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fortheloveofwonderland · 8 months

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Darkness Declares Glory | Chapter 16 | S.R

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Chapter Summary - Spencer has to make a decision about his sobriety. You find unique ways to help him deal with his cravings.

A/N - some mentions of 3.16 Elephants Memory

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | eventual happy ending.

Warnings - mentions of NA meetings, swearing, drugs, thoughts of self-harm, masturbation (male) and brief mentions of fem masturbation, brief mention of penetrative sex, oral (male receiving), fingering, getting caught.

WC - 5.7k

Chapter 16 - The Needle and the Damage Done

When he opened his eyes he was in a nondescript hall, sitting in a hard plastic chair. Usually all the other chairs surrounding him would be full of people, listening to a speaker at the podium.

It had been a long time since Spencer found himself here. Beltway Clean Cops. Only this time he appeared to be alone. But he wasn’t. A figure appeared at the podium, and before their face came into view he knew who it was.

“Hi everyone. My name is John and I’m an addict.” The man Spencer hadn’t seen in some ten years spoke to a crowd of one.

John had been there when Spencer had his last crisis of faith, it wasn’t a surprise he was here now. He’d helped Spencer through his first few meetings at Beltway and was probably one of the reasons he’d stayed sober as long as he had. John didn’t say another word, he simply stared at Spencer, making Spencer feel uncomfortable.

Spencer averted his gaze and looked down. His sleeve was still rolled up and the tie still in place. In his right hand he held the needle full of dilaudid.

“Do you really want to give up your sobriety so easily, Reid?”

Spencer looked back up and John was now right in front of him, giving him a disapproving look.

“I’ve only been sober for five weeks. It’s not like it’s the end of the world.” Spencer shrugged.

“But how long will it take you to get sober again? Six months? A year? Two? Maybe you’ll never get sober again.” John folded his arms across his chest.

“Maybe I wasn’t meant to be sober.” He toyed with the needle.

“If you’d really wanted to take it, you would have done it by now.” John slid into the seat next to him.

“Or maybe I’m just waiting for the best time.” Spencer countered.

“There’s never a best time to take drugs. You know that. You’re not thinking like an addict anymore Spencer. You’re speaking like a man who values his sobriety.” John’s voice was calm and levelled exactly how Spencer remembered it.

“I haven’t seen you in over ten years. There is no possible way you can know that.” Spencer rolled his eyes.

“That might be, but I know addicts. Trust me when I say you don’t want to take them. You could have easily taken them at the prison but you didn’t and then again when you got back to the institute. But you hesitated. If you really wanted to get high, you would have done it by now.” John smiled meekly at him.

“I don’t want to let her win.” He confessed, running his finger over his pulsing vein.

“Then don’t.” John told him like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“I don’t want to take them. But I’m sure I will. I’m trying to put it off but I don’t know how long I can do that for.” He started gnawing on his lip.

“How long were you sober before you relapse?”

Spencer looked up at John with a frown.

“What? I don’t see why that-“

“How long?” He cut Spencer off.

Spencer looked back at the needle with a sigh.

“Ten years.” He grinded his teeth. “Ten years, five months and eight days.”

“And how many attempts did you make to stay sober before that?”

“At least five.”

“Exactly.” John chuckled lightly. “Healing from an addiction isn’t linear Spencer. Sometimes we take a step forward to take two back. Hell, sometimes it’s two forward and five back.”

Spencer frowned deeply, remembering George saying the exact same thing to him. He guessed it made sense, George’s words had stuck with him and were seeping over to his unconscious.

“So you’re saying it’s not the end of the world if I relapse?” Spencer smiled wryly at him.

“That's not what I’m saying and you know it.” John rolled his eyes. “But if you did relapse, then you just get sober again. But it will be harder every time you try. The slope gets more and more slippery every time. There will be more obstacles standing in your way after every relapse. And eventually…eventually the road to recovery will be too difficult and you’ll give up trying.”

“Maybe this is just who I am. Maybe I’m destined to be an addict.” Spencer huffed like a small child, making John laugh.

“You don’t believe that.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I kind of do.” John chuckled. “I’m your subconscious.”

Spencer groaned a little, still running his fingers over his vein while the needle sat in his lap. He saw John fishing around his pocket for a second before he procured something in his hand.

“Here take this.” He held his hand out to offer Spencer the small gold coin. “That's my one year medallion, took me six years to get it. For the past thirteen years I’ve never left home without it. Because I know if I forget that, I’ll lose my gun, my credentials, my home. Everything. Hold onto it.”

Spencer took it from his open palm, remembering ten years ago when John had given him the chip and said the exact same thing. At this point it would have been well over twenty years but he’d carried it but apparently his subconscious wasn’t up to that kind of math.

“I only have five weeks.” Spencer rolled the coin around in his hand.

“I know.” John pushed himself up from his chair.

“It’s your most prized possession.” Spencer repeated the way he had all those years ago.

“It is.” John smiled.

“You’re just giving it to me?” Spencer knew exactly what John would say next.

“No. In a couple of months when you get your year, give it back to me.” He turned and started walking away.

Spencer cupped the coin in his hand. He had given that coin back to John. He’d been ten months sober when he’d given it to him and two months later he’d proudly handed the chip back to John when he received his own. Where was that chip now? He could really use that chip as a reminder to stay sober.

“Thanks.” Spencer finally looked up from his hand but when he did, John was nowhere to be seen.

***

Spencer woke in a fit, sweating and panting and gasping for air as though he’d been underwater. The tie was still snug around his bicep and the needle full of dilaudid was next to him on the bed.

He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t cut out for being sober. So what if it meant Cat won? Who fucking cares? Surely if he was high again that would make him a winner.

The hesitation of last night was all but gone and

silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he sat up a little in the bed. He grabbed the needle, pressed it against the vein at the crook of his arm. Everything would be ok once he was high. Nothing else would matter anymore. Fuck sobriety. Fuck rehabilitation. Fuck everything and everyone.

As he was about to pierce his skin with the needle, the chess set on his desk caught his eye. He narrowed his eyes on it, looking at it clearly for the first time in weeks.

Gideon had bestowed that particular set on him as a birthday gift years and years ago. It was one that had belonged to Gideon’s father, one he’d had custom made. The chess board had small drawers underneath to house all the pieces in transport so nothing got lost. It was one of Spencer’s most prized possessions. Second only to his one year chip.

He let the needle fall to the bed and quickly jumped to his feet. He cautiously moved towards his desk, anticipation and fear flooding over him. If it was there it was a sign not to go through with this. If by some stroke of luck it was still there then it meant he wasn’t supposed to relapse.

But the odds of it not being there were high. He’d thrown that chess set around his apartment and it had probably rolled out somewhere and was lost under his couch or something.

He ran his fingers cautiously over the little hidden drawer, hand shaking as he did so. He took a deep breath and pulled open the drawer just to be met with the wooden insides. He closed his eyes as tears continued to fall and shook his head.

Of course it’s not there. It’s long gone. That’s your sign, Reid. That’s your sign to get high.

Before he gave up and went back to his needle, he let his fingers wander inside the drawer. He ran his fingertips over the smooth wood until he reached the back corner. And his fingers brushed against cool metal.

His heart leapt into his throat as he gripped it and withdrew it from the drawer. His tears started falling even heavier as he looked down at his open palm and the item now laying it.

His one year sober chip.

He clutched it tightly in his hand as he started to sob. He fell back to the bed and held the chip close to his heart.

You can do this. You can get there again. You did it once, you can do it again.

Don’t let her win.

He barely had a chance to remove his tourniquet and hide the needle and vial before he heard the nurse's trolley scattering down the corridor outside his room.

He put the paraphernalia in one pocket and his chip in the other, drying his tears on his sleeves the best he could before the door opened. If the nurse noticed he’d been crying, she didn’t say anything as she handed him his medication and waited for him to take it.

At her instance he showered but he bypassed breakfast, having more important things to take care of. He knocked on the door, not even sure if she’d be there but after a few seconds her voice carried through the door.

“Come in.”

Spencer took a deep breath before gripping the handle and pushing the door open. She looked up as he entered, a soft, yet confused smile on her face.

“Spencer,” Maggie put down the file she was reading and came out from behind her desk. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you until this afternoon.”

“This was kind of an emergency.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, running over fingers over the vial and coin respectively.

“Things didn’t go well yesterday?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Not exactly.” He chewed his lip to try and stop from crying.

He left the chip in his left pocket but pulled out the items inhabiting the right. He held the vial and still full needle in his palm for her to see. He saw the moment the air left Maggie lungs and he hadn’t realised until that moment how much she genuinely cared.

“Spencer,” she inhaled deeply as she said his name.

“I didn’t take it.” He was quick to say. “I wanted to. I almost did. But I didn’t.”

He cautiously stepped closer to her and she instinctively held her hand out and Spencer placed the vial and needle in her palm.

“That shows some excellent growth, Spencer.” She took the items and set them down on her desk to destroy later.

She motioned Spencer to the couch before she took a seat opposite him.

“I’m proud of you, you know?” She folded her hands in her lap, for the first time not taking notes.

“It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” His hands were shaking as he raked them through his hair.

“I can imagine.” She spoke softly, as though she was speaking to a child. “Can you explain to me why you didn’t take it?”

“Why does that matter?” He frowned a little.

“Because the next time you’re craving, you’re going to remind yourself of why you didn’t relapse. I need you to know why you made that decision.”

He sniffed loudly, reaching into his sweater sleeve and toying with your bracelet.

“I guess I’m not thinking like an addict anymore. I’m thinking like a man who values his sobriety.” He repeated the words John had spoken to him in his dream. “And I found this.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his chip. He rolled it around in his fingers while Maggie watched.

“How long?” She nodded at the chip.

“A year. I’ve had it for over ten years. I used to carry it with me everywhere I went but I guess over the years I thought I didn’t need to anymore. After I was sober for long enough I assumed the battle was over. It’s never really over.” He wrapped his fingers around it and held it tightly in his palm.

“That’s very true. It becomes manageable in the sense you don’t think about using every day or every week or even every year. But you know it never goes away.” She replied.

“I came so close to relapsing. I wanted to relapse. I hate being sober.” His first tear betrayed him and rolled down his cheek. “At least right now I do. But I know I won’t forever. I know one day I’m going to wake up and be grateful for getting clean. And I want to get to that point no matter how hard it is. I want to be happy being sober again.”

Maggie smiled at him as a few more tears escaped his eyes.

“I really am very proud of you, Spencer. I don’t know if that means anything to you or helps anyway, but I am.”

“It means a lot.” He nodded, gnawing on his lip, still clutching his coin tightly. “I need all the impetus I can get.”

They sat in silence after that. Maggie knew Spencer just needed a moment of reflection before he faced the rest of his day and she was happy to give it to him. After nearly twenty minutes of sitting in silence, he heaved a sigh and slotted his chip back in his pocket.

“Thanks for this. I know you must be busy.” He pushed himself up from the couch.

“Anytime.” Maggie stood as well. “I’ll see you after lunch.”

“Bye.” He offered her a wave, keeping his other hand in his pocket on the chip as he left her office.

He went about his day in a daze for the most part. It was reminiscent of his first week here when he was still combating the haziness in his brain from his heavy drug use.

He didn’t speak much to anyone aside from Maggie in his afternoon therapy session. He knew what he had to do and he was trying to build himself up to it all day.

He refused to let Cat go to her grave thinking he’d taken the drugs. He had to speak to her one last time before she was put to death.

After dinner he hung around by the bank of phones building up the nerve to make the call. It was the last time he’d ever have to speak to her. One last call and it really would all be over.

After a few minutes of pacing back and forth he grabbed up the receiver and dialled the number for Mount Pleasant he’d memorised a long time ago. He knew exactly what he needed to say to get to speak to her.

“Mount Pleasant Correctional Facility. Governor Clements speaking.” The official voice carried down the line.

Spencer took a few deep breaths hoping this wouldn’t get back to anyone on his old team.

