#that fucker STILL gives me such issues it literally was bleeding a week or two ago

[uwooyoungs]

//

#one of my piercings (healed to be clear) #is so fuckin ITCHY TELL MY WHY #like why. why do cartilage piercings have to be Like That #ivehad this piercing for almost two years n it still gets irritated/sore #or in this case itchy??? #nd dont even get me started on the helix i got in like. 2021 #that fucker STILL gives me such issues it literally was bleeding a week or two ago #and if i dont Constantly have an earring in it will straight up close #looking back to 2021 i thinnk i 1) shouldnt have gotten it pierced w/ a hoop #2) shld probably have gone to a piercer who WOULDNT have pierced it w/ a hoop and wldve just #yknow generally done it better #i rly wanna get my conch done soon but i fear i live in a place w/ few reputable piercers #if any #there're a couple tattoo shops that have experienced piercers #of those i Might trust one #one of the others... i looked on the guys ig and not only does he not rly have a portfolio #he had a vid of himself just up and piercing his own conch #and like. im sorry i dont trust u w/ my ear sir #im going to boston in a few months and might try to get it done when im there #or maybe i'll have time when i go to a conference in april #we shall see it'll happen at some point

[looooooooomis]

Somebody’s Baby

a stu macher x fem!reader one shot requested by the lovely @slasherscream​ 

I try to shut my eyes, but I can't get her outta my sight. I know I'm gonna know her, but I gotta get over my fright.

pairing: Stu Macher x fem!reader word count: 5.6k warnings: s m u t, longing, fluff, angst, oral, teasing, honestly I went off (my bad)

Stu Macher never really did stand a chance. At least not when it came to you.

He was putty in your hands, whether you knew it or not. He’d do anything for you, everything for you – even if that meant taking a backseat to Billy Loomis. He had to admit, it was gutting to watch you and Billy interact the way you did. The two of you were close – hell, the three of you were close – but there was something about you and Billy that seemed to just…make sense.

And, for the most part, Stu was okay with that. For the most part being the key words. Because, fuck, he’d be a liar if he said that tonight of all nights wasn’t bothering him. It was a night not unlike any other. The three of you had decided on a movie that Stu couldn’t really bring himself to care about all too much as you and Billy harped on and on about whatever it was the two of you were talking about, but it was your attitude that was rubbing him the wrong way.

You were distant tonight. You were cold. You seemed to smile real big whenever Billy would make a comment about the movie but if Stu said a goddamn word it was as though he’d sucker punched you in the gut. It didn’t feel angry, or at least he didn’t think you were angry, but there was something off about the whole damn thing and it was driving him mental.

You were tucked away in the chair with your knees curled up into your chest, frowning at a particularly bloody scene on the TV, a seemingly important one too, but Stu couldn’t bring himself to watch it. He was far too busy trying to discern what the lines on your forehead meant, what the furrowed brow and small, barely-there frown on that pretty face of yours meant. Had he unknowingly done something wrong? He didn’t think so, but stupid shit came out of his mouth all day long so, he supposed, it wasn’t impossible.

But there was a niggling feeling in his gut that told him that couldn’t be it. You weren’t mad or annoyed, you were cold. You were distant. It was as though you’d barricaded yourself away from him and done so with purpose. But why?

Why, why, why?

“It’s eight, Stu,” Billy muttered, far too engrossed in the movie to bother looking his way. “Didn’t you have to be at whatsername’s by eight-thirty?”

Glancing down at the time on his watch, Stu stretched out his long limbs and chanced another look at you only to find that your eyes were solely focused on the wall just beyond the television. For a moment, he remained still, waiting for you to do something. To look at him, to make a quip about his date, to do literally anything besides ignore him, but when your stare remained cast ahead, Stu sighed and stood up to his full height. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” He griped. “Think she’ll put out?”

It was meant to be a joke, something to lighten the mood or, at the very least, get you to crack a smile or roll your eyes, but when all you did was continue in your stare-off with the fucking wall, Stu’s stomach fell.

What the fuck was your problem tonight?

“Tact, fucker. Y/N is right here.” Billy rolled his eyes but shot him a small smirk. “And if she has a brain, don’t count on it.”

“Hilarious,” Stu mocked. “You guys need anything before I go? Some water? Some beer? Handful of condoms?”

“Fuck off,” Billy cracked a grin. “Don’t do anything stupid tonight.” He gave Stu a knowing look, being sure to keep his mouth shut around you in fear of letting anything regarding their little charade slip.

“Me?” Stu feigned hurt. “Never.”

Once again, he waited for you to say anything – a goodbye, at the very least – but when he got nothing in return, Stu merely rolled his eyes and walked out of the house.

You, on the other hand, remained stoic as ever as you blinked back a flurry of tears daring to spill out of the corners of your eyes. Your heart was in your stomach and your nails, which had been digging into your palms for the better half of the evening, carved out tiny half-moons into the sensitive flesh as you fought back every urge you had to scream and yell at the idiot for leaving you yet again.

The sound of the front door shutting was enough to make your body relax just enough for a few stray tears to roll down your cheeks. You were just so mad and so incredibly hurt all at once and, while you should have been used to it by now, it never got any easier watching that tall bitch of a man you’d grown to love over the years walk out for yet another date with another woman who was not yourself.

“You okay?” Billy asked, lulling his head towards you from his spot on the couch. He was the one person in the world to know your true feelings about Stu Macher and, while he’d never admit to it out loud, you knew he was oddly protective of you when it came to Stu’s idiocy, especially where his dating life was concerned.

You swallowed hard, not quite trusting your voice in fear of breaking down in front of him. So, instead, you remained silent and barely nodded. Was it hot in here or was it just you? You suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe as you sat in the dark room with Billy to your left and Stu now long gone. Deep breaths, you thought to yourself, squeezing your palms yet again. Deep, calming breaths.

You heard Billy sigh as he paused the movie. “Y/N,” he muttered, his tone careful, “how’s he going to know how you feel if you don’t actually say shit about it?”

Through the thick blanket of tears still gathering in your eyes, you focused your glare on the dark-haired man. “Fuck off,” you barked out, “like it’s that easy.”

“It is,” he shrugged. “What’s stopping you?”

“The idiot has a date every week, Billy,” you hissed, “am I supposed to show up with a bouquet of fucking roses declaring my feelings as his tongue’s down some other girls’ throat?” With your emotions at an all-time high, you stood up from the chair and raised a shaky hand to anxiously toy with your hair. “I mean does he have to parade his shit around here the way he does? It drives me nuts.”

Billy remained quiet and still as he watched you pace in front of the tv. He’d seen this frenzied look on your face only once before, but he knew what was coming next. It wasn’t often that you let your feelings finally bubble over to the brink of explosion, but if your current state was any indication, he was about to witness a breakdown.

Standing up to his full height, Billy quietly walked towards you and placed his hands on either shoulder, holding you in place as his brown eyes searched your own watery gaze. “Hey,” he cooed, brow puckered. “Stu’s a fucking idiot if he doesn’t see what’s in front of him.”

You chewed on your lip in an attempt to contain the sob desperately clawing its way up your throat. “I can’t watch him do it anymore, Bill,” you finally said, barely above a whisper. “It just hurts too much.”

It wasn’t often you were met with the soft side of Billy Loomis, but you cherished those moments – though so far and few between – each and every time. With a sigh, Billy wrapped his arms around your shoulders and tugged you close. He said nothing, though, because what could he say? Stu was a fucking moron when it came to you, he knew as much, but uttering those words at a time like this would only hurt you more.

You sniffed, your tears bleeding into the cotton of his white t-shirt. “I swear he—”

“Wow,” Stu’s voice rang out into the silence of the room. Snapping your head towards his sudden appearance, you froze in Billy’s arms, terrified of just how much he’d heard. At first, he seemed to just stand there for a second, staring at the two of you wrapped up in each other’s arms with a resigned, almost defeated look in his blue eyes. But all at once, in typical Stu fashion, that serious undertone slowly morphed into an almost amused sneer. “You two move fast, huh? Guess I should’ve grabbed those condoms.”

You rolled your eyes, barely hearing Billy’s sly comeback as you gently pushed him away. That heaviness in your chest that had made you cry only seconds prior was now a raging fire inside of your chest. The audacity this big, dumb, ass of a man had.

“Hilarious, Stu,” you griped, sniffing as you walked back to your chair. “Forever the comedian.”

“Hey,” he held his hands up in surrender. “No shame in it, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t interrupt shit,” Billy said. “And you know it.”

“What are you even doing back?” You snapped, glowering across at the idiot. “Or did you get bored of this one already?” You made a show of looking down at your watch-less wrist. “Five whole minutes, that’s got to be a new record.”

Stu pretended to laugh. “I forgot my wallet, ice queen,” he grabbed his wallet off of the table but continued to glare down at you. “What’s your problem tonight, anyway? You’ve got a stick shoved so far up your ass it’s practically coming out of your—”

“I wouldn’t go there,” Billy warned, flicking the play button on the remote. “Stop while you’re ahead.”

Stu barely glanced at him. “Nah, Billy,” he shrugged and took a seat on the edge of the couch closest to where you sat. “I’m curious. Can’t a guy be curious as to why a broad suddenly decides to give you the cold shoulder?”

“I warned you,” Billy merely shrugged.

“A broad?” You growled. “Get fucked, Macher.”

“What is your issue?” Stu reiterated. “I’m serious. You’ve been acting like a—”

“I’m not getting into this with you.” Pushing yourself off of the chair, you stormed passed both men towards the front door. “Enjoy your date, dipshit.”

Stu watched you go in utter confusion but before he could get up to follow you and continue this entire fiasco, Billy smacked him upside the head. “Leave her be, idiot,” he merely said, not tearing his eyes away from The Exorcist. “Let her cool off.”

“Cool off?” Stu asked with a furrowed brow. “Cool off from what? You two got that heated that fast that she stormed out because I came back inside?”

A long, deep, heavy sigh escaped Billy’s lips as he – yet again – had to pause the movie. His eye twitched in irritation as he surveyed the almost dopey look on Stu’s face. “I just want to watch this damned movie and it’s like a fucking soap opera with you two.”

Stu blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“You seriously don’t know, do you?” When all he received was a blank stare from his friend, Billy pinched the bridge of his nose and swore under his breath. “You’re even dumber than you look, you know that?”

»»————-¤————-««

It was a few hours later when there was a casual knock at your front door. Your parents were gone for the night and, as you glanced at the time, your stomach gave a nervous twist. It was nearing midnight and, while it was a Friday and you were by no means tired, just who would be knocking at your door this late at night eluded you.

Debating on whether or not to answer, you remained firmly situated on your couch as you eyed the front door in disdain. Maybe if you waited long enough, they’d move onto the next house and your life could be spared for another night. But, before you could get too much hope on the matter, another loud knock erupted from the door. This time, however, followed by an all too familiar voice.

“Hey dipshit,” Stu’s muffled voice rang out, “open up.”

“The fuck?” You whispered in confusion before making your way to the front door. Sure enough, as you unfastened the lock, there he stood. Stu Macher in all his glory. His eyes were somewhat wild as he silently stood on your front porch, soaking you in from all angles as his Adams apple bobbed up and down in his throat. For the first time in…well, ever, it appeared Stu was at a loss for words.

“Stu, what the hell?” You asked. “My parents could have been home do you know how late it is?”

“Yeah,” he simply said, not moving an inch from where he stood. “But this couldn’t wait.”

You blinked. “What couldn’t wait?” You asked, glancing over his shoulder to see if this was some weird prank that he and Billy thought up. “Come inside, you’re freaking me out.”

“I—” His words seemed to die on his tongue. “I just need to know if it’s true.”

You frowned. “If what’s true?” You racked your brain for a possible answer but came up empty. “Did something come up on your date or something? If it’s about that rumour with me and Matt Sewinski, I promise you that’s not true. The guy’s a creep.”

Stu shook his head but his eyes remained glued to your face, unblinking. “No,” he simply said, “and I didn’t end up going out with Heather.”

You wrinkled your nose. “I thought it was Sarah tonight?”

Stu shut his eyes in sheer annoyance. “Heather, Sarah, whoever the fuck it was,” he opened those blue eyes open again and the raw intensity inside of them made you take a small step back. “I didn’t go.”

You swallowed hard and suddenly felt a wave of nausea overcome you. “Why?” You gulped out.

Stu licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair. He was yet to step foot inside your house and between the maniacal look in his eye and the chilled breeze seeping in through the open door, you shivered absentmindedly. “I talked to Billy.”

Four words. Four tiny little words was all it took to make the room around you spin on its axis. A cold sweat broke out across your chest as you averted your eyes to the wall directly beside his head. Maybe if you didn’t quite look him in the face, you could get out of what was about to become an incredible awkward, painful situation. With your breath trembling, you swallowed again and tried to find your voice. “About what?”

Stu cocked his head to the side. “Y/N,” he warned, “cut the shit.”

Another painful gulp. Your throat felt like it was closing in on you as you stood there facing the boy you’d been in love with for as long as you could remember. You’d often dreamt of this day, the day where he’d finally realize your feelings only to have them reciprocated fully – but when you’d pictured it, Stu looked a lot less crazy than he did looking back at you now. But, even still, there was a glimmer of emotion shining brightly behind those blue eyes that made your breath hitch in your throat.

It made you nervous.

Worse, it made you hopeful.

“Stu,” you tried to find some conviction in your tone, but your nerves got the better of you. “Can you just get inside first? You’re scaring me.” Despite feeling as though you were going to faint, you managed to reach across the divide to yank him inside of your house. Locking the door behind you, you took a few even breaths before turning back around to face him. “What did Billy say?”

Stu ignored your question as he began to pace around your hallway. He was this tall, broad, string bean of a man on a regular day, but the mass of him tonight was all encompassing as he governed your foyer. “Seven years,” he began, his voice slightly shaky. “We’ve known each other for seven fucking years, Y/N. And I’ve hung on your every fucking word for all of six years, eight months and a handful of days, give or take.” He turned on his heel rather abruptly to face you. “But you liked Billy.”

You opened your mouth to respond to the first half of his statement before realization dawned on you. Grimacing, you shook your head. “Billy? He’s like my brother, where the hell did that come from?”

“You act like he hung the fucking moon, Y/N!” He exclaimed, emphatically. “What was I supposed to think?”

“What?” You shook your head in sheer confusion. “Okay, one thing at a time. Billy is one of my best friends. So are you. What’s the problem here?”

“The probl—?” Stu laughed. “The problem? For seven fucking years you’ve been the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of before I go to sleep. And literally every fucking second in between. And this whole goddamn time, I thought you were in love with Billy.”

You were reeling. You weren’t entirely sure if your heart was beating as loud as it appeared to be, but you were sure he could hear it from where he stood a few feet away. “I—” You tried to form a sentence – any sentence – but nothing seemed to suffice. “But the dates?” Were the only words that seemed to spill from your lips. “You were dating – are dating – constantly.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, “wonder why.”

You weren’t sure when you’d done it or just how your legs managed to carry you back into the living room, but you found yourself falling against the arm of the couch in an almost dream-like state. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m not trying to say anything,” Stu fussed. “I want to know if what Billy told me was true.” He walked up to you and searched your face. “Do you love me?”

You didn’t answer at first. You couldn’t. Not when it felt as though your lungs were about to explode in your chest. You must have opened your mouth a dozen times over, each time with the promise of a formative sentence, but nothing seemed to suffice.

Suddenly Stu’s hands were on you. Squeezing your thighs with those large hands, he demanded your focus as he swooped down and caught your eye. “I need you to answer me, doll.”

You were so focused in on the overwhelmingly glorious feeling of his hands on your thighs that you forgot to answer. Hell, you forgot to breathe. It wasn’t until you slowly managed to tear your eyes away from his hands to trail up the rest of his body towards that striking face of his, that you found your words.

“You came to my house at midnight. You’ve been the one going on dates like it’s a part time job. You’re the one claiming to have been hanging on my every word for the better half of our friendship so, no, Stu, I’m not saying a fucking word until you tell me what it is that brought you here this late?” You pushed his hands off of your thighs and stood up. “All I’ve done this entire time is sit idly by and watch you carry on like Heffner at the Playboy Mansion. You want me to answer you? Not until I get a—”

Your answer came in the form of a kiss.

On instinct, your hands tangled through his hair as his tongue slid along your bottom lip. He might have been on your shit list at the moment, but fuck he was a good kisser. You’d been thinking about this very moment for as long as you could remember. Longer, even, and god was it everything you thought it would be and more.

His hands were on your face at first, cradling it gently as he backed you into the sofa, and then they were on your neck, holding you close as his tongue massaged against your own. Shivering beneath his touch, you instinctively leaned into his broad chest as the pair of you continue to stand there, kissing like your lives depended on it.

“Stu,” you mumbled against his lips. “What are we doing?”

“Kissing” he rasped out before finding your lips yet again. “Bed or couch?”

Every red flag in your head was going off to stop this and properly talk about what was not so subtly insinuated only seconds prior, but he just felt so good and you’d wanted this so so long. “Bed,” you told him breathlessly, without a second thought.

Stu wasted no time in leading you towards your bedroom, kissing his way down your neck as you stumbled down the narrow hallway. Obviously losing his patience about halfway through, he pushed you up against the wall and trailed sloppy kisses down your jaw and neck. “I love you, if that wasn’t obvious.” He breathed out. “Like, a lot.”

His words struck you blind. Ever the dutiful distraction, however, Stu’s hand trailed down your sweatshirt before settling on the waistband of your pajama shorts. Your body reacted to the promise of his hand. Arching into him, you bit your lip and sighed in contentment as his fingers slipped beneath the band. You were already soaked. Your body responded to the man in a way you couldn’t begin to comprehend, and you weren’t sure you wanted to. And as his middle finger slid into your folds, instantly finding your clit, a soft moan escaped your lips.

“Is this the horny part of your brain talking?” You growled, tugging at the ends of his hair so that you had full access to his lips. “Or are you serious?”

“So fucking serious.” He hummed into your mouth. He pinched your clit, garnering a rather surprised hiss to escape from your lips as your entire body lurched forward. Hearing him chuckle, you popped an eye and began to pull his shirt over his head. When you tossed it across the hallway, his eyes met yours. “Do you love me?”

“Yeah, but I have bone to pick with you first,” you chided, doing your best to control your breathing as he quickened his pace on your clit.

He ducked his head down to bite your lip. “Unless it’s this bone,” he ground his hips into you, and you could feel his rock-hard erection even through his jeans. “It can wait.”

You laughed before you could think of stopping yourself. “Jesus Christ, you’re disgusting.”

He was smirking across at you. “You love it.”

Still grinning, you rolled your eyes before your lips took refuge on his neck. Which, as it turned out, was a massive turn-on for Stu Macher. Running your tongue along it and nipping at the sensitive flesh, was getting him incredibly riled up if the bulge in his jeans was any indication. Biting down on the sensitive flesh, the groan it drew out of his mouth was enough to make your already wet pussy clench around his fingers.

“Fuck,” he drew out, sliding the finger that had been assaulting your clit only seconds prior inside of you.

You let out a small moan of your own as you hurriedly got to work on his belt. “Why the fuck wouldn’t you just tell me how you felt?” When you’d managed to practically rip it off of his waist, you wasted no time in unzipping his jeans. His cock sprung free within seconds.

“I thought you liked Billy,” he rasped out gruffly as you began to pump his cock with your hand. “What was I supposed to do?”

You wiggled free from the hand currently down your shorts and dropped to your knees. Looking up at him through your thick eyelashes, you raised your brow. “You could have asked me?” You reminded him, swirling your tongue around the tip of that perfectly girthy cock. The man might have been a pain in the ass but good god he had the assets to make up for it.

Stu braced himself against the wall behind you and threw his head back. Fuck, you were lethal with that mouth of yours. “Hindsight,” he breathed out.

You released his cock with a pop. “You’re an idiot.” Was all you said before getting back to work. With your hand, you circled the base of his dick and took the length of him inside your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip each time you made your way back up.

He grabbed your hair and gave it a firm pull. “Fuck,” he growled. “Keep going.”

You hummed against his dick, digging your nails into his thigh briefly before looking back up at him. “Or what?” He allowed his forehead to fall against his forearm currently stabilizing him against the wall. You knew you were driving him crazy, but he’d done the same thing to you for the last seven years and you were nothing if not a petty bitch when you wanted to be. “Say it again.”

He furrowed his brow. “Say what?” Realization dawned on him. “Fuck, baby, you keep doing that I’ll put a ring on your finger tomorrow.” Stu’s blue eyes were hungrily taking you in. How you’d managed to stay fully dressed as he stood there with his jeans around his ankles and his cock out was beyond him but, sure enough, that was his reality. “I love you. A lot.”

You dug your nails into his thigh again, and slowly licked up the base of his cock. “Hmm,” you hummed with a nod of your head, releasing it to stand up to your full height. His eyes were pleading with you to finish him off, but as you slinked up the wall and mirrored his hungry gaze, he surprised you by sliding his calloused hand up the side of your neck until it cupped your cheek. You were practically nose-to-nose as he slowly pinned you against the wall and, as he leaned forward and nudged your nose with his, a slow, lazy grin broke out across your face. “I love you, too.”

Slowly, you leaned in and kissed him. Unlike the deliberate make-out session you’d had minutes prior, this kiss was slow and methodical. When you pulled away, you kissed the tip of his nose and nodded towards your bedroom. “Get on the bed.”

Stu’s eyebrows shot up in amusement. “Pushy.”

You gave his dick a tug. “Go.”

He swooped in again and kissed you before haphazardly kicking off his shoes and jeans, punting them across the hallway as he backed you into your bedroom. When you were close enough to your bed, he broke the kiss to peel off your sweatshirt. Throwing it across the room, his hands were back on you within seconds, kneading and massaging your breasts before taking one in his mouth. Expertly, his tongue ran along your nipple before he began to suck and nip at them. Arching into his mouth, you fisted a handful of his hair and groaned as he pulled you in even closer.

