jump is the small object laying in his hand, the thing he stares at instead of acknowledging your presence.

“You know,” Bucky says, never raising his gaze to you, “I was gonna give this to you. I planned a whole big thing for when I came home from the mission.” He opens and closes the blue velvet box, the popping sound reverberating through the room.

“I know,” you admit.

His face snaps to yours. You still have your hand wrapped around the doorknob, keeping the door opened as you see the wave of emotions swaying through his expression. Your heart beat fast as you see confusion, hurt and realization.

“Is that…is that why you left?” His voice is quiet as his shoulders slump, making his naturally large figure seem nothing but small and fragile.

“No! Fuck, I mean…” You bite your lip, looking to the side briefly before your gaze is back on him, “I’m not sure… It’s complicated.”

“I’m here so we can talk, Y/n. And… and I think I deserve to know why.”

You gulp down a dose of courage and fully enter the room, shutting the door behind you before you put the piece of paper with the numbers inside your pocket. Bucky’s eyes follow you as you walk closer and pull an armchair to sit right in front of him.

He straightens up when you’re close, fist clenched hard on the little box.

You had no idea where to begin, so you begin from the start, “We started dating, I don’t know… two, three months after you got here, right?” you tilt your head and narrow your eyes at him.

“Two,” he states confidently.

You nod slowly, “Well, my point is…You didn't get the opportunity to get to know much about me before we started dating.” You smile sadly at him.

He narrowed his eyes and tilt his head at you. A silent plea for you to continue.

”Love was never really a meaningful word to me. It was something I said and used whenever it suited me, whenever it was useful for a mission, or… for a distraction,” Your eyelids drop and you fidget with your fingers, “I didn’t really know what love was, and now, looking back, I see a lot of my grandfather’s lessons behind it. He always taught me that love was stupid, and that emotions and relationships were a diversion from the path I needed to follow.”

His face is attentive as he listens to you. You’re aware Bucky knows who your grandfather was. The famous Y/L/N, the one who founded SHIELD alongside Peggy Carter and Howard Stark. But that was all he knew about him, you were never one to bring him up in conversations. You didn´t want your last name to precede you, you wanted your achievements to be a result of your own actions and this is how it has always been.

“I don’t blame him,” you continue, “He taught me what he thought I needed to know. He lived in a time when women had to fight for respect and for a place in our world, especially if she wanted to be a fighter, an agent. Hell, we still have to fight for that…” you scoff, “So I believed him. I believed love wasn’t for me and I was fine with it, that my job was enough and that it was all that mattered... Until you happened.”

His eyes soften and you practically melt at the beautiful blue in them, feeling a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“You came unannounced and I had never felt the way I felt with you before.” You lean over, dying to touch him, to at least place your hands over his, but not daring to. You're too scared of how it would feel if he pulled away. “All I wanted to do was dive into what I felt for you, just to run into your arms and forget the world. And that’s what I did. Those new feelings swelling up inside me were exciting and wonderful and perfect and I loved it with all I had.” Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes, at the memory of that unforgettable time when you lived for each other, “Nothing was more important to me than you. And it was okay. Because I was in love with you.”

“What happened, then?” His voice comes out strained, as his own tears threatened to run down his face.

You sigh, “A few weeks before you left for your mission, Fury called me into his office and offered me the position in London. The same position my grandfather occupied when he died…” You can’t hold back the tears, and don’t even try any longer, your eyes are no longer on him but glued to your fidgety fingers laying on your thighs, instead, “It was everything I ever wanted to be, what I spent my whole life hearing I was destined to be. I worked so hard for it, but when Nick offered the job, the only thing I could think about … was you.” You gaze up at him, and can see how his jaw is grounded.

“I never would've held you back from doing what you love. You know that.” There’s a hint of aggravation in his words.

“I know. But I would’ve considered staying if you had asked. And that scared the hell out of me.” You breathe, pursing your lips in a thin line.

He blinks at your words.

“I... I asked Nick for some time to think,” you pause, struggling to voice the chaotic feelings you were going through at the time, but you need to continue. You need him to understand. “And then,it was like something changed inside me. I felt like… like I was betraying myself! Like I didn’t belong, like I was living the life of someone else, not the life I was supposed to live. Our intense, wonderful love began to feel like a weakness... I tried to fight those thoughts, I really did…”

You swallow the fear of touching him and cover his hand still gripping the blue box on his lap, you can feel the light flinch when your hand join his, his eyes following the movement, “But, then I saw you holding this the morning before you left for the mission and I lost it. I panicked and the next thing I knew I was in London.”

“I brought it with me when I came to see you…” he murmurs and lift his gaze to yours, “I hoped, I knew in my heart I would leave with you by my side, there was no other way for me…” he shakes his head.

The information falls heavy in your chest and your jaw goes slack. You screwed up so bad with Bucky, the man you love. You need to make things right, “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” You can taste the salt of your tears as you speak between sobs, “I shouldn’t have run away like that, I was so mean to you that day in London, but nothing of what I said was what I truly felt, you have to know that! Please, Buck, I need you to believe me. Just give me that please, just tell me you believe me.” Your voice sounds foreign to you. The desperate pleas a far cry from the cool tone you had earlier.

His head turns to the side and he takes his hand to wipe the tears off his cheeks. He chews his lower lip and takes a deep breath before giving you a small nod.

You can finally breathe and squeeze the hand you still have beneath yours. It’s all he can give to you at this moment and you gladly take it.

“Why did you come back?” He turns to you again.

Moving over the armchair, sitting at the very end of it, to be even closer to him, smile “Isn’t it obvious?” Your knees brush against his and the electricity of the touch runs down your veins, lodging in you spine, “I came back for you. Because I love you,” you say without an ounce of hesitation, “Because the love I once thought was nothing but weakness is what really keeps me alive.”

A pained expression contorts his face as he studies you, searching, looking for something, though you’re not sure what.

“I need it to breathe, Bucky I swear to God. And I regret that day, and I know I’ll regret leaving you every single day for the rest of my life. I love you more than anything, I need you to know that.” Your heart thuds in your chest.