“Good evening. This is SSA Luke Alvez with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I wondered if it would be possible to speak with Catherine Adam’s. We had a few final questions to ask her before her execution and no free manpower to make the trip again.” He held his breath.

“Weren’t you just here yesterday?” Clements had a frown to his voice.

“Yes, that's correct. But I promise it will only take a moment.”

“Currently Ms Adam’s is at dinner. I can arrange for us to call you back later this evening? The inmates usually get phone time around eight.” Clements informed him.

“Uh…sure.” Spencer chewed on his lip.

He’d built himself up to making this call and didn’t want to wait any longer but he guessed he didn’t have a choice. He reeled off the phone number that was written on all the phones in the corridor and hoped Clements didn’t give much thought to the fact it wasn’t a cell phone number.

“Thank you SSA Alvez. I hope she cooperates with you.” Clements spoke after jotting down the number.

“Me too. Thank you for your time Governor.” Spencer hung up the phone before he said anything to incriminate himself.

If he’d been honest about who he was it was unlikely he would get the chance to talk to her. And he needed her to know she hadn’t won. He checked the clock on the wall, it was a little after six thirty. He just had to occupy himself for an hour and a half.

Easier said than done.

He went back to his room and sat on his bed staring at the wall. Time was going to pass painfully slowly if this was all he planned on doing. He twisted the chip around in his hand hoping it would stem the cravings that were still coursing through his veins.

He wished he’d taken the drugs. He really wished he’d taken the drugs. He felt itchy all over and started scratching at his skin with his free hand but his nails still weren’t quite long enough to do any damage.

He wanted to burrow into his skin, scratch off chunks of flesh and watch himself bleed in the hopes of stopping his urges.

He closed his eyes and squeezed the chip tightly in his palm. He couldn’t sit here for the rest of the night, he’d surely do something stupid. He could smash his head against the corner of the desk until he caused intracranial bleeding.

He could use his tie like a noose, tie around his neck and to the light on the ceiling and hang himself.

He could smother himself with his pillow. He could go to the pool and drown himself or even the fountain in the courtyard.

He could snap every one of his fingers until they were all broken so he couldn’t use again even if he wanted to.

If he got creative enough he could probably kill himself in any number of ways. But if he did that, Cat really did win. Killing himself was worse than if he’d taken the drugs she’d given him.

He was not letting her have the satisfaction of his death on her hands. He didn’t believe in the afterlife, but knowing his luck he’d end up in hell right next to her for all of eternity. But what was he supposed to do? How did normal people cope with their emotions?

His eyes snapped open suddenly and he felt his chest tighten. He thought back to a session with Maggie a little while ago and her suggested coping mechanism.

Masturbation. Masturbation as a form of recovery.

As soon as he started thinking about masturbation, he started naturally thinking about you. And when he thought about you, his dick almost immediately started to harden.

He chewed on his lip and glanced at the closed door. He didn’t have any other obligations today, no one should be looking for him. He should be able to relieve himself without being disturbed.

He was already semi-erect as he laid back against the pillows, placing his chip on the nightstand before covering himself with the bedsheet. He screwed his eyes tightly shut, trying to block out all the external stimuli so he could pretend he was in the privacy of his own apartment.

He took his brain back to his hazy memories of the night in the alleyway. You had him pressed up against the wall, he could feel the cool brick through his shirt if he thought hard enough. He remembered the way the air caressed his erection when you freed it from his pants.

He worked his hand under the sheet and unbuttoned his slacks, rolling them down enough to free his now fully hard cock. He wrapped his hand around the base and his toes curled as he imagined your small, delicate hand stroking him instead of his own.

As he started his movements, behind his closed lids he found himself on his back in a large plush bed that wasn’t his own. You were on top of him, both of you were naked and you bowed your head to kiss him. His hard cock nestled between your legs and glided through your slickness as you kissed him deeply.

He stroked up and down his length, wishing he was between your legs right now but this would have to do. He heard your voice in his ears as you sat back and rolled a condom over his length.

“Are you going to show me a good time?”

“Trust me when I say you don’t know a good time until you’ve been with me.”

He bit his lip to stifle a moan as he increased his speed, imagining you lowering yourself down on him. He could feel your tight pussy stretching to accommodate him as slowly filled you up inch by inch.

“Fuck, you’re big.”

He could hear your soft giggle, he could imagine so clearly the way it felt to be sheathed inside of you while you did it. He could feel your hands on his chest, steadying yourself and your gold and purple bracelet was adorned around your wrist.

His head started leaking precome on his hand as he pictured the way it felt when he bottomed out inside of you, your walls fluttering around him.

“Fuck,” he whined, swiping his thumb through his precome and using it as lubrication.

He saw your tits bouncing above him as you started riding him, feel the way his cock slammed against your cervix with each thrust.

His toes curled and he screwed the bedsheet up with his free hand. His breathing became heightened and he desperately tried to keep his moans of pleasure quiet.

“God fucking damn you’re so tight.”

He could hear his own panted words, see himself reaching up to fondle your nipples. He heard the moan that erupted from your lungs and felt how you clenched around him.

He was so close to his orgasm already. He slowed his strokes a little, wanting to draw it out as much as possible.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna fucking come!”

Your scream turned into a moan and he envisioned the way your whole body trembled on top of him when your orgasm took route.

“Fucking Christ.” Spencer panted and although he wasn’t ready to let his orgasm consume him, his other hand slipped beneath the sheet.

He massaged his balls between his fingers while he continued pumping his shaft, chest heaving with his breaths. He wasn’t sure what forced his eyes to open but when they did he wasn’t alone.

For a moment he thought he was still imagining you and the night he thought he’d spent with you. But it became clear very quickly that he was in his bed at the institute.

“Fuck!” He yelped, pulling his hands out from under the sheet and holding them up in defeat. “Shit. Fuck. I wasn’t…I mean I was but I uh…”

His cheeks burned with embarrassment but you simply smiled at him. You moved closer to the bed and Spencer felt his chest constricting more the closer you got.

“Craving huh?” You smirked as you hopped up onto the bed.

Spencer tried to shuffle up the pillows to create distance between you.

“Y-yeah.” He nodded, painfully aware he was still hard and hanging out of his slacks with only the thin sheet covering him.

“Me too.” You shuffled closer and Spencer suddenly couldn’t breathe. “I masturbated too but it didn’t help much.”

“Fuck Y/N.” He whined, his cock twitching. “Don’t say things like that.”

You giggled and he swore he could feel it the way he was sure he could feel it when you were wrapped around his cock. If in fact that memory was real. He didn’t exactly trust his memories these days.

“It could be beneficial to both of us if we…combine our resources, you know?” You shuffled even closer and his cock throbbed when you placed your hands on his thighs.

“W-what are you s-suggesting?” He swallowed.

“I’m pretty certain if I had something else to focus on it would take my mind off my cravings.” Your voice was low and breathy.

“L-like what?”

You smirked wildly at him, pupils blown out. You quickly moved the sheet aside, revealing his erection and Spencer whimpered pathetically as he was exposed. Your eyes got darker and you moved even closer, between his legs, and gripping his thighs.

“Choking on a cock should do it.” You chuckled at the way your words made Spencer whine and bowed your head a little closer to his crotch. “Do you want me to stop?”

“N-no.” He shook his head, more precome leaking from his head and you hadn’t even touched him.

“You sure?”

“V-very fucking sure. I have n-never been more sure about anything in my l-life.” His stuttering showed his nerves but his steady gaze told you he was sure.

You smirked up at him before closing the gap between your face and his crotch and wrapped your lips around his head. Spencer moaned louder than was appropriate for the setting and quickly brought his hand to his mouth and bit down on his knuckles. His other hand found your hair as you started slowly descending his shaft, taking him in your mouth inch by inch.

Spencer couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt another person's touch, let alone their mouth in such a way. And the fact that it was you made it even more incredible. You took him entirely in your mouth and didn’t make a sound as he hit the back of your throat. You looked up at him through your lashes as his fingers nestled in your hair.

“You look like a fucking work of art right now.” He panted and felt you smile around him as you started moving back up.

Soon you were moving faster, bobbing up and down on his cock with ferocity. He’d been close before you started but he really didn’t want this to be over so soon. This was all too similar to a dream he’d had of you after your night at the pool. But he knew with resounding clarity that this was real. The way you were making him feel was better than even his wildest dreams.

You could taste his precome on your tongue so you started playing with his balls in your hand. He moaned around his knuckles, bucking his hips up into your mouth and slamming into the back of your throat.

“Fuck, I’m close. God I wish I wasn’t but I haven’t been sucked off like this in so long.” He whined and he felt you laugh around him.

When you gave his balls a tight squeeze at the same time you ran your tongue over his head, he knew it was over for him. He tugged on your hair a little as his stomach tightened.

“I’m gonna come, gonna come!” He tried to pull you off him but you stood your ground, taking him all the way inside your mouth once more just as he came.

His come hit the back of your throat in hot streams as he wriggled beneath you and a string of slurs left his lips. You swallowed every tiny drop of his orgasm and kept him inside your mouth until you were sure he was spent.

His hand fell from your hair as he whined and rocked in the bed. You smiled to yourself as you came off of him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Spencer looked up at you with black eyes and a dopey smirk on his lips.

Before you could say anything he sat up a little and gripped you by the back of the neck. He pulled you down next to him in the bed and smashed his lips against yours. You gasped as his tongue plunged into your mouth and he moaned at the way he tasted on your tongue. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he held your face delicately in his large hands. You grinded against him, moaning at the slight friction it caused but needing more.

As if sensing this, one of Spencer’s hands left your face and grazed down your side. He expertly undid the button of your jeans and within seconds his hand was slipping inside them and your panties. He hissed against your lips at how wet you were.

He pressed his thumb against your clit and started to rub it while his index and middle fingers were soon pushing inside of you. You moaned into his mouth, letting him absorb your sounds. His long, nimble fingers dove in and out of you while he never let up his work on your clit.

He was growing hard again, you could feel it against your thigh. Instinctively you took hold of his shaft and started to stroke him, the kiss turning slightly sloppy.

Your pants echoed around the room as well as the sound of Spencer’s fingers as they moved inside your wet cunt. You were rocking against him, trying to tell him you needed more. You felt him smile against your lips before he pulled them away and looked at you with lust filled eyes.

“Use your words, angel.” He mumbled, scissoring his fingers inside of you and making you whine.

“F-fuck,” you felt tears pricking your eyes.

“Not so brazen now are we?” He smirked. “You want me to fuck you, sweetheart? Do you want me to ruin you?”

“P-please!” You gasped as he pressed hard against your clit.

Your strokes on his dick were becoming lazy as he was drawing you close to your edge. Spencer chuckled, suddenly withdrawing his fingers from inside your pants and making you whine loudly.

“Don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet.” He kissed you again and rolled you so you were on top of him.

He helped you manoeuvre out of your jeans and tossed them aside. He grinded against you, the rough fabric of your lace panties causing him to hiss. He moved them aside and nestled his cock between your legs but didn’t enter you.

He relished in the feeling of just running his cock between your legs a few times whilst holding tightly to your hips in an attempt to keep you upright. Tears had snuck out of your eyes and were rolling softly down your cheeks.

“Please?” You begged pathetically, moving back and forth on him.

Spencer smiled to himself. Oh how the tables had turned. He gripped your neck again and pulled you down for another kiss before taking hold of your hips again. He lifted you by your waist so he could line himself up while he hungrily explored your mouth.

Just as he was about to push inside of you, the sound of someone clearing their throat caused you both to spring apart. You were quick to cover both you and Spencer with the discarded sheet and you buried your head into the pillow in embarrassment. Spencer’s cheeks turned bright red as he pulled the sheet up to his chin as if it would help the situation.

“Uh…George? What are you doing here?” Spencer chewed on his lip.

You curled into his side, as if trying to disappear altogether.