“Stu,” you moaned, shutting your eyes momentarily as you allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling of his mouth on your tits. The man truly was a god with his tongue.

But you had a trick up your sleeve. A little payback, if you will. And this, melting into his mouth, was not part of the plan.

Hating yourself, you pushed him away. The back of his knees hit your bed and you watched as he fell back onto the soft mattress with a slight bounce. There was confusion in his stare as he sat there ogling you. “Get over here,” he beckoned, voice low.

Slowly, you shimmied out of your pajama shorts, feeling his eyes on you every step of the way as you stepped out of them and walked towards the bed. Towards him. Sitting himself up, he opened his legs so you could step between them. His hands were slow as they trailed up and down your thighs, hips, and waist before sliding around to your ass. Squeezing and pulling at your cheeks, he pulled you closer and placed a tender kiss to your sternum before craning his neck up to peer up at you.

“I always knew you had a thing for my ass.” You raked your fingers through his hair, pushing it back and away from his forehead as you grinned down at him.

His answer came in the form of another firm squeeze of your ass only rather than stop there, he tugged you closer until you were tumbling onto his lap. You gripped his shoulders as you straddled his lap, subtly grinding your hips so his erection settled between the folds of your pussy, rubbing against your clit.

“Lay down on your stomach,” he uttered. When he noticed your apprehension, he raised a single eyebrow up at you and squeezed again. “Do you trust me?”

You nodded mutely and did as you were told. And, before you knew it, you were sliding off of his lap to lay stomach-down on your bed. You felt the bed shift as Stu crawled towards you but before you could question him on it, you felt his hands slide beneath your hips to pull you up so that your ass was raised in the air.

“What are you—”

Your words died in your throat as you felt his tongue glide along your pussy. Gasping, you nearly buckled forward, but caught yourself on your pillow. You were face down, buried in the comforter and pillows of your bed, but with your hips bent at the level Stu had moved them into, he had full access to both your pussy and your ass. You could feel his fingers kneading into your ass as his lapped up your every fold until settling on your clit. You groaned and buried your face into the pillow as he began to suck your clit. You could hear how wet you were as his mouth imbibed every inch of your pussy.

His name tore out of your throat and your knuckles whitened as you gripped the bedsheets. The veins in your neck swelled with every laboured breath you managed to draw and you found yourself bucking into his mouth as an orgasm rippled through your body. You moaned and groaned and cursed into the bed but Stu’s mouth was relentless. And as he pinched your clit all the while still lapping you up, you all but collapsed. When he was sure you couldn’t take another second of torture, he pulled away and allowed you to collapse onto the bed. Your cheeks were flushed, and your lips were parted as you attempted to catch your breath. With a quiet chuckle, he kissed his way up your spine, grinning against your skin as your legs continued to twitch.

“Can I?” He asked, his cock at the ready.

Nodding, you gasped when you felt him slide inside of you. He bit down on your shoulder as he thrust into you and his quiet moans and unsteady breath was enough to kill you. “Fuck,” he whispered. “You feel so fucking good.”

This was a high unlike any other for Stu. Watching his cock slam into you, watching your ass slap against him with every wild thrust and pump he provided and feeling just how fucking wet you were for him – this was the unattainable high. You were the unattainable high.

He reached around to play with your clit again. He could feel it throbbing between his fingers and, feeling you tremble made him weak. Quickening his pace on your clit and steadying his thrusting to ensure you finished again, Stu bit down on your earlobe. “Come for me, baby.”

Your answer came in the form of another thick, guttural moan as you came undone yet again. He watched you quiver and shake and the vision of it was enough for him to quicken his thrusts. Groaning, his hands fell from your clit to hold your hips as he pounded into you. The sound of your cheeks slapping against him was drawing him closer and closer to one hell of an orgasm and as you let out one last breathy moan, his whole body seemed to erupt in fire.

His breathing was heavy as he came inside of you and the more sensitive his cock got with every thrust, his pace slowed. For a moment, neither of you moved. Instead, he allowed his forehead to fall back against your shoulder before he slowly pulled out.

“If I’d have known that’s what I was missing, we should have had this talk a lot sooner.” You teased, earning a playful smack to your ass from the man. Grinning, you flopped back onto the pillow and stared up at him. He was leaning on one arm as those blue eyes scraped over every inch of your face. You could see the words he wanted to say splayed out across his face and found yourself reaching up to brush his hair back and away from his sweaty forehead.

“Right back at ya,” you smiled.

Fuck, you really were in love with the idiot.

#matthew lillard #stu scream #stu macher #ghostface #scream stu #Stu Macher x reader #Stu Macher x fem!reader #Stu Macher x you #slashers x reader #scream #scream 1996 #scream film #scream movie #billy loomis #Billy Loomis x reader #Ghostface x you #Ghostface x reader #scream x reader

[tellywoodtrash]

Sanjivani - Weeks 2 + 3

This is now my lunchtime show (replacing random topical news comedy like Late Night with Seth Meyers, Last Week Tonight, Patriot Act, etc.) It’s a nice show to consume that way; I’m not super-involved in it, but it decently holds my interest for a solid 20 minutes as I shove something in my gaping maw.

Overall Plot

Marginal improvement in plot as the show and characters settle in. We learn more about the backgrounds of Ishani and Sid, and their relationship becomes much better. The Shashank/Anjali/Juhi/Vardhan dynamics are also nicely built up, and frankly the more interesting overarching plotline of the show.

The Medical Stuff

They seem to be going for a Grey’s Anatomy type of vibe, I think, focusing on one or two cases over the week. Nothing as interesting as in Grey’s, here it’s more routine kinda cases, but there does seem to be more focus on medicine than there ever was in DMG, which I’m kinda thankful for. While yes, I’m interested in the interpersonal dynamics, I also wanna see these people do their jobs (rather than just canoodling/having angsty fights in stairways and on-call rooms.) With other shows, I really really hate when a day goes on and on for weeks, but in this show, it’s realistic. Residents do often have to do 24 - 36 hour shifts, and each week being about one shift, it’s well-encapsulated; I like how the show flows from one day/shift/case to another.

The Acting

The seniors (Mohnish, Gurdeep, Sayantani) remain the best part, as expected, turning in consistent performances. Surbhi’s performance has toned down considerably, and that’s a big relief. The show would have been unwatchable if she hadn’t. Namit is still weak in some regards (like crying; god that one scene in Week 2 was really bad) but is getting better. He’s best in scenes where he has to be soft and considerate (comforting Anjali/Ishani/Sanya/Neeti etc.) or taking charge of things, coz he plays both these aspects confidently. I also like the chemistry when paired with Surbhi, because he plays off her really well. Only upwards from here, I should hope. The others are.... eh. They’re background characters, so they do what is expected of them.

The Characters

Sid: Sid’s the character that’s grown on me the most compared to the first week. They’ve thankfully toned down his fuckboy-ness waaaaaay down (not sure why they decided to introduce him that way, when it doesn’t even seem to be true of his character aside from in the pilot.) We find out a little more about his social background/family, and it explains why/how he is the way he is. I appreciate his camaraderie with Ishani; he’s obviously fond of her, and attracted to her as well (but in a casual way), but knows she has a lot to learn about how this place works and tries to be a good supporting team member to her, but not to the point where he lets her run amok. He tries to justify his ways to her, but is also willing to let her try her own things in the off case it does pay off; but always has a Plan B in his back pocket, because he knows things don’t work out as expected around here. I like his quiet confidence and integrity, but that he’s also willing to not mince words and/or throw hands if and when absolutely required. Not very realistic of a doctor, but eh, this is Tellywood. Chalta hai.

Ishani: Thankfully, Ishani has mellowed down quite a bit and isn’t as intolerable as she was in the first week. She’s quickly learning that things at Sanjivani are not as they appear and that her initial judgement of Sid was way too hasty/harsh, and has formed a delicate alliance with him. Not to say that she isn’t a stickler for rules anymore, or approves of his on-the-fly, jugaadu/sometimes outright wily ways to skirt around the rules, but she’s trying her best to maintain a balance; in how she tries to help the people who need it, in the most forthright manner. But she’s definitely more comfortable being flexible with “the rules” than she realizes. Her germophobia prevents her from getting comfortable with Sid’s physical proximity whenever he tries to comfort her/express thanks, but I think she appreciates the sentiment.

Shashank: God, I’m so grateful he’s still here. He’s kind of out of sorts due to the surgery, but he’s still very aware and involved in what’s going on in Sanjivani. His gentle battle with Anjali persists, with the latest episode making him give some leeway to her, quite unwillingly though.

Juhi: Beyond Shashank’s surgery, she didn’t really make much of an impression on me in these 2 weeks. She takes the COS job in a spur-of-the-moment decision, purely in an emergency situation, than really actually wanting it. She does a good enough job, stern and smart with the rioting mob/Vardhan, and compassionate and understanding with Ishani, but I do anticipate lots of trouble coming her way in the position. Especially with Rahul lurking mysteriously in the shadows, in cahoots with Vardhan.

Anjali: NOT ENOUGH ANJALI AS I WANT!!!!!! All we do see Anjali doing is either be hysterical during surgery, or sulking over not getting the COS post. For godssake, she’s an HOD, a competent doctor in her own right, can we see her at work too? I want to see her be the kickass boss bitch I know she is; maybe taking a few of these many million juniors under her wing and mentoring them? (She seems to have a good relationship with Sid, it would be nice to see that extend to some others too?) There was one good scene between Shashank and her where they peacefully discuss their issues at the end of this week, but I really need Anjali to DO more than just be standing around feeling bad for herself/manipulated by Vardhan/sniping at Juhi/being passive-aggressive at Shashank. I like that she was upfront enough with Juhi about not liking her, but I don’t like how they’re centering her whole character around just that. You’ve already done this character dirty in one iteration (DMG), please do not waste this chance to showcase the complex personality she is!

Vardhan: A kinda compelling asshole. He has a son that he keeps talking to on the phone, whom seems to dote on and wants to make the best impression on. But harkatein kaafi kameeni. But I also feel marginally sympathetic to him, because he’s trying his best to keep Sanjivani afloat financially. Drs. Shashank and Juhi’s bleeding-heart ways are admirable and all, but the ground realities of running an organization are quite different; and Vardhan is answerable to multiple people above him about it. So yeah I do hate him when he’s doing pettyass evil shit like booting a poor person off a donor list, but in some cases - esp. PR/admin/financial issues, I can see where he’s coming from. I just wish they’d stop making him so caricatureish in his villainy at times and kept him a slick evil, like most corporate types are.

Rishabh: Asshole Jr., but not at all compelling or complex like Vardhan. Just an outright classist asshole, looking to suck up to Vardhan and other richie-rich fuckers and get Sid in trouble. He’s the most annoying part of the show, honestly, constantly lurking around with his phone and filming Sid. Jeez, get a damn life, loser.

Rahil: So sweet and unproblematic, why don’t we see him more (instead of the irritating Rishabh)????? GIVE US MORE RAHIL!!!!!!!

Asha & Aman: They might as well have made them twins, coz they’re so alike (even have matchy-matchy names!) I despise when they unthinkingly run their mouths and blurt out whatever the hell they’re thinking, even to waaaay senior doctors like Juhi and Shashank. Their no-filter admonishments are quite welcome in the case of Ishani though, where they drill some sense into her head. Ultimately, they do have their hearts in the right place and are sincere doctors (if not the most knowledgeable), and I enjoy them in limited amounts; like in the scene where they’re watching Sid and Ishani brawling over the liver.

Asha: Tu idhar mitti ka dher bana khada hai, inki fight rok na??? Aman [watching Sid and Ishani literally bucking at each other while holding an icebox with a liver inside it]: Abbe pagal ho gayi hai ke, baukhlaaye hue saand se ho rakhe hain. Dulatti nahi khaani maine inki!

Neil: Like Rahil, he seems to be sweet and unproblematic, but I get the feeling that he suffers from some kinda health issue? He fainted at the first case out in the field (the bomb blast), Aman mentions he fainted again seeing a corpse that could donate a liver, and he seemed very out of breath when he came to inform Sid/Ishani about another liver donor. I find it hard to believe that a first year resident could be this squeamish about things you get used to by the end of med school, so I really think there’s something else going on here. Is he going to be the Dr. Omi equivalent (the tragically ill character) of this season? I would like to see more of him (than the other jr. residents), because the actor is very measured and likable.

Rahul: We haven’t SEEN him yet, but we have heard him and what we’ve heard......... Does not bode well. I haven’t seen Sanjivani 1, so I don’t know the character as such, but wasn’t he the lead? They’re bringing him back but as an antagonist? Seems quite out-of-character, but I am veryyyyyyyy intrigued about this development, and especially how Juhi fits into all of this.

Overall Rating: 3.5/5

#sanjivani #sanjivani (new) #tt reviews

[ndrv3winterexchange]

Gift from Mistropolis to idaate

Hello @idaate!! Your long time question is finally answered… I’m your Secret Santa!! Remember you said you literally just asked for angst??? Big mistake, because you enabled me to write this. Enjoy eating your heart out.

“Ouma, did you do the laundry yet?”

Ouma taps down on the ‘grab’ button on the screen, watching as the virtual claw plunges down into the piles of toys lying inside. Amidst the cluster of normal-rated toy-carrying eggs, the claw establishes a tight grip on the Rare egg. Ouma heaves a big sigh.

“Hey, small dick! Uglyrumi asked you a question!”

“Oh, they are in, somewhere over the rainbow!” Ouma replies without once moving his eyes away from the screen of his phone. The egg has a soft vibration to it as the timer goes down, 13 minutes to 12 minutes to 11 minutes.

Toujou neither sighs nor carries out any action expressing dissatisfaction. Or if she is, Ouma can’t see it, for his eyes remain glued to the slight bouncing motion of the egg. The timer is clocked at 9 minutes now.

“Dickichi, you ever thought of doing anything productive around the house or what?” Iruma shoots Ouma a death glare from across the couch. Unlike Ouma’s small phone, Iruma carries a pretty big laptop on which she is apparently trying to crack a code on.

“Doing anything productive like you talking with Kiibaby twenty-four seven?”

Iruma’s instantly rouge-tinted cheeks give Ouma a chuckle. “Kiibo is our only connection with Team Danganronpa, remember? It’s going to the infirmary ourselves, or asking Kiibo to tell us.”

“Oh, since you are so invested in our fake classmates’ health status, I guess you’re just lazing around instead of being productive too, aren’t you?”

“Say that all you like, Dickichi,” Iruma scrolls through something on the pad, lips tugged downwards and even more impossibly furious. “we all know you are worried for Stupidhara and your worry is oh-so-thinly veiled.”

The egg on the screen is now bouncing up and down, waiting to hatch as soon as Ouma taps on it.

Ouma turns off the phone and throws it across the room.

“Tch, Idiotma, there’s no need to get that pissy now…” Iruma closes the laptop and clutches it tight to her chest. If Kiibo can have an audio outlet in that laptop, he might have protested about the situation. “I mean… It’s not like he won’t—”

“Of course I know that you, stupid bitch! Iruma-chan continues to be as dumb as ever even after the simulation. I’m so sorry for your parents!” Ouma springs up from the couch and retrieves the phone. He turns it on again. Apparently, there are no bugs or other issues, but the egg is already open and the pop-up gone.

“Wow! I got a really shitty toy this time. It looks so ugly that I had to throw my phone away on impulse!” Ouma mashes the phone to Iruma’s cheeks, and Iruma swats him away. Ouma giggles. “Hey! Come to think about it, it looks just as ugly as you!”

“Hey! I’m just pointing out a fact, fucker. At least stop pestering me about it!”

Ouma blanches, eyes turning dull as they focus on Iruma’s. “Then why don’t you fuck off and leave me alone too?”

Then Ouma resumes his toy-hunting back on his couch, and Iruma leaves the room hurriedly.

Ouma opens the collection and looks for the new toy. It is a chessboard with a lazily-painted smile on it.

Ouma throws his phone into the rubbish bin properly this time.

⁕

Iruma stops hogging the laptop to herself and plugs up an audio program to let Kiibo vocalize his thoughts. That’s about the only two good things Iruma have done for everyone so far.

To be fair, Ouma has done none. And never will.

“Hello guys! It’s been such a long time since we have convened!” Kiibo’s floating head, or more precisely-speaking, the pixelated image of it, flies around the screen against a blue backdrop.

Ouma scoops another spoonful of cookie and cream ice cream into his mouth. “Last you have convened with us is with Iruma-chan here though, isn’t it?”

“But this is the first time I can talk to you guys instead of just Iruma-san! It is, after all, rather difficult to establish contact in the first place when they have tight surveillance and can cut me if they… Well, but that’s beside the point!” A task window opens in the corner and starts loading, until it divides into four sections, each a birds-eye-view of a locked, private patient room.

All of the walls contain the bloodless white of a regular plain wall, but you could almost imagine the pink bloodstains the walls would have when you saw the patients’—classmates’—violent struggles against their personally hired caretakers.

(your blood is red, like a real human’s)

“Um, Kiibo, I didn’t tell you to show us… Them?” Iruma closes the window. Ouma swears he can hear a peal of laughter before it closes completely. The kind of maniacal laughter that precedes regretful wails.

Kiibo immediately blanches (as much as a robot’s avatar can). “M—my apologies. It is rather hard to remember everyone’s requests. Even not taking that into accounts… No one would have wanted to see that. I truly am sorry for doing so.”

“Oh Kiibaby, if your so-called apologies drill on and on mushrooms will start growing in my ears before we know anything! How horrible of you to want mushrooms to attach to my body!” To add to the punch of his statement, Ouma starts digging his nails into his ears and gasping out (rather dramatically) at the pain.

“That’s a lie! But please if you keep doing that your ears will… Anyway, let me search up the feeds.” Kiibo opens a different task window that has runs through hundreds of items rapidly. Gradually the list stops scrolling and an arrow appears, pointing at one specific item, underlined in red.

survivor-saiharashuuichi

“Kiibo-san, if you don’t mind me asking, how do we know for sure that this is a live feed and not a version that the Team plugged up in order to fool us? Or a past version and such?” Toujou’s equivocal eyes are not doing any favour for Ouma’s stomach and neither is her finger poised to click down on the ‘confirmation’ button.

“It is. I am very sure of it since my network is no longer connected to them, this is definitely live from where it comes from.”

“Okay… Then.” Toujou presses down on the button.

Ouma reaches for his phone. Before remembering that his phone is now in the rubbish bin. He gets off the sofa and walks towards the bin to retrieve it.

“Hey… It’s okay if you don’t really want to—”

“I don’t know what Mama is talking about! Of course I am!”

Ouma launches his face right into the screen of the laptop, expecting animalistic screams to assault his ears and making them bleed.

Only to be met with silence.

Ouma steps back and takes a real look at the screen.

There Saihara is, still asleep, face still attached to the oxygen mask and arms still having IV drips into them.

(still locked in the glass coffin he doesn’t deserve to be in)

“So. He’s still not awake?” Toujou shoves Ouma aside to look at the screen closer herself. “Didn’t the Team’s medical team said that most survivors only need a few weeks to recover at most? What is the meaning of this?”

“Well, obviously that means they are still full of chickenshit and Dickichi’s precious prince isn’t waking up anytime soon!” Iruma slams down the laptop—as Ouma had guessed, Kiibo did let out a sound of protest—and shoves it back into the carrying bag. “Get on with your stupid lives now bitches! Kiibo will meetcha in, like, two weeks’ time.”

“Iruma-san, do you mean that Kiibo-san can’t talk to us anytime we like? Or is there any other technical reason?”

“Take it as both, Slutjou. Kiibo and I don’t have the whole fucking day even when we are roommates.” Iruma takes up the bag and rushes for the door, disappearing in no time.

Ouma boots up the phone and opens the toy-collecting game.

Toujou moves back to the laundry she was tending to. “Ouma-kun?”

“There there, Mama, I already know what to expect, there’s absolutely no need to console me or anything! I know that’s gonna happen and it’s not like I really care or anything, y’know?” Ouma puts down the phone on the table and gets into the pantry for a bag of chips. He takes the garlic flavour, and Toujou, predictably, frowns in an obviously unsubtle manner.

Getting Toujou to frown in contrast to her in-game ability to disagree while agreeing would have been satisfying, if not for the fact that Toujou no longer possesses the full arsenal of the Super High School Level Maid’s tactful proficiency. Doing so doesn’t warrant much effort at all, but seeing Toujou ticked-off by his own hand carries a deeply rewarding sensation.

“Anyway, Ouma-kun, I hope what you said it’s true. For now, I have to head out for the day. Please don’t eat all of the chips.”

“Most certainly, Toujou-chan!”

Toujou strolls out of the room, out of the house, and out of Ouma’s mind. Ouma brings the bag of chips and phone with him to his bedroom, where he lies down and stuffs himself more while waiting for yet another egg to hatch.

Bits of chips fall down and adorn the floor in a pattern that would most certainly tick both Iruma and Toujou off to no end. Getting bored of the game, Ouma opens up an Internet browser.

He turns off the filter function and opens up a search engine.

It only takes the letter ‘s’ to bring up a menu of pain to him.

saihara shuuichi alive? — saihara shuuichi is actually dead conspiracy — saihara shuuichi cheats — saihara shuuichi hat merch

Ouma chances clicking on one that is just ‘saihara shuuichi” and millions of search results sprout from the ground, like a dodder that just found its prey, where Ouma is the healthy tree that it wraps around with. Is he even healthy in the first place? Backtrack; more like the dying tree that the dodders are dead set to consume to the fullest.

Ouma snickerrs at that thought.

He presses down onto the fan forum he had an account in and looks into the ‘Daily Saihara Shuuichi Love Thread’.

Day 389 – I still really really love Saihara Shuuichi! Have you seen that boy’s smile? It can cure depression! At least it definitely can for me!

Ouma presses his lips into a tight fault line and down the checker-patterned keyboard.

oh u again??? don’t u ever get bored of this???

A reply pops back up immediately.

Why does doing that bother you??? Everyone in the game gets a thread like that! I feel like making one for the protag, in particular, shouldn’t be weird!