He releases a restrained breath and shut his eyes briefly before leaning over. When his lips meet yours there’s no desperation, no need to devour one another. Unlike the other night, the gesture is easy, calm… loving. You bring your hand to the back of his necks and he cups your face. There’s nothing rushed in it as his mouth moves against yours, allowing you the feel the taste of your mingled tears, his velvet tongue teasing yours, warming you up, your whole body. It happens naturally, softly... As it’s a part of your everyday life. It could be one of the perfect dreams you kept having these two years separated if it didn’t felt so real, so perfectly real.

Too soon, he breaks the kiss and rests his forehead on yours, his finger lightly stroking the delicate skin of your cheeks, “I love you too, doll. I’ve never stopped.”

If you’re crying or laughing you cannot tell, all you know is that, despite not deserving them, the sweet words brighten up your whole world. He loves you. He kissed you. He called you doll, the name that had so many times made your stomach flutter and turned you into a melting mess. He still loves you and the emotion he pours into his voice seeps into your heart, filling you up with hope, with sheer love.

He keeps his forehead joined to yours and reaches to the small box that had fell on the mattress beside him when he kissed you. He wraps it in your hands, before bringing them to his lips, placing a long kiss over your knuckles.

You think you won’t be able to hold back inside the overwhelming adoration you feel for him, as he guides your hands holding the ring to rest in your lap.

“I’ve always carried your love with me, always.” He whispers, “But I don’t want it anymore, doll.”

Your blood freezes in your veins.

“W-what?” you stammer as you lean backwards and your eyes meet at the same time his hands leave yours.

“This love of ours… it ain’t good for us, sweetheart.” Despite the pain evident in his voice, his gaze conveys softness as he makes your world crumble, “It's never been good for us, I can see that now… The speeding train our relationship was, it hit us with full force. I leaned too much on you... on what I was feeling for you. I put my life into your hands and I burdened you with it.”

“That’s not-”

“Shhhh,” he soothes, putting his hands over your knees and lightly stroking your skin with his thumbs.

The gentle touch only makes your tears spill harder and a lump grows inside your throat.

“I know, sweetheart. It’s true. I burdened you with my love and I clung to you so much that when you left, I thought that was it for me.” He gulps.

Guilt crushes your chest. You’ve broken his heart, you’re very much aware of that, and now you feel like he’s only beginning to smash yours to smithereens in return.

“There was a war inside me.” He continues with his gaze dropped to where he keeps the faint caress on your knees. “I was used to war, but that was so much worse…” The pain the memories bring seeps into his voice, making you want nothing but to hurt yourself instead. “I- I …. Someone helped me find a little peace again and everything seemed fine for a while.”

Someone… Your heart clenches. Holding the blue velvet box in your hands becomes a hard task when your fingers seem to be weakening. The lump in your sore throat making it difficult for you to say anything.

“But then you came back and all that war came back with you.” His brows furrow, still looking down, “The night at the roof, I was so harsh on you, baby, yes I was...” he insists when you try to protest, “The mission yesterday?” His gaze snaps to yours, “You didn’t care you were gonna die because you thought I was going to, and, doll, I’ve never felt terror like that, being the reason why you wouldn’t wanna live anymore… I can’t stand the thought of you feeling like that.”

“I know, I know,” You finally speak with desperation tied up to your voice, “I’ve just talked to Steve, I’m gonna find help and… and we can get help together! Right? Buck, my love, I know we can.” You choke on your words, bringing your empty hand to caress his cheek, not even thinking about how pathetic you sound, “I love you, Bucky, please, let me love you the way you deserve it, I know I can learn how to do that, I can make it up for what I did. I can...”

He shakes his head and removes your touch from his face.

The piercing ache hits your chest like a sharp blade.

“I don’t think I can go through that again. God, I don’t want you to go through all of that, either.” He runs his fingers through his hair and over his face, “You flew all the way across the ocean to run away from us, because it wasn’t good for you... What we need is to learn how to not love each other anymore. And I… I need something quiet. Peaceful. I need…”

The blade cutting through your heart twists further as realization downs when he trails off. Of course...

“Anna?” your own whisper barely reaches your ears.

A heavy moment passes before he speaks again, avoiding looking directly at you, “I got out of yesterday's mission so... torn up. I needed to see her. We talked and I was honest with her. She was honest with me. You were right…” The expression taking over his face is almost apologetic, “She’s in love with me, has been for a while, and… and we decided to give it a try.”

“What?” You scoff in both disbelief and anguish, the speed of your heart increasing in unbelievable speed, “But you don’t love her!” Your voice becomes louder when you state the fact you knew in your ruined heart is true.

“I do love her.” He doesn’t flinch to answer, locking his gaze to yours.

You quit breathing.

“Not in the way I love…” He licks his lips and takes in a long shuddering breath, “I know I can learn to love her back the way she deserves. She helped me find peace when I thought my life was over. Anna is what I need.” He declares, firmly, “She’s the one for me.”

So this is what it feels like. Drowning. Falling into a suffocating ocean of pain.

He keeps talking, saying something about taking some time off and staying at a small apartment he had recently bought in Brooklyn, that you and him needed to keep distance, at least for now…

Your shoulders fall and you cocoon into yourself, sinking down in your seat. You hear him, but the words are nothing but a blur swaying around in your mind. You steel yourself in your chair, grabbing at the arms of it as you gulp down the dreadful reality.

You’re losing him.

It’s involuntary when you jerk away the minute he tries to reach for your arm.

“You can do whatever you want with your love, Bucky,” you use a raspy tone to interrupt whatever he’s saying.

He stays silent, waiting.

“But you don’t have a say on what I do with mine.” Your voice doesn’t carry the rashness it had seconds ago anymore, “I won’t learn how to stop loving you because I can’t and, also, because I don’t want to. I’m in love with you and I won’t run away from this love again. I’m going down with this ship, Bucky.”

The resolution in your voice is a contrast to the abysm of anxiousness you’re sinking into. You wait for him to say something. Anything. But he doesn’t. He just keeps looking at you.

“I respect your decision, and I’ll keep my distance, I promise.” You speak, not bearing the silence any second longer. Your voice is laced with the same quiet and soft tone he’s been using to crush your hopes, “But remember, you’re the one turning your back on love this time. You’re making a mistake. Trust me, I know. I made the same one two years ago.”

With watery eyes and a tight chest, you witness his fight to hide what’s going through his head as he offers you nothing but a blank mask over his features and quietness. But you know him well. You know that, no matter what his feelings for you are, he’s determined and there’s nothing you can say to change that.