“I was just leaving when a phone call came in through one of the patient phones. SSA Luke Alvez.” He cocked his eyebrow at Spencer.

“How did you know that’s for me?” Spencer swallowed, trying to tuck himself away under the sheet.

“Because when I told your collect caller from Mount Pleasant Correctional Facility that she had the wrong number and that she’d gotten through to the Psychiatric Institute of Washington she laughed before telling me she was looking for you.” He folded his arms across his chest, looking throughly unamused.

“Right.” Spencer buttoned his pants but you still clung to him. “Tell her I’ll be right there.”

“I’m not your secretary.” He scoffed. “And if I catch the two of you like this again, I will have to report you.”

Spencer frowned at George’s frostiness. He’d never acted like this towards Spencer before. But before Spencer could comment on it, George was turning on his heels and walking away. When you heard the door close, you looked up at Spencer, cheeks still red with embarrassment.

“You have to go?” You whispered, chewing on your lip.

“I just need to put an end to something. I won’t be long if you want to stay a while?” He smiled softly at you and you nodded against the pillow.

He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before slipping out of the bed. He grabbed his chip and left the room, twirling it over in his hand as he walked, the doomed feeling setting in.

He felt his hands start to shake as he neared the phones. He couldn’t let himself get sucked back in. He had to end this, shut it down before she got her claws in again. Taking a deep breath he picked up the phone and put it to his ear.

“Hello.” He swallowed.

“Spencie! Or should I say SSA Luke Alvez?” Cat chuckled darkly. “Didn’t get enough of me yesterday? How did you enjoy your gift?”

He took another deep breath to ensure his voice was steady when he spoke. He needed this to be clear. He had to end this now.

“It’s over Cat.” He spoke sternly. “I didn’t take the drugs. I win.”

Before she could respond he yanked the phone away from his ear. And as he hung it back in its cradle, he swore he heard Cat Adam’s screaming down the line.

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hippievampires · 2 years

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i guess i’m back again. I started college and left my boyfriend behind in colorado with all my friends. long distance sucks. but i think the thing that’s really the worst about it is that my perception of personal permanence sucks and while i don’t think i’m going to forget he exists or anything i have noticed that a lot of small things that i wouldn’t have really given a second thought in person are just sticking in my brain for some reason. I guess the concerts/club example isn’t the best in this situation because lowkey i did cry about that for a little while. part of me just wants to be able to do fun teenager things with him but i would never push him into a situation he would be uncomfortable in. he gets overstimulated so easily and i feel like i need excessive amounts of a specific type of stimulation in order to get my brain to shut the fuck up. idk today he was telling me about how he’s not like a huge fan of spicy food, like he’ll eat it and enjoy it but he doesn’t exactly seek out the sensation of eating spicy foods. but i am the exact opposite. i can eat an entire bag of fucking takis in one night and then go get more the next day because i just crave the burning sensation. i go to the club and get drunk because it lets me forget about everything else and nothing else i’ve done really seems to do the same thing (except maybe cutting but like... i relapsed after 12 weeks yesterday so...) but sometimes i just need to be able to do that kind of stuff and he doesn’t want to do it with me. the issue is that i can NOT go to a concert or the club by myself. as of yesterday i weigh like 91 pounds and i am 5′3″. Any man who wanted to could easily overpower me and hurt me. the problem is also that i have no self preservation skills so if i need to get drunk and go to the club or a concert alone i will do it despite the fairly large risks. usually i can get my friends to come with me, but i literally almost got kidnapped in downtown denver off colfax while waiting for my friends to meet me at a concert this summer and lowkey didn’t even care. it’s just hard when we’re so similar but then it feels like we’re complete fucking opposites. i can’t just sit home and watch tv at a low volume all the time and i can’t drive if the music isn’t loud enough because then my thoughts start to make their presence known. and while my meds help quite a bit, i am fucking traumatized so they can’t cure me or get rid of the things i’m thinking and i need that level of noise so that i can focus on driving the car rather than all the terrible thoughts i’m having and all the horrific images my brain is showing me pretty constantly. i love my boyfriend more than anything. he is the best relationship i’ve ever had, he’s my best friend, my support, my love but fuck sometimes i wish we could be like regular 19 year olds. and i can’t tell if it’s just who he is or if part of it is the fact that his parents clearly babied him and his brother. but honestly i’m pretty sure it has a lot to do with the way he was raised because i can definitely tell that his mom was a weird granola helicopter mom who probably didn’t let him eat sugar until he was like 7. i love him. i just need to figure out how to consolidate this view i have of him and this idea i have of like the “perfect” college relationship but they aren’t really compatible unfortunately. and obviously i can’t change him but changing the way i think is fucking impossible. I would know lol i’ve been trying to do it for years and it still hasn’t worked. anyways... i have to go to class i guess

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halinski · 3 years

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I have a lot of feelings about Buck, like don't even ask, I will never be able to put it into words or anything other than abstract feelings in this world

I just know this, Eddie loves Buck and Buck is ace and Taylor is a relapse ✌️

"You've been shutting me out."

It's ironic, Eddie thinks, that these exact words come now 20 minutes after the black out, which felt like maybe the world had shut down. They were stuck mid rescue in an elevator and well, the world had been such a whirlwind since he'd been shot, and this emergency and that- but now it had stopped. And they'd succumbed to their fate, sat down on the dingy elevator floor, bathed in a red back up light, the building silent around them. Out there, somewhere, a siren rang, and Buck sighed.

It was deep and heavy, like he was Atlas lifting the world off his shoulders for a break, something like relief, like that first deep shuddering breath when your lungs finally recovered from a run. It was way too heavy for a young man, barely thirty, who was finding himself. Eddie knew that Buck had been fighting lately. Mostly himself, but also his parents and past, and pushing past the boundaries of life that had been set around him. Then there was the shooting and Buck had truly been nerve-wrecked, Eddie was far from blind, and hell, he'd been a little preoccupied with figuring himself out, and recovering, letting go and paving the way for a future with no regrets- but he'd seen Buck. It was harder to look away at this point.

But he had, because the world had been spinning and Buck had been putting enough pressure on himself, becoming an uncle, and taking care of Chris with full abandon, and therapy and... Taylor. Eddie hadn't wanted to push too hard.

Now that they were here though, just the two of them...

Buck's looking at him, that irritated lost puppy stare, vulnerable and defiant all at once, like Eddie was the first to venture into certain spaces that made up Evan Buckley. It was a deliberant choice, at this point. Back in the beginning, he'd just reached out a hand and had been surprised to find an anchor to the world he'd never knew existed, and now he ventured further deliberately.

It hadn't been a question, and even so Buck looked ready to fight him, a last defensive wall, before he caved and those murky blue eyes dropped away. Full submission.

Eddie waited, opening up the room and hoping for his partner in crime and rescue to fill it and yet... Buck only shrugged weakly.

"Things have been..." He started half-heartedly, losing motivation half-way through and concluding with a disheartened, "busy." Eddie watched him busy himself with the callouses on his palm, picking and rubbing, as if he could erase the last few weeks of running himself ragged.

There had definitely been a lot less mentions of calls to Dr. Copeland lately, a lot of unfocused Buck, who was making himself smaller, less noticeable and quieter. Not that he was actually quiet, Eddie knew Buck could fill the building with vibrance for the benefit of everyone around within the blink of an eye. But his true emotions dwindled, where they'd slipped out before in shadows of an action, or an obvious plea hidden in drowning eyes - now he was more... Calculated.

And even now, Buck lifted his head again under Eddie's scrutiny in square-jawed surrender as if that was that to this conversation, there was nothing more to be done.

Eddie was not convinced. They'd gotten way too far, the two of them, to slip back down to the trenches in this mud slide. Eddie had found solid footing in his own world, and he was unafraid right here, under private eyes with the one person in the world he trusted most. Solid enough that he could stare right back at the nervous energy Buck was holding back and dare it.

What are you so afraid?

A question he had asked himself many sleepless nights, especially after Carla's little "follow your heart" speech, after he'd laid in bed, heart racing, hearing shots and all he wanted had been to-

All he'd wanted was safety, and he could've kept lying to himself, could've deliriously shouted at the universe that he didn't know where he could ever feel safe again, and yet his own body and heart had long gone betrayed him that day in the hospital just before he'd walked out, explicitly stating that he had signed his heart off to Buck a year ago. He couldn't even call it betrayal, because there wasn't a single cell in his body that doubted his decision, that doubted Buck. He just doubted... Himself.

And maybe that he'd be enough for Buck right now, still. He was so far from his best self, and yet better and more stable than he'd ever been. So he sat and he stared back, arms resting easily in his lap, and challenged.

"Why do you keep going back to her?"

Goddammit, Eddie, way to sound like the most jealous jerk in the world.

Buck winced, eyebrows seeming to ask 'really?' and 'what do you mean?' all at the same time and then shrugging again.

"Taylor?" He asked simply, biding time probably.

"Yeah," Eddie assured, the hum of the emergency light their only company as he waited for Buck to reply.

"She's the only one who really wants me," he said, but the tone of his voice wasn't right. Unconvinced. The admission to easily offered to ring true.

Eddie can't stop the snort of disbelief from escaping him. From all that he's heard about the rust-haired reporter... He couldn't imagine what Buck saw in her. He'd seen the effect of her words on him, saw Buck fall in line behind her with a bowed head, saw how the hurt now flared in Buck's face at his open faced challenge to that statement.

A part of Eddie wanted to grab Buck by the face and scream at him, can't you see?!

You're wanted whole-heartedly by me.

But Buck wasn't his to love yet, not really.

"Look, I don't know what you see on the outside but... She wants me. She chose me and I- what more could I ask for, you know? I'm... I'm working on it. On myself. And for now- this is it," Buck said, rattling it down like he was trying to work it into a checklist.

Eddie just wanted to know what 'it' was supposed to mean. But he nodded, because in a way it did make sense. The same way Ana had made sense, even though she absolutely didn't and he was glad that was over and he could laugh over that foolish affair now.

People had questioned his change of heart when he broke up with her during recovery, but when they'd realized he truly wasn't heartbroken and backsliding, they had taken it in full stride. A little misstep, no great scars taken (well except for the new bullet hole in his shoulder but that didn't really have anything to do with Ana, it just happened to be a part of the same journey heading toward a joined destination) and here they were at a pit stop.

The silence simmered between them, just somewhere right before the cliff, staggering before the precipice toward their comfort zone. It had always taken a little leap from both sides to get them to where they were today. Buck usually happens to fall into his without thinking much, just because he was ready to throw himself in dangers way or alternatively, rushing in out of sense of duty, and making it seem so, so very easy. The way he had walked into Eddie's house and kitchen, stepped right into his space and said: 'i'm here and I'm owning my mistakes because you're worth it' or something of the sort. All Eddie remembered was the care and the genuine emotion he'd felt and... The realization that he'd finally found home.

"It just feels like... You smile less when it comes to her." Eddie still did't really want to say her name. He wasn't about to go out blaming Taylor for all the times Buck was sad- it was just an observation. It took a lot to get Buck to giving up his smile. He hated that Taylor accepted a watered down version of him; bright, bold, and boasting Buck.

"Do I?" Buck asked, a furrowed crease appearing between his eyebrows, truly confused.

Eddie nodded.

"Relationships are always a compromise," Buck offered with a half-hearted twitch of his shoulder. "You know me. We're both pretty stubborn. We butt heads."

Buck flicked his wrist for a useless gaze at his watch. It made them none the wiser about the state of their rescue.

"Yeah, I know you," Eddie retorted gently. "Though, you do tend to have a point."

He could come up with a million examples. Eager, always ready to show up and make it work, Buck. How many times had he burrowed himself into Eddie's skin already with truths that stuck like thorns until Eddie accepted them into his bones.

All he wanted was to return the favor

The man granted him a small, crooked smile. It was crazy how much so little could mean to one person. Desperate, wounded, isolated Buck.