Ouma continues the game and advances onto the chessboard upon typing a few more black keys.

it is weird dood. cmon think abt it saihara is the only one still not awake why would u still maintain this thread it’s not like he’ll wake up and suck ur dick lol

The anonymous, non-existent opponent of his stands his ground with his white pieces.

Get back into your own cave you fucking troll!!! And whether or not I treat Saihara as my dearly beloved is not your business lmao are you jealous of what I have with him???

lmao ofc i won’t be interested in whatever imaginary thing u have w/ him!!!! i’m just sad that ur this pathetic

Ouma bites back expletives and curses that would poison even the clearest well of water, forcing himself to breathe and keep calm properly.

The chain of replies suddenly break.

i mean whatev ur thinking they are fake dood!! the thread is lit made 10 days ago i watched u make it and start on day 289!! why the fuck u lyin why u always lyin

As the moderator of the thread, Ouma reserves the right to delete messages when he needs to. Usually, he challenges himself to just dissuade trolls like he had just now, but it looks like even the Internet folks don’t approve of his love, after all.

Ouma deletes all the messages back up to “Day 389” and contents himself that this small space still exists, and whether this exists in the void or not it still brings him small relief.

⁕

“Slutjou, is bringing him out with us really a good idea?” Iruma scrunches up her nose and holds back a sneeze. “I mean, God why the fuck would he wear so much fucking perfume! We have enough camouflage materials that are not stupid like perfumes!”

“Hey, Hyena-chan, you do realize I have ears and can hear you, right?” Ouma circles back to Iruma’s side and fake-pounds onto her chest. Iruma lets out a shrill scream, not unlike that of a fire siren. “Nyaaa, Hyena-chan is so loud and rude to me! Mama, what should I do?”

“Ouma-kun, we shouldn’t be making too much noise out here.” Toujou looks forward with remotely no changes in her expression at all. She almost resembles a bit of her older maid self. “Today we are going to have some kind of fun without the burden of our classmates still on our backs.”

“Clever of you to immediately bring them up, Kill-me-san,” Iruma takes out her phone and scrolls up the searches she has done prior to coming out. “There’s a flea market around the corner. Anyone interested?”

Ouma unwraps the end of his scarf and mock slaps Iruma with them. “Why would you bring it up if you weren’t thinking of going?”

“Your astute observations are duly noted and absolutely with no fuck given on it.” Iruma struggles to swat the heavily perfumed scarf away from her face and soldiers into the sea of faceless people. “I’m heading in myself, see ya fucks later.”

Toujou and Ouma, by contrast, are keeping themselves to the sidewalk, where fewer people amble on. The flea market might have more confections and delicacies anyone could obtain if they so desire, but the sidewalk is the only passageway with a more reasonable amount of flow of people.

“Ouma-kun, is there any particular candy you are eyeing for?”

“Candy? How old am I, Toujou-chan? You think some candies can appease my demons and all that? Hmm?” Ouma opens the doors into the small shopping mall nonchalantly, greeting the somewhat festive interior with a bright smile. In the time Toujou has spent with Ouma, it is already obvious that this is not a genuine smile.

“Then is there anything in particular that you want to get?”

“Hmm, these mistletoes look really torn… Must be old ones just being recycled yet again!”

“Contrary to popular belief, we don’t really have much time to be out for that long—”

“Annnnd that doll just looks so ugly! Why did they even put it out—”

“Ouma.”

Toujou stops walking with a telltale clink onto the ground with her heel. Ouma comes to a halt.

“I know you’re heading for the boutique around the corner and I advise strongly against that idea.”

The silence hangs heavy with a palpable tension, one that is not too disparate to that of when Ouma had first woken up. The faux cheerful background music of the mall drones on and on about the miracle of love.

“It’s just one visit, Toujou. It’s not a big deal.”

(The only other occasion to when Ouma dropped his cutesy honorifics for everyone is when he woke up to a tangle of wires, liquid that he will come to repulse at the very sight of dribbling from his mouth and Toujou appearing in front of him helping him to get up)

“Ouma-kun… Despite everything you believe here, I still get to let you know, you can’t keep holding on forever. You still have a life to live.”

Ouma chuckles. His lips seal in a poisonous excursus. “I know that Toujou-chan, and that is the precise reason for why I’m going to get into that boutique and buy the cutest clothes I can find there!”

Toujou’s shoulders tense, a veneer superimposing her exasperation and anger. It must be anger. Ouma sees it too many times to not know the shape of anger and its shadow behind people’s eyes. He prepares himself as well, small frame coiling into a snake ready to bite and tear.

And that’s why Toujou acquiescing with a respire switches off Ouma’s flight-or-flight mode. “Alright, Ouma. Let’s head to that store and gets you some nice and comfy clothes.”

Ouma resists the urge to dissolve right there and bounces up on his heels. “Yes! Let’s go!”

The store greets the two of them with a nice chime completely deviating from the jingle the mall itself uses. The interior is encased in a candy-like decor that embellishes the soft-colored clothes it contains, in hues of purple and pink mostly. Toujou can understand why Ouma seems to dig the aesthetics.

But instead of settling for the rows of soft dresses and sweaters at the front of the store, Ouma instantly scurries to the leftmost corner of the store, a section that is rather invisible to the eye of a mere passer-by.

Toujou follows Ouma deep into the rabbit hole and finds herself in front of a row of velvety black dresses she had once worn with pride.

“There! Aren’t these clothes just wicked, Toujou-chan?” Ouma all but bounces around and touches every single piece of clothing there. “It’s all the Danganronpa Season 53 merchandise! Or you could say, pieces of our pasts!”

“I know that Ouma-kun, why else do you think I will want to…” Toujou’s thoughts are lost in translation as she too, establishes contact with one of the dresses. She contemplates the fact that no one is yelling for them to stop or offers faux-enthusiastic attempts at selling the products, then surmises that it is best not to come up with theory as to why.

“Hey Toujou-chan, are you gonna buy one of these?”

“I. I don’t think I have brought enough for that.” Toujou takes out her wallet and counts two one-thousand notes. “I only have five hundred dollars.”

Ouma narrows his eyes at Toujou then, something almost resembling joy radiating from him. Aureate, but stilted joy. “That’s up to you then! But for me, I’m going to buy a set myself!”

Ouma takes a set of pre-packed clothes (pre-packed? Huh?) and pays for it, promptly walking towards the fitting room.

Toujou swallows involuntarily. The so-called cozy atmosphere of the store is not helping.

A few minutes later, Ouma emerges,

in Saihara’s detective wear and hat.

“Toujou-chan! Do I look good in my beloved’s clothes?”

Toujou surveys this Ouma. She knows the Ouma in front of her has not changed in the slightest. And yet. And yet.

“You… Do look nice.” Toujou dances with the idea of praising Ouma’s new look and resisting gravitation towards the plan of tearing the clothes off him. The latter is coquettish and Toujou feels liable to capitulate to it, but she stands her ground. “They have a pretty good grasp on how to make the clothes, huh?”

“You think so, Toujou-chan? That I really look good in that?” Ouma ruffles the sleeves and plays with the hat, cavalier but almost with a latent astriction waiting to be released.

Toujou wonders why and gambles with a “yes?”

Ouma’s small frame folds in and releases in a strike.

“Well, it shouldn’t!”

Ouma’s fingers enclose seams along the fabric and apply pressure to them, and after a short respite, the fabric starts tearing into nothing. He rapidly tears off the buttons on the shirt and takes it off, along with the hat and the shorts. Before Toujou can gauge Ouma’s reactions further, the clothes are already semi-torn, pieces of the black fabric falling off and with Ouma turning on a lighter and—

“Ouma! No!”

Toujou wrestles the lighter away from Ouma quick enough, toppling Ouma headfirst onto the ground, into the suffocating clothes instead, and Toujou blows off the lighter.

Ouma lies on the heap, torso completely limb, face unidentifiable from being smashed into the clothes.

“Ouma-kun?”

Silence save for the sound of clothes ruffling and the boutique’s chime.

Then Ouma slowly gets himself back up again.

(Only physically and not metaphorically)

“Toujou-chan, now you’ve ruined my master plan of destroying the store!” Ouma kicks the clothes around, in a manner almost like a child throwing tantrums at the parents for not getting their favorite gifts. Or a circus tiger charging at its cage. “Now what am I supposed to do to look normal and walk out of the store alive and free!”

Toujou watches Ouma burying his face in his hands, tears streaming out from behind the gaps of his fingers. Fake crying. Real crying. That’s not something Toujou is in the position of understanding.

“… Hey, Ouma-kun? How about I buy you other clothes?”

Ouma ceases his kicking movements gradually upon hearing that, and he turns around, peeling his own hands off his face finger by finger. “Really?” He asks in the most thespian manner.

“Of course! I have five hundred on me, we can definitely buy something much nicer.” Toujou takes out the banknotes and flaunts them, and Ouma’s renewed smile solidifies. “Go pick what you want!”

“Yay! I know Mama is always the best and I was never wrong about that!” Ouma all but plucks the notes from Toujou’s fingers and runs off to the opposite side of the boutique.

Even when Ouma walks out afterward in the softest and most warmly-colored skirt and stockings and boots, Toujou knows all too well that the latent tautness of the thread linking his conscience and tenacity is slowly threatening to fracture, and this is one knowledge she is in a position to be sure of.

⁕

Iruma slurps up the instant noodles she bought from the flea market—Ouma heard that it’s flavored with something rare and unavailable in any other place, but who is he to know that—in an utterly swine-like and ravenous manner. Bits of the soup keep flying out of her mouth and Ouma tamps down the desire to outright beat the noodles out of her. “What are we watching on Christmas’ Eve?”

“That movie I watched back when I was a kid with the train to Santa Claus’ base of operations.” Iruma takes the remote control as she elucidates, the oil stains from the noodles spilling onto the remote control. Ouma recoils in horror. “It’s a fucking timeless classic and the only movie that yours truly can admit is good despite the utter lack of interesting action!”

“I wonder about your definitions of interesting, but I suppose I will keep quiet!” Ouma wrestles the remote control to him and switches the audio to Polish.

“None of us here know Polish!”

“You will understand it in time Iruma-chan! Even a dust-gathering brain like yours are capable of something eventually!”

“Knock it off now, let’s change it back.” Toujou effortlessly takes back the remote control and switches it back to Japanese. Ouma’s pout springs up on his face instantly. “Can’t we have some fun in this night at all!”

“You’re already having fun with those toy trains I gave you earlier, remember?” Iruma puts down the noodles and moves onto the bag of chips, pulling open it with chips flying everywhere and Toujou’s immediate scowl. “Sorry for that, Slutjou!”

“You will be sorry about that soon enough, Iruma-san,” Toujou comminates gently with the promise, then turns her focus back to the television. The hero boy is now standing hesitantly in front of the train conductor, who is quite ready and eager to leave him shall he not get up onto the train himself.

“Is this how you feel every time a boy tries to date you, abortion?”

“Tch, Iruma-chan underestimated my capacity of shame! I would do so much more! Like—”

“Um nope! Nobody here wants to hear about your nonexistent romantic life here.” Iruma grabs the remote and speeds to a different scene. Now the scene has shifted to when hero boy has to get hero girl’s ticket back to prove her innocence and right to board the train.

“And this is Iruma-chan as she hunts for an opportunity to be even more outrageously disgusting! Look at you go!”

“It is not and it sucks as a metaphor so it doesn’t coun—hey give back the chips!” Iruma makes a wild snatch for the bag while Ouma all but shoves every piece directly into his mouth. Iruma screams and gets up onto the table to obtain a better vantage point to grab back at Ouma. Ouma dodges at the last second with a giggle and the table slides off with a squealing Iruma falling onto the floor.

Toujou gets up and pauses the movie, a capitulator in a war that doesn’t involve her. “Do you ever think twice before deciding on an action?”

“Nope!” They singsong synchronously. Toujou sighs in an almost affectionate manner and starts sweeping away the bits of chips on the floor. “When I come back, at least be done with not killing each other, alright?”

“Maybe!” Ouma aims a bit onto Iruma’s face, and Iruma retaliates without missing a beat. They get bored by it quite quickly, however, so soon they settle back onto the sofa with something else for snacks, and into a rare, agreeable silence.

The silence lasts for some time before Iruma speaks up again. “This is my favorite part when I was a child, and it still is. Look at them!” She points at the hero boy who’s bequeathed with the bell from Santa Claus’ sleigh. “This is the kind of magic that you believe in.”

“Magic? Iruma-chan, I thought you aren’t Yumeno-chan! Are you taking over her role?”

“Jeez, Ouma, don’t you ever take anything seriously at all? Is nothing sacred to you?”

Ouma gives that a hard and good thought. Then he shakes his head.

“Tch. But then again, when you have lived through some bullshit like us, I guess it’s pretty hard to think of anything still as sacred, right?” Iruma redirects her attention to the screen, and now the hero boy is boarding the train back to his home when he found out that his bell is missing.

“So. What really happened to you when you found out this movie isn’t a reality?”

Iruma is silent for once. Ouma waits for a response that he knows very well won’t really come. Toujou, on the other hand, is tempted to break the metaphorical ice the question creates when Iruma suddenly bursts into tears.

“I know it isn’t real… Why else would I do something as stupid as joining Dan—” She grabs a tissue instead of finishing her sentence, harsh breaths expelled in snowflakes that taste of sorrow and penitence. Balls of tissue papers ornate the floor. “I have never… Look. Look I know the truth. I have never even watched this wretched movie. It isn’t me, it was the me in Danganronpa.”

The soft music of the credits underscores the roiling emotions of everyone present. Suddenly the movie is a much more preferable alternative to talking.

But an unspoken moxie takes roots in Ouma, and keeping on talking he must. “And is the you from Danganronpa worthless and means nothing to you?”

Iruma wipes her face harder, as if desperately wiping the smirk the SHSL Inventor wears on a daily basis would yield anything good for the situation. “Funny of you to say that, Ouma. Out of all of us, you have absolutely no change. Zero. Nil. Even Toujou over here loses her super capabilities in doing everything and yet you stay being the liar you always have been in the game.”

Iruma’s words aim a precise laceration on the surface of Ouma’s heart, and it bleeds and bleeds and bleeds more lies. “Iruma-chan, you’d be naive if you think all of me is still here with you.”

“Huh?”

“Because… The truth is… I came back with powers unbeknownst to mortals like you!” Ouma springs up onto the table and dives into Iruma with his hands outwards, and Iruma freezes on impulse and amplifies her whimpers. “I now possess the power of controlling your emotions! And I will use this power for evil! Be sad, you imbecilic temptress!”

“Ouma-kun, what even are you talking about at this poi—” Toujou gets up to interfere, but Ouma pauses right there, hands going limp and staring down at Iruma.

“Why do you have to hang onto me like a lifeline? What did I ever do?”

“What, what are you even talking about?” Iruma attempts to slither out of Ouma’s weight, her features increasingly contorted in confusion.

Ouma, on the other hand, gets up voluntarily and walks back to his room upstairs.

⁕

when ouma’s eyes fluttered open to the bleached white wall of the infirmary, paparazzi were surrounding him in every direction.

― ouma kokichi! you finally wake up! share with us how you feel?

ouma’s throat unfettered a few unintelligible notes into their mics, and the doctors on duty circumscribe him, blocking the paparazzi and stopping them from invading his space. ouma attempts again to talk, and it ends with throwing up onto the floor. at least the paparazzi recede at the sight of that.

― hey team danganronpa were you taking proper care with ouma ― is ouma kokichi-san going to be okay after all ― will they be present for the conference?

gradually security guards entered the scene and herded the thirsty news-hunters out of the infirmary, and a few doctors left with hushed instructions to one another. only one person remained after the tide of people abates from the room and ouma’s consciousness.

― alright, i’m here to gauge your necessity for a memory re-transfer.

shirogane, the blue devil herself, was standing over him, clutching a board with a passive look in her eyes. if not for the obvious eyebags she had and her moribund complexion, ouma would doubt that the game has any ramification on her.

― it’s really quite simple. all i need you to do here is to give me some responses to this survey i’m taking that will determine whether or not you want to get back your memories.

― my memories?

― trust me, this will only take a few minutes. question one, are you capable of thinking about the last seconds of your death?

― i do. but what does that have to do with—

― that’s good. question two, can you describe to details your personality during the game?

― tch… merciless, driven, cruel…

― yeah, that’s enough there to go for. question three, if you have the chance to choose…

shirogane finished asking her questions soon enough and promised to get back to him when the team had determined whether he get his memories back or not. before she could take her departure, however, ouma yelled for her to stop.

― wait! did you have your memories back?

― i don’t have any memories beyond being part of danganronpa, but thanks, the concern is touching.

― no i mean like—do you remember what happened in the game? are you, like, coping at all?

shirogane let out a cold chuckle.

― people like me don’t have any need to remember mundane things like that when i have more i need to do up ahead.

that was when ouma realized that he hasn’t been playing by the rules that shirogane established.

― nishishi, perhaps it’s just that shirogane-chan is too inane to understand my question!

― perhaps that is so! i am but a cosplayer, what do i know about the arts of lies?

― so! shirogane-chan, i think you’re doing just fine because you don’t remember anything about yourself just like the idiot you are! you stink as well! but is that a lie?

― i’m really flattered that you think so, ouma-kun! a mere intern like me needs to do so much more in order to advance in this industry, so it’s only natural that i have to give up my whole self for that! it’s just my passions! so, i do think you state something that is and is not a lie! i don’t remember anything, but i also remember everything! that was nice talking to you, but i gotta go now!

ouma struggled to get up before pain shot through his sternum and ribcage, a paroxysm throwing him into begrudging oscitancy. before shirogane truly leave, however, ouma managed to choke out words he intended to say.

― do i have a say in whether i want this or not?

shirogane pauses.

― are you this desperate to go back to your old self? then why did you join the show to begin wi—

― no. i don’t want any of my memories back. keep them or delete them, i don’t care. i don’t want to go back to my past.

shirogane does a double take.

― why not?

― just respect my wishes. let me keep this me intact.

shirogane blanches, but then a borderline cruel smile adorns her face.

― i see what it is! you’re afraid of going out of money and popularity, so you want to literally keep being this cash cow! very respectful wishes! i will pass them on!

then she truly leaves, taking ouma’s uncertain regrets with her.

⁕

Today is not going to be a good Christmas Day, Ouma surmises.

He is still in his pajamas at the current hour of twelve, when he realizes that he does not even feel like getting up or moving his limbs. Maybe he should stay in this bed forever until even his bones wither into dust. At least Iruma and Toujou will have one less person to worry about, if they ever worried about him.

Before this reverie relatively becomes true, however, Iruma barges in. “Ouma? You awake?”

“Yes, I’m awake, Iruma-chan, doesn’t erase the fact that my soul is still deep asleep in somewhere else!” Ouma reluctantly rolls off the bed and grabs his usual wear of sweater, expecting a crude smile and lewd words barraging from her mouth.

Iruma’s face is not painted with a smile. Rather, there is a vacant look with a latent sense of dread. “Follow me downstairs. Now.”

“What, I can’t even go brush my tee—” Ouma yelps as Iruma establishes an iron grip on his wrist, roughly dragging him with her. “We’re going downstairs right this fucking second, you shit.”

Ouma gulps down his renewed vexation and lets himself be dragged down, right into the hall where the television is located. Loud music blares from it, but that is the only precursor to the pivotal moment of this chapter of his short, nugatory life.

“Saihara Shuuichi is awake.”

⁕

They take slots for everyone who wants to visit Saihara, but Iruma and Toujou take the courtesy of visiting together so that one less slot is placed in front of Ouma.

“Iruma-chan, it is unwise of doing that when you definitely have so many raunchy and oh-so-romantic promises you have to make to the protagonist, right? Why don’t you go take back your slot?” Ouma unwraps one of the gift boxes below their Christmas tree and takes out a generic notebook. “Ha! Even though I have spent so much to buy you guys a gold-generating machine, this is how you guys treated me?”

“Ouma-kun, today is Christmas Day, let’s have the decency to be more honest and open.” Toujou chuckles, and Ouma hates that look in her eyes as if she is a mother watching her child grow up and find a partner. “We know you just bought a roomba for me, and a shampoo for Iruma-san. And the notebook has its crucial functions, trust us. We intend for you to take this to when you see Saihara-kun.”

“And then we make drawings and chat like some nine-year-old boys or something? And what makes you guys think I’m going?”

“Why won’t you go? Do you really not miss Stupidhara even once?”

The question pierces more than Ouma’s usual armor, so he pouts and stays quiet.

“That’s what I’m thinking. Now go prepare for a bit, our session should sometime after one thirty, so be sure you’re there at two.”

With that, Ouma is left alone in the house, feeling like the biggest idiot and asshole in the world.

“Tch… This is so fucking annoying.” Ouma takes one more bite of his toast and shoves everything into the fridge for later. Come to think about it, hasn’t it been some time since Toujou feels happy enough to make them breakfast? Is it just the charity spirit of Christmas Day, or is Saihara Shuuichi’s charm truly that powerful?

Ouma wishes he has requested Shirogane to fracture every single neuron in his head that contains memories of Saihara but well, life won’t ever go the way you want, huh?

You went to forget yourself.

I know.

Or at least, that’s what I’m going to assume, even into the graves.

Ouma takes a water bottle, a small gift, and packs them all into his backpack before gorging out on more rubbish instant noodles and gets on his way.

⁕

When he arrived at the hospital, the influx of reporters and more paparazzi has only calmed down for a bit. After all, the whole world is waiting for him to wake up, but that does not ameliorate that fact at all.

When he passed by, though, the distant sense of claustrophobia only becomes much worse.

“We have more private visitors, so we would appreciate it if you could please take your departure until we notify you of further details regarding this.” A doctor, almost laughably identical to the one that had briefly tended to Ouma, waves the reporters away. They persist, so the doctor called for security backup, and they reluctantly disperse.

Ouma lets out a subtle enough sigh that he hopes will not give away his presence, then he crashes right into a stray reporter with a feverish look in their eyes.