You lost him.

“This is yours.” He whispers, nodding at the box still in your hand and, without saying another word, he gets up. His steps echoes through the silent room as he rushes past you towards the door.

You keep yourself in your seat and look down at the object in your hands. Opening the velvet lid, you contemplate, for the first time up close, the small solitaire diamond inside. The stunning beauty of the rock- the materialization of what could have been- makes you swallow back a sob and it’s the final strike to your already writhing heart.

“You found peace with her but the nightmares came back, right? They had stopped when you and I were together…” the words come out sharply before you have a chance to think.

Even if your back is turned to him, you can tell he halts at your challenging words.

“You’re gonna break that girl’s heart just like you’re breaking mine, Bucky. I know I deserve it. But does she?”

He doesn’t give you an answer before you hear the door closing.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky angst #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfiction #looking for a heartbeat

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depressionbelikeamanda · 4 years

Text

Just felt i should start writing cause nobody would understand the way i do. So a letter to my future self.

It’s funny how depression is seeing like something that's just in your mind, no one treats depression like a broken arm, or an injury but ‘’try to think good things’’.

Nice to meet you, my name is Amanda, I’m 22 years old, a brazilian girl currently living in Ireland, working as a caregiver, doing IT, trying to survive my mental condition everyday, trying really hard by the way…

I’m not writing so people can see this, but because i need a place to express myself and not being judge. Maybe not even this, but a place that i can just write everything I’m feeling.

I don’t think most of people can understand what it is to have depression, anxiety or some mental problem, maybe because they are too busy with their lifes, maybe they just dont give a shit, maybe they way they were raised was so though they just don’t want to accept that people can have mental problems, or maybe smth else that i cant think right now. But yeah, everybody has their own reasons to not believe this is a real thing, but what can we do right? Even though there are many people struggling with depression, others mental problems, and studies that proves it’s real and we are not making this up, people still think it’s nothing, it’s just something that we can just turn to happy thoughts, right? If you can’t see the problem it means there is NO problem.

Anyway, I started writing this because I’m literally in the middle of a mental breakdown but (not saying the company i work for) the person who’s in the emergency line of my company doesn’t give a shit for mental health.

Is it fair that I called 2 hours before my shift starts that I was in the middle of a depression crisis?

Is it fair that she needs to find someone to cover me in this short period of time?

But I dont think it’s fair with myself as well that i have to work while I’m crying, feeling I’m gonna faint, vomit, that I’m feeling so weak my stomach is hurting, that I can’t barely breathe (No, it’s not corona cause i did the test and it was negative), that I have to cycle to EACH client even though I’m feeling all these things and I can literally fall from the bike, that I wasn’t taking my depression/anxiety medicines cause I didnt have enough money to pay for my medicines cause i dont even have money to pay my own rent (at least my friend gave me some so i dont have to freak out for some time). Yeah, I’m not working that much since when the pandemic started, used to work 43/45 hours per week and now I’m working just 23. I have my rent, bils, food, medicines, student loan… but as the emergency woman said ‘’you can’t stay without your medicines, it’s not that expensive, around 10 euros.’’, but i paid 36 and yeah, it’s not a lot of money, but for a student who has to pay everything by my own, it’s not working as much as I used to, don’t have money to pay my rent, food, imagine medicines… so, it’s just 36 euros, i’d love if someone could pay my medicines, i’d love if I could get strangers medicines, but I dont even have money to pay my medicines, imagine to pay the doctor AGAIN, and then start paying more for a medicine that right now I dont even have money to pay the ‘’normal’’ one. (Idk if it makes sense in English, cause not my first language, anyway). And I’m here in my client’s house waiting her to finish her conversation with her daughter so i can start working, my shift starts at 17:00 and it’s already 17:26, and i have to make her tea, smth to eat, wash the dishes when she finishes, but yeah, at least i dont have to talk with her cause im feeling so sick, my face is so huge right now cause i couldnt stop crying, I took 3 medicines to get better to finish this day but idk if is helping or making worse cause i wanna vomit so bad that idk whats happening.

Anyway, i finished my client and called my friend so he could help me to sort this out before i go to my next client at 20:00, he was teaching me how to breath so i can calm down, it worked a bit not even thought i was feeling tralking with someone who really knows and the best thing is that shes a psychologist, so I called her, i was crying like hell, explained everything that happened and she said that (not exactly in these words) i need to get help from a psychiatrist cause I’m always gonna have smth going on if i don’t get help, and as she said ‘’Headache, sore throat, depression crisis, that all these things that i have/feel is connected to my mental health…’’. I’m feeling so lonely and disappointed after she said this cause I know that ny mental health is because of my emotions 99% of times, but it’s dont think my sore throat was caused because im feeling sad. Two weeks ago when i felt my throat hurting I was pretty ok, I haven’t stoped with the medication at that time cause i still had it, and I was pretty ok actually, I just reported to the office cause when i got the virus for the first time the first symptoms i had was sore throat, and i dont have this often, like, in over 2 years i just had 3 times, the first time was tonsillitis, the second was because i got the virus, the third was two weeks ago and i still dont know what it was, cause i felt a bit strange so i reported because i thought it might be the virus, cause it was exactly what i felt before, so i did the covid test and it was negative so i know it wasnt the virus, but i didnto go to any doctor because as I said in the beginning of the text i dont have money to pay my rent, my medicines, I DO NOT HAVE MONEY TO SEE WHY MY THROAT IS HURTING, so i still dont know what it was, but i got throat medicines from my friend and then got better, so maybe smth like tonsillitis but not that strong cause tonsillitis feels worse than what i felt, anyway, coming back to 2 weeks ago, i just reported because I was afraid that it could be the virus and my clients were in dangerous, but now that i know how she feels about myself (even though it can be true) I won’t report any other symptom (she works in my company office), not cause im trying to get attention, cause no one is reading this, but myself, but cause i feel that the company doesnt take me serious. Anyway, I just wont report anything anymore, I just hope i don’t get anything that i can spread to my clients cause i do love them, and i care for them more than for myself, cause i dont give a shit if i die because of the virus, or anything, but if if my clients get this because of me id never forgive myself. Anyway, it’s just sad that a friend and a psychologist thinks that cause my emotions i have sore throat and headache and i’m not able to work because of THESE. Normally I’m not able to work for good reasons, I’m always honest with my company, I could totally pretend i felt from my bike so I couldnt work, I could give a really good excuse to not work, but instead i said the truth, cause i couldnt get my medicines cause I’m not working that much so i dont have money to pay anything and i was having an abstinence crisis and I was shaking, feeling vomiting, dizzying… anyway… Unfortunately people can’t understand whats happening with others cause they are not others, and even if we try hard we could never understand, unless we’re going through the same. The only thing we can do is support who we love, even if it doesnt make any sense for us, because for them it does.