How Eddie wanted to tell him explicitly 'dont do what I did, kid, don't fall back into and habits at first chance just because you don't think you're worth anything else'- there were reasons why it didn't work in the first place. He'd learned the exact same lesson with Shannon. And God, the way Eddie had dragged Buck with him back then, for safety, as he had ranted to him and searched for the answers, only to make the same damn mistake.

That wasn't his life.

And Taylor wasn't Buck's. And Eddie knew this.

Knew from what Buck had told about her the first time she had been around, and from all that Eddie had heard about Buck's relationship to sex. It had turned into a joke at the station, oh, Buck and his self-diagnosed sex addiction, but Eddie recognized that worried little steeple on Bobby's forehead when he reminded everyone that that one therapist wasn't licensed to work for them anymore. But it went way deeper, didn't it?

Eddie knew about self-destructive behaviors. Not intimately. But he'd learned a lot about PTSD lately and adjacent behaviors. Buck and sex was a self-destructive bomb if he'd ever seen one.

And it was no coincidence that Taylor and Buck's relationship centered around physical intimacy.

Buck showed up where he was wanted or needed. They all knew that.

"Just... Make sure you get what you want too," Eddie said. "Put yourself first."

Cue the bewildered, insecure facial expression. Now and then Eddie wished he could hide Buck from the world. Shield him. For now all he could do was stand by.

"Because you'll always be wanted. Make sure the reasons are right for you. It has to be good for you."

And Eddie wouldn't be leaning so far out the window if Buck were to look him in the eyes and say 'nah it's not like that' but all he did was get quiet. Eddie couldn't leave him sitting like that, rearranging himself to stretch his legs out before they fell asleep and casually leaning his shoulder against Buck's.

"You're a good guy, Buck. You deserve only the best.

If you wanted Buck to hear you sometimes you had to get straight to the point.

Maybe one day Eddie could conquer his fear and say what he really wanted to say.

When they were both ready.

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emm-jayy · 4 years

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sabotage - Spencer Reid

Summary: You start having a ton of bad luck, and you can’t figure out why

warnings: drugs (opioids, narcotics) but no actual use. gunshot

“God, I’m so sorry i’m late.” You say, setting your bag down, “My power went out last night, and my alarm didn’t go off.”

You hated being late, and since you were the newest person on the team, you definitely didn’t want to ruin what little reputation you had. You had been there almost a year, but it does take a lot for this team to trust a new comer.

“It’s alright Y/n, just try not to let it happen again.” Hotch says. “We’ve got about two or three days before we get our next case. Do any paperwork you need to catch up on, and mainly just relax. Good work these past weeks.” He finishes.

You sigh a sigh of relief. You really didn’t want to have to do too much work these coming days. You loved your job, but doing all of this work could get exhausting.

You take your bag from the conference room down to your desk in the bullpen, and begin working.

A few hours into your shift, you hear someone call your name. You look up from your desk, and see a mailman.

You get up, and head over to him. It wasn’t too unusual to get packages at work, especially if you listed the building on a form of some kind.

You sign for the package, and tell the mailman to have a nice day.

You head back to your desk to open the package. It was pretty small, and it looked nice enough, maybe like it had gotten beaten up in the postal service a bit.

You open up the box with a small letter opener on your desk, and then your stomach drops.

You recognize the bottle, and the contents inside.

Hydrocodone. One of your weaknesses back in the day. Beside it, there is a note, scrawled in horrid handwriting that reads, “Miss me?”

“Hey, Y/n, do you have that paper that you needed to sign?.” Spencer Reid walks up to your desk, luckily where he cannot see the inside of the box.

Still, you freak out and close the box a little too frantically, “Jeez, give a girl a warning before you walk up like that.” You say, searching your desk for the paper.

“I’m sorry, you seemed distracted and I really need that paper.” He says, shifting on his feet.

“Yeah, I get it. Just give me a second to find it.” You snap, still looking for the paper, “Here.” You say, setting it near him.

When you look up, you see a confused look on Spencer’s face. “Are you okay?” He asks, looking at you with a knowing look on his face.

“Yes, Spencer, I’m fine.” You say, hoping he’ll just buy it and leave. He does, and turns to walk back to his desk.

You sigh, and look at the box again. You take it, and shove it into your bag.

The next day, you walk into the office late, again. Hotch looks at you, arms crossed.

“I’m sorry, I had more bad luck. There was no hot water in my building.” You huff.

“One more time, and we’re going to have a serious talk.” Hotch says, walking back into his office.

“Hey, Y/n, there’s a package on your desk.” Morgan says, pointing towards it. You huff, and look at the package.

You see it’s a similar small box just like yesterday, with the same address. You looked it up last night, and it was just an old warehouse. You assumed it had little to no significance to whoever was sending you these packages.

You open up the box, careful to make sure no one else sees inside. This time, it’s a bottle of Oxycontin, with a note that said, “come talk to an old friend.”

You once again, shove the box into your work bag, and try your best to ignore it for the day.

The day is almost the same as yesterday, except for as you’re getting up to get coffee, you run into Reid.

“Did you know that the average cup of coffee has about 100 milligrams of caffeine?” He says, leaning against the counter, “And that caffeine is the United States most popular drug? With over 90 percent of Americans consuming it in some form. It’s also one of the easiest drugs to get addicted too since it’s so accessible.” He says, ironically drinking his own coffee.

“It’s definitely easier to get addicted to other things.” You mutter under your breath.

“What was that?” Reid asks, searching your face.

“Cool facts Reid!” You say, a tight smile on your face, and you begin to walk over to your desk.

“I have more if you’d like!” He says, a joyous look on his face, “For example, did you know the average age people start drinking coffee is age 12?” He says as you sit down at your desk.

“Reid, as much as I’d love to hear more facts about my favorite beverage, I’ve got to finish this.” You say, gesturing to the pile of work you have.

“Of course.” He says, heading back to his own, that was near yours, “Thank you for listening.” He says, softer than he usually speaks.

“Always, Spence.” You reply, looking into his eyes.

The next day is the third day in a row that you’re late. You begin to explain to the team the exact reason, that your car had run out of gas, when you see Hotch standing at your desk.

“Y/n, I need to see you in my office. Now.” He says, and begins to walk toward his office. The team gives you sympathetic looks, and you look down towards the floor, your face turning pink. You set your bag down by your desk, and head up the stairs.

After you shut the door to Hotch’s office, you immediately begin your apology.

“I’m so sorry sir, I have no idea what’s been wrong lately. It’s just a string of really bad luck. I understand that this is a professional environment and I shouldn’t be late, but-” You notice that Hotch’s hand is raised, telling you to stop. You fall silent.

“That’s not what I need to talk to you about.” He begins to explain. You let out a sigh of relief, maybe a bit too soon.

“There’s no easy way to say this Y/n.” Hotch sighs, looking down. “You failed your drug test. They found traces of Hydrocodone and Oxycontin in your urine.” Hotch finishes, looking up at you.

“W-What? That’s not possible.” You say, mostly to yourself.

“Y/n, I was able to look over your past when you applied for this job. I figured that you were too good of an agent to deny simply because of a drug problem years ago. But if you’re going to go and be careless-”

“If I had relapsed, I would’ve taken myself off of the team.” You say, looking at Hotch, “I have not been careless, but I have been keeping something from you all.” You say, digging your phone out of your pocket.

“For the past two days, someone has been sending me packages here. One was filled with a bottle of Hydrocodone, the other Oxycontin. Along with those, were these notes.” You say, showing him the handwritten notes.

“There’s no way it’s a coincidence that the same pills they’ve been sending me showed up on my drug test.” You shake your head, “I apologize for not coming to the team sooner, I thought I could do this on my own.”

“Where are these drugs now?” Hotch says, looking up at you.

“I threw them away, I should’ve kept them I know.” You say nervously.

Hotch sighs, studying the pictures. “I’m going to have to suspend you, that part is out of my hands. But I will get the team on this today. It’s okay if I tell them about your past?” He asks, looking up at you with sympathetic eyes, a rarity for him.

You let out a breath, and then nod, “They would’ve found out eventually.” You look out the window of Hotch’s office, looking at the team fraternizing. What would they think of you? Would they shame you? Understand? Reid would probably rattle off some statistics about suspended FBI agents. You almost smile at the thought.

“Alright then. Leave your badge and gun on my desk, and I, or any member of the team, will contact you when we have something.” You nod, and place your gun down, and pull your credentials out of your wallet.

You exit the office, and prepare yourself for the questions you’re about to be asked. You decide to let Hotch tell them, and answer the questions later.

You collect yourself, and walk down to your desk to grab your bag. You keep your eyes down, until Morgan decides to speak up, “Hotch come down on your ass for being late a few times?” He laughs lightly.

You offer a tight-lipped smile to Morgan, “Totally, that’s what happened.

You walk over to Spencer, who’s sitting on top of his desk, “Don’t solve too many cases without me.” You say, a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait, where are you going?” Spencer asks, turning towards you.

“Hotch will tell you guys. You all have my number, I’ll see you soon.” You offer a smile to the team of confused faces.

You walk out of the BAU doors, and into the elevator. You pull out your phone to get an uber, the same way you cake to work today, when someone else steps into the elevator.

“Hey.” Spencer says softly, “I couldn’t let ya leave without hearing from you why you’re leaving.” He says, looking down at his feet.

“Spencer?” You say, trying to meet his eyes. “Yeah?” He replies.

“How many suspended agents get to come back into the field?” You ask, a nervous look on your face.

“53 percent. Why do you- Oh.” He realizes why you’ve asked. Just then, the elevator dings, and you step out, and open the doors to the front of the building, still trying to get an uber.

You sigh, and sit down on the curb to wait for the uber. You hear the sliding of shoes on the concrete, and then, Spencer is beside you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks, looking towards you with squinted eyes.

“No.” You sigh, wiping a frustrated tear away from your face. You weren’t typically the emotional type. “I’d rather have Hotch tell you all.”

“Okay. If you need anything, call me.” He says, standing up, and walking back into the FBI building.

“I know I said today would also be a paperwork day, but meet me in the briefing room. We’ve got a case.” Hotch says, addressing the bullpen, as Spencer walks back into the room.

Everyone stands up, and follows Hotch to the briefing room.

Once everyone is settled, Hotch begins.

“Over the past few days, Agent Y/L/N has been receiving drugs in the mail, along with handwritten notes. One said ‘miss me’ and the other ‘Come talk to an old friend’.” Hotch says, showing the pictures you had taken on the screen.

“And then, today, Y/L/N’s drug test came back, and she had tested positive for Hydrocodone, and Oxycontin.”

The faces of the team say it all, confusion, and disbelief.

Hotch attempts to ignore it, and brings up an even more hard to believe subject. “The problem with this is, Y/n used to be addicted to both of those drugs, so the Bureau is going to come down onto her. They’ve already made me suspend her.” Hotch clears his throat. “When I interviewed her, Y/n made it very clear she was off of those drugs. I thought it was stupid to deny such a good agent over an addiction that happened years ago. And I still believe that, so we are going to work to see who is doing this to agent Y/L/N.”

The team looks at each other, still in disbelief, until something interrupts them.

A mailman at the door, holding a box, “Package for Y/n?” He says. Morgan is immediately up, taking the box.

The whole team gets up as Morgan sets the box onto the table. He tears it open, and the team is met with yet another bottle, and a note that says, “Don’t be a stranger.”

“Reid, what is this?” Morgan asks, holding up the bottle. Spencer was still sitting down, looking at the small case file. He was in a daze of disbelief still.

“Reid!” Morgan says, louder this time. “Hm?” He looks up.

“What is this?” Morgan asks again, gesturing to the bottle.

Spencer grabs the orange bottle, “It looks like Vicodin. One of the easiest opiates to get addicted to.” He replies, handing the bottle back to Morgan.

“Okay, so we know that the unsub doesn’t know Y/l/n has been suspended. Otherwise they would be sending the boxes to her apartment.” Rossi says.