“Oh my… What good fortune! Aren’t you Ouma Kokichi?”

Ouma recalls his irritating perfume and scarf and chastises himself mentally on the fact that he didn’t take them. “I am not—”

“There’s no need to hide! You’re safe here with me! I just need one interview done with you, then I’ll leave!” They whip out a pen and notepad in no time. “So. If you don’t mind, I will also record this interview to serve as audio evidence. As a responsible reporter, I will inform you so as to give you a chance to think about whether you want that. So are you okay with that?”

“I am not—”

“Alright! Good to know you are okay with that, Ouma-san, it really means a lot. My first question is, what do you ultimately think about the entire Danganronpa Season 53? Like were they good with all the preparations and character settings and plots?”

“Why aren’t you listening to me I said I don’t want thi—”

“I suppose that as the supreme leader, you must be rather satisfied with it! Let’s move onto the next question then! My next question as to whether or not you have enjoyed your role as a secondary antagonist right after the mastermind? After all, it is in your script to be the main villain other than the mastermind by the virtue of being a Remnant of Despair following Enoshima Junko. So, is the role enjoyable? Anything you found interesting and memorable in particular?”

“I do not find anything memorable or interesting,” my only thought process was that i want to die, Ouma barely bites back the bullets. “the only thing I found interesting is—”

The reporter closes the notepad all of a sudden and turns to look Ouma into the eyes for the first time in this conversation. “I see how it is! I have wrongly judged your disposition. Your focus is more on the romantic side, right! Let me change my questions then.”

“I never even agreed to—”

“Question one then! Is your love towards Saihara Shuuichi written into the script, or merely improvised? Better yet,” The reporter nigh-pushed themself right onto Ouma’s face. “could it be you fall in love with him on-set?”

Every phantom inside of Ouma, threatening to spill out at any given opportunity, has scooped in for the kill. “What the fuck makes you think you can just keep giving me shit like that? Do everyone a favour, shut the fuck up and take your pathetic excuse for a functional being to nowheresville of asshat-land!”

Taken aback by Ouma’s sudden furor, the reporter stutters a few steps back. “Um, I’m, I mean, I don’t mean any harm and I just want a—”

“Like hell you fucking do! Fuck right off and never appear in front of me ever again!”

The look of admiration behind the reporter’s thick spectacles slowly turns into that of belligerence. “Alright. Alright! I see how it is! You fucking attention-seeking kids just want to be all secretive to keep being celebrities, right? Or is it because you think I’m not a good enough reporter to sell you? Guess what, Ouma Kokichi, I’m exactly going to write an article about how bad your behavior is and how much of a threat you are to society! Let’s see who the world believes in!”

“Don’t, don’t you fucking dare—”

“You’d honestly think any desperate reporter running on only one news article every week is not going to dare to do tha—”

“Hey.”

The duo pauses and turns towards the source of the voice, and Ouma wishes he has just dodged into the room rather than doing whatever he had done to lead to this.

Momota himself is staring down the reporter, an uncharacteristically tired look in his eyes.

“Hey. Leave my friend alone, a’ight?”

Friend? Ouma wisely keeps his mouth shut and panics internally as the reporter stands his ground. “Easy for someone like you to say, when you no longer need to worry about a job or anything! I just need to hand in one article! Why is it so hard for you fucking kids to—”

“There,” Momota stuffs a few notes into the reporter’s outstretched hand. “That should be enough for a whole month for you, right?”

“But…” They grind their teeth together and stares daggers once again at Ouma, then huffs and walks off.

“So, here to visit Shuuichi?”

The unprompted question tingles Ouma’s self-preservation instincts, and they are telling him to run out of the hospital and into a place no one will ever find him in. “W—What if I am, does that matter to you in any way?”

“Well, it’s still gonna be some more time before your slot begins, right?” Momota looks up from his watch and gestures towards a bench. “Wanna catch up a bit?”

The trap tightens up Ouma’s entire body and his lungs collapse.

⁕

Or at least that’s what Ouma feels like. His lungs have not collapsed, but if that really had happened and he is spared from talking to anyone other than Momota, he is looking for a way to punch a hole into his chest right this second.

“I’ve heard from Harumaki that you’re rooming with Toujou and Iruma… So how are you guys doing so far? Gotten into any trouble with them?”

For whatever ungodly reasons, Ouma feels a smirk not truly belonging to him consolidates on his face. “They have been living just nicely with me, Momota-chan. I mean, they are now living with a supreme leader without any other bothersome people attached! Under my glorious leadership, there is no way their lives could go awry!”

Momota looks at him with the same tired look he casts at the reporter. “What is the truth, Ouma?”

Ouma strains himself to mollify, to change into a him that is more palatable for everyone involved in the game, but then he remembers he is never intended for entertainment consumption anyway. “What does it bother you how we are doing anyway?”

“Because I care about you guys and Shuuichi would’ve done the same?”

Ouma bites back more bullets deep back inside of him, which would eventually scorch his insides, he is sure. “Fine. We are doing fucking excellent. End of the story.”

Momota heaves something of an agreeable sigh. “That’s good. Harumaki and Amami have been terrific roommates too, and if Himiko’s condition gets better she may live with us as well. Always good to gain more company if you ask me.”

Ouma keeps his mouth shut and waits, staring across into the infirmary room opposite where they are sitting at. Let this silence commence.

Momota, however, did not get the mental memo. “Are you really doing good yourself?”

“Why does that matter to you? And bringing up Saihara-chan again does not count.”

“Well, then I told you already that I do care about you guys, what more excuse can I use?” Momota puts the plastic bag he has been carrying around onto the seat between them. Then he looks down at it and Ouma can tell from the sparks in his eyes that this tribulation is far from over. “Oh, right. Are you developing a habit or anything? I mean, having no jobs must make everything boring after awhile. I personally have started taking care of potted plants. It’s calming, y’know? Just watering plants and getting rid of bugs occasionally.”

“Nice. I heard those plants are very interesting and challenging to take care of. But then again! Nothing is too challenging for the luminary of the stars, right?” Ouma turns around and plops his head on his hand and elbow on the bench, in the most overt way possible. If he has turned around, he bets he could see Momota glaring daggers at him, probably imagining Ouma with his usual smug face. Two o’clock has never been that far away.

Momota’s voice remains surprisingly calm, or surprisingly enervated, Ouma supposes. “Sarcasm and lies like that aren’t exactly going to get you far, Ouma. It’s fine if you want to say that in front of me, but I’m not discounting the fact that people in the outside world are going to hate you for that.”

The fuse burns in an instant. “And what makes you think you’re particularly good for the outside world right now, Momota-chan? Your indistinct persona? Your ability to indulge in some ultimately meaningless habits that yield nothing? The fact that you have remembered everything about your past and you can just go and give everything you’ve earned in Danganronpa up? Just fucking like that?”

“Then have you considered how much you have fucking done and how little you have done for literally anyone yourself!” Ouma flinches from the screech and balls himself up upon the sound of a pot breaking onto the floor. In the periphery of his vision,  a little bit of dirt is visible, along with the shadow of a raised fist. Ouma hugs himself tighter.

Momota freezes in motion, looking dumbfounded and petrified at his own fist. He slowly puts it down to the side, sitting back down on the bench heavily. “Hey? You okay?”

Ouma’s mouth is sealed with self-administered thorns. “No.”

“Fuck. That’s another thing I fucked up here. Look,” Momota reaches across the empty seat between the two of them, and Ouma flinches away further. “that’s understandable. Wait where was I? Oh, right, I was about to, like, apologize for that.”

“Please don’t apologize for a minor fuck-up that you don’t think yourself wrong for.” Ouma’s voice is raspier than he himself thought, like a blade being dragged across a stone. A senseless act of violence.

“This might surprise you, but I do know what I have done is completely unsolicited and—”

“Unsolicited? Momota-chan knows big words like that?” Ouma tries to bring his leader’s charming smile back on his face, but it takes too much of him. And he is so tired.

“You may not see that coming but anyway,” Momota scratches the back of his neck and looks up at the ceiling. Looking anywhere other than Ouma. “it is a completely horrible move on my part, I apologize to you. That being said, I do think my point still stands.”

“What point did you make at all? That I should get a habit like taking care of potted plants like you?”

“Nah. My point is, you have to learn to move on and stop being the you from the game.” Momota pauses the scratching and digs into his pocket, fishing his phone out. He takes one close look at the screen and promptly turns it off. “Like, seriously, I just talked to you like for two seconds and you are already back to your lying ways and being your supreme leader self like no man’s business. It would actually be fair to say that you have not changed even one bit if I have to be absolutely honest. Except being a bit more rightfully rude, I guess. Scratch the rightfully part, more like unnecessarily.”

“For all you know, I’m already incorrigible, or I have already tried too many times to want to try again.” The refutation can be shattered by even the most bullheaded Danganronpa contestant, but Ouma spits it out regardless. “I’m just a washed-up Danganronpa competitor who has lost the spotlight. And of course, I love that. Nothing wrong with it. But of course! That could be just my trademark lies!”

Momota starts looking at Ouma with something almost like sympathy. Sympathy from a bystander who has never fallen and is now looking down at him comfortably from the top. “I guess I have overestimated your ability to change then. Like, I understand being defensive and aggressive, but. You are still not opening up.”

“Let me open up to you right this instant then?” Ouma redirects his blank stare towards Momota and forces his mouth open. “I’m done. I have shrivelled up completely into a poor replica of both versions of my former self. I’m too tired. I don’t want to do anything again, save for daily routines and finally going in to see Saihara-chan. Is that satisfying enough for you?”

“Ouma, look, I know all the wrong I have inflicted on you, but if you keep yourself closed up like that—”

“I’ll be just safe and sound because nobody can hurt me and I can’t hurt anybody. Right?” Ouma gets up abruptly, takes his backpack and finally walks into the patient room.

⁕

Saihara is reading a book when Ouma walks in. The cover is blank save for the title, almost reminiscent of the kind of classics that you will find in an English bookstore. The sentiment does not last, however, as Ouma gets closer and realizes that the title says “Saihara’s ideas”. Whatever that means, it has nothing to do with a classic novel.

“Ouma-kun?” Saihara pokes his head out of the book and stares right at Ouma. Unlike everyone’s gazes, Saihara’s always feels soft but firm, without feeling like a piercing glare. It’s crazy that Saihara could pull that off.

“Hello there, Saihara-chan,” Ouma just remembers that he has brought instant noodles here and is tempted to punch himself. “are you doing any better? Feeling any maggot still drilling into your brain?”

“Ouma-kun, you know technically there couldn’t be anything like that in any of our heads…” Saihara puts down the book entirely and sits up. That must have induced some pains onto him, but he still maintains his smile when he looks back at Ouma. “I’m really glad to see you here. I was starting to think nobody would come here after all.”

“Nobody? How could anyone resist the charms of the great Saihara Shuuichi though?” This comes out much more sarcastic and sincere a question, but Ouma asks it anyway. Saihara merely chuckles in his old good-natured manner. “I don’t exactly mean anyone in particular. I was just worried that you wouldn’t come.”

“… Huh?”

“I know what you want to ask, how you matter and all that.” Saihara scratches the back of his left hand, eyes cast down in this opportune moments. Does Saihara fear to look at him? “I start remembering a lot about my past before joining Danganronpa and realize quite a lot of things, I suppose. And looking back at everything that had happened, I think it’s not unfair to come to the conclusion that you are nowhere near as evil as you like to project yourself as.”

“That’s foolish of you to say, Saihara-chan. Do you have any evidence at all that would point to that?”

“Did you watch the in-universe Chapter Six of the game? Wait. That is a terribly awful thing to say, who would want to do that?” Saihara raises his head back up to look Ouma in the eye, unaverted but still with a note of hesitancy. “We found out all that you’ve done to stop the killing game. We know you’re not pure evil because of that.”

“Heh, that doesn’t matter now though, right?” Ouma takes out the instant noodles from the backpack and places them on Saihara’s lap. “We are supposed to move on and forget all these happened and all that.”

“That is absolutely not true.” Saihara picks up the noodles and places them on the counter next to the bed. In the gentle and serious way he puts them down, Ouma almost feels that Saihara does cherish his ‘gifts’. “We all went through this. Just because all our fates vary from one another doesn’t mean we haven’t been victims of this cruel game in our own ways. It is important for us to connect with one another still, and to find a way to heal ourselves by doing that.”

Good luck dragging me into group therapy then. “So, Saihara-chan, do you intend to start anytime soon? Our great protagonist leading us to a peaceful road to healing seems to make a lot of sense if I have to be honest. Or this could lead to us burning and crashing into nowhere, all these could be a lie.”

“It doesn’t have to start that soon. Whenever we are all ready, I hope I still command some sort of respect for you guys.” Saihara takes up the notebook again and opens to a particular page. Ouma takes that as his cue to leave.

“Oh! Right here.” Saihara gestures for Ouma to come closer to the bedside, eyes still glued to the page for no palpable reason. Ouma obeys, moving his own eyes to look into the notebook.

“What exactly are all these?”

“I used to be a writer before joining the game. At least I think so.” Saihara points to a line near the middle of the left-hand page, but Ouma detains himself from reading in too deep into old Saihara’s utterly unintelligible writing. “This used to be one of my ideas. I figured I could use it someday if I want to be a writer again.”

“So what is it about?”

“It’s about a suicidal kid who hires a biographer to write down the story of their life, so when the day they decided to die they could read this biography and feel how deeply worthless and meaningless their life had been. This progresses as a more hopeful story as it goes, however, and in the end, the kid realizes they are not worthless and feeling like living again.”

Ouma frowns. “Why exactly do you feel the compelling need to tell me that?”

Saihara redirects his innocent gaze at Ouma, a harmless smile with knives hidden tugging his lips into a curve. “I reserve myself to share an idea with everyone who has visited me. I thought that could be a fun way for us to connect instead of going directly into the heavy stuff if that makes sense.”

Ouma nods, his head filling up with nothing but dark waters. “That is nice of you, Saihara-chan. I hope that story didn’t turn out bad.”

Saihara smiles again and Ouma feels the knife plunged into him, twisted and turned. “Of course it didn’t.”

⁕

Ouma takes one bite out of the pizza slice Iruma stuffs him with. The pizza is nearly cold with pieces of pineapple on it, creased with the touch of a human being he still despises. All crimes against humanity, if Ouma can count as a human.

Soon enough, however, the cold pizza becomes too much, and Ouma gives up on munching it and opts to survey the room instead. There’s the fourteen of them here. Shirogane and Akamatsu are out of commission for whatever unknown reasons. Let’s hope their declines to this offer doesn’t sting Saihara in any way. If Saihara’s vaguely detached countenance is anything to go by, it does sting.

Once he is done with a cursory glance, however, the smell of bullets overwhelms him again, the latent tension he feels whenever he is around with anyone is at a full time high again, so Ouma goes back to munching on the pizza to alleviate it.

“I do not see how assembling all of us will assist us in any way, shape or form.” Shinguuji raises his voice slightly louder than the volume of a rusty piano choking out its last notes. “… I mean, by all means, don’t let me be a spoilsport, I should not have spoken, I should—”

“It’s alright, Shinguuji-kun,” Saihara stops sipping his fruit punch. “We are here to check on each other and speak our minds after all. Or if you don’t feel like doing so, that’s up to you.”

Silence occupies the room instantly with a side dollop of tension. And nobody feels that it is their responsibility to defuse it.

Except for the ever immobile Kiibo. “So! Perhaps we can start with how everyone is doing? Do you guys have any sort of routine or just doing anything fun in general?”

“I’m rooming with Hoshi and Angie,” Everyone stares across the table towards Tenko, who fumbles around uncomfortably and is leaning towards Toujou next to her as she seeks more words to fill the gap and farther away from the trembling Shinguuji. “Angie and I tried to find some fun for Hoshi, but he is a hard one to please. We tried volleyball and nearly killed him.”

“‘Tis ain’t no fun for me, but at least they have their own fun, I guess.” Hoshi speaks in the most resigned tone Ouma has ever heard, and yet there is an undeniable smile there and everyone is laughing. Everyone. Except him.

“Angie loves volleyball though! She is no expert in sports, but volleyball is just like ‘don’t let the balloon touch the ground’ as a more intense version, and Angie loves games like those!” Angie bounces around wildly, occasionally tripping herself onto the various baggages Saihara has taken into the house. “You keep your hands lower to the ground and punt the ball when it rushes to your direction!”

“That does sound really fun! Is daily life alright with you guys then?”

“Angie is taking Hoshi to therapy sessions and he’s making good progress to quit smoking! Tenko does her best to look for volunteer week outside, and soon Angie would love to join them as well!”

Ouma observes the minute details of everyone’s countenances. They are all changing every time he lays eyes on them, but not once do they look remotely sad or anything resembling brokenness.

“… Anyone else wanna share? Ouma-kun?”

Kiibo’s robotically cheerful inflection brings Ouma’s consciousness back onto the surface. Now everyone’s faithless eyes rubberneck him.

What do they see? Something they hate? Something they could tolerate?

“Of course I have everything to share, unlike you heathens who have nothing better to do in your life other than wasting out the rest of your lives!” Ouma does a fancy pirouette and musters up the most humane gait he could to get to Saihara. “The supreme leader is not just a rusty title! I do everything with gusto and the moxie only someone like me has!”

“If that’s so, Idiotma, you wanna tell everyone about how courageously you go and collect your toys from the ever-dangerous gacha machine?” Iruma’s cackle precedes what might be the most embarrassing moment in Ouma’s short life; with the click of a remote, the room darkens and a screen lights up, with said gacha game showing up in full view for everyone.

Ouma makes a mental memo to tighten up Iruma’s choker and makes the choker actually do its job in the not-too-distant future.

“Oh, so Kokichi does have some sort of gusto and moxie to collect things like that!” Angie instantly rolls with Iruma’s action, hands clasped together like a worshipper who had first witnessed a miracle done by God. Or in this case, by an all-around horrible person. What’s worst, Angie actually goes up and surveys the toys shown on the screen, and some of the others follow suit.

“You… Iruma-chan! Have you considered that while you have my collection in your grips, I also have your collection of erotica in my grips!” The mask slips comfortably onto Ouma’s chassis. “You really think none of us could see those gross books you have on your table all the time? Too bad, while you were setting my phone up, I studied your gross books and took them away!”

Iruma’s face falls faster than a drop tower going awry with no speed restraint. “Hey! What do you mean I own lewd stupid stuff like that! That’s just a lie of yours, right!”

“I am not! A good boy like me never lies! I have leverage against you now, so I’ll suggest handing my phone back!”

“Never! I cannot just stand here and let you slander my name! Now listen, you little twink—”

“Knock it off, both of you.” Toujou gently pushes both away from one another. It feels almost just like any other day in their household, if not for the uproarious laughter going off in the background like fireworks. His lungs getting just a bit easier to breathe, Ouma smiles. A smile he cannot hide and does not want to hide.

“Tch, Twinkma, here’s your stupid phone back.” Iruma pulls Ouma’s violet-shelled phone and hands it back to him. Ouma immediately opens the game and scrolls through his entire catalog of toys before remembering that toys cannot be sold or deleted in any way, and heaves a sigh of relief.

The fireworks gradually ebb into sparkles, and Saihara takes the lead again. “Hm, so, Ouma-kun, you wanna share anything else? Out of your own volition, of course.”

“As a matter of fact, I do!” Ouma points at Iruma yet again. “Iruma-chan loves baying like a hyena every day before breakfast, and it is really really annoying!”

“Hey! I gave you your phone back already, stop slandering me like that!”

“I’m not lying though, you’d know that, Iruma-chan! Sometimes the baying sounds a bit lower, and I think that means it’s mating season to attract better—”

Iruma slams a hand up to Ouma’s face desperately, but Ouma dodges out of the way before Iruma could get anywhere close. Toujou sighs deeply again upon realizing the two are at their throats once again. “Please. I believe you two have a better mode of interactions. Both of you can do better. Otherwise, either of you would be dead already.”

“Toujou-chan, you did forget to remark on the fact that you, me and Hyena-chan have died before though.”

Angie stops jouncing around. Iruma’s eyes ashen and widen. Everyone puts shocked cups down.

The sights are so much more than a verbal declaration of detestation, so much more deafening.

Even Kiibo needs to take this comment in for a few seconds before he could say anything. “So. Does anyone else want to?…”

“Well, not me.” Iruma pushes herself away from Ouma. “Preferably, I’ll go find a pillow to bay like hyena into. It’s mating season.” With that said, she quickly disappears up the ladders, but everyone could see stray tears spilling from the crevices between her eyes and arm.

Toujou looks back at Ouma, then to the staircase creaking with Iruma’s pounding steps, and quietly excuses herself as well.

“Well,” Ouma chokes back the scalding sobs threatening to erupt inside him (those are not sobs, obviously, they are only crocodile’s tears, you can only cry those tears), and along with those all the lies, lies, lies. “I think it really is best if we can just disappear off the face of this Earth and never come back.”

“You know, if you don’t have anything good and comforting to say, Tenko—I think you should shut it, Ouma.”

“Tenko-chan, you know, your lies are very very easy to detect. You could just say it out loud.”

Tenko’s face flushes up. “Ten—I just don’t think you should say anything more when your brain is empty and can’t find any emotion to stuff in there.”

“That’s fair. I never want to speak to any of you anyway—or is that a lie?” There is a crack in the smile, and Ouma imagines it is not pretty to look at.

“Nah, I bet that isn’t a lie, and I don’t need my magic to know that.” Himiko says, then adds air quote gestures just to drive in the point that she is no longer the magician in Danganronpa.

“It could be just that Yumeno-chan is as dense as ever! Anyway, I think it’s pretty unfair that I have to share more when most of you didn’t say anything at all? Anyone else wanna share and make Saihara-chan and Kiiboy happy?”

Nary a susurrus or shift can be detected, until Maki stands up. “I have enough. I don’t want to do this fake-ass group therapy thing anymore.”

“Oh, so you’re just going to disappoint Saihara-chan like that, Harukawa-chan?”