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ververa · 5 years

Text

“Asylum” (2/?)

Part 1

It took me forever to finish it. Sorry for this

@misssmephisto thank you so much for your help <3 I’d never finish it if it hadn’t been for you.

Dr Ellie Staple x patient

Warning: mention of eating disorders, degradation, abuse, homophobia

A human’s body is said to be a kind of sanctuary – and ought to be treated as it. Though, after two weeks at the ward you already knew they do not consider it that way. The duo from hell steadily, but effectively makes you feel like a trash. Your blood may remain pure – as long as you’re not an addict – though your body and then soul is completely destroyed. You’re losing indications of humaneness. It’s unavoidable, though the speed of this process depends mostly on your character and psychological strength. It’s kind of incompatible, actually, for a psychiatric hospital’s aim ought to be helping patients to regain their emotional stability and well-being, not to cause further damage. But that place and those people seemed to have their own laws.

It was hard to say why it didn’t work on me the same way it did on the rest. Maybe it’s because I was already used to being treated this way – a troubled childhood it was – maybe it was thanks to the conversations I was having with Doctor Staple or maybe she was right saying that I’m stronger that I think. Whatever it was it put me in an awkward position. Sister Janet was treating me as a danger to her position – for which she had been working hard to maintain. The power and control that she was holding was at risk, when the patients were around such an outstander like me. I was afraid of her, of course, cause she was an obstacle that could effectively prevent me from leaving that place.

The only thing I desired was remaining sane in that place – deprived of sanity. And that was the reason for her to acknowledged me as a rebel. And the one rebel is enough to bring up the fighting spirit in the whole tribe.

I had never meant to get in her way – it was only a temporary, not permanent, destination for me, and getting on her nerves wasn’t something unplanned. Actually, I didn’t even realize I was doing it. How could I know that by talking to other patients I may somehow overstep particular boundaries of her rules. But, apparently, I did it. Sister Janet perceived my getting on with others and helping them to feel more secure, simply by talking, as undermining her authority.

And so, as I broke the rules I was going to get punished.

You may think that you know what a humiliation is, yet she can show you it from a different – even worse – perspective. She along with Doctor Schulz can make your nightmares come true. They are capable of making what’s the worst in you to come out and destroy you from inside. That’s how their tactic works.

Janet’s favourite method of punishment or rather the beginning of the whole penalty process – was the room search. If you think that you’re safe, as you do not hide anything, you’re naive. It’s not about checking if addicts or anorexics hide some illegal substances for real. The purpose is to find “the thing” that will provide her with justification for punishing you. And trust me, if she really wants to make you suffer, she will find a way.

That’s exactly what she did with me. Of course, she needed to make sure nobody would stand in her way. She waited for Doctor Staple and one more psychiatrist, who were more likely to disturb her, to leave the clinic. Ellie was going on a business trip and so everybody knew she would be absent for 3 or so days. That clinched our fate.

Sister put two contiguous wards on the state of alert. It was already quite late – and it was quite unexpected when they told us to stand at the corridor.

At first it was hard for me to figure out what exactly was going on. Though Martin – who was himself for the last few days – explained it to me. We kind of befriended with each other. He was a man, of course, but he was so different to all of them – and instead of making me scared he was actually the one who could calm me down. I failed to understand how he could have no friends being such a kind and caring person. I couldn’t make them like him, so I became his friend instead. And in return he was my guardian.

I could feel how he was trembling when one of the male nurses walked out of the room that I was sharing with two more women. The nurse was holding a little bottle of some sort of laxating drug.

He handed it to Sister Janet and she looked at us.

“Well, what we’ve got here? It seems that somebody has broken the rules” she stated triumphantly

None of us dared to say anything, not even look at the woman.

“So, I expect the person did it to confess their guilt. Miss Jones?” she addressed one of the woman

It was the very same girl, who almost committed a suicide because of doctor Schulz and his therapy.

Her state still wasn’t really good. Even me – the person who knew nothing about the psychiatry could say she was on the edge of breaking down.

“Do you want to tell me something, Miss Jones?” the sister continued

The patient shook her head – no.

“Cat got your tongue?”

The girl didn’t answer once again and it was enough to punish her – obviously. Sister Janet slapped her in face with such a force that her haggard body stumbled.

“When I ask I expect an answer! Understood?”

The poor girl was, both, shocked and scared, which simply made her unable to speak. Sister was ready to hit her again and Martin – as a sensitive person turned back wanting to hide his face in my shoulder. I didn’t really know why, but I felt a weird need to do something – to help the girl somehow. And so, when Janet was about slapping her again I spoke up

“For fuck’s sake she didn’t so anything!”

At that everyone’s attention was on me.

“Do you have anything to say?” she turned to face me

Martin’s hold tightened as she addressed me. I squeezed his hand reassuringly, before answering the nurse’s question.

“I do” I said courageously

“I’m listening then”

“You scared her and then expect to answer you right back. What you’re doing is ridiculous. That’s not how the medical staff is supposed to work. It’s against the rules!”

“I am the one who makes the rules here. And nobody is going to call them into question! Definitely not an insane, scared, pathetic little girl!” her voice was full of venom

“I’m not insane!”

“You are not? What are you doing here, then?”

“I… I just…”

“Have issues?”

I didn’t answer. Well, I didn’t even know what to say.

“Oh, darling that’s typical of people in psychiatric hospitals” she laughed

Martin pulled me closer, probably thinking that if he would let me go I may get into fight with her.

“I’ll make myself clear. I’m going to punish the one who had broken the rules and if you don’t want to be punished as well you’d better shut your mouth”

“I’m not afraid of you. And at this point I don’t care”

“You’re not afraid? Well, let’s see then”

“See what?”

“Oh, you claim you’re not afraid, so I bet you won’t mind if I search your things”

“I-”

“Do you have anything to hide?”