“It’s routine to investigate suspensions. But please, try to keep this as quiet as possible. I don’t want anything getting messed up to the point that Y/n can’t come back to the team.” Hotch says, looking around at the team.

“Alright. Garcia, I want you working people from Y/L/N’s past. Anyone who would know where she works now. Rossi and JJ, I want you guys looking at the address on the boxes and seeing if there’s any connection to the unsub. Morgan and Prentiss, look at the handwriting, and see if it matches anything we’ve seen from the list that Garcia gets. Reid, help them with that, and then, I want you to go to the Urinalysis lab to see if anyone could’ve tampered with the drug test.” The whole team disperses, but Spencer stays still.

“Reid, you okay?” Hotch asks.

“It’s just always the ones you least expect.” Spencer says, looking down at his shoes. Hotch looks at him, and then leaves, off to do his own thing.

Spencer pulls out his phone, and brings up your number. You two had never texted outside of work matters, and here he was, nervous as all hell just to text you.

“Just found out, how are you doing?” He types, and sends it. Nerves rack throughout his body, why the hell is he so nervous?

“I’m doing okay. What is Hotch having you do?” He reads. Spencer sighs, back to work talk.

“I’m helping with some handwriting matching and profiling, and then I’m going down to the Urinalysis lab to see if anyone tampered with your test.” He writes, and puts his phone in his pocket. He’s about to walk out of the door, whenever his phone starts buzzing.

He gets his phone out of his pocket once again, and realizes it’s you. He looks at his phone with wide eyes. He clears his throat, and smooths out his shirt, getting ready to answer the phone. He presses the button, and brings the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” He answers.

“Hey Spencer, sorry for calling, I just needed to hear you saying something.” You confess.

“Yeah, anything. What is it Y/n?” He asks, almost blushing at the fact that you’d call him. You two didn’t even talk that much, but he still very much enjoyed the conversations you did have.

“Can you promise to tell me anything important, as soon as you find out? I don’t want to be left in the dark.” You say into the phone.

Spencer smiles into the phone, “Of course sweetheart.” He says, but then freezes. Why’d he call you that? Why? He clears his throat, “Anyway, I better get going, I want this over as soon as possible.” Spencer says.

“Right, call me later?” You ask.

“Call you later. Bye Y/n.” He says, not really wanting to hang up.

“Bye Spencer.” You reply. He hangs up the call, and finally heads out the door.

He heads down to where Morgan and Prentiss are, and begins to look at the handwriting. It was crude, but in an odd way.

“I think the unsub might’ve written this in their wrong hand.” Spencer says, “I mean that’s a pretty good way to disguise handwriting, it’s very difficult to tell personality traits. But based on that, I think this unsub is pretty smart.” Spencer nods.

“I’ve got to get down to the lab, if you need anything, call me.” Spencer says, walking towards the door.

He gets in his car, and heads to the Urinalysis lab.

“So, is there any way that the test could’ve malfunctioned?” Spencer asks the man who tests all of the urine.

“I highly doubt it. We get false negatives sometimes, but almost never false positives.” The man in the lab coat says, looking at a chart. “I also believe we tested your agent's urine twice. That’s protocol for law enforcement and FBI if there’s a positive.”

“Thank you. Do you know how long it takes for samples to get here after the samples have been given?” Spencer asks.

“Couldn’t be more than a few days. Since we do monthly to bimonthly testing for you folks, they aren’t in the biggest rush.” The man says.

“Who transports the samples here?” Spencer asks.

“I don’t really know, a few different men have come in here.” The man says, seeming a bit nervous.

“Okay, thank you sir.” Spencer says, and walks out of the lab.

Spencer gets into his car, and pulls out his phone, dialing your number.

“Hello?” You answer, nervousness in your voice.

“Hey Y/n, I just got finished at the lab.” Spencer says, buckling his seatbelt.

“What did you find out?” You ask.

“Basically, a lot of people could have handled your sample. The guy at the lab wasn’t too helpful. I do know that the sample they tested definitely tested positive. I suspect that someone along the way either switched out the urine, or something like that. I think it’s a deadend to go through everyone who might’ve touched it though.” Spencer explains.

“Okay, thank you for telling me. Have you heard anything else from the team?” You ask, and Spencer can almost imagine you biting your nails.

“No, not anything that could lead us in the right direction, i’m sorry Y/n.” Spencer answers.

“No, it’s fine. Thank you anyway. I’ll talk to you later?” You ask.

“We will, bye Y/n.”

“Bye Spencer.” You hang up the phone, and toss it aside with a sigh.

You stand up, and head to your kitchen. You stand there for a while, contemplating what to eat. You decide you can’t eat anything at a time like this, and go back to the couch you were sitting on before.

You sit by the phone, just awaiting a call. He just called you, but yet you’re nervous for another one.

It would’ve made more sense for you to ask Garcia to call you with updates, as the most information goes through her, but you felt as if Spencer would be the most honest with you. You totally weren’t biased in any way…

Then, there was a knock at your door. You furrow your eyebrows, and head to the door.

“Ma’am? This is Agent Jones from the FBI. I have some paperwork you need to fill out.” You hear the man call through the door.

You look through the peephole, and sure enough, there’s a man standing there with a file in his hand.

“Could you hold up your badge to the peephole please?” You ask, still looking through the peephole.

“Of course ma’am.” He says, holding up his wallet to the door. The badge looks fine, so you undo the chain and open the door.

“Hi, come in.” You say, opening the door wider, and you go to the other room to grab a pen.

“Why didn’t Hotch just give me this paperwork before I left the building today?” You ask, confused, and take the file.

“Oh, everything was so hectic, with them working on your case and all, Hotch sent me down here to give this to you.” Agent Jones explains.

You sit down on your couch, and fill out the short form. You sign your name, and stand up to hand the file back to him.

“Thank you ma’am!” The agent smiles, taking the file from your hands, and turning towards the door. “Oh, and one more thing.” He says, turning back around.

The agent grabs the gun from his holster, aims it at your abdomen, and shoots. The silencer is one, so not much noise comes out.

You stand in shock for a moment, clutching the wound, and then begin to cough as you fall. The agent scurries out of your apartment.

As your vision blurs, you reach to your phone and unlock it. Unable to do anything else, you dial the most recent number in your call list, Spencer.

“Hello.” Spencer calls into the phone. When all you respond with is a cough, Spencer speaks again. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Shot… in apartment.” You muster, groaning at the pain.

“Oh fuck okay.” You hear Spencer call for someone to get an ambulance to your apartment, that’d you’d been shot. “I’m getting an ambulance there right now Y/n. I need you to hold on for me. Can you just keep talking to me?” He asks, frantically into the phone.

“Yes.” You reply, but your words slur, so it comes out like “yesh.”

“Okay good, now where are you shot Y/n?” Spencer asks.

You attempt to answer, but your eyes fall shut, and you begin to lose consciousness. The last thing you hear before you lose it completely, is Spencer calling your name.

The whole team looks at Spencer, when a horrid look comes across his face.

“She’s not answering me anymore.” He says, “Y/n? Y/N!” Spencer cries into the phone.

“Hey, hey hey, kid, it’s going to be alright. The ambulance is coming to her.” Morgan comes up to him, taking the phone from Spencer.

He looks up to Morgan with watery eyes, “What if she dies, and I never said how i felt about her?” He asks, a single tear falling down his face.

“Hey, come here pretty boy, it’ll be okay. As soon as we know which hospital she’s being taken too, we are all going there.” Morgan says, taking Spencer into a hug.

Spencer nods, wiping his tears away. The team sits in wait for awhile, until Hotch gets a phone call.

“She’s at Fort Washington Medical Center.” Hotch says after hanging up the phone. The whole team is up, and going out the doors to head to the hospital.

When the whole team arrives, Spencer is the first to go to the medical desk to ask for your name.

“She’s in surgery right now. I’ll tell you updates when I can.” The nurse at the desk says, checking a chart.

Spencer sighs, running his hand through his hair. He relays the message to the team, and a lot of them collapse into chairs in the waiting room.

The whole team sits in wait, until a doctor comes out.

“Are you waiting for Y/N?” The doctor asks. Spencer stands up, “Yes we are.”

“Okay, they are closing her up right now. The surgery had some bumps, but we were able to stop the bleeding.” The doctor smiles, and everyone lets out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you so much doctor.” Spencer says, shaking his hand.

“Are you her boyfriend? Because I can let the nurses know to have you in the room as soon as she wakes up.” The doctor says, genuinely trying to help.

“What? No, I’m not- I’m not Y/n’s boyfriend.” Spencer says, laughing nervously. Morgan comes up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Have him be the first one in the room.” Morgan nods towards the doctor.

The doctor smiles, and leaves the waiting room.

“You’ve got to tell her how you feel man.” Morgan says, and Spencer nods.

30 minutes later, a nurse tells Spencer that you should be waking up soon. He gets up, and follows the nurse to your room.

He walks into your room, and takes in the scene. You somehow still look so beautiful, even after taking a gunshot wound.

He takes a chair, and sets it by your bed. Spencer sits in nervousness as he waits for you to wake up.

He sees your eyes slowly open, and how they drift towards him.

“Spence.” You say, a soft smile on your face, and then your expression changes. “Spence.” You say more frantically. “It’s an agent, and agent is the one who did this. I have no idea how I didn't see it-” You start.

“Hey.” Spencer says, putting his hand on yours. “Morgan will be in here later for your interview. Right now, I just need to tell you something.” He says, looking at you.

“Yeah, anything.” You nod, meeting his eyes.

“The thought that I could’ve lost you really brought some of my feelings to light.” He sighs, preparing himself. “I really like you Y/n, and if I don’t tell you now, i’ll never tell you. I should probably be doing this whenever you’re not in the hospital, but I can’t wait any longer.” Spencer confesses, searching your face for any emotion, when you laugh softly.

“What?” Spencer asks, his voice on the verge of breaking.

“As someone with an IQ of 187, I’m surprised you didn’t confess sooner.” You say, “I like you too Spence, ever since I came to the BAU.”

“339 days ago.” He says, under his breath, smiling at you.

“What was that?” You ask, a soft smile on your face.

“I met you 339 days ago, and that’s when I knew I liked you too.” He smiles.

You laugh, “I would kiss you, but I really can’t move right now.” You say.

“Here.” Spencer says, getting up out of his chair, and leaning over you.

Spencer presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “I want our first real kiss to be when you’re well.” He says in a soft voice.

“Okay.” You agree, “Can you get Morgan in here? The whole situation is fresh on my mind and I need to tell him.”

“Of course.” Spencer says, leaving the room to get Morgan. He then stays in the waiting room, so that Morgan and Y/n can get their job done.

“Soooooo.” Penelope says, snaking beside Spencer, “Did you tell her how you feel?” She asks.

“Yeah.” Spencer says, looking at the ground, “She feels the same.”

Garcia gasps, “Yay!” She wraps him in a hug.

About 15 minutes later, Morgan comes out.

“We’re looking for an Agent Jones. Y/n and I assume that he showed his actual credentials to her, because he assumed she’d be dead.” Morgan explains.

“Hold on, the owner of the warehouse the packages were getting sent from is owned by a Jones.” Rossi says.

“Everyone, get ready. Garcia, find all agents with the last name Jones, and get the name of the father from Rossi, get his address. Everyone else, let’s get geared up.” Hotch says.

Spencer walks over to him, “Can I stay with Y/n? I’m sure you’ve all got this.” Spencer asks. Hotch nods, and then walks out of the waiting room.

Spencer goes back into your room, and you smile.

“I’m going to stay here with you while they track down Jones.” Spencer says, sitting in the chair beside your bed.

“Can you tell me gunshot facts?” You ask him, a small smile still on your face.

“You just got shot, and you want to hear facts about it?” Spencer asks, laughing.

“Yeah.” You say, “What were my chances of living, Doctor?” You ask, laughing.

“About 32 percent, considering where you got shot.” Spencer replies.