When Maki looks back at her, the flames in her eyes have long cooled into embers. And yet, Ouma can’t imagine a universe where Maki is not staring at him with murder in her eyes. “I’m just tired of all this. I’m tired of everything any of you try to concoct, and especially you, Ouma. So yeah, I’m going to just leave. Momota, if you try to follow me I’ll beat your pathetic ass up. My bat-swinging skills haven’t gotten that rusty.”

“Tch, Harumaki, can’t you just?…” Momota casts another frustrated look towards Ouma, then follows Maki out of the house. The resounding thud of the closing door kills the suspense altogether and Saihara coughs to clear his throat.

“Well then,” He stands up, his fruit punch forgotten on the table. “let’s meet another time when everyone feels up to it again. Or if they don’t ever want to talk, just meeting up is good enough too, I suppose. Thank you for coming, guys.”

⁕

“I’m glad I get to move in with you guys,” Saihara is unpacking a box of novels, putting them all onto a black bookshelf while Ouma is lying on the bed with his phone. His fingers vacillate between the web browser with the forum tab and the gacha machine game. “it’s always a pleasure to see you guys more instead of moving out on my own. That would be really bad.”

“It can’t be any worse with us, Saihara-chan, I mean I’m here to take care of you! So your decision is absolutely right.” Ouma presses on the browser and watches as hundreds of slandering comments pop up below the thread after he forgot to update for a week. He moves to delete all of them.

“That’s true. I don’t mind moving in with anyone in particular, but Toujou-san is really reliable and Iruma-san does bring this house some joy in her own ways, not to mention Kiibo-kun is mainly with us too.”

Ouma throws down the phone with a pout ready. “Saihara-chan! It’s great to hear that apparently, my presence doesn’t mean anything at all! As the supreme leader, I request you to get out until you recognize my reign, which is the only thing that is holding us all together!”

“Yes, you are absolutely right too, Ouma-kun.” Saihara steps away from the bookshelf and sits down on the bed next to Ouma. Ouma consciously moves a few inches further away. “Having you here feels nice too, especially because…”

“Because…”

Saihara looks out towards the window, seemingly at a loss for words. “To be honest, I can’t really pinpoint a particular reason why I think your company is comforting and something I prefer. But I just do. Having you here really feels nice, almost like home in some ways.”

“That’s flattery you reserve for girls and boys outside of the killing game, Saihara-chan. No such thing as feeling like home with us.”

Saihara lies down. “No such thing as feeling like home with you guys? Ouma-kun, the sixteen of us survived a mutual killing game. I think that’s about as bonding as it gets. Fire-forged friends, if you will.”

“As if! Saihara-chan, you aren’t blind, you can definitely see that everyone currently hates my guts, and Shirogane-chan is still so hated that she has to decline coming today. And let’s not even start with Akamatsu-chan.”

Ouma waits for Saihara’s fuse to burn and snap into a million splinters in the form of libels and tirades and leaving this house forever, but the fuse holds tight with a smile. “I think it’s unfair to assume so simply that they cannot change though, Ouma-kun. We all have more capacity for change in us if we just try. I’m sure someday they will turn around.”

Ouma opens his mouth to argue, only to realize all the words about to slip off his tongue are traitors to his mind and heart. So he shuts it, lies down just a little bit closer to Saihara, feeling up the little warmth he gives off in the close distance.

“Hey, Saihara-chan?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you ever think we can recover from this? Who will we be in the future? The we from the game, or the we from before? Or somebody in-between?”

Saihara tilts his head towards Ouma. “Ouma-kun… Does it matter, really, who we will be right now? There’s no real clear line between who we are. I know this whole memory retrieval procedures still carry fuzzy effects on you, but—”

“Saihara-chan,” Ouma will lose himself after this. “I did not get my old memories back.”

The fuse melts off slowly; so this is what becomes of it instead of the explosive end Ouma predicted. “You don’t. You don’t remember?”

“Yeah, I’m not getting them back, those rusty useless memories. Everyone prefers me as I am now, right? So why bother?” (Now you’re just telling lies for the sake of telling lies) “Why remember the obsolete me?”

Watching that radiance and smile freeze into paralysis is more painful than Ouma has thought, not that he would mind (of course you don’t mind, please keep up the lies we are all thrilled to hear them) “Obsolete? You think your past is obsolete?”

“That’s only a fact here, Saihara-chan.”

“Do you remember all the stories I have told you?”

A part of Ouma nearly switches on. “Stories?”

“All the stories I used to tell you before I gave up on being a writer, do you remember them?”

At that, Saihara starts peddling off congeries after congeries of his story ideas, but Ouma remains static, both his mind and heart and takes in all of them without a second thought, without any input of his own.

Saihara is gradually reduced to tears. “You… Don’t remember anything?”

“Saihara-cha—Saihara,” Ouma gets up and draws himself further away from him, further away from Saihara. “tell me, tell me yourself. Why should I get them back? Because everyone else is? Because this would magically make me more agreeable?” He grits his teeth then, as if that would make these words true. “I’m sorry for making this decision, but there isn’t a version of me that’s agreeable or good for anyone. So this is how I have remained. Better to be what everyone already knows than somebody else entirely.”

“There is a universe where you are agreeable and that’s the you from before.”

“And do you really think I can just abandon everything I have done in the game to be that me again?” Ouma gets up in a fit, looking down at Saihara’s petrified expression. “I can’t. I’m sorry I’m not that me from before or want to be that me anymore, because there’s only the me now. There’s no going back and there’s no returning from.”

Saihara remains silent. Ouma takes that as his cue to exit.

⁕

Ouma is filling up the forms when Shirogane appears in front of him.

“Oh, Ouma-kun? Why are you here?”

“What I am here doesn’t seem to be your business.”

Shirogane narrows her eyes, surveying Ouma in all his checkers-patterned attire glory again. “Perhaps I really have misjudged your disposition. You want your memories back just like everyone else, right? That’s understandable, you aren’t some intern like me who have to go through more and therefore can’t—”

“I’m not here to get back any more memories.” (what have they done for me anyway? what are memories? proof that i exist?) Ouma fills in his name, then moves onto the home address section. It just occurs to him that he doesn’t remember where his “home” really is. “And for the last time, stop pestering me.”

Shirogane fake-pouts (Ouma of all people would recognize that) and walks off mock-casually out of the waiting room.

Ouma’s eyes unintentionally gaze up at the header of the form yet again. Memory Erasure Procedures for Traumatized Participants. It seems hilarious, as if the form indicates that only some participants are traumatized enough to want to forget. As if not all of them are traumatized.

“478. Ouma Kokichi. Ouma Kokichi. Please head to room 14 for your appointment .”

Ouma heads in and is promptly faced with a thickly-spectacled nondescript doctor, one that is just like any other in this bloody headquarters of the producers.

“So, before we can proceed with this series of procedures, it is necessary for you to fill in this questionnaire before we can decide if the procedures fit you.”

Ouma takes the questionnaire and reads.

Can you provide a valid reason why you must go through these procedures?

Is there a possibility of abuse? Will you regret this ultimately?

Ouma skims through the entire thing and tears the paper into pieces.

“Hey, that doesn’t fit our pro—”

“I cannot and will not give two flying fucks about your procedures, mister.” Ouma produces more than twenty banknotes out of his pockets and places them right in front of the doctor. “Either you get me into those erasure head gears and finally wipe all these bullshit memories out of me, or I’m just going to leave this wretched place.”

The doctor casts a skeptical look at him, but they don’t argue any further and pockets the cash. “Do you have a preferred time to carry out the procedures?”

⁕

Ouma pockets the confirmation slip and walks back home. Around this time, Toujou would have been finished with her barista job, and Iruma should be somewhere upstairs carrying out whatever weird experiments she had in mind. Saihara could be in any corner of the house.

Ouma opens the door and Saihara pulls him in.

“Wait wh—” Before Ouma can properly process what is happening, Saihara digs deep into his pockets and scoops out the one thing he never wants Saihara to take possession of.

“Are you going to explain this?”

Ouma forcefully puts on his mask. “Oh, that’s just my backbone surgery paper, Saihara-chan may not know but my back has been hurting like—”

“This is your memory erasure surgery papers, right?”

Ouma does a double take. He didn’t use the house’s landline for the appointment. He didn’t use the computer to send any consultation email.

“I know because Kiibo-kun watches you looking for the Team’s hotline and calling them while everyone else’s out.”

“Well, well, well, Saihara-chan has once again become such a good detective, I’m impressed! And—”

“Ouma, be honest with me once.” Saihara takes a broad step towards Ouma, and Ouma instinctually takes a step back closer to the wall. Upon seeing that, Saihara takes a step back. “What were you trying to do?”

“Nothing! I just realized that taking all these memories along with me while I try to dominate the world will only create obstacles, so I’m making a move to—”

“Your real reasons. Not more lies.” Saihara detaches himself from the wall, leaving a convenient opening for Ouma to run. “Please. I trust you. Please.”

“Trust me? Saihara-chan, you trust a liar like me?”

Saihara swallows hard, but his eyes are not filled with uncertainty. In fact, they have definitely softened somewhat. “I trust you no matter what.”

Ouma takes in his surroundings; the dark house obviously not holding Iruma or Toujou, who might be on his side on a good day, and while Saihara did not do anything more, he is still in front of him and demanding an answer, a truth.

wanting to know an answer, a truth.

“… Once upon a time, I didn’t live in this world.”

Ouma expects another accusation of him lying, but Saihara stays silent, the haze of sadness in his eyes clearing a bit.

“Once upon a time, I am not a supreme leader or live in a TV show to entertain everyone.” Ouma continues. “Once upon a time, I was nothing. Then I came to Danganronpa as a villain.

“A villain of lies who challenges everyone and is rightfully punished at every turn for it. But then it turns out I am not the proper villain and then I am easily vanquished and returned to reality.

“I wonder about my purpose… Everyone else is informed the option to become the nothing they used to be, but I abandoned the choice. I was nothing and so the villain inside of me is all that I still have. I cannot lose it.

“The us now… I am surrounded by the everyone that wants to forget this has happened, despite their promises to stay friends with one another. I cannot tolerate that, but I have no power to overturn it. So, I will remain the one crux of remembrance towards this game. By doing that, I must not fear everyone, I must not continue indulging everyone in their routine of forgetting.

“But I failed. Don’t you see? You may argue it is a one-off occurrence… But it is not that simple. I know that in my bones. I know that as clearly as I know everyone carries a burning hatred towards me except you. My existence no longer carries any meaning beyond as an object of hatred for everyone else and a burden for you and Iruma-chan and Toujou-chan and Kiiboy.

“And thus, I must erase myself, and once again return genuine balance to these people. To this whole world.

“There’s no moral to this story,” Ouma sputters out from loose lips, his frisson increasingly violent and frequent. “it’s just my sto―story and I hope I haven’t wasted too much of your time.”

Saihara takes up Ouma’s hand unwarned, gently dragging him to the sofa in the hall. “Does it make the fact that we are still alive any less impressive though?”

“Anyone else being alive is impressive,” except me, Ouma keeps in those words. But his power of will is not any more powerful than the need to speak them out, so Ouma buries his face into his hands, clawing into the delicate skin that barely keeps in every phantom inside his body. “anyone has a chance to walk a path they believe in. That’s a lie of course. W―Were you, you expecting,” the words splinter and disintegrate into dust before they could come out. “some―something,”

Saihara places his right hand on Ouma’s shoulders, then gradually drags Ouma into an embrace. Ouma starts bawling then, hot tears scorching every inch of his skin, threatening to spill and drag tracks onto the ground.

“Ouma… We all have a story, I believe, and yours is no less important than the rest of us. And the story is far from over.” Saihara tentatively pats on Ouma’s head, reaching for a tissue paper and hands it to Ouma.

“Every story has to have dark chapters before a good ending can be reached. The villain gets the hero’s loved ones, someone the hero considered a friend betrays them… But after the hero gets their loved ones back, and the friend sacrifices themself for the hero and is redeemed, the good ending comes. Or a good interlude. That’s nice too.”

“Then,” Ouma starts wiping his eyes, all raw red from crying too much and being rubbed too much. “what is the moral? Sometimes the hero is the villain?”

“There’s no need for a moral to make a story worth reading and hearing, right?” Saihara softly presses a kiss onto Ouma’s forehead. “What it means to the storyteller and the audience differ, and it’s up to us to give meaning. But if you ask me the moral of this particular story,” Saihara, at last, grips Ouma’s right hand tightly. “I think it’s that everyone deserves a second chance and a chance to be happy.”

#saiouma #ndrv3 #kokichi ouma #shuuichi saihara #miu iruma #kirumi toujou #submission

[tumblunni]

Okay, kinda TMI talk here about period problems and Bunni Being Worried And Dysphoric, blablabla I’m just having a huge stupid panic moment right now cos I read some internet medical articles and LIKE USUAL I’m being all ‘oh god i probably have the worst case scenario disease on the list, I’m gonna fuckin die’ even though I literally have never been right about that even ONCE when I’ve done it. Still, it sucks having a stupid anxiety disorder cos you can just feel your body throwing you into panic attack mode even as you are rationally saying to yourself that this worrying thing has a 0% chance of happening. Its impossible to just choose to not be afraid of something... *sigh*... SO YEAH ANYWAY UMM Don’t want to worry anyone, I’m totally gonna be fine and I’m just being irrational mess about something that’s probably gonna be a super easy solution once I see the doctor. I’ll just book an appointment tomorrow or later this week, no biggie. And I’ll write all this stuff down so I can avoid freaking out and crying over how embarassing Vagina Health is when you’re trying to ask your cis male doctor about it and you’re a trans person who just wants to stab themself whenever they think about this goddamn Wrong Organ. like seriously, the biggest comfort I am using right now to come down from this panic attack is ‘hey, if it IS a big horrible cancer tumour, then at least it means they cant stop me from getting a hysterectomy now!’ :P so umm anyway that was probably too TMI already but I’ll put the more TMI stuff under the cut

OKAY! SO! I’ve suffered from REALLY HORRIBLY BAD periods for like.. ever They usually had an issue of being way too short but also WAY TOO POWERFUL. I’d have just a one day absolute burning pain blast where I would literally be unable to walk. LITERALLY BE UNABLE TO WALK! Like, I COULD NOT STAND that my dad was just telling me ‘;you’re lying, you’re exaggerating, its just cramps’ when the pain WASNT EVEN THE GODDAMN CRAMPS. I got fucking stabbing pain in my lower back for no damn reason, was inexplicably constipated and throwing up, got a huge hot-and-cold-flushes fever, complete muscle weakness in my legs which made them fucking shut down, and like.. LABOR SYMPTOMS. Its this weird horrible downward pressure pain in my pelvis and I was just a goddamn kid so i was like.. ‘i cant even tell if this is part of the constipation’, i would be spending five hours on the toilet desperately trying to shit out a shit that didn’t exist, as my body spasmed itself to death forcibly ejecting out way more blood than I ever thought I even had. I It took me so long to find out that that wasnt normal for a period?? That this didnt happen to everyone???? And cos its SO GROSS AND EMBARASSING to talk about these particular symptoms, I didnt tell anyone. Even when i finally was able to get some pain medication from the doctor, I just mentioned the abnormal amount of bleeding and pain, not the weird ‘wtf my bowels just stopped working as if my ovaries are constantly punching them for 24 hours’ part. Seriously just fuckin.. so degrading and disgusting.

And i was a fuckin 13 year old kid, this just abruptly started in my second year of having a period, and my dad was a sick fucker who ‘didnt believe in doctors’ and didnt believe i was telling the truth about my symptoms. So I had to live FROM 13 TO 17 without EVEN KNOWING THAT ASPIRIN AND IBUPROFEN EXISTED! i was going through all of this without even the basic pain medication most people have for normal periods! Once monthly I would BEG GOD TO LET ME DIE Seriously i would spend THE WHOLE 24 HOURS screaming in horrible pain on the floor that gradually got worse until I finally couldnt move my legs and passed out from exhaustion. And all i could do was hope that I’d get weaker each month and pass out faster, cos seriously being able to sleep through it was THE BIGGEST BLESSING EVER like DEAR GOD like ONCE I was able to get to sleep during the point where it was milder pain and then when I woke up it was already over and AAAAAAHHHHH I got to go a full two months without feeling that death madness again and seriously fuckin.. how the fuck could my dad look at this small child screaming and vomiting and sweating like I was in the sahara and gushing blood from every oriface cos i fuckin VOMITED SO HARD I VOMITED BLOOD and somehow still think I was just ‘making it up’

god one of my worst memories was how I had this huge horrible period death attack in the middle of school and my poor teacher was trying to comfort me and trying to call my dad to pick me up, and he just Did Not Give A Shit so the teacher tried to drive me home himself and just.. god I was so happy even as I was dying just cos I got to meet ONE PERSON who had sympathy for me and even actually said ‘hey you should see a doctor’. And all i gave him in return was throwing up in a trash bin for an hour in the back of his car, and then he had to meet my awful father and have a door slammed in his face. And then as soon as he got me inside the house dad just hit me and screamed at me for ‘embarassing him’ and ‘ditching school’ and man the only good side effect of being Fucking Dead On The Floor Already is that I did not feel a thing of it and barely even managed to hear a word he said. I think he just gave up cos seriously i wasnt even fuckin moving, i guess the fun goes out of beating your kid when they’re too fuckin stoned on their own vomit fumes to even be able to cry anymore. Oh and my other Even More Worse memory was when I missed the chance to see Howl’s Moving Castle cos of this shit. I saw like the first twenty minutes of it before my period hit while I was in the middle of the theater and then i had to spend three hours crying and puking and bleeding and laying on the floor in a pool of my own vomit in a cinema bathroom while my dad screamed at me as if i was purposely faking just to embarass him. Like seriously dude?? BASIC LOGIC, PLEASE! he was CONSTANTLY accusing me of doing really horrible manipulative things all the time, as some sort of twisted excuse to hit me and pretend i was an evil fucker causing every problem in his life so he didnt have to feel guilty about doing it. And it NEVER MADE ANY GODDAMN SENSE! Even if i WAS an evil monster, what would that evil monster’s MOTIVE be? Why would i constantly do these evil things that serve no purpose except to get myself half killed by my dad? Why would I ruin a cinema trip that I asked to go to, to see a movie I waited all year to see??? And the most vivid disgusting part of it all was when he walked in and saw me like that and I LITERALLY ASKED TO DIE, and he LITERALLY LAUGHED. I begged him to call a doctor, he laughed and said I was exaggerating. I begged him to call an AMBULANCE, he laughed harder. I told him to his face that I wanted to kill myself just to make the pain stop, and he acted as if it was the funniest thing he ever heard, turned around and left and watched another movie. The poor cinema staff were left taking care of me while he ignored me, he wouldnt even take me home, he was just like... waiting til he finally got bored enough to do it. His biggest concern was ‘eww you made me walk into the girls’s bathroom’... I’m never gonna be able to stop remembering that, I’m never gonna be able to deny how absolutely certain I was that I’d rather end my life right there than live this nightmare for another month and another month for like fuckin 30 or 50 years. God I wanted to kill myself A LOT when i was with my dad, but this one was the worst cos for all I knew I’d be stuck with this pain forever even if I managed to escape him. I was so fucking ignorant! I didnt even know there was easy to acquire pain medication you could buy in any supermarket across the world! I mean, I still have the problem of my period being more severe than expected and all, but the meds at least made it NON SUICIDAL LEVELS OF PAIN. And god I once wanted to kill myself as a young child because I didnt know those existed. And I didnt know that transgender people existed or that there were words to put to my other feelings of disgust about having a period. I may still be depressed in a lot of ways, but I’m living a way better life now!

So umm yeah anyway my current worry today is because my period hasn’t ended for like 2 or 3 months now. I can’t even pinpoint the exact time it happened, cos it started with just light spotting and my period coming a few days late every month for like a year? and then it would last longer, and sometimes I’d get a small bit of bleeding suddenly starting up five days later and ending within a few hours. I sorta didnt think much of any of these symptoms and i cant nail down exactly when it just increased so much that it became this noticeably constant. And its REALLY weird for me, cos also all this stuff came along with my period not hurting as much?? And now for the last month i haven’t felt any pain at all, so I cant even tell which part of all this bleeding was the actual period. And I’m bleeding way less than usual, its just... constant. Its not even enough to be a big problem so I didnt wanna tell anyone and be a bother, its not like I’m losing blood enough to get light headed, its just annoying having so many pairs of underwear ruined and feeling more dysphoric 24/7. And it makes me pretty anxious cos I didnt know what was causing this and whether it was a symptom of some bigger problem- like, it doesnt hurt but maybe its a sign i have fuckin death doom cancer or something and its suddenly gonna start hurting any second now???