“N-no…”

“Even that notebook? What is it? A diary? A sketchbook?”

I was standing there dumbfounded – cursing myself for letting my emotions carry me away.

“I’ve been watching you. I know you’re going with that notebook everywhere” she stated entering the room “So, where did you hide it?” she began searching my things

I was just standing there. Standing and praying for her not to find the notebook, that was hidden in my pillowcase. But well, she did.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here” she said flicking through the pages

She continued until she found something that drew her attention. She looked at me

"You won't dare" I wanted to approach her, but one of the male nurses caught me, before I managed to do it

"Oh, you're really naive thinking that I won't" she laughed

"You bitch!"

At that she came closer and slapped me. That hurt, but I couldn’t give her the satisfaction, so I remained silent. Martin though let out a weird noise – resembling a cry, that he muffled with his hand.

"I’m okay" I whispered to him, seeing his worried look

I was everything, but okay. The perspective of her invading my privacy – reading my thoughts and feelings out – and the possibility of my most precious secret being revealed made me more terrified that I could remember being.

As I saw her malicious smile, I already knew there was no use asking or begging. Neither she nor Doctor Schulz know what mercy was.

Helplessness. Shame. Humiliation. It all hit me at once – as it did only once before. Never did I expect that it could come back to me, so suddenly and unexpectedly. But there I was. Held by a strange man – almost like then – powerless and browbeaten to something I didn’t want. It wasn’t the same situation. It wasn’t a rape – at least not physically – but mentally it felt the same.

I felt naked and vulnerable as she was reading out:

___________________________

“I was sure my world has already ended. That I was already dead. It felt as if my soul was on fire. But then she appeared. And just then I knew that no one could save me, but her.

There was no place for feelings – yet being around her I feel. Feel everything more & deeper than I have ever done before.

I've never dreamed that I'd meet someone like her. I didn't want it.

I didn't want to fall in love. It wasn't the right thing to do and yet it felt so good.

In my whole life I had never known what I wanted. Until she came and saved me from my own demons. She found the light that I couldn't find in me on my own. And when she kissed me... Since then the only thing I wanted was to be next to her. Cause it just feels so right.

And now I can only hope that she could still be with me, when I'm not quite myself.

I know that when we're together nothing can stop us. And we will both find a way to make a pure love work in a dirty way.

I just hope it's alright if in our safe place I'll tell you that I'm going to love you forever, El...”

___________________________

Sister Janet didn’t finish the sentence. It seemed that for some reason she couldn’t say that name out loud.

She looked at me – her face was unreadable, but those eyes. They were so cold, that when she was looking at you – you beginning to wonder if she still had a soul.

The thought of her soul comes automatically. She’s a great believer, a Christian – who considered herself as a God’s envoy whose mission was delivering the world from a sin. She was more like a holy fool for whom everyone was sinners, but her.

It was pretty clear she was heartless, but what came out of her mouth was unexpected and I already knew it was a promise of something bad.

“You think you can be loved? That someone will care about you? I’ll tell you a secret dear child” she came dangerously close “You are mistaken. It’s pathetic. And you’re sick. Only a God could love you, but for such a sinner like you nobody would have a mercy… even the God” she paused

“Luckily for you I’m ready to help you”

“H-help me?”

“Yes. I know exactly what you need”

I looked at her confused. I already knew it wasn’t a promise of anything good.

“You need some alone time, so that you can think about it. A seclusion room seems to be the best idea”

“W-what? No no no! Sister Janet, please, no. I…”

“Don’t worry, child. We will help you. We will cure you”

I shook my head frantically, but before I managed to form any coherent sentence he appeared.

“What’s going on in here?” Doctor Schulz asked looking at the gathering

“We’ve just searched the rooms and found some pills. Also it turned out that our new patient has a lot to think over” she handed him the notebook

The man took it and read the part that she showed him. Nobody dared to look at him except for me and it was a mistake.

He was a creepy man in general, but his hands were the worst. They were so big that if he would want to he could choke you using only one of them. And when he was rubbing his chin you already knew that something terrible was about to happen.

“What are you gonna do now, Sister?” he asked smirking

“I decided that seclusion room is the best idea”

“I agree”

“Sister Janet… I didn’t do anything bad. Please, don’t…”

“We are doing it for your own good” she said “Everyone go back to your rooms” she ordered

The patients, except for Martin, moved almost immediately. He looked at me. He was even more scared than I was. It was heartbreaking to see him with tears in his eyes. He was the only person, except for Ellie, who somehow made me feel safe in that awful place. I didn’t want him to go, though he had to disappear. That devilish woman could hurt and I couldn’t let it happen.

“Didn’t I make myself clear?” Janet addressed him “Do you want to be punished as well?”

“Go” I whispered knowing that she’s capable of truly everything

Martin looked at me for the last time and disappeared.

“Dear child, you’re lost. You need to realise that you will never be enough for anyone to love you…”

And it felt as if my mind broke. All the things she said were continuously running through my head.

I wasn’t enough… I will never be the thought was slowly overwhelming my mind making my body limp.

It got even worse. I felt dizzy when the doctor came closer and smiled. It wasn’t a normal smile. It was rather the one of those horrible and terrifying. He was so close. Too close…

“Don’t worry, we will take care of you”

He wanted to touch my cheek, but I began to struggle with the nurse that was still holding me.

It’s hard to understand, but sometimes people are just like that. They hate you for some unknown reasons. And that is how it was with Doctor Schulz. He hated Ellie, even though she did nothing to him. He simply couldn’t get over the fact that she’s better than him and was a new boss. So, when he found out about us and had the opportunity to take revenge he couldn’t miss it, could he?

“Stop fighting!” Sister yelled

But I didn’t listen.

“Put her in a straitjacket” Doctor ordered calmly, but sternly

It was impossible to ignore that tone. Who could ever dare to do it?

Before I knew two more nurses came and not only straitjacketed me, but also gave me an injection with tranquilliser. It must have been quite a huge dose, cause it worked really fast and soon I was too weak to move.

And then there was only a darkness, which made everything blank out…

_______________________________

Ellie couldn’t stop the tears that were escaping her eyes. She had never been that sensitive, though reading about Ronnie being so helpless and scared broke her heart again.

She could remember how it was when she came back to the hospital then as if it had happened the previous day.