“Hm, guess I did pretty good.” You say, shrugging your shoulders.

After a few hours of talking, and watching crappy hospital television, Spencer gets a phone call.

“Yeah, thank god, thank you Hotch. Yeah i’ll tell her.” He says to the phone, and then hangs up.

You sit up in your bed, and look at him expectedly, wondering what happened.

“They got Jones, and he confessed to everything. You're good to come back to the BAU once you're medically cleared.” Spencer smiles.

You let out a breath, a huge smile covers your face.

Spencer looks at you, and then leans down, taking your chin in his hand, and kisses you.

After you break away, he smiles.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t wait.”

tags: @cupcake525 @soupmakesmynoserun @elizabethkaylynn @drspencr @mattgraygubler @nanocoool @reid-187 @darling-doll9 @1800-fight-me @rachel-rebellio

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hyperfixationtimego · 3 years

Note

Alright we’re trying this angst thing again

Diamond Brothers Angst because I said so

Both Daiya and Mondo have huge self esteem issues bc of the crash

Both think stuff along the lines of what the fuck I could have prevented that

Neither Daiya nor Mondo can sleep very well because when they hear vehicles driving past and the occasional screeching tires they’re back at the scene of the accident

They hear a semi truck rumbling past? Suddenly neither of the brothers remember how to move or breathe properly

They both survived the crash but they were both injured severely bc fuck dude that was a truck that hit them

The Crazy Diamonds witnessed the whole thing and they were Worried™️

And we all know how the Owadas hate being vulnerable

Neither of the brothers could actively ride their motorcycles for a long time after the crash because they couldn’t handle it emotionally

They played off their mental recovery time as time in the hospital

Daiya made Mondo promise not to get back on his motorcycle, much less the road, until he was 100% sure that he was prepared to handle it because what if there’s another freak accident that neither of them have control over

Mondo made Daiya promise the exact same thing because He Cares™️

Mondo has reoccurring nightmares about the crash and often sees Daiya dead in those nightmares

The gang shows up in the nightmares too and they’ve all been hit and it’s all Mondo’s fault and he couldn’t be a good leader because he wasn’t strong enough and why couldn’t he just be more like his brother god fucking dammit

Sometimes he sees Taka or Chihiro in place of Daiya and the Diamonds and that Absolutely Terrifies Him™️

Daiya has reoccurring thoughts about hijacking a truck to hit the driver who hurt him and his little brother

He wants them to feel all the same pain and more that they put the Diamond Brothers through

Daiya has breakdowns over this because even if he is a gang leader, he would not go that far

cue the Am I A Bad Person Complex™️

Mondo does not let himself stim

He doesn’t think it’s manly and it definitely doesn’t fit the Tough Guy™️ act

This leads to worsened focus and next thing you know he and Daiya are having a yelling match at home because if Mondo’s grades drop any lower he’ll be expelled soon and Daiya just wants the best for his brother but nothing works out the way it was planned

One time Mondo received a popsicle stick and paper heart from Taka

He was extremely happy

When he got back to his dorm he was that happy that he was shaking and then oh shit

Mondo broke it

He snapped the popsicle sticks in half

the note that Taka wrote,, it got ripped in the process

Mondo full on sobbed over this for an hour at the least

Actual

Real

Tears

He broke something that Taka— not just his bf, but his best friend— had worked so hard on to make just for him and he fucking broke it like a shit for brains idiot

Mondo is terrified of hurting his friends

Because what if he forgets to take his adhd meds one day and his emotional dysregulation is all fucked up and he has an outburst again and actually hurts his friends

Or what if he takes 2+ doses by accident and focuses too hard and is left staring at one (1) spot and everyone hates him and what if they think he’s a creep

Mondo hates going out of his dorm at night because what if someone else is out and they have a flashlight and now they’re pointing it at him and it’s bright and those are headlights and that’s

that’s his brother

on the ground

not moving

Mondo will start shaking and he’ll break down hyperventilating or freeze on the spot

Either way, he hates being vulnerable

Whaddaya think? :D was that enough angst?

also can you tell that i kin Daiya on the dl bc i too got hit by a moving vehicle to save my young mer sibling from being hit /lh but also srs lmfo

HEY TINK??? HEY TINK????????

GodDAMN make me cry over this shit oKAY-

also sorry this took ✨forever✨ I had to gather my Thoughts™️ and my brain did not want to work today 😌

also before we get into my things, tw for trauma (obviously), unhealthy coping mechanisms, underage smoking/drug relapse/smoking as a crutch, and suicidal ideation (passive, but still there)

First of all, y e a h oh my god?? There is literally so much internalized guilt for both of them,,,,,like they rlly do have episodes sometimes where they just. Play over the events of what lead up to the crash in their heads and fixate on what they could have done differently,,,,,even though in the moment they both did their best? Like “well, I shouldn’t have taken us down this street” or “if I had acted quicker, maybe it wouldn’t have happened” and.....yeah those thoughts really fuck with them, y’know?

and 100% that unexpected/overwhelming vehicle noises and/or presences are nearly debilitating. Honestly, I imagine that Mondo can’t go hang out with Leon and Taka or whoever else if said people are hanging out in Kaz’s workshop. Owada’s only ever been in there once and immediately had to leave when he heard Kazuichi starting an engine he was working on. Not to mention being surrounded by a shit ton of vehicles, even if they were idle, had kept him on-edge the entire thirty seconds he was able to handle it.

They both deal with a lot of phantom pain, as well. Like something triggers them and suddenly, even if they’re able to remain in the moment and keep conscious of their surroundings, they somehow feel every ache, every twinge of pain, every breaking bone, or bruised patch of skin that they felt on that day. It’s a lot more prominent in Daiya than it is with Mondo, but they do both experience it!

And neither one lets the other know when they’re feeling like shit or having an episode because 😌 Daiya. wants to be strong. for his little brother. and Mondo. sees his brother basically functioning like a typical person. and figures that there’s something wrong with him. because he can’t get over what happened.

Takemichi is absolute shit with Emotions and being vulnerable or getting people to open up to him, but he’s like..........internally these bitches are Not Okay what the fuck am I supposed to do about it???? So he kind of...tries to hint to both of them that he’s worried? Without making it obvious or embarrassing them, but he’s like.......fuck these assholes.......making me be the one to make them realize they need help goddamnit........

And michi exhibiting a change in behavior is pretty 👀 because. it’s michi I mean he’s not just gonna change the way he talks in front of u for nothing, u know? So both Daiya and Mondo are actually able to pick up on it, although their reactions differ pretty greatly.

Like Daiya’s first thought is “wow, he’s worried, that’s really sweet of him. Better convince him everything’s okay.”

Meanwhile Mondo’s is “wow, he’s worried. my stupid emotional turmoil is that obvious. he must think I’m some sorta fuckin idiot for not being able to get over it. or selfish. or both. yeah, probably both.”

Also I think Daiya’s pretty perceptive in general? Like he can Tell™️ that something’s going on with his brother, but........yeah emotional conversations....vulnerability......that’s rlly neither of their strong suits. + he also figures that if it were something mondo were really really really having trouble with, he would come talk to him!

And so Daiya has absolutely no concept of just how Not Good his brother is doing right now hbbvvvv

So he settles for being like “I’m just gonna stay strong and act like the memories and intrusive thoughts aren’t affecting me in any way because I want to be a good role model” (which. is not healthy obv)

oh g o d the nightmares

they are so horrible and vivid and concentrated at times that Mondo simply.....refuses to sleep. He’s exhausted, both mentally and physically, and yet he can’t bring himself to close his eyes because he knows what he’ll see if he does.

And of course it affects him to the point that his friends start to become worried. Like Taka notices a stark increase in tardiness or general absences, and, after an initial assumption that it was simply Mondo choosing not to care about his academics again, realized that there was probably a lot more going on than he realized. He really, really wanted to bring it up and let his boyfriend know that he’ll always be there for him no matter what, but he couldn’t quite figure out how to articulate it properly. The farthest he gets is with the question, “is everything okay?”

And as much as Mondo wants to respond to him by saying that no, in fact, everything is not okay, everything sucks and everything hurts and he’s tired and he hates himself and sometimes he wishes that the crash had killed him, but that’s selfish so he should shut up- he just.....can’t bring himself to open himself up like that. Yes, he and Ishi are dating, so logically he should be able to tell him all this, but.....it’s so much. It’s too much. Too much to think, too much to feel, let alone try to explain. So he shuts himself up with a quick, curt, “Yeah.”

And....Taka knows he’s lying. He’s not sure how he knows, but he does. And it hurts to see someone he loves so much in such a state of anguish, and basically be unable to do anything about it because....how is he supposed to respond? What is he supposed to say? Navigating everyday interaction is difficult enough without having to improv something that could affect his partner’s mental health indefinitely. So....he does his best. Which isn’t enough, really, but it’s something.

“You can tell me anything.”

Mondo wants to believe him.

—

Another side of that same coin is Mondo skipping class a lot more than is typical for him. It’s almost always with Leon, but he’s also begun slipping away on his own, occasionally, as well, now.

And....y’know, at first, Leon thought it was super rad that Owada and he were skipping more! Like it used to be that Kuwata would offer for them to miss the next class, and Mondo’s usual answer would be ‘not today,’ and then Leon would keep bugging him about it until Mondo either gave in or told him to fuck off.

But....there’s just something about how it went from Leon being constantly shut down, to being told yes around the first few times the idea was brought up, to how, suddenly, Kuwata wasn’t even the one asking, anymore. It’s....depressing? Uncomfortable?

There’s also the fact that hanging out while they’re cutting just....isn’t as fun as it used to be? Leon’ll crack jokes or come up with stupid dares, and Mondo’s responses will be noncommittal at best. And Leon’s had enough experience with sleep deprivation to know it in his friends when he sees it.

He’s never been put in this situation before - usually it’s kuwata having some sort of stupid episode and usually it’s owada who’ll tell him to chill the fuck out and think rationally about things, but....Mondo acts a lot different when he’s upset than Leon does. He smokes more. Cuts himself off from everyone. Doesn’t engage with anything.

It’s different with people like Toko, or Makoto, or Kaz, because Leon knows what they need. He knows whether or not they need vulnerability, or a physical presence, or tough love, or tactile grounding, or a willing ear or shoulder to cry on, but with Mondo......he just isn’t sure.

So Leon doesn’t comment.

——-

Chihiro’s probably the one to get him to open up about it ngl.

ANYWAY-

y e a h Daiya intrusive thoughts?????? fuck yeah???? absolutely??????

god yeah I rlly feel him on that ngl hbhdbdbdbbb

and MONDO DARLING 🥺

god okay it SUCKS because????? he doesn’t judge his friends for stimming????? Like he sees his friends fidgeting or repeating phrases or rocking back and forth and he’s like???? Hell yeah you go u funky kid ilysm

But when it comes to himself????? he’s like if I do anything aside from stay perfectly still, I’m weird and bad and a failure so I simply Will Not

he’s wrong but it doesn’t change the fact that he feels that way ❤️

hhhvhvvdd I’m also a slut for daiya doing his best as a makeshift parental figure,,,,,,,like fuck dude okay,,,,,,as an older sibling who also loves and cares about their younger sibs but often finds emotionally connecting with them to be difficult,,,,,,,,,mood??? And having all of that amplified by rlly being his younger bro's only support in his home life,,,,,,,like ok mr. owada go off

he feels a lot of pressure to get it right and make sure that Mondo's doing okay, so the grades really worry him. but, of course, grades are a touchy subject with mondo regardless, so as u said it devolves into arguments and yelling and a lot of defensiveness!!

and god okay,,,,,,,the heart rlly got me,,,,,,,like that hurt. it rlly hurt man okay damn

honestly??? I think that might be the thing that gets him to break. like that might be his final straw.

because when they meet up again, Ishi asks him about it and whether or not he liked it. And Mondo just.

fucking.

breaks.

down.