So yeah, today I finally stopped being anxious and decided I’m gonna call a doctor next week, and did some internet research to see if this is serious enough to really call the doctor. And cos I’m dumb I panicked thinking of the worst case scenario, but also doing that research kinda cheered me up cos now at least I know an explanation for why the symptoms seemingly got worse on random days, and like.. this isnt an impossible thing. Cos seriously, yeah, raised in a household with No Doctors Ever. i dont know very much about medical health, when this first started happening i freaked out cos i had NEVER HEARD of bleeding outside the regular monthly cycle and from all I knew it was PHYSICALLY IMPOSSIBLE and I’m PROBABLY DYING xD But no, apparantly spotting and mistimed periods and going one or two weeks of constant bleeding are all completely natural variances that just happen, and you dont even need to call a doctor for that. I just need to call a doctor cos its been happening a bit more often than that, they say up to a month is a normal amount. And apparantly the vast, VAST majority of conditions that cause constant period are not remotely life threatening, the worst possible scenario is becoming infertile or just.. having to continue experiencing mildly annoying bleeding a lot. Apparantly a lot of people choose to not have an operation cos they don’t wanna lose the ability to have children, but fuck I’ve been hoping to lose that thing FOREVER, jesus christ! damn docs won’t let you have a hysterectomy ‘without reason’, like seriously why is ‘i dont want to have children’ not a reason?? and why is ‘i have never had sex and never will have sex’ not a reason and also why is ‘i’m nonbinary transgender and would like this surgery even though i don’t want genital surgery’ not an option seriously MAN PLEASE can I at least go on hormones doc. seriously everyone is being all ‘well treating your ptsd and depression is a bigger priority right now’ and i mean ITS NOT LIKE THERE’S A REAL DEADLINE FOR WHEN THAT’S GONNA END and DYSPHORIA KINDA DOESNT MAKE IT ANY EASIER gahhhh god i really REALLY hope they let me have a hysterectomy i am gonna be SO DISSAPPOINTED now if it turns out this ovary failure is not the particular sort of ovary failure that requires removal of ovaries. plz kill them. pliz mr docter. they haf plagued my lyfe 4 too longe. XD god, sorry, like I said I’m just really dysphoric talking about Vagina Health Stuff so i’m getting a bit irrational and ranty. Its just like that ‘please can i skip the middle man and get to the end of the transition already’ feeling. I know it would be stupid to not listen to my doctor’s advice on the subject. Tho I do kinda feel like everyone is just patronizing me and doenst think that nonbinary really exists, i’m still trying to get my support worker to stop calling me a girl... MAN IM GOING OFFTOPIC TO A WHOLE OTHER ANXIETY HERE

Anyway! Researching into possible causes of it! It’s entirely possible i may have Adenomyosis, which would ironically mean I have an excess of estrogen in my system and am like.. Too Female To Female. I’m gonna fuckin cry if its this, that’s like the biggest fuckin sign that your sex doesn’t have to align with your gender! or lol maybe god is trying to compensate, i just imagine its like throwing too much sugar into a cake to try and make up for it tasting like shit. sorry dude, woman machine broke. BUT I don’t seem to have like a huge amount of symptoms for that one, aside from just the excess bleeding outside of my cycle. So I’m leaning more towards the ones that also include back pain and uhh.. gross bowel issues of embarassingness. It might be that I was always showing preemptive signs of one of these conditions!

One other that it could possibly be is Endometriesis which is a really fuckin cool sounding word but impossible to spell, lol. Apparantly its this TERRIFYING CONCEPT where your uterus is like.. a tumour in your gut. For whatever reason there’s uterine tissue growing in your intestines, stomach or other butt related tubes. I dont wanna read more about it cos its already making me terrified and anxious, so I dont even know HOW exactly that works. I mean is it like there’s a big ol hole stabbing through your organs connecting two unconnected things together?? Cos if so, I cant understand why its saying that its an easy operation and a never fatal condition! So I’m assuming maybe its more like everything is still separate but like.. the composure of the cells in your intestines is wrong? There’s like a tiny vestigal lump of uterine lining tissue in your stomach lining instead? i guess maybe they’re somehow vaguely related, so like.. if the human body begins from stem cells that can grow into any other cell to make a full human, it would seem entirely plausable that rather similar organs or skin thingies could accidentally form all vice versa. i guess thats also the reason for mutations like people growing an extra finger? I had a friend who had two extra fingers at birth, actually! I felt really sad when she told me about it, it was like years after we met that she felt comfortable enough to tell me about where her hand scars came from. i just remember i felt SO CONFUSED why she’d even think that like.. she had to be super certain i was a good person who wouldnt make fun of her. Why on earth would you mock someone for something like that?? How many other people must have treated her like shit if she feels this ashamed of her own hands?? And I felt really sad that she had them amputated too, I just find it a bit disturbing and surreal that there’s this societal thing of giving extensive surgery to very young children to ‘correct’ something that’s completely harmless just because it ‘looks wrong’. i’ve read stories about stuff like a child having like a split arm, an extra arm attatched at the elbow. And that particular operation to ‘correct’ it literally made the kid lose all ability to use both arms, just so they could have one ‘normal’ looking nonfunctional one. Thats messed up! Its EVEN WORSE that this happens the most commonly with intersex conditions, its invasive GENITAL surgery on newborn infants and even assigning them a random gender based on whichever form of genitals was easiest to ‘recreate’ with plastic surgery. These poor kids dont even get to know about what happened to them until they grow up and uncover this horrifying pandora’s box of medical files...

Oh, and speaking of intersex conditions, another possibility is that I might have PCOS, which is like being intersex in hormones but not outer genetalia. But I’m not sure about it cos I don’t have a lot of the more visible symptoms of it, aside from adult acne and ‘weight gain' which is.. well im pretty damn sure I gained this weight the normal way instead XD It also says that unusual hair growth might be a symptom, but it doesnt seem I have it in any of the places that’re common for the disease. I’ve had a weird thing of suddenly gaining light spots of hair on my belly and neck in the past few years. Its weird cos it really is just spots for the neck, its only growing in the right side in a little circle. i dunno what’s up with that! It sucks cos I really would like to be able to grow proper facial hair, I’m only able to do a very spotty mustache that just makes me look even more like a woman I think. i just look like an ugly woman, I feel like everyone can instantly tell I’m DFAB and they’re just laughing at me for this one failed attempt to look masculine. Also it fuckin sucks being overweight cos binders don’t work as well! They’ve gotta be wider to fit around a bigger body of course, but that means its hard to find the right size that’re be tight where it counts withough being tight on the shoulders. I think my current one is too baggy, I can’t stand even looking like a normal dude of my weight level, i cant stand even having regular fat guy ‘moobs’. I WANNA DESTROY THEM ENTIRELY!! Also, incidentally, I’m kinda terrified the most of being diagnosed with PCOS just cos it’d make my dysphoria worse. It’d kinda make me worry that maybe my identity is invalid and I only feel this way cos I have this hormone problem, and I’d probably refuse to take any treatment just in case it somehow cures my transness :P

The one that currently seems most likely is ‘uterine fibroids’. Apparantly its a non cancerous form of tumour that’s so small that its not remotely damaging, and surgery is very easy and non scary. The problem is just that you have so many of these small things slowly stacking up over the years, and being hard to spot until its already gotten bad. Plus even a small thing can be very painful when its in a very sensitive organ. I’m thinking its probably this cos they mention specifically lower back pain and constipation/other bowel problems. The endometrisis one would also explain the constipation during periods, but this one has a wider range of very specific symptoms that all seem to match.

Anyway, writing this up has helped distract me so I can calm down a little and wrap my head around all this. I just hope I can have enough courage to talk to the doctor about it and hopefully find out what it actually is. Oh, and a random tip I learned! Eating too much sugar increases menstrual bleeding! That was what was confusing me about my symptoms seeming to worsen out of nowhere on random days. I was super worried!! I guess the change is just more noticeable than it would be on my regular period, cos this one is lasting so long. I tested this out today by chugging one of the super grand milkshakes from that cool midnight milkshake takeaway shop, and I started getting the big ol scary clotty giant bleed within two hours. Waited a while til it stopped, drank another sugary drink, happened again! Definate correlation! I’m kinda relieved cos this definately proves it’s a period related problem, I’m not bleeding from like an exploded organ or something. This is definately specifically the ol menstrual blood, and I dont have some horrifying sudden septic wound in my vag out of nowhere. Tho seriously i dunno why I was worrying that cos its not like I’ve ever had sex, where would a wound even come from?? I guess I was just going nuts back when I was all uneducated and assumed it was Literally Impossible to have a period that lasts too long. Mannnn talking about this is SO GROSS I’m like cringing into the ninth dimension just from saying the word vag... Anyway now I’m actually feeling a bit lightheaded from the Even More So Than Before heavy bleeding, it probably wasnt a smart idea to test out the sugar thing twice in one day. Now I’m bleeding as much as I usually do on my regular period, which is probably not good cos I’ve already been losing a small amount of blood everyday. Apparantly carrots have a vitamin that helps decrease menstrual bleeding, but its late evening now and all the supermarkets are shut :P SOMEONE BEAM CARROTS INTO MY HOME, AAAAA lol i just need to calm down and get out of this panic attack, its probably just this in combination with the blood loss thats giving me lightheadedness. and then it makes me worry even more about the blood loss and enter an eternal death spiral of anxiety yet again... GAHH I HATE YOU DYSPHORIA DAY I WILL TALK TO THE DOCTOR AND SO HELP ME GOD I REALLY WISH THIS LEADS TO A HYSTERECTOMY seriously lol every time I’m doubting if I’m ‘really trans enough’ i should look back on this conversation where i’m wishing my uterus disease is the worst possible option just so i can get rid of the damn uterus.. ANYWAY BUNNI IS GONNA GO TRY AND CALM DOWN NOW COS I CANT CALL THE DOCTOR TIL TOMORROW ANYWAY

#gahhhh anxiety #anxiety and gross embarassing medical problems #and dysphoria #and apparantly carrots #carrots somehow control your uterus #al these years and ive never known to eat more carrots on the monthly time...

[eastendeagle-blog]

FEBRUARY

My mind is not alright but I try to write the most sensitive I can. Fuck! Currently, I don’t have hard feelings or emotions, I’m just really angry all the time. I’ll get back on that later on. I suppose I shouldn’t write this while stuffing my nose with blow, but yet I’m curious about the results. I love to challenge myself.  Maybe my March post will be a different kind again, who knows.   Anyway, where was I? Oh right, the birthday party. The party was great. I was still quite stable back then. I went back to the clinic for another week and everything went well.  I was given the decision to continue the treatment for another 2 weeks but I was actually sick of feeling prisoned and hanging out with mentally disturbed people. I just wanted my freedom back, to do whatever I want. It’s a dangerous thing, I was aware of, but I gave it a shot. Besides, things were going that great for me that I thought it’d be safe to go home again. So, I did, and the first couple of days were just fine. Until I met some dealers in the club and started to hang out with them. They offered me coke, and I can’t resist a bit of blow. It makes me feel confident, fearless, a king on my throne. Normally, I’m a really modest guy, I don’t brag about stuff like how I got my degree in Innovation Sciences and Mathematics, or the fact I’m an excellent guitarist and drummer – I don’t brag about it, it makes me shy, but fuck, when I use coke I am not afraid to show people how intelligent and talented I am. And I love the fact that I feel free to tell the world about it. I just want to feel free. Those are just examples, by the way,  I’m a real asshole when I’m on cocaine. I can socialize with people but once they say one slightly risky thing I can easily beat them up, or when they interrupt me in the middle of a sentence. I do have an aggressive nature, even back to the days when I didn’t use cocaine when I was a young teenager, I was extremely violent towards people around me, but I suppose it was to protect myself.  So whenever I do cocaine, I feel like I’m the most important person in the world, need a lot of attention, and I become very aggressive when people start acting shitty to me or disagree with me in an argument.  I quit my cocaine habit for awhile, though, because it made me a completely different person. Once it became so bad… I would love to tell you all about it… but it was that violent that it caused blood on my hands. That’s all I can say. I’m not going to be open about it, because otherwise my paranoia strikes at me again, and it ruins my high.  I’m willing to kill when on cocaine, it’s that bad. (Or is it a bad thing, really?) It makes me a monster, but sometimes, I love it when that monster shows up. It’s a part of me I can embrace.

I was back at it again. The cocaine in Finland is pretty damn good, a few birdies told me it’s from Russia.   But back at the story and here comes the shittiest thing that changed everything -  I normally would get lost in my drug habit and don’t give a damn, but I had to deal with my friend and roommate, Joone. I promised him not to do drugs while living with him.  So the first couple of days I could hide my high very well, I was high while he didn’t even know. I was high all day and night, he never realized. Even when he was talking about different brands and textiles of clothes, and I became very much over-involved and passionate talking about him about his gay stuff. He didn’t even realize, still, he had no idea. While normally I would be really laid back, careless and just nod all the time.  Until at one point, and it all happened very quickly. I remember I was listening to Electric Wizard and snorting my blow, I was feeling so good. He came up to my room and almost busted me, I guess after all he hadn’t seen anything. But I got insanely furious at him for disturbing me, so I ran after him and grabbed him by his shoulder, so that’s when he fell down on the ground, as I spit on him. I love to spit on people. I yelled crazy stuff at him. I have no idea what I was saying but it probably wasn’t that sweet, at all. In that moment, I really felt so fucking empowered that I wanted to kill him. I remember thinking, I wish I had something sharp in my pockets to stab him. I was completely raged. The thing was, I didn’t really care for the fact I wanted to stab Joone, I forgot for a moment it was Joone, a very supportive friend of mine, but there was just an intense amount of adrenaline flowing through my body. Joone was all confused but angry as well, as he is stronger than me he stood up and threw me on the floor and held me down for a while. He said all kinds of things, but he remained calm,  “what is it this time? Is it your insanity? Or a demon in your head? What the fuck are you doing, bitch?” I tried to break free from him, but he was way too strong. I think I said something like, “I want my freedom back”, I think I said so a hundred of times. I think it was some kind of despair that I was calling out. I don’t know what happened, but Joone looked me in the eyes and said, “you’re fucking high, aren’t you..”  he sounded disappointed. He let go of me and quickly walked up to my room.  He saw my coke and he looked at my chaotic, messy room. I was still very pissed but I didn’t feel like attacking him again, but the image of me killing him was still there in my mind; maybe some other day. He turned around and looked at me and said “you’re going to pack your bags now, I want you out of this house”   but of course, I refused to leave, my ego and pride were a major problem to accept such a command like that. He sounded like all my fucking exes and it’s giving me nightmares. It made me really aggressive once again. I pushed him away and ran to the kitchen to grab something sharp. I saw the perfect knife to make a bloody mess. When I walked back at him, he was standing there with his phone in his hand. He showed me from a distance how he was dialing the 112 number (Europe’s 911 number).  He told me to let go of the knife or he would call the police and he would tell them everything he knew about my criminal background. I put the knife down, passed him and packed my bags. I didn’t say a word anymore. I just gave him ‘the stare’. I put my music in my ears and made sure I brought my coke with me and two bottles of vodka to keep me warm, to be up and going outside in the cold weather.

It was insanely cold outside, I quickly realized. I had nowhere to go, but I’ve been on the streets before, only the cold weather was a real problem this time. It made me think of the warmth heroin gives me, how it could save me in times like this.  I decided to hang out at the train station during the night, get wasted to keep me warm, and save the coke for tomorrow. I was thinking about taking the train up north to Hyvinkää the next day. I just needed to keep moving. When I was homeless in New York for a month, I felt much more comfortable since I had heroin, and I wasn’t the only homeless person in the city. While here in Finland, there are literally no homeless people so I got stared down a lot by people passing by. I was packed in three layers of clothes, I had a blanket wrapped around me, I was lying on a bunch just outside the train station. I got really boozed up to keep myself warm, I eventually fell asleep for at least a few hours. A cop woke me up and commanded me to leave the place, he looked at me with full disgust. I threw my finger at him and oh, we had an argument. I said “I’m not going with you in your shitty car this time, I’m leaving now”.  Luckily the cop agreed with me. It was six in the morning and I took the train to Hyvinkää.

I arrived in Hyvinkää and started my morning trip with some blow.  I was snorting like a crazy pig in the toilets of the train station. But I had to, I felt tired and hangover, I needed some energy.  Then I posted something on Facebook, I believe, that’s when my uncle contacted me and told me he wanted to pick me up from the streets. I was in doubt at first, but I was freezing my nuts off, and I was reminded of how much drugs he has at his place. Weed, cocaine, vodka, heroin.  Besides, of all my Finnish family, he is my favorite uncle. He is my father’s brother, but he’s a much calmer person. He doesn’t suffer from schizophrenia or any mental issues, he’s far from aggressive, but he’s still weird since he is involved with all Satanic things just like my father, but I’m used to that kind of stuff. At least he has a job and a wife. He has a son, Matias, he’s my favorite cousin. We used to hang out a lot when I visited Finland during holiday breaks while I was living in The Netherlands.  I thought, why not, eh? I needed a fucking place even though my death wish is still going on strong, but I don’t want to freeze to death. Just fucking stab me until I bleed to death or strangle me and make it slow and painful, I wish for intense pain; not to freeze, it’s fucking pathetic!   So, I was waiting for my uncle to pick me up. I hadn’t seen him in six years. I was waiting on quite a busy crossroad and I felt the rush of cocaine hitting me, I was completely zoned out of reality. I was listening to Black Sabbath and I wanted to kick somebody in the face. I was living in my own world. I was thinking about killing my father, how I would do it, where I’m gonna bury that fucker. Fuck, I hate that fucking shitfaced pig. Then, some fucking dude, he passed me by but pushed me by accident, and it made me really violent. I ran after him, grabbed him by his coat and spit on him, once again, like I did to Joone. I pushed him against the wall and yelled at him to watch the fuck out. I saw in his eyes that he was terrified. He was dealing with a lunatic. He apologized a thousand times, and while in the middle of rage, I heard a car honking and someone screaming my name, “Aleksander! Leave that man alone and get in the car”. I turned around, it was my uncle waiting for me in his car that was parked aside of the road. I let go of the man who disturbed my high.  I got in the car with my uncle and the first thing he said was, “you must be really desperate to show such disrespect to your fellow humans”.  I wanted to say all things but I didn’t want to fuck up our friendship. I saw how my uncle stuffed his nose with some blow while he was driving. I was reminded once again of where I come from. “I was about to offer some to you but it’s clear you’ve had enough for the day”, he said very calm, while he tapped the gas. “I never have enough of cocaine, Anton. I need it.” I said being all passive aggressive. “That’s what all junkies say” he said laughing.  

We were at his home in the suburbs of Hyvinkää. Imagine, a peaceful place out in the Scandinavian scenery. A quiet neighbourhood with some farms and wild animals crossing the road now and then. It wasn’t as remoted from the people as the place I grew up in, back in Lapland. There were still people to see, neighbours but they were all inside the house because it’s a very cold Winter. The scenery was pretty to see, it made me fall in love with my fatherland once again. Covered in a thick blanket of snow, the trees all white, the sky so blue. My uncle has this typical Scandinavian red little house, and it reminded me of the house I grew up in.  It reminded me of my childhood but with less darker energy, I could feel when we arrived there.  My uncle owns his own car company together with his son, he has a wife who is a nurse, she smokes and drinks a lot. She’s a little crazy but I can’t think of a different person that suits a man like my uncle. At least he has a wife, my father and my other uncle Jamu are single fuckers, obviously.  It’s an odd family, but compared to the household where I grew up in, it was OK to stay here for awhile. My uncle would take care of me, and I wanted somebody to take care of me without judging me or constantly keeping an eye on whatever the fuck I’m doing. If I want to do drugs, he will let me do it, and he’ll be my tripsitter, if not my cousin.   So, my uncle and I had a lot of catching up to do. We drank some vodka and smoked some weed, he lightened some candles on and we were just chilling on the couch. He wanted me to quit cocaine for just the day, and take downers instead so I can chill my ass and act more naturally, instead of being frustrated and angry at everything all the time. I was talking about my life in New York City and how much of roller coaster ride I’ve been on the past couple of years. He responded in a very sympathetic manner and I appreciated it a lot. Now that I’m a little bit older, I came to discover that Anton is actually a really good person.  He’s not entirely healthy, in the sense that he’s dealing with a daily cocaine and alcohol addiction, day and night, even at work. He told me he’s doing less heroin these days, because he was developing physical problems as he’s been doing heroin for 25 years and he’s getting older now, everything will work against him in the end. But he’s doing heroin on weekends, and luckily I arrived during the weekend.

It’s been two months since I quit heroin. I’ve felt incredibly sick having to kick my habit,  physically and mentally. It took me three weeks to feel a little bit better. It was so hard, but I had to do it, for me and for my friend, Joone.  On Saturday night,  my uncle was preparing to smoke some heroin. “You mind if I’m chinesing?”  I shook my head. But I was really hungry for it. He held a lighter underneath the tinfoil with heroin  and there was an explosion of heroin scent spreading around the room. I smelled it, and I started to get all sweaty like a real fucking junkie. I saw how relaxed Anton became, as he lied down and closed his eyes. I saw how he nearly lost control of the heroin he was still holding in his hand so I grabbed his stuff and put it down on the table in front of his.  Usually, Anton is quite a talkative man, but he became so quiet and peaceful with a huge smirk on his face. He put his arm around me and said, “someday, everything’s gonna work out for the better for you”,  he still looked so fucking peaceful.  “Maybe”, I said, slightly depressed.  I looked at his face and I could feel how good he must felt. I went a little crazy inside, I knew I wanted to do it. I heard voices in my head, they were encouraging me to take a hit. So, I was going to lose this battle anyway. My mind became chaotic. I leant towards to table with my hands in my hair. I’ve been in that same position for a minute of two. Sometimes the despair just hits me at once. Then, Anton leant towards me and put his arm around me again, and said very slowly, “you’re gonna want it if you need it”.  He took another few hits of the heroin and handed it over to me.  I decided to take a few hits, the voices won once again. I suddenly became completely flooded with warmth and euphoria, this otherworldly feeling. Fuck, it’s just amazing. I leant back into the couch and I felt like I was sinking in the couch so deeply, to another level of this Earth.  I remember saying, “fuck, this feels so heavenly”, as I heard my speech echoing and began to sense everything in slow-motion, a dream-like state. I lost grip of reality but it was okay. I remembered how good it feels again. We’ve been lying there like two people living their lives in their fantasies. We probably looked like two idiotic couch potatoes, but the feeling you get is just indescribable. You’re just floating and everything is okay. All anxiety and pain, past memories and traumas, it’s all gone and you’re completely out of this world, like you’re wandering around in a different dimension.