She had been cooperating with the organization for quite some time, but at that time she spread her wings for real. They did notice a great potential in her and valued her knowledge and work. She became such an important person and the main doctor working for them that at some point she got her personal bodyguards. She didn’t really like it, claiming that was unnecessary, as noting bad could happen. Though when she finally arrived at the clinic, after her business trip, those men turned out to be pretty useful.

As Ellie entered the building she could already feel that something was wrong. The receptionist and guards greeted her as politely and respectfully as usually, but they were looking at her a bit different.

It’s because of those big guys or the fact that I’m a new boss – she thought to herself. But she didn’t care about it. The only thing she cared about was to see Ronnie. She had been absent only for a few days, but it felt like eternity. Each hour without the girl was dragging mercilessly for the woman and as she finally arrived at the clinic the only thing she wanted was to go to her office and start the session with her favourite patient and the only person that mattered for her.

But as she got to the second floor she saw Martin, instead of Ronnie, waiting for her – nervously wandering around the corridor – she already knew it wasn’t about her bodyguards or her being in charge.

“Doctor Staple!” he moved towards her so rapidly that her gorillas were ready to down him, so as to protect Ellie

Martin stopped as the guards moved forward. He looked at Staple confused as she shook her head.

“It’s okay guys. He’s only a patient. He’s harmless”

The men looked at the psychiatrist, then exchanged knowing looks and let Martin come closer.

“What is it?” Staple asked

“T-t-t-they t-t-took her” he stuttered

It was obvious for Ellie that something really bad had happened, as Martin wouldn’t began to stutter again with no reason.

“Easy. Calm down and tell me who and where?” she asked calmly

Martin shook his head. He took a deep breath and tried to speak again

“S-siter J-J...”

“Sister Janet. Okay”

“A-a-and D-Doctor S-Schu-u...”

“Doctor Schulz. Who did they take?”

“R-Ronnie”

At the name Ellie’s eyes widened.

“Where?!” she wasn’t calm any more

Martin tried to calm down, so that he could be able to explain everything to the psychiatrist.

“Martin! Where did she take her?!”

“I-I...”

“It’s okay. I’ll take care of it” it sounded more as if she was trying to calm down herself rather than Martin

The patient was about to say something, but Ellie didn’t let him

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll explain it later” she said heading in the direction of the other doctor’s office

Staple’s mind was speeding. All possible scenarios were multiplying with every minute.

She was furious. They had no right to take her patient, her little and defenceless Ronnie.

Ellie, followed by her bodyguards, got to the ward and seeing her being so angry even the guards there didn’t dare to stop her. The psychiatrist entered the other Doctor’s office without knocking

“Where is she?!”

Schulz looked at her.

“Good morning Doctor” he said nonchalantly “I’m afraid I don’t know what are you talking about” he answered smiling innocently

“I’ll make myself clear. I do not like to repeat myself. So, I’ll ask once again and you’d better think about your answer” Ellie said perfectly mimicking the man’s smile “Where is Ronnie? And who gave you the right to even talk to her? She’s my patient and that was beyond your eligibility”

“Doctor Staple I graduated the same studies as you did…”

“It’s a shame then that you’re not able to make use of it”

“As I’m older and have more experience than you, you owe me some respect” he stood up visibly resentful of Ellie’s words

“Your age or experience means nothing. To be respected you need to earn it. And let me tell you that nothing you do deserves even a drop of respect. You’re not allowed to treat people – whether they’re patients or not – the way you do. I’ll never regard you and what you did only proves that you weren’t meant to be a doctor”

Schulz seemed as if he wanted to say something, though Staple cut him off before he managed to speak up.

“At this point I believe the only thing left for me to say is for you to bring me all your patients’ files then take your staff and get out of my face” she said sternly

The man looked at her surprised.

“You cannot fire me!”

The woman’s lips curved into a fake smile

“I’m the boss now, so I do believe I can” she moved to leave the room, but stopped “Oh, and if you won’t leave on your own the security will surely help you”

With that Staple left the office and not losing any more time headed to the nurses station.

“Wait here” she told the men before entering

There were a few nurses, except for Sister Janet, in the room. They all stopped their talk, as soon as their boss appeared.

“Leave us!” Staple ordered looking directly at Sister Janet

The women stood up and left immediately. They all could feel the anger radiating from the psychiatrist, so they didn’t dare to say a word. As they left the room filled with fraught atmosphere.

“Good morning” Sister Janet tried to sound confident, but failed feeling Ellie’s intense and full of rage gaze

“I wouldn’t call it “good” especially in your situation”

“What do you mean Doctor?”

“I mean that you’re overconfident of yourself and your position here. I blinked at you and your exceeding your powers. And it was a huge mistake. Let me tell you something. You’re not the one in charge here. Neither are you allowed to make your own rules. You’re supposed to help the patients, look after them not threaten them!”

“Ohh, so this is about that abomination of yours”

“I beg you pardon”

“That disgusting slut of yours. I know about you two. And I did what I had to do. You as a Doctor should know that it’s an illness, but I understand that she vamped you? Whatever she did, that isolation is for the good of your both. And you dear Doctor should understand that this and pray is the only way to save yourself”

Ellie looked at the other woman. She couldn’t believe what she had heard.

“Unbelievable. It’s simply unbelievable. You think you’re a saint while in fact you’re a horrible person. You and your medieval methods are sick. When will you finally realise that we’re not living in the Middle Ages any more? And when it comes to pray… You are the one who should pray for me not to fire you, as your demeanour is a ground for me doing it!”

“You may think I’m a horrible person, but she did deserve it. And what you are doing… all of it… it’s wrong”

“I can’t remember asking about your opinion. It’s none of your business what and with who I am doing. So, you’d better shut up if you still want to work here!”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I…” she was about answering, but stopped “I’ll deal with you later”

Staple left the nurses station and almost immediately bumped into Martin, who was again nervously wandering around the corridor waiting for her.

“Martin!” she addressed him louder than necessary

The man stopped and turned to look at her

“Where is she?” she asked in a bit calmer way

“I-I can take you Doctor”

“Yes, please” she took a deep breath “And you” she turned and pointed at one of the bodyguards “Stay here and make sure she won’t go anywhere”

The man only nodded

“You” she addressed the other one “Come with us”

Martin leaded them back to the isolated block.

“Doctor…” he started hesitantly

“Yes?”