He’s shaking and he’s crying and there’s snot running down his nose and this is so ugly and so not manly but he can’t stop. he can’t stop. Because there is this sweet, gentle, kind, sweet, beautiful, darling, sweet man before him who did something so nice for him, something he didn’t deserve, and he destroyed it.

Like he destroys everything.

And so when Taka panics and asks him what’s wrong (yes Ishi gets worried that he did something bad and yes ishi also gets worried that his boyfriend didn’t like the present because hdbdvdvd kin 💛) owada just. spills everything. and he doesn’t even begin with the gift??? he starts with apologies upon apologies, many of them incoherent, and many of them with Mondo not even certain what he’s apologizing for, just that he knows he needs to

and ofc Taka is like o-o because wow ok

but after his initial shock, and after Mondo has thoroughly cried himself out and explained everything he could stand to explain at that point in time, Taka just......holds him. And strokes his face, brushing away the tears that have not yet dried, simply offering his body as a weight, as something for Mondo to ground himself with. And it works.

And Taka insists that Mondo has nothing to apologize for, only that he wishes Mondo would have told him what was going on sooner. Because he wants to help. And hearing that just gets Owada’s waterworks going all over again, but he’s still got Ishi there with him. He hasn’t scared him off.

And it’s more than enough.

—

and UGH yeah????? yes absolutely absolutely okay okay so,,,,,,,,mondo comorbid adhd/depression/anxiety

like sir 🤝

got me fucked up smh

honestly he’s probably not diagnosed with the depression or anxiety, either, until something like the incident with ishi prompts him to realize oh wow I’m not okay actually

so yes he 100% does???

he constantly has all of these what if situations swirling around in his brain about what might happen if he fucks up, or does something that he doesn’t qualify as fucking up in the moment, but leads to something awful or painful or harmful for someone else, and he’s just??????? g o d

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zevlors-tail · 4 years

Note

I’m glad you at least got lunch! Maybe try eating again if it’s not too hard? And I understand that family can suck sometimes, maybe straight up try telling them some stuff to clear things up a bit at first! Like set boundaries? Other than that, I do hope Thanksgiving isn’t a bust for you. Only eat as much as you’re comfortable with, but remember your definition of a lot is kind of a mind trick, so try to eat a bit more if you can. Overall, you’re very valid, and you deserve to have a good week

LIFE UPDATE

First of all, thank you for this whole thing, it’s very sweet and caring of you. I really appreciate people taking the time to reach out and make sure I’m okay and telling me to have a good week. <3 That means a lot to me that you guys do that.

Second, I’m just gonna make this my life update post since it kind of ties into everything I’m about to spill so uh.

TW: Eating Disorder and Covid mentioned under the cut in case anyone wants to scroll past or doesn’t want to read, which I understand. But here’s a lengthy life update that no one asked for.

TLDR: I’m moving soon, going on a mini hiatus, have been exposed to Covid, and generally not well but surviving.

I’ve been on an upswing today, so I’ll try to get this out rationally and coherently while I can. If you don’t know by now or you’ve somehow (luckily and miraculously) managed to not catch any of my stupid vent posts, hello! I’m Sweater, I’m 23, and I run this blog! I also have an eating disorder that I am actively trying to battle, and at this point I am in what I would call a full scale relapse for me.

Holidays this time of year (or any time really) are especially hard for me since food is a big factor in them. Without getting too much into specifics, restriction of food is common for me and often it just doesn’t feel or taste right. Eating can make me feel nauseous, disgusting, and ashamed, while not eating causes the exact same effect, except with the added point of apathy. Mostly this is an addiction that I have been fighting on and off since high school (a little over 5 years), but for me it’s also about punishment and control, and so when things get chaotic in my life, I tend to relapse habitually, sometimes without even realizing it. This can happen when I’m extremely stressed, when I feel out of control over my life, or just forget to take care of myself in general, whether that’s working through my lunches and breaks or sleeping too much or too little through meal times.

Right now, my life is really hectic. Covid has really upended everything for me, made me question my sexuality, my gender, and pretty much my entire identity. If you haven’t caught on by now, I’m also married, and this was a very recent thing that happened just this year in July. Unfortunately, things have not worked out, and since I’ve changed a lot as a person, my current living situation and relationship are on the line, and I’m having to go through the stress of figuring out divorce and an apartment in the middle of a pandemic.

This is definitely not where I saw myself in just a year. I’m actively pursuing therapy, I’ve just gotten my own car, and I’m on track to get better, but things aren’t that simple and it’s really just taking a toll on me both physically and mentally. I was not looking forward to Thanksgiving and eating in front of people this year anyways, but now I definitely can’t go since there are people in my specific department at work who have Covid. We just found out today that someone who I was in close contact with all the time has it, and so I’ve been exposed for a second time. Because of this I’m not attending my family’s dinner, so I don’t have to worry about food anymore, but I do have to worry about whether I have Covid or not.

I am under a tremendous amount of stress. I have about a month of crunch time to get a new license plate and title for my car, find an apartment that I can afford that allows pets, get a divorce, and start therapy (hopefully). My family has been unsupportive for the most part and mostly just frustrated that I don’t want to stay with my spouse. But I have to say, I think the most frustrating thing in all of this is the ED and the symptoms that come with it. I mentioned above that I feel apathetic when I don’t eat. That gets in the way of me doing other every day things like work, being active at home, writing, taking care of myself, and giving attention to others. I lose motivation at work, I can’t focus on anything (my brain often feels foggy and hazy and it’s hard to remember anything; it all blurs together for days, weeks, sometimes even months), and I just feel drained and exhausted 24/7. So I feel stressed, yes, but I also don’t care about it and I do care about it at the same time.

I have okay days, and that almost makes it worse, because on days I do eat I end up with huge mood swings right after having been apathetic, and honestly it’s like giving myself emotional whiplash. One minute I’m having intrusive thoughts about how i’m certain negative words and phrases, the next I feel nothing at all and can hardly bring myself to walk around (often it’s a feeling of “what’s the point in existing?”), and then after I eat something I feel high in a sense, or lethargically warm and upbeat at the same time. It’s exhausting, really. To feel everything awful all at once, and then go from feeling absolutely nothing at all to the most upbeat positive things ever. It’s almost like false hope, if that makes sense? When I eat something and feel better, it’s easy to tell myself that things will be okay, that the ED isn’t real anyway, that I don’t have a problem and that I can feel normal. And if there is one, I’ll be fine, I don’t need help, etc.

I’m dealing with all of that combined into one giant mess that is my life right now. That being said, this blog is my escape. I’ve met a lot of cool people here, gotten to know some really lovely friends, and I’ve written really cool things that people seem to really enjoy. I want to continue to write, but that requires focus and time, both of which my ED is actively taking from me. I’m doing my best to be here as much as I can and I will still continue to work on requests and writing, because it’s a way for me to cope and escape. But I do need to acknowledge that my life is out of control and I need to do something about it.

I’m doing my best to stabilize myself and work on things. I think a mini hiatus at some point in December will be inevitable, however, especially considering there will be a point in time where I will not have access to an internet router/the internet for my laptop to write. So I’m not sure when exactly, but it’ll probably be towards the end of December.

Anyways, this is not a post asking for pity or attention, just a post for me to process some things and give a life update. You are in no way obligated to respond to this or to comment on this unless you really feel the need to. I just wanted to be open and honest about where I was and what was going on with me. I understand if you don’t want to follow me after this or if you just want to scroll past.

Just know that I’m working on myself, I’m trying really hard, and it’s really difficult for me sometimes to get a grip on my writing and my own sense of self because of this. If anyone needs anything I’m usually always here! But again, all of this is the reason I don’t always respond to messages. It’s nothing you’ve done or said, I just literally can’t remember that I was having a conversation sometimes, or I can’t focus enough to type out a reply, or I’m sleeping through the day or just dissociating and feeling apathetic. But I love you all, and I’m thankful for your support, and I want to be better.

Much love and care,

-Sweater <3

#life update #sweater rambles #sweater rambles A LOT #tw: ed #tw: eating disorder #tw ed #tw eating disorder #eating disorder #tw covid

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never-not-ever · 3 years

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I love the band Garbage. I don’t even know how I stumbled across them but I know it was when I first started therapy in 2013. I know this because I used to love the line “I confess I've lost control, I let my guard down, I let the truth out.” I’m literally rolling my eyes at my 20 year self right now but back then therapy was so new to me so “letting the truth out” it just felt so fitting lmao. Anyways because I’m listening to Garbage right now and getting slightly typsy I started thinking how this time 8 years ago I was probably doing the same exact thing so why not do a comparison of my life! Oh what fun 🙃 here we gooooooooo

2013

Started therapy for the first time in my life.

Was a year since my Aunt (who was basically my mother) died so the grief, whatever stage I was in, was still there.

Took the semester off school after dropping out of my local community college for the second time.

Working part time at a grocery store just stocking shelves in the health & beauty care department.

Living at home with my Nana.

Morbidly obese, trying every kind of diet known to man.

Single, straight and not really looking for a relationship but then again no one was interested in my ugly ass 😂...

Started binge drinking alone in my room late at night usually followed by self harm.

Self harm has been a problem for the past 6 years at this point and has gotten to the point where I can’t pretend in the summer that I don’t self harm because it’s now leaving scars.

Diagnosis: depression and not on any psychiatric medication yet.

2021

About to hit my 2 year mark with my current therapist and she’s now my 6th one so far.

Started at a different community college after dropping out 3 times at my previous one. I’ve been taking classes here for the past 6 years and I’m hoping to finally be done this summer. Mind you community college usually takes 2 years, but I’ve dropped out at this school 3 times as well, have been on academic probation twice and academically suspended as well... How they’re still letting me take courses is beyond me but I’m clearly very grateful!!

Working full time now at that same grocery store (been here for almost 11 years) but now I’m a florist manager.

Been in a relationship with my girlfriend (very much gay now) for 4 years and we’ve been living together for the past 1.5 years.

We have two cats Benny and Jett and a dog Owen.

Still “technically” obese according to BMI calculators (🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻) but I’ve lost like 165lbs so I’m trying not to dwell on the obese part.

Diagnosis: major depressive disorder and borderline personality disorder.

Just stopped taking my meds but I’ve tried probably 15+ since I first started seeing a psychiatrist in 2014, this one is weirdly also my 6th psychiatrist. I’ve also done ECT and TMS.

Haven’t self harmed in 6 months but I still consider it something I struggle with since I’m on the verge of a relapse. Hard to believe that I’ve been struggling with this since 2007... 14 fucking years.

#personal #about me #part of me is like why are you wasting your time on this #no one gives a shit #but then again I always love reading personal things about peoples lives so maybe.....#just maybe.... there's one person out there who's excited to read this long ass post

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vaskebjoern · 3 years

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okay. okay. maybe I’ll vent here. maybe this is a good place to vent. I don’t know.

i have not. properly tried to express my emotions in a while. i don’t know how to anymore. genuinely. Every time I try I feel like I’m doing it wrong, and i hear the words I’m saying, or the thoughts I’m thinking and none of it is /right/. It doesn’t properly describe it. Or maybe it just feels like nobody ever really listens? Or that they listen, but they don’t understand, and i don’t know how else to describe it? It’s like no words carry any meaning anymore.

Or maybe it’s just that the words of comfort offered to me never do anything to ease my mind?

I spend so so so much time in my head, and i don’t know how to get out. It feels like there's a poison in there leaking into the rest of my being, and my core, and my life. Keeping me from ACTUALLY being myself. These thoughts of who I am, and what I am, and what i should say, are so completely ingrained into my bones, I feel like I’m always just a puppet trying my best to put on a show, and I always feel like I’m sort of... faking it...

Nothing about being a person ever feels like it comes naturally to me.