The day after I woke up in a bed and I had no idea how I ended up in this bed, but I did. I came out of the room and saw Matias for the first time in years, it was so great to see him. It was around 10 in the morning and we were drinking tea with vodka,  listening to Black Sabbath. I really felt nacious from the heroin, I really felt like my body needed more but I just decided to fight it back with alcohol and cocaine for the day until I get the chance to do heroin again, but I wasn’t sure of what Anton might think. I would love to use heroin every day, but he’s only using it on weekends. Matias is a cool dude, he’s just a heavy drinker like most of us Finns. He has tried everything when it comes to drugs but he’s the best at drinking vodka. I think we got pretty wasted until 4 in the afternoon, when Anton came home from his work (I have no idea how he did that since he’s been on heroin all night), and he brought some food and cocaine as desert.  He told me that I can use his cocaine but never steal from him,  as he continued an entire speech about how our Dark Lord doesn’t appreciate stealing and cheating, this and that.  He told me that he can fix cocaine and heroin for me but as long as I pay for it, since it’s quite fucking expensive, especially here in Finland (for some reason).  I told Anton that I really didn’t feel like looking for a job, or at least a normal fucking job. He immediately offered me a job at his car company in town, he was in need for a new car engineer. He told me that he knew about my journey of when I walked away from my home in The Netherlands back in 2009, I walked all the way to France, because I was sick of home;  I had no intention to work as a car mechanic in France but I realized that I had no money left anymore and I had to save some to survive, so that’s when I started a job as a car engineer. Besides, I fucking love cars.  So he offered me the job and I have no trouble fixing engines and what not, but my head is truly a mess, and I can’t deal with customers because I’m constantly fucking raged about everything, even without cocaine.  He told me that I could work part-time and I said I would give it a try.

Sum-up of everything that has happened in the past month? I got out of the clinic ->  got involved with cocaine dealers, therefore a cocaine addiction -> friend kicked me out -> became homeless -> uncle offered me a place to stay for the upcoming period  -> more cocaine ->  hello heroin habit -> a job as a car engineer.  Funny how things turn out as I go from A to Z within a month. I have no fucking clue what’s gonna happen to me the next month.  I will be writing a different post in the meantime about my deepest, darkest and twisted fantasies about killing my father. I know cocaine helps me keep those fantasies as clear as water, but I notice how those feelings slowly slip away now I’m using heroin again.  But I still want to fucking kill him.

[aljauv-blog]

February

My mind is not alright but I try to write the most sensitive I can. Fuck! Currently, I don’t have hard feelings or emotions, I’m just really angry all the time. I’ll get back on that later on. I suppose I shouldn’t write this while stuffing my nose with blow, but yet I’m curious about the results. I love to challenge myself.  Maybe my March post will be a different kind again, who knows.   Anyway, where was I? Oh right, the birthday party. The party was great. I was still quite stable back then. I went back to the clinic for another week and everything went well.  I was given the decision to continue the treatment for another 2 weeks but I was actually sick of feeling prisoned and hanging out with mentally disturbed people. I just wanted my freedom back, to do whatever I want. It’s a dangerous thing, I was aware of, but I gave it a shot. Besides, things were going that great for me that I thought it’d be safe to go home again. So, I did, and the first couple of days were just fine. Until I met some dealers in the club and started to hang out with them. They offered me coke, and I can’t resist a bit of blow. It makes me feel confident, fearless, a king on my throne. Normally, I’m a really modest guy, I don’t brag about stuff like how I got my degree in Innovation Sciences and Mathematics, or the fact I’m an excellent guitarist and drummer – I don’t brag about it, it makes me shy, but fuck, when I use coke I am not afraid to show people how intelligent and talented I am. And I love the fact that I feel free to tell the world about it. I just want to feel free. Those are just examples, by the way,  I’m a real asshole when I’m on cocaine. I can socialize with people but once they say one slightly risky thing I can easily beat them up, or when they interrupt me in the middle of a sentence. I do have an aggressive nature, even back to the days when I didn’t use cocaine when I was a young teenager, I was extremely violent towards people around me, but I suppose it was to protect myself.  So whenever I do cocaine, I feel like I’m the most important person in the world, need a lot of attention, and I become very aggressive when people start acting shitty to me or disagree with me in an argument.  I quit my cocaine habit for awhile, though, because it made me a completely different person. Once it became so bad… I would love to tell you all about it… but it was that violent that it caused blood on my hands. That’s all I can say. I’m not going to be open about it, because otherwise my paranoia strikes at me again, and it ruins my high.  I’m willing to kill when on cocaine, it’s that bad. (Or is it a bad thing, really?) It makes me a monster, but sometimes, I love it when that monster shows up. It’s a part of me I can embrace.

I was back at it again. The cocaine in Finland is pretty damn good, a few birdies told me it’s from Russia.   But back at the story and here comes the shittiest thing that changed everything -  I normally would get lost in my drug habit and don’t give a damn, but I had to deal with my friend and roommate, Joone. I promised him not to do drugs while living with him.  So the first couple of days I could hide my high very well, I was high while he didn’t even know. I was high all day and night, he never realized. Even when he was talking about different brands and textiles of clothes, and I became very much over-involved and passionate talking about him about his gay stuff. He didn’t even realize, still, he had no idea. While normally I would be really laid back, careless and just nod all the time.  Until at one point, and it all happened very quickly. I remember I was listening to Electric Wizard and snorting my blow, I was feeling so good. He came up to my room and almost busted me, I guess after all he hadn’t seen anything. But I got insanely furious at him for disturbing me, so I ran after him and grabbed him by his shoulder, so that’s when he fell down on the ground, as I spit on him. I love to spit on people. I yelled crazy stuff at him. I have no idea what I was saying but it probably wasn’t that sweet, at all. In that moment, I really felt so fucking empowered that I wanted to kill him. I remember thinking, I wish I had something sharp in my pockets to stab him. I was completely raged. The thing was, I didn’t really care for the fact I wanted to stab Joone, I forgot for a moment it was Joone, a very supportive friend of mine, but there was just an intense amount of adrenaline flowing through my body. Joone was all confused but angry as well, as he is stronger than me he stood up and threw me on the floor and held me down for a while. He said all kinds of things, but he remained calm,  “what is it this time? Is it your insanity? Or a demon in your head? What the fuck are you doing, bitch?” I tried to break free from him, but he was way too strong. I think I said something like, “I want my freedom back”, I think I said so a hundred of times. I think it was some kind of despair that I was calling out. I don’t know what happened, but Joone looked me in the eyes and said, “you’re fucking high, aren’t you..”  he sounded disappointed. He let go of me and quickly walked up to my room.  He saw my coke and he looked at my chaotic, messy room. I was still very pissed but I didn’t feel like attacking him again, but the image of me killing him was still there in my mind; maybe some other day. He turned around and looked at me and said “you’re going to pack your bags now, I want you out of this house”   but of course, I refused to leave, my ego and pride were a major problem to accept such a command like that. He sounded like all my fucking exes and it’s giving me nightmares. It made me really aggressive once again. I pushed him away and ran to the kitchen to grab something sharp. I saw the perfect knife to make a bloody mess. When I walked back at him, he was standing there with his phone in his hand. He showed me from a distance how he was dialing the 112 number (Europe’s 911 number).  He told me to let go of the knife or he would call the police and he would tell them everything he knew about my criminal background. I put the knife down, passed him and packed my bags. I didn’t say a word anymore. I just gave him ‘the stare’. I put my music in my ears and made sure I brought my coke with me and two bottles of vodka to keep me warm, to be up and going outside in the cold weather.

It was insanely cold outside, I quickly realized. I had nowhere to go, but I’ve been on the streets before, only the cold weather was a real problem this time. It made me think of the warmth heroin gives me, how it could save me in times like this.  I decided to hang out at the train station during the night, get wasted to keep me warm, and save the coke for tomorrow. I was thinking about taking the train up north to Hyvinkää the next day. I just needed to keep moving. When I was homeless in New York for a month, I felt much more comfortable since I had heroin, and I wasn’t the only homeless person in the city. While here in Finland, there are literally no homeless people so I got stared down a lot by people passing by. I was packed in three layers of clothes, I had a blanket wrapped around me, I was lying on a bunch just outside the train station. I got really boozed up to keep myself warm, I eventually fell asleep for at least a few hours. A cop woke me up and commanded me to leave the place, he looked at me with full disgust. I threw my finger at him and oh, we had an argument. I said “I’m not going with you in your shitty car this time, I’m leaving now”.  Luckily the cop agreed with me. It was six in the morning and I took the train to Hyvinkää.

I arrived in Hyvinkää and started my morning trip with some blow.  I was snorting like a crazy pig in the toilets of the train station. But I had to, I felt tired and hangover, I needed some energy.  Then I posted something on Facebook, I believe, that’s when my uncle contacted me and told me he wanted to pick me up from the streets. I was in doubt at first, but I was freezing my nuts off, and I was reminded of how much drugs he has at his place. Weed, cocaine, vodka, heroin.  Besides, of all my Finnish family, he is my favorite uncle. He is my father’s brother, but he’s a much calmer person. He doesn’t suffer from schizophrenia or any mental issues, he’s far from aggressive, but he’s still weird since he is involved with all Satanic things just like my father, but I’m used to that kind of stuff. At least he has a job and a wife. He has a son, Matias, he’s my favorite cousin. We used to hang out a lot when I visited Finland during holiday breaks while I was living in The Netherlands.  I thought, why not, eh? I needed a fucking place even though my death wish is still going on strong, but I don’t want to freeze to death. Just fucking stab me until I bleed to death or strangle me and make it slow and painful, I wish for intense pain; not to freeze, it’s fucking pathetic!   So, I was waiting for my uncle to pick me up. I hadn’t seen him in six years. I was waiting on quite a busy crossroad and I felt the rush of cocaine hitting me, I was completely zoned out of reality. I was listening to Black Sabbath and I wanted to kick somebody in the face. I was living in my own world. I was thinking about killing my father, how I would do it, where I’m gonna bury that fucker. Fuck, I hate that fucking shitfaced pig. Then, some fucking dude, he passed me by but pushed me by accident, and it made me really violent. I ran after him, grabbed him by his coat and spit on him, once again, like I did to Joone. I pushed him against the wall and yelled at him to watch the fuck out. I saw in his eyes that he was terrified. He was dealing with a lunatic. He apologized a thousand times, and while in the middle of rage, I heard a car honking and someone screaming my name, “Aleksander! Leave that man alone and get in the car”. I turned around, it was my uncle waiting for me in his car that was parked aside of the road. I let go of the man who disturbed my high.  I got in the car with my uncle and the first thing he said was, “you must be really desperate to show such disrespect to your fellow humans”.  I wanted to say all things but I didn’t want to fuck up our friendship. I saw how my uncle stuffed his nose with some blow while he was driving. I was reminded once again of where I come from. “I was about to offer some to you but it’s clear you’ve had enough for the day”, he said very calm, while he tapped the gas. “I never have enough of cocaine, Anton. I need it.” I said being all passive aggressive. “That’s what all junkies say” he said laughing.  

We were at his home in the suburbs of Hyvinkää. Imagine, a peaceful place out in the Scandinavian scenery. A quiet neighbourhood with some farms and wild animals crossing the road now and then. It wasn’t as remoted from the people as the place I grew up in, back in Lapland. There were still people to see, neighbours but they were all inside the house because it’s a very cold Winter. The scenery was pretty to see, it made me fall in love with my fatherland once again. Covered in a thick blanket of snow, the trees all white, the sky so blue. My uncle has this typical Scandinavian red little house, and it reminded me of the house I grew up in.  It reminded me of my childhood but with less darker energy, I could feel when we arrived there.  My uncle owns his own car company together with his son, he has a wife who is a nurse, she smokes and drinks a lot. She’s a little crazy but I can’t think of a different person that suits a man like my uncle. At least he has a wife, my father and my other uncle Jamu are single fuckers, obviously.  It’s an odd family, but compared to the household where I grew up in, it was OK to stay here for awhile. My uncle would take care of me, and I wanted somebody to take care of me without judging me or constantly keeping an eye on whatever the fuck I’m doing. If I want to do drugs, he will let me do it, and he’ll be my tripsitter, if not my cousin.   So, my uncle and I had a lot of catching up to do. We drank some vodka and smoked some weed, he lightened some candles on and we were just chilling on the couch. He wanted me to quit cocaine for just the day, and take downers instead so I can chill my ass and act more naturally, instead of being frustrated and angry at everything all the time. I was talking about my life in New York City and how much of roller coaster ride I’ve been on the past couple of years. He responded in a very sympathetic manner and I appreciated it a lot. Now that I’m a little bit older, I came to discover that Anton is actually a really good person.  He’s not entirely healthy, in the sense that he’s dealing with a daily cocaine and alcohol addiction, day and night, even at work. He told me he’s doing less heroin these days, because he was developing physical problems as he’s been doing heroin for 25 years and he’s getting older now, everything will work against him in the end. But he’s doing heroin on weekends, and luckily I arrived during the weekend.

It’s been two months since I quit heroin. I’ve felt incredibly sick having to kick my habit,  physically and mentally. It took me three weeks to feel a little bit better. It was so hard, but I had to do it, for me and for my friend, Joone.  On Saturday night,  my uncle was preparing to smoke some heroin. “You mind if I’m chinesing?”  I shook my head. But I was really hungry for it. He held a lighter underneath the tinfoil with heroin  and there was an explosion of heroin scent spreading around the room. I smelled it, and I started to get all sweaty like a real fucking junkie. I saw how relaxed Anton became, as he lied down and closed his eyes. I saw how he nearly lost control of the heroin he was still holding in his hand so I grabbed his stuff and put it down on the table in front of his.  Usually, Anton is quite a talkative man, but he became so quiet and peaceful with a huge smirk on his face.  He put his arm around me and said, “someday, everything’s gonna work out for the better for you”,  he still looked so fucking peaceful.  “Maybe”, I said, slightly depressed.  I looked at his face and I could feel how good he must felt. I went a little crazy inside, I knew I wanted to do it. I heard voices in my head, they were encouraging me to take a hit. So, I was going to lose this battle anyway. My mind became chaotic. I leant towards to table with my hands in my hair. I’ve been in that same position for a minute of two. Sometimes the despair just hits me at once. Then, Anton leant towards me and put his arm around me again, and said very slowly, “you’re gonna want it if you need it”.  He took another few hits of the heroin and handed it over to me.  I decided to take a few hits, the voices won once again. I suddenly became completely flooded with warmth and euphoria, this otherworldly feeling. Fuck, it’s just amazing. I leant back into the couch and I felt like I was sinking in the couch so deeply, to another level of this Earth.  I remember saying, “fuck, this feels so heavenly”, as I heard my speech echoing and began to sense everything in slow-motion, a dream-like state. I lost grip of reality but it was okay. I remembered how good it feels again. We’ve been lying there like two people living their lives in their fantasies. We probably looked like two idiotic couch potatoes, but the feeling you get is just indescribable. You’re just floating and everything is okay. All anxiety and pain, past memories and traumas, it’s all gone and you’re completely out of this world, like you’re wandering around in a different dimension.

The day after I woke up in a bed and I had no idea how I ended up in this bed, but I did. I came out of the room and saw Matias for the first time in years, it was so great to see him. It was around 10 in the morning and we were drinking tea with vodka,  listening to Black Sabbath. I really felt nacious from the heroin, I really felt like my body needed more but I just decided to fight it back with alcohol and cocaine for the day until I get the chance to do heroin again, but I wasn’t sure of what Anton might think. I would love to use heroin every day, but he’s only using it on weekends. Matias is a cool dude, he’s just a heavy drinker like most of us Finns. He has tried everything when it comes to drugs but he’s the best at drinking vodka. I think we got pretty wasted until 4 in the afternoon, when Anton came home from his work (I have no idea how he did that since he’s been on heroin all night), and he brought some food and cocaine as desert.  He told me that I can use his cocaine but never steal from him,  as he continued an entire speech about how our Dark Lord doesn’t appreciate stealing and cheating, this and that.  He told me that he can fix cocaine and heroin for me but as long as I pay for it, since it’s quite fucking expensive, especially here in Finland (for some reason).  I told Anton that I really didn’t feel like looking for a job, or at least a normal fucking job. He immediately offered me a job at his car company in town, he was in need for a new car engineer. He told me that he knew about my journey of when I walked away from my home in The Netherlands back in 2009, I walked all the way to France, because I was sick of home;  I had no intention to work as a car mechanic in France but I realized that I had no money left anymore and I had to save some to survive, so that’s when I started a job as a car engineer. Besides, I fucking love cars.  So he offered me the job and I have no trouble fixing engines and what not, but my head is truly a mess, and I can’t deal with customers because I’m constantly fucking raged about everything, even without cocaine.  He told me that I could work part-time and I said I would give it a try.

Sum-up of everything that has happened in the past month? I got out of the clinic ->  got involved with cocaine dealers, therefore a cocaine addiction -> friend kicked me out -> became homeless -> uncle offered me a place to stay for the upcoming period  -> more cocaine ->  hello heroin habit -> a job as a car engineer.  Funny how things turn out as I go from A to Z within a month. I have no fucking clue what’s gonna happen to me the next month.  I will be writing a different post in the meantime about my deepest, darkest and twisted fantasies about killing my father. I know cocaine helps me keep those fantasies as clear as water, but I notice how those feelings slowly slip away now I’m using heroin again.  But I still want to fucking kill him.

[datingadviceonreddit]