“She is… Her condition is really bad”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t really know what happened, but Doctor Schulz did something to her. When I came to her for the first time she was still fine. Scared, but fine, but then… He applied some of his therapies on her and she… broke? I’m not a doctor like you, but I just know it. She was crying and calling your name at night. That was scary…” he paused as they got to their destination

“I don’t know how the hell you managed to get here on your own, but I don’t care. Thank you. Thank you for taking care of my girl” she tried to smile, but in that moment it was impossible

Staple was too angry and worried

“Doctor Staple just promise me one thing”

“Yes?”

“Promise you won’t leave her. That you won’t get scared, because behind this door… it’s not the Ronnie that you used to know”

“Martin, I’ll never… I wouldn’t be able to leave her”

The patient nodded and moved so that the psychiatrist could approach the door

As one of the guards opened the door the psychiatrist froze. Ellie was sure her heart stopped for a few seconds. Her eyes widened with terror at the sight of Ronnie – curled up on a small bed.

The girl was in the straitjacket, which unable her from moving too much. She was almost as white as the walls in that room and even more skinny than before. She was looking at a wall with demented eyes. It seemed as if there was something completely occupying the girl’s attention, but unnoticeable for the psychiatrist.

“Ronnie?” Ellie quickly moved towards her and kneeled next to the bed

Staple was more than terrified, as her patient didn’t respond. She didn’t even notice Ellie being there.

“What has he done to you?” she asked and wanted to caress the girl’s cheek

Though as soon as her hand made a contact with Ronnie’s skin the girl flinched. She turned and Staple could finally see her big, red and puffy from crying eyes.

“E-Ellie?” she stuttered

“Yes. Yes, it’s me. I’m back Ronney. I’m back. I won’t leave you again. I’m so sorry” she wanted to cup her face, but the girl moved back rapidly

“No, no, no!” she shook her head frantically “You cannot. It’s bad. We’re bad. This is wrong!”

“No. It’s okay. Ronnie, please, look at me. It’s alright. You’re good. We’re good”

“Noo. I’m bad. I’m a freak…”

“You are not”

“I-I am. I’m a misfit”

“You are everything, but a misfit” Staple reached for her again “Come on. Let me take that thing off of you” she said pointing at the straitjacket

Ronnie sat still as the psychiatrist unhooked the white clothing. Ellie slowly and carefully slipped it down the girl’s shoulders revealing her skinny body. She inconspicuously checked if the girl wasn’t injured. Though the only noticeable and worrying thing was her being thinner than before.

Ellie, however, already knew it was only an outer layer. A shell that was slowly being destroyed from inside, because of what people had been doing to the girl. The external wounds weren’t as serious as those internal, which healing process was going to take far more time than Ellie had supposed.

Seeing Ronnie in such a state was the last straw. Staple was ready to destroy whoever had anything to do with the girl’s state. She wasn’t going to shy away from doing anything what would be needed to keep the girl safe. Despite all thoughts and questions that were clouding in Ellie’s head, she managed to compose herself enough to carefully pull Ronnie’s weak and trembling body to herself. She wiped the tears from the girl’s gaunt face with such a gentleness that Ronnie gave into her touch and let the woman hold her.

“Hush, little girl” Staple hugged her

“I-I’m s-sorry” she sobbed

“No no no. It’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry for” she kissed her forehead

“It’s m-my fault… Because I-I am weak” she whispered

“No. You are not. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. You are not weak. Scared? Maybe, but it’s okay to be scared sometimes. And you have the very right to be scared. Though nothing of this is your fault. It’s on them and they’re going to suffer the consequences of their incompetence. I’ll see to it. But look, you’re safe now. They won’t hurt you again. I won’t let them. I won’t let anybody”

@crazycatladycaceta

#dr ellie staple #dr ellie staple x patient #sarah paulson imagine #my own character #asylum #part2/?#glass #glass movie #sorry if this is shit #hope you like it

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knivestothroats · 4 years

Text

Part 6

List of Episodes

This one is pretty tame. Mostly dealing with how people are treating Ace now that they have free range of the base again.

Ace walked through the doors of the infirmary and stopped dead. Luke was sitting on one of the beds, next to another man Ace didn’t recognize. In reality, they had seen this man with Luke before, the first time Matty had pointed him out, but Ace hadn’t really been paying attention to anyone else.

Ace’s mind raced. Should they pretend they didn’t know him? They didn’t want Luke to think they remembered anything from their time under Miranda’s control. They knew who Luke was, but only because they had been told about him by others. That felt weird to say, but they didn’t want to lie, and–

“Hey, Ace,” Luke said. “Do you remember me?”

Remember you? Only from seeing you around the base. Not that I was watching you…

“N-no,” Ace said. “But… one of my friends told me…” That we’ve met? “Who you are. Um…” Ace felt like they should apologize, but honestly they had no idea if they had done anything to apologize for. Surely they had, but they had no idea what. Maybe just, sorry for what happened to you? Too detached. Sorry you got dragged into this? Sorry..?

Dr. Greene walked in before they could decide how to continue.

“Dr. Rosenthal isn’t in today,” He said, skipping the formalities. “You’ll have to come back later to do your check up with me.”

Ugh.

“Why do I have to come back later? I’m here now,” Ace said.

“I’m with another patient, and you can’t be in the room.”

Luke looked like he was going to speak up, but Ace beat him to it.

“You didn’t mind me being in the room when you kept me in a hospital bed for three days.” Ace pointed out, folding their arms. There wasn’t really a point in arguing, but they had to get their digs in where they could. “Whatever. When do I have to come back?”

Dr. Greene checked his watch and said, “Give it an hour.”

“’Kay,” Ace said, turning on their heel toward the door. “Looking forward to it.”

They hadn’t gotten very far down the hall before they heard a voice call out to them. Ace turned around to see Luke’s friend jogging up.

“You should stay away from Luke,” he said when he reached them.

Ace felt their chest tighten. “I didn’t know he was in there.”

“He needs space to heal, away from the people that hurt him,” the friend said.

I hurt him?

“He sees you as like…” the man struggled to find the right words. “Like, like a friend or something. It’s probably something he had to do to survive in there. He needs time in a safe place so he can recognize that what you did to him is bad.”

“What–” Ace stopped themselves before asking what did I do to him?