DEAR GOD GET READY FOR THIS LONG ASS SHIT STORM OF A STORY. TLDR. Does this go in r/Relationship? If you find yourself reading this, I am a girl who is in desperate need of help so I can fucking stop thinking about this crap and move on -_- Please give me your thoughts on the fucking situation that is driving me and my friends insane.DISCLAIMER: I curse a lot, and I am up to HERE raises hand up to neptune with the stress this shit has caused me. So disregard me as I release some pent up rage.OKAY. I believe both of us are in the same looks league so I won't even comment on that.Player 1: Guy, 29, caucasian, raised in southern GA. Let's call him Bill (no his name is not Bill). A musician. Omnivert, into videogames. Pisces. Bill has been single for 3 years and basically abstinent lol. NOT RELIGIOUS AT ALL. He has also been EVER SO SLOWLY healing and coming out of a depression of sorts. He also has minor anxiety issues. He has VERY high standards for almost everything, and loves 80's things.Player 2: Me, Girl, 24, caucasian hispanic, raised in Miami, FL. We'll call me Bitch becau- no... We'll call me Bear, because why the fuck not. A filmmaker/photographer. Omnivert, into videogames. Libra. I have always hung out with people older than me because I don't get along with the millenials my age -_- the're all focusing on partying while I'm trying to move forward with my career. Also I have been abused by several men (which scars to bear [get it]) so I'm very verbally forward with dudes about how I feel, but I also have mega anxiety for physical proximity.Setting: Atlanta, GAISSUE: Does my best friend like me? It's not issue if he does, BUT I just NEED to know. We have minor history and he has said no when I've asked but THE FUCKING WORLD tells me otherwise. Also, my gut tells me otherwise (sometimes), and I have no idea if I should be trying to get my flirt on or just leaving the poor kid alone because he hates me or something.Late 2015: We meet for a film project and I have this innate magnetic feeling towards him to be his friend. JUST FRIEND. Nothing more. We work on the film project and you know, it's cool. We good. We chill. Nothing interesting, nothing to see. Player 1: Single Player 2: Married in on/off state (private)Early 2016: We start hanging out WAY more. Like WAY more. And we become besties and work together on every project ever. Its' the best female/male bromance I ever did saw. Both gamers, both omniverts, both into adventures, both low self esteem, both idiots. IT'S WONDERFUL I TELL YOU. This time period bleeds into summer time too. Player 1: Single Player 2: My marriage finally collapses and we finally have the balls to separate publicly. Bill helps me a lot through this whole process.late Spring/Summer 2016: BEST. OF. FUCKING. FRIENDS. We hang out all the time and at this point everyone asks us if we're together. We get told what a cute couple we are (we deny all claims though). He calls me after work everyday and we sometimes fall asleep talking to each other. Equal conversation. His family tells me that "he's the happiest I've seen him in a long time". His sister calls me his "girlfriend not girlfriend". And I am totally okay with that because... I'm starting to like the guy. And I have slept in this dudes bed like 3-5 times at this point and we have not cuddles once. I have major anxiety for sleeping his bed because I have no idea what I'm supposed to do if he wants me to make any moves. Also, we promise each other to be honesty buddies for life. Also also, He goes to daytona for a weekend and then says he has no one to hang out with so... I got flight benefits, you want me to come? "Sure, why not". SO I fly there and we have a blasty blast. There's also this moment that we're out drinking and we go for a walk and this homeless guy approaches him for money, Bill tells him nah, then the homeless guy starts walking towards me and Bill steps inbetween me and the homeless guy (who is not even close) and he says "No, you don't need to talk to her, you talk to me" (fucking fell so hard deeper than I already was, right then and there) Player 1: Single Player 2: SingleDRAGON CON 2016: He goes out of his way to go buy my eyelash glue, literally OUT OF HIS WAY. Then at the con he eats a tootsie roll drug thing (I am a newb when it comes to that shit) and he's tripping. We hold hands the entire time (relationship hold, not "let's cross the street" hold). At one point he jumps in bed and opens his arms out to me to invite me to cuddle, and god damnit I fucking accept. So we cuddle in front of the majority of his friends. We take an uber to a far away restaurant and just lay on each other the whole time. Then we go to my place and go to bed and don't cuddle sadness. That was saturday night into sunday morning.SEPTEMBER 2016: The week after Dragon Con we barely talked. Then I fly somewhere for something and when I'm flying back he texts me that he doesn't want to ruin our friendship because of his feelings of loneliness. And I'm like WOAH BRO, YOU WON'T RUIN ANYTHING. WANNA TALK IN PERSON? NEED HUGS? And he's like Come over and jump in bed, lets cuddle (or w.e. the fuck he said, the jump into bed part is accurate though). SO. My plane lands and I fucking take a FORTY FUCKING FUCK FACE DOLLAR uber to his house. I go to his room and jump in bed and we had the most AWKWARD cuddle in the fucking world. Why? Because part of me did not want to cuddle him because I was so fucking confused. And then because he was no longer drunk -_- (fuck you Bill... fuck. you.) Later that day he is very angry. And I mean, VERY. ANGRY. We got out and eat food, his friend ends up being our waiter and asks if I'm his girlfriend and he very aggressively says "no". And then after that day he stopped talking to me. HE JUST STOPS. Motherfucking Bill does not talk to me at all. I then get him to respond to me and he says he doesn't want to be friends anymore and he needs a break from "all this" (WHAT THE FUCKFACE IS "ALL THIS?!?!"). So I try to give him space but HOLY SHIT WE WERE JUST BEST FRIENDS AND NOW I AM SO FUCK NUGGET CONFUSED WHAT THE BITCH MADE FUCK?????? So I ask for a solid reason as to why it's happening and I could not get a solid answer. At all. To this day, I'm still not sure what the fuck that was. But anywho, he says he doesn't know if he'll ever want to be my friend BUT if there's an emergency and I ever need him, that he'd be there for me.FAST THE FUCK FORWARD to the week before my Birthday party (oct 1). It's friday, it's late, like 11pm late. I go outside for a phonecall and my phone starts dying. I walk back to my apartment door and it's locked. I call my roommates, no answer. (I later find out that my roommates had left and locked me out). So I have no keys, no wallet, a dying phone, and it's late on a friday night. WHADOIDO?!?! I start calling people to see if they can pick me up so I can crash with them. LITERALLY NO ONE CAN. I get to the point of using tinder and asking my ex. But before I go that route I'm like... you know what, Bill said he would be there for me if I really needed, I'm calling him (i knew he would not want me to have resorted to my ex so I thought this was logical). I call his beautiful ass up (and I mean beautiful) and his friend answers (oh so it IS just me that you needed a break from you dick twat). I explain the situation to his friend (lets call him Matt). Matt: "Oh yeah, we'll come get you!" "Check with Bill first, I don't think he'll be cool with it" Matt: "What? Ofcourse he'll be cool with it" "Wanna bet?" Matt: "Two dollars says he says yes" "Done. Now ask him" Matt asks Bill Bill: "Yeah, no. Not in the mood" (or w.e. his bitch ass said) Matt: "Bear, I am so sorry. I'm surprised. Good luck with your situation" "Yeah... thanks" And so I resort to tinder and ex -_- then end up sleeping at my community pool until the next day when my roommates get back. NEXT WEEK: I tell this mother fucker Bill that we need to talk. He calls me and says he doesn't want to talk to me and hes angry about it. And I tell him in the nicest way possible "fuck you". And I explain to him what an asshat he is and that I didn't do anything to deserve this treatment from him and that HOW DARE he tell me he'd be there for me and then he's just not. Fuck. You. Bill. And he fuckign apologized 0_0 and said I'm right. And then I told him he could come to my birthday party if he wanted to, and that I would like him to and he said that he didn't know but he'd try. BIRTHDAY PARTY: He showed up with his brother and sister and friends. All in one car. It was so nice seeing him again and knowing we were okay. God. what a fucking relief he was done being a dumb ass.Have you made it this far? Take a break, pat yourself on the back, go grab some hydration. Thank you and I fucking love you you stranger. Player 1: Single Player 2: SingleLATE 2016: We start hanging out slowly, I take piano lessons with him because I want to and because it's a good way to reintroduce hanging out. I then meet someone that I actually have an interest for. Cool regular dude but the fact that I kinda like this guy is like "oh, I might pursue this". SO before making any moves, I ask Bill: Bear: "Hey, do you like me?" Bill: "What! Like romantically?" Bear: Yeah Bill: laughs uh NO. Bear: Yeah I was just checking, because, people have told me you do. Bill: Yeah no. Who? ----- I felt so fucking humiliated because of how he handled saying no. It was like he thought it was embarrassing to even think that he could like someone like me :( SO lower self esteem and now a fucking challenge to get over my feelings for Bill, I get into a relationship with random guy who we'll call... Homer. Homer and I end up dating for a while, Bill is ALL FOR IT. Says I need someone Homer him right now. So i fucking go for it dude. Like, full commitment dawg. I'm talking real intimate planning homie. And BOY DID THAT BACKFIRE. Player 1: Single Player 2: Single -> begins datingEARLY 2017: I eat furbies. Just kidding, making sure that you're still awake :D So me and Homer are living together per his request (SHOULD NOT HAVE DONE THAT). And I cannot be myself around him because I'm high energy and he's like "you're too much" (fuck your dick ass face you bitch haired mother fucker). So I go crying to Bill who is now my freindtherapist and tell him that I cannot be myself with Homer and it's fucking killing me. Now Bill is like, oh nah, that dude right here brah? He's garbage brah. Get rid of him brah. You can't be with dat brah. (more or less) But I can't break up with Homer because if I do then I have to face my feelings of wanting to be with Bill and that is just WAY TOO MUCH FOR ME TO DEAL WITH AT THIS POINT IN MY LIFE. Player 1: Single Player 2: In a relationshipSUMMER 2017: Homer and I are not doing too hot, at all. It's become apparent to many folks. But anywho. SO there's this event yeah. Where I'm presenting an award yeah. And I put on an amazingly sexy gorgeous dress yeah. And I invite Bill and my newest friend Keaton to attend the event with me since Homer will be out of town. Keaton is Homer's bestest friend (key info for the test at the end guys)(...just kidding)(this wont be on the test)(...just kidding, there is no test). So I look fucking fabulous. I mean... fucking. fabulous. Like, even my low self esteem was like DAY-UM BITCH. I asked Bill and Keaton if I looked good and Keaton responds with "Yeah you look great" and Bill just nods and he's like "yeah" (YOU SON OF A BITCH). So we go on our way to the event. At the event I get Kanye'd because why not hire a drunk host :D so I'm ultra bummed out and the 3 of us go downstairs to drank my sorrows away. Then I find out that the film I produced one an award and I wasn't there. FUCK.MY.LIFE. so then i'm like LETS GO TO THE BAR BOYS. But before that I have a "cry on shoulder moment" with Bill. SO, we call uber to go to bars and WELL YOU SEE... I WAS WEARING A BEAUTIFUL WHITE DRESS... SO... THE UBER DRIVER THOUGHT I HAD JUST GOTTEN MARRIED. To who? To Bill -_- (FFUUUUUUHHHH) And what does Keaton do when the driver starts asking questions? Driver: Woah, did ya'll just get married? Keaton: YES! MY TWO BEST BUDS, BILL AND BEAR, MADE THE LEAP! At this point, Bill and I look at each other and are like N-NNO-N-N-NO-NO-NO-NO, but Keaton is SO FUCKING LOUD, he overpowers us and eventually we just go with it. SO we start giving made up details and calling each other "babe" and "sweetie" and gay ass shit like that. We get to the bars and low and behold, we find out you can drink free by having just been married... so naturally WE MILK THIS SHIT OUT OF IT. We move our rings to the married side and he has his hand on my waist, holds my hand at one point. Gives me a back massage. My god, it's fucking great. And eventually we go home. Keaton loses his phone in the uber home and so when Bill and I go back to my place, we're trying to get n contact with the uber driver. So we're just chatting and Bill is about to leave so we hug good bye. As we hug... I have no idea why... but... I grow the biggest pair of balls... and say... Bear: Want to know something weird? Bill: Suuuure Bear: I have feelings for you Bill: silent I pull away from hug Bear: But you probably already knew that Bill smiles and he nods and he's like "yeah" and so we talk about it all. And here are the key take aways from everything he said: "I'm not going to lie, I've wanted to make out with you several times" "Tonight felt... natural. It was just so easy for us to be that way. It was comfortable" "Well you have a boyfriend so...." And eventually he goes home and we decide to talk about it sober.SOBER TALK #1 He tells me he has no feelings for me, that he cares about me as a friend and nothing more. He also tells me that everytime he was interested in me is because he was lonely. (oh Bill... YOU SACK OF SHEEP SHIT) And so I take all that in and let it process over the weekend. I then write him an email. Yes. A fucking email. Because I suck at communicating on the spot. And in this email I tell him MANY THINGS, one being "fuck you for using me" and the other being "I don't believe that you don't have any ounce of feelings for me, because you could have picked any girl but you chose me. (SIDENOTE, BILL IS VERY BEAUTIFUL AND CONSTANTLY HAS GIRLS WANTING HIM). So I email his ass and he reads it and we decide to have a second talk.SOBER TALK #2 He apologizes for using me and having led me on and that he'll be more careful with our friendship. And we completely skipped over the topic of him having any slight possible feelings for me or if he might ever. What evs. I'm so done with it all at that point (or was I?) Player 1: Single Player 2: In a relationshipDRAGON CON 2017: SO Homer gets obliteratingly drunk and violently pushes me (not the first time he got aggressive). But check this out. He pushed me, in front of the crew, including Bill. According to witnesses, both my feet went in the air. There was like a 3 second pause of silence and Bill fucking pushes Homer's ass out the hotel room and slams the door in his face. He then asks me if I'm okay and he is fucking LIVID BRO. I have never seen him in such a rage before O_O Player 1: Single Player 2: In a relatonshipFALL 2017: So dragon con drama dies down and I can no longer talk to Bill about my issues with Homer (yes I stayed with him) because Bill is fucking annoyed at me for staying with him. He thinks I'm dumb for staying (he's not wrong). So I find a new friendtherapist. Anywho, we continue our vague friendship where I feel like I have to hold back because what if I flirt with him, it'll make him uncomfortable and I don't want that. So now I feel like I can't be my full self around Billy Boy. Eventually I have my business trip to California with Homer BUT I break up with him the week before -_- so I'm not stuck on a trip with my ex. WONDERFUL. But when I told Bill, he was very happy for me and was proud I hadn't done anything stupid. Eventually Homer invites me to go to a Legend of Zelda Symphony of the Goddesses tour and I'm like FUCK.YES.DAWG. and he has two extra tickets so I invite Bill and his brother. When stranger Things 2 came out, we binge watched it friday night and saturday night. And that weekend was just so great. We just netflix and actually chilled And later when we talked about the weekend he told me "that is one of the nicest weekends I've had in a long time." CUZ WE'RE GOOD TOGETHER YOU TURD DICKZELDA SMYPHONY 2017: So Homer and I get there (I still live at his place with Keaton, I just sleep on the couch) and Bill is DRUNK. He invites me to his hair cut appointment the next day (we have the same hair dresser) and He starts talking to me about his weekend plans (which include a funeral and us watching Justice league together on Monday) and then how Monday me and him have our date. My face is like huwah? And he repeats it "yeah, we have our date!" buwuh? and I'm just like OO OH-KAY, YES. YES WE DO SIR. Concert starts, we watch the show, he keeps drinking. At this point I've never seen him this drunk before (it was quite amazing). After the show, I have to use the bathroom like the basic bitch I am. Bill says he's going to go look for his brother and homer who have disappeared. When I walk out I see him waiting for me in a corner and I'm like "what are you doing??" ANd he's like " I've been waiting for you this whole time. All these dudes were waiting for their girlfriends, one at a time they start leaving, and here I am waitng for you, WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG" and all I did was laugh because he's fucking hilarious drunk. I end up going home with Bill and his bro because I don't want to sleep on the couch and now that I'm single, I can sleep in Bill's bed again. SO, we're in the car and here's the conversation. Bill: Wow, I'm surprised at how well that went. Homer was very pleasant towards me. Brother: Why wouldn't he be pleasant towards you? Bear: Well- Bill: Oh, he's jealous of me and hers relationship. Bear: O_O HOMER WAS NEVER AT ANY POINT JEALOUS OF ME AND BILL. In fact, Homer LOVED Bill and always wanted me to invite him to places and he wanted to hang out from him and learn music from him. So that was just a lie .. Anywho, we go home and I sleep in this dudes bed and LET ME TELL YOU THE ANXIETY WAS SO FUCKING REAL. He has NEVER slept that close to me EVER. I could feel his arm and knee on my shoulder and leg (no boners guys, sorry :/ ). And I had no idea if I should try cuddling him or not because what if he's just drunk and doesn't realize it OR he's sober and just DOES NOT want that weird comfortableness of cuddling someone you're not into. So I do nothing except stay awake in anxiety till he wakes up the next day. And the only thing he says about the night before is "Man, I felt like I could take over the world last night, like nothing was in my way" and that was that.Monday: He invites his brother -_-THANKSGIVING 2017 (one week later): So I'm kind of sort of co-hosting with him but not really but I promised him I'd help with cleaning up and I'd bring mega food. By this point, we have a trip to NY planned (Mid January) and paid for...for... THE FUCKING FINAL FANTASY DISTANT WORLDS SYMPHONY AT CARNEGIE HALL, OH MY FUCK. We're talking about our plans (he invited his friend [guy, we'll call him Ron] so it was no longer going to be a potentially romantic trip sadness) and Bill says "Hey, let me know if you two want to go matching!" Ron is like "uhhh... no" as any normal guy would respond to that weird ass request. And then I say "uhm... Yeah sure." BECAUSE WHY NOT BEAR! WHY THE FUCK NUGGETS NOT. Bill and I go to his room later to look at his suit and see what I'm working with. And he says "If you find something else then I can try to find a different color shirt or tie". So we're fucking matching dude. Also, he play flirted with me for the FIRST TIME ever. Like Keaton noticed it too. Bill looked me directly in the eye.And now I'm here, visiting family in Miami, writing this fucking post because I'm so gay for this dude it's stupid. And I have been dress shopping and sending him the options and he is still going with us matching. ANYWHO here's where you the reader comes in...Answer these questions please and thankses: 1) DO YOU THINK HE'S INTO ME? 2) Should I ask him if he wants to kiss... 30 seconds before new years eve? 3) Should I try anything in NY? 4) Should I shut the fuck up, calm down and just fucking stop? 5) Should I just give up in him and I? If so, HOOOOWWWW??I REALLY don't want to make him uncomfortable but damn I can't keep holding back with this mystery. It's horrible. But he also seems like he's making sure we're not alone at any point in time... which I have no idea how to interpret.KEY FACTS: - Yes I feel that he is into me, SOMETIMES. Not always. But I get that urgle gurgle feeling from him sometimes. - He still does cute things like buy me my favorite junk food at the gas station. - We have NEVER kissed - We get each other on some surreal ass level, it's weird. - Yes we are idiots - Yes this is a TLDRIf you actually read everything... YOU'RE AMAZING AND THANK YOU!! If you didn't... Then good for you for not wasting your time! via /r/dating_advice

#dating #dating advice #reddit

[saltypurpleduck]

Fuck you Facebook....

So not my normal topic but whatever. I have no where else that's safe to vent this stuff so why not.... Also quick edit to add this is apparently going to be a LONG post. Just a heads up sooo... Guess it's story time.... Another edit. I tried to make sure I tagged enough to keep anyone from seeing this who might be hurt by it so some warning. I talk about my mental illness and some low points, and also I talk about pregnacy loss. So it gets heavy and I talk about these things with a frankness that can seem cold and be off putting so fair warning.

Facebook's suggested post algorithm thingy has decided that I'm pregnant. It decides weird shit all the time, and actually gets things scary accurate at times, but this time is VERY wrong. I'm sure it has to do with my recent search history on micro-premies, my obsessive clicking through baby clothes sites, and the fact that I am in the major minority amongst my Facebook mommy friends who only has one child.... Anyway Facebooks creepy ass fortune teller thing is very wrong this time, and this time it hurts.

The idea of having another child is polarizing for me. On one hand I have baby fever like a mother fucker, on the other hand another pregnancy scares the shit piss out of me.

I am fortunate in that I have never experianced a lost pregnacy. Okay... You know what that's a lie. I had a chemical pregnacy durring my first marriage. Literally no one knows but me and now the internet. I only even knew I was pregnant because I went to an appointment to get birth control. Like always they made me take a test, it came back positive so no birth control for me, they did another test to double check because I had JUST had my period two weeks prior, then a blood test... Yep I was pregnant. Like two weeks later, maybe three I lost time a lot back then, got cramps for the first time in my life and had some spotting. Called the doctor, they sugested going to the ER, by the time I'm seen full on bleeding. Sure enough the pregnacy is a no go. I just want to say my "meh" attidude about it is my way of dealing with it. I was in an abusive relationship at the time, I never got the chance to tell him before the pregnacy ended, and honestly a child would have been the worse thing to happen in that situation. Also I had the BEST doctor at the ER, he was very kind and took care to explain that there was nothing I could do or did do. Honestly with the way my periods are I would have mever known had I not had my birth control appointment that month. I'm late and flat out miss periods ALL the time. The cramping was the only diffence between losing that pregnacy and a period that I would have noticed had I not taken that required pregnacy test. I was very sad when it first happened but I was sad a lot in that time. The fact that I was pretty educated in the pregnacy departmemt helped a lot. I knew what chemical pregnacies were, and I knew that it most likely meant that for whatever reason the pregnacy just wasn't viable. You probably noticed I don't use the word "baby" here for this. At this time in my life my head was not well. Honestly durring those couple of weeks I knew I was pregnant I often forgot I was. I never got to the point of thinking of my pregnacy as a "baby" growing inside me. So my mind did the only sane thing it ever did durring that time in my life, it never registrated that pregnacy as a baby, so I never felt like I lost a child. It helped me move on and not spirl even fasted into the depression that had been taking over me. Maybe losing that pregnacy was some sort of devine intervention. I will never know. I'm feeling a lot of things talking about it. I literally never spoke or wrote about it passed the ER visit. Not even in my jornals, or with a therapist. No one knew. He never knew, my family and friends never knew, I never even told the doctor when I was pregnant with my daughter and they asked. Honestly I didn't even view it as hiding it or lying about it. I forget it happened all the time. Strange. Anyway..... Beyond that point back to Facebook fucking off....

I have the worse baby fever and basically always have. I'm one of those girls that would have been thrilled to get knocked up at fifteen, but I was also smart enough to know better and too emotionally wrecked to get laid to begin with.

Also I'm terrifide of being pregnant. Losing a child is my worse fear. I've had noghtmares about miscarriages simce I got my first period. Always made all those "greatest fear" questions from teachers and stuff real dark real quick. Brad doesn't like hieghts, Cindy hates spiders, Jamie has nightmares about miscarriage. (Also if I'm being too frank or discriptive at all durring this I'm sorry if I have hurt anyone with it. I'm trying my best to not get detailed and have rewritten a lot of this to edit out my normal harshness. I cope with stuff in a strange way, and I want to put my story out there but not in a way that might hurt someone who has ever delt with any of this.)

Basically every woman in my family on both sides has had issues of some kind. Fertility issues, miscariages, infant loss, premature birth.... All of it. Some of them everything on the list, most of them at least one pregnacy loss.

Many of us have sufferd postpartum depression. Myself included. This is where my biggest fear in getting pregant again comes from.

I was sick, and I mean SICK, throughout my entire pregnacy. I couldn't hold water down half the time, medications were given that were no help, I had so many bladder infections from being dehydrated. I also was just plan sick. Constantly with a head cold or upper respiratory infection. Then at about thirty weeks the Braxton Hicks set in. OH MY GOD. I spent HOURS hook up to that stupid monitoring belt because they were just SO sure I was going into labor. So I was pretty down before she got here, and depression has been a part of my life since I was a child. The odds were against me.

Sure enough after she was born I nose dived, further into my depression than I have ever gone before. Now don't get me wrong, I loved and still love my daughter. I took VERY good care of her. Constantly paranoia that someone is going to take your child from you does that. I spent hours a day researching to make sure I was doing everything right and that ahe had the safest baby things on the market. We were at the pediatrician's office with even the tinest sign something was wrong, this actually paid off a time or two so I'm not mad. However.... I did NOTHING for myself. I would go days without eating properly. Then the breast milk dried up (wonder why?) and I found myself crying and in hystarics in the formula aisle because I had failedy daughter by giving her "fake" milk. Every knock at the door sent me into sheer panics, and after a year of this I began to talk openly about killing myself so that her father could find her a "better" mommy.

Natrually this lead to what was propably the best and worse thing ever. A hospital stay. FUCK that hospital, sorry "behavioral clinic" I was so doped up I couldn't make sentances.y one and ONLY therapy one on one was my out paitent "safety plan" where they give you a list about removing knives and rooe from your house. I CAN NOT make this shit up. After my ONLY visit with a doctor at check in where I was misdiagnosed (badly I might add) and doped up the doctor put me on the standard lock down for suicide, which meant I couldn't leave our little ward/wing/area thing. This meant I couldn't go for group therapy, go to the cafitria, get visitors, or go for daily outside exercise time. So I ate in front of the nurses in the tv area with the dude they always stripped his clothes off and the guy they could barely feed himself. I watched a lot of TV, and colored. The order os normally for twenty four hours to make sure you're stable. The doctor forgot about me. She never lifted the order. I was too doped up to notice. A very nice guy who was in with me noticed. He and the group lady and a wonderful nurse brought it up to the paitent aviocate. After five days I was finally off lock down. I was there for ten. A saving grace was the group lady. After two days she took me to group anyway, and often let us have it in the court yard since we weren't getting are rightful outside time. My favorite nurse let me have visitation. Those two things saved me in those first five days. I felt so guilty when I left. So many people I had come to know who had been so kind to me were stuck there, for lord knows how long.

I found a silver lining though. I ended up with a great therapist after that. My psychiatrists were shit and to this day I still don't think I have ever been properly diagnosed or medicated, but my therapist was great. I saw her the other day and ahe remembered me and took tweenty minutes out of her day to ask how I've been and remembered things about my life. I haven't been able to see her in almost two years.

So now I sit and woder. What if it happens again? What if this time it's worse? What will that do to my daughter? How do I handle that, a newborn, and a small child?

So anyway the whole point of this was SUPPOSED to be....

Fuck you Facebook guessing thing. Yeah I want more kids, but I might not get to have them, and fuck you for reminding me about all of the things I hold guilt for. So rant done. It wasn't meant to be this long but I guess I needed to ramble.

#rant #story time #miscarriage #infant loss #child loss #mental illness #hospital #depression #suicide #self harm #facebook #fuck facebook #cussing #strong language #getting things off my chest #i hoped i tagged enough to spare anyone who might find this #yelling at the void #postpartum depression #postpartum #me #about me #some of my story #sick mommy #long road to healthy #pregnacy #mental health care #fun fact the sheriffs office in my county have a contract with this health facility so its your only choice if someone calls crisis on you #takes a court order to go to state #even if you report yourself this is the only choice in the area