“I get that it wasn’t you,” the friend continued. “But… it was, physically, you. And I don’t think it’d be good for him to be around you until he’s had time to recover.”

“Okay, well,” Ace couldn’t help but feel defensive. They folded their arms across their chest and glanced away. “It’s not exactly like I’m blowing up his phone.”

“I know,” said Luke’s friend, sounding defensive now too. “I’m just… being preemptive. I think he might try to reach out to you.”

Ace didn’t know how to take that information. Was that a bad thing? Luke was the only person who knew what happened during Ace’s missing time. And if he wanted to reach out to Ace… it couldn’t be that bad, right? Wouldn’t he know better than others if he should stay away from Ace? Or was it like his friend said; some kind of defense mechanism he needed to overcome? Like Stockholm syndrome? Dr. Greene seemed to think so too, and, despite whatever feelings he and Ace had for each other, he was a doctor.

Not a psychiatrist, though.

“Well, if that’s what you think is best,” Ace managed, “I’ll make myself scarce.”

“Thank you,” the friend said. He turned away and walked back to the infirmary.

Matty was in some sort of debriefing, so Ace had to walk the halls alone. The weather had taken a turn for the worse, so Ace was stuck eating in the cafeteria. They picked an empty table, and sat with their back to the rest of the room. It felt like, if they turned around to look, everyone would be staring at them. Ace tried to ignore the paranoia. Under the table, they pulled a folding knife out of their pocket. It was spring loaded, and was designed to be open with one hand. Closing it with one hand was trickier, and Ace occupied themselves by practicing doing just that. Flick open, press the release, push the flat side against their leg, close the knife. Repeat.

They were starting to relax when they suddenly felt something thunk against the back of their skull. Hand to their head, they looked down to see an apple, smashed, where it had landed on the floor. They could hear snickers and murmurs behind their back.

Don’t look. You won’t be able to tell who threw it, they told themselves. And if even if you did, you can’t fight them. You have to prove that you’re not a threat. Everyone just needs a target to take their grief out on. Let that be you for a while. Let it play out.

Ace regretted not just taking their lunch back to their room to eat there, but they couldn’t bail out now. Not yet.

Don’t let them see you tuck tail and run. Just finish your food, and then you can go.

Ace ate what they could stomach, remained for what they hoped was an appropriate amount of time to let eyes slide off them, and then made their retreat. Once in the relative safety of the corridors, they checked the time. They could afford 10 or 15 minutes of hiding in their room before they had to go back to the infirmary for their check-up.

As they were heading back to the dorms, wondering what the hell even constitutes as a “check-up” in this situation, somebody shoved them hard into the wall.

Ace spun around to face their assailant, rage boiling their blood. Three other agents huddled around them.

“Careful,” one of them said. “They’ve been known to kill their own team.”

The heat from Ace’s anger turned to cold dread.

The one in front, Tate, got in their face. “You shouldn’t be allowed to walk free around here.” He shoved them again.

It wasn’t that Ace was outnumbered that concerned them. Sure, everyone here had been trained, but Ace was one of the best agents, and everybody knew it. The problem was, Ace knew what would happen if they hurt fellow agents. They knew what people would think.

They can’t be trusted; they’re still rabid.

“Well?” Tate prompted. “You got anything to say for yourself? Or did you ‘forget’ how to speak, too?” he put air quotes around forget, as if Ace was lying about their lost time.

Ace, never one to walk away from a fight, was running scenarios in their head on how best to get out of this situation – without losing their dignity, freedom, or teeth – when Matty rounded the corner.

His surprised smile from running into Ace without having to track them down was only briefly present on his face, quickly erased when he surveyed the scene.

“Hey,” he said easily. “What’s going on?”

Tate gave a smile. “We just wanted to see how Ace is feeling these days.”

He put his hand on Ace’s shoulder and gave it a fake-friendly squeeze. Ace clenched their jaw and fought against feelings of revulsion.

The trio walked away and Matty turned to Ace.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Ace grumbled. To Matty’s concerned and unconvinced look, they added, “You know I could handle myself if there was a problem.”

“Yeah,” Matty relented uneasily. “That’s true. Uh, how did you check-up go?”

“Ugh, Dr. Rosenthal wasn’t there, so I have to go back and do it with Dr. Greene.”

“Oh, that sucks. Do you want me to come with you?”

Ace rubbed their shoulder absently. “It’s whatever, you can if you want. Luke’s friend was there with him, but Dr. Greene might change the rules for me.”

“You saw Luke?” Matty asked.

Ace immediately felt like they had been caught doing something wrong. “Uh, briefly.”

“Did you get to talk to him?”

“Not really,” Ace said.

“Well, he probably knows more than anyone what happened during that time. You know, when you’re ready to hear about it,” Matty said.

Ace rubbed the back of their head, and then tugged on their overgrown hair. “Everyone’s telling me I should stay away from him,” they muttered.

Matty’s eyebrows pulled together. “Like who?”

“Uh, Dr. Greene and Luke’s friend. They said he needs time to recover from… me, I guess.”

Matty thought for a moment. “Did Luke seem scared when you saw each other?”

“No. I don’t know. I don’t think so. He asked if I remembered him. That’s about it.” Ace sighed. “His friend said he, like, thinks of me as a friend, but I… hurt him. I guess. I don’t – I don’t know what I did, obviously. So. How, uh, how was your debriefing?”

“Oh, uh,” Matty shifted uncomfortably. “I’m, uh… Brooks is sending me on an assignment. With Jess and Nadia.”

Ace nodded slowly. “Well, Jess and Nadia combined are almost as good as having me there,” they joked. “Uh, when..?”

“Tomorrow,” Matty said. “It’s gonna be a few days.”

“Okay. Well…” Ace looked at their watch. “I gotta head to the infirmary.”

“Yeah, I’ll come with you,” Matty said.

They walked in silence for a moment before Matty said, “You know, if you didn’t want to beat those guys up yourself, I could do it. Or I can get Jess and Nadia to help me as a sort of pre-mission team bonding exercise.”

Ace laughed. “Let’s hold off,” they said. “I might need to ask you to jump Dr. Greene instead, depending on how this check-up goes.”

[continues here]

#i normally give it an extra read thru b4 posting but i can't concentrate rn #Ace #original #whump #whump series #whump ocs #whump oc #whump blog #mind control #memory loss

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