And it’s not even!!! that i don’t see people. or that i don’t have friends. I mean ok ok ok i have no family left in my life. That’s something i should maybe deal with, but how? and why? and uhm, hello, i don’t fucking WANT to? Have i not dealt with it enough? Why do i have to poke at those bruises if i want to feel better? Cant i just let them heal in peace? At least they’re not open and bleeding WOUNDS anymore. Isn’t that enough? I don’t want to think about it, or talk about, or even recognize it as a part of me anymore. I literally just want nothing to fucking do with it. I am so so sick of it, and what it’s done to me, and how unfair it is, and how it will affect my entire life, how it’s made me into this, into what i am now, and how there was nothing i could’ve ever done about that.

I think i can pinpoint the exact moment it really broke down for me and i started to feel like this. Numb, and apathetic, and like everything is a performance, like im floating underwater and the world is up there above, blurry, and the sounds vague. I feel like a ghost, i feel hollow, i feel like i have nothing left to fucking give, and it breaks my heart because i want to give the world so so much. And i feel like it’s the only way i’ll ever be loved, is if i give enough of myself away so that somebody notices. Whether what i give is art, or me being funny, or pretty, or smart, or witty, or charming or talented, but i don’t usually feel like i’m any of those. There are moments. But they’re always just moments. And in the end, I don’t have anything to give, that’s not already been given before, by somebody else, by somebody who could do it better. Nothing i do matters. Nothing i think matters, nothing i say matters.

And now that sounds awfully nihilistic, but hey, what if that’s a good thing! Nothing matters! Cool! I can do whatever i want!

But then why am i laying in bed for 6 hours, forcing myself to sleep, because i can’t stand being awake? Is this what i want? Is this all that i can give, since i’m not good enough to give anything else? Since i’m too SCARED to give anything else?

And yeah okay, the exact moment this happened. Right. This is a happy story. CW: Self harm, sexual assault, and suicidal thoughts

I was living alone in my apartment, and i think i was 19. I was having a bad episode of whatever sort... I don’t know what it was, if it was an anxiety attack, or... Whatever it was, i had them a lot back then. And i’d cut into my arm, and there was blood on the walls, and i was crying and shaking, and i didn’t know who to talk to. I had already used my few friends far too much, and i knew they were tired of me, and my relationships felt fragile and precious, and i didn’t want to be a bother yet again. I had been assigned a mentor then, from the school i’d been going to, ever since they put me on sick leave from my actual education, an education i was only even taking to begin with so that i could have enough money to live, not that i wanted it or needed it.

And this mentor always told me that i could call him anytime. He knew i was suicidal, and that i hurt myself, and that i was struggling with life, and he promised again and again that he’d be there for me should i ever needed him. So i called him!

And he didn’t pick up.

And i called him again. And again. And he didn’t pick up.

Eventually i just... I was so tired that i fell asleep in bed, wounds still on my arms, blood still on the walls. So i woke up the next day like nothing happened, and cleaned it all. And he called me and said sorry, and gave some excuse i don’t even remember, and i said it was fine, and hung up. And i never trusted him again.

And that was three years ago... And i think it was just too much for me. It feels like i was in so much pain then, that i couldn’t handle it anymore, and everything in my just SHUT DOWN and i went on full auto-pilot mode. And i was just numb and broken. And then not long after, my neighbor at the time tried to sexually assault me.

I never really dealt with any of it. I’ve just been trying to keep my head above water.

So last year i was kicked out of the house i was living in, and i didn’t have anywhere to go, so i ended up somewhere called the “street team” and they introduced me to the place i’ve been living ever since, a homeless shelter for women. And in so so many ways it’s given me my life back, and i think that’s maybe where all this massive flood of overthinking is even coming from to begin with. Because i’m back on my feet for the most part, and i’ve been allowed to become a person again, and exit panic mode but now i don’t know how to. I don’t remember how to be a person. I still feel like such a hollow shell.

And i am surrounded by love, but my mind still feels like poison. And i relapse. And i don’t know how to ask for help. And i self destruct, and i don’t know how to ask for help. And what i want the most in the world is love, but i don’t know how to ask for love. I don’t know how to talk to people anymore. I am constantly afraid of being hurt, and then i hurt myself, and i isolate myself, and my head is foggy and cloudy, and i stare at myself in the mirror, and i feel entirely detached.

And i don’t know what to do anymore. I’m sorry, this is so long. And it makes no sense. But i didn’t know who to talk to. Or how to talk. I’m trying my best, but i feel so lost and scared. Sometimes i’m afraid life wasn’t meant for me. But i sometimes it’s like i catch glimpses of myself, and i have moments where i feel like myself, like truly happy, and there and PRESENT, and with my feet on the ground, and comfort in my mind, and love in my heart, but it’s always so fleeting and i never know how to get it back once it’s gone. I don’t know how to be her all the time, but i really really wish i could. I just wanna be me, and i don’t know why that is so so hard. I’m tired. I’m sorry. I could keep venting about this forever i think, but it’s probably just for the best that i stop this flood here, because i’m going in circles, i’m saying the same things, and none of it matters anyway

#personal #if nothing else it's nice to just. say this somewhere #but i think i'll delete it later #im sorry

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preservationandruin · 3 years

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Rhythm of War Liveblog, Part One Part Three (Chapters 9-11)

Alright, sorry for the long wait--I have notes through Part Two, but I’m going to transcribe them without too much commentary on events that happened later, even though now--putting it on a computer--I’m further in the book. Anyway, let’s get this going! Kaladin continues to have a bad day, Navani gets a pen pal, Shallan and Adolin read someone else’s diary, Kaladin is forced to take a vacation, and we check in with Venli and the Long Con.

The epigraphs confirm that pewter continues the pattern of fabrial cages working like allomancy, so that’s just A Thing. Meanwhile, Kaladin is not taking things particularly well. Syl and Teft both try checking in on him, but he rebuffs them; Syl notes that this feels worse than his usual depressive episodes and that it seems like he lives for stormlight, which led me to theorize that Odium was doing some influencing of him and that Stormlight--and Urithiru, when he’s there--disrupts it. Syl also asks how Moash knew about Honor Chasm, which is a good point--Kal says he probably mentioned it around the fire, but that doesn’t seem likely to me. Of course, I could be forgetting things, but Kaladin was always very tight-lipped about that moment in particular. Kaladin also notes that his memories of the good times with Bridge Four seem muted and less distinct, and again it’s hard to tell if that’s mundane depression or the influence of something More. Meanwhile, Navani is in her Floating Research Orb, which is the best thing ever. it’s just an orb with points on the ends that she can use as a study while flying and I want one immediately but with windows. She’s speculating on how Soulcasters work, because they break a lot of the conventional rules of Fabrials--they don’t have a trapped spren visible in the normal world, although in Shadesmar they appear to have inert sentient spren attached to them. Which...uh....is troubling, to say the least. Just a theory here, but could those trapped spren be inkspren? It would explain some of why Ivory’s people are so against bonding Radiants, if at some point humans captured a lot of them to make Soulcasters. Also, they’re one of two spren linked to orders who can Soulcast, and I feel like if they were Cryptics someone would recognize them. Anyway, Navani notes that the depowering fabrial uses the same four-garnet design as the pillar in Urithiru, and we get some of how she’s trying to figure out how to make the pillar work again. (also, it must be noted, Dalinar is being flown by one of the Windrunners and has to wear a mask to stop his face from freezing off, and that’s just a very funny mental image. Navani also apparently tried to convince the windrunners that flying feet-first would be more aerodynamic). Anyway this is about when she notices the gem for a spanreed stuck on the bottom of her desk and flashing, and when she hooks it up, she gets...an interesting message, in cramped handwriting:

You are the monster Navani Kholin. You have caused more pain than any living person. [...] You capture spren. You imprison them. Hundreds of them. You must stop. Stop, or there will be consequences.

GUYS, WE MIGHT BE GETTING INTO FABRIAL ETHICS AND I’M SO EXCITED. Navani points out that the sentient spren don’t see the captured spren in fabrials as being hurt, instead more as animals of burden a la chulls, and even the honorspren agree--to which the mysterious pen pal replies that the honorspren can’t be trusted.

So, that’s ominous, and really interesting. When getting into the ethics of fabrials we get some really interesting places--what rules do spren have for sentience? Do they have a standard? Do humans of Roshar have a standard? After all, the parshmen were considered almost nonsentient, and that wasn’t true at all. I’m very excited to see where this goes. Meanwhile, Shallan and Adolin are cuddling in a carriage and discussing what happened. Adolin, understandably, has trouble differentiating between the various underground organizations on Roshar--Ghostbloods, Sons of Honor, Skybreakers, etc. That’s very fair, there are a lot of shady bastards running around. He also knows that Shallan is still hiding things, but trusts her to tell him eventually.

Guys, I just really love Adolin and the way he’s just. A caring and good person. Adolin Kholin appreciation hours are all hours, always, on this blog. Anyway Shallan goes on to explain some of the deal with the Ghostbloods--that they have inscrutable goals, that they sunk the ship back in Words of Radiance, and that they killed Ialai, meaning they have someone in Shallan and Adolin’s people. While she’s saying this, though, we get that there’s something else going on inside Shallan--she’s terrified that if she tells someone her entire background, they’ll leave, and around those fears is the potential for another alter--Formless--who scares all of them, even Veil. Also Shallan shows Adolin Ialai’s notebook, which he cannot read because he remains illiterate and that remains hilarious to me. The only illiterate Kholins right now are Adolin and the five year old and Gavinor has the excuse of being a five year old. Anyway, we get this interesting bit of notation:

“Like this page--a list of terms or names [Ialai’s] spies had heard. She was trying to define what they were.” Shallan moved her finger down the page. “Nalathis, Scadarial, Tal Dain. Do you recognize any of those?”

This is hilarious because while Adolin doesn’t recognize them, that quote is a direct nod to the fans, who will recognize those names--even transliterated to better match Alethi name structure, they’re the other planets of the Cosmere. Adolin and Shallan try to connect Nalathis to Nalan, which makes some sense but mostly just has me very amused. Can you imagine Nale on Nalthis? He would hate it. He would HATE it.

In any case, it’s only after the entire conversation that Shallan realizes that while she meant to tell Adolin she was a Ghostblood, she hadn’t done that at all, which is...interesting, again. I’m keeping note of these times that Shallan does something she can’t explain.

We go over to Kaladin for the next chapter, where we open with Kaladin informing one of the honorspren--the only one they have who isn’t bonded--to try to work with Rlain, who none of the spren have worked with so far because...spren racism. I mean, I get the hesitance, but come on. Come on.

And then we get the real meat of the chapter, because Dalinar takes Kaladin off of active duty, and Kaladin takes that about as well as could be expected.

Dalinar cites Kaladin’s “battle fatigue”--I’m fairly sure we would call it PTSD--as the reason to pull him off the line, and he’s completely right in terms of his logic. Kaladin very clearly has the initial reaction that is also inspired by trauma, because this is yet again a ilghteyed person of power taking Kaladin’s decisions and agency away from him, but--and he even recognizes this the more the conversation goes on--Dalinar, unlike the ones before him, is doing this out of genuine concern for Kaladin and also because, as a commanding officer, he has to take Kaladin off of the field.

There’s no real good call in this situation, and I think Dalinar made the best one. Taking away what Kaladin sees as his only purpose while he’s relapsing is bad--but leaving him on the field when it clearly isn’t good either for him or for the force he’s working with, and could lead not only to Kaladin’s death but the deaths of other people around him.

We also get more Kaladin introspection, and the fact--stated explicitly now, although it’s been inferrable for a while--that Kaladin thinks there’s something broken about him because he couldn’t swear the Fourth Ideal.

I swear to god, the Fourth Ideal is going to be something about accepting that you can’t save everyone. It’s the only thing that thematically makes sense--it would be a very difficult ideal to swear, particularly given that Windrunners are so dedicated to saving everyone; the Fourth Ideal seems to most likely be the one that gives you Plate, and accepting that you can’t save everyone is the mental step needed to defend yourself from the exact burden Kaladin is breaking under right now--if you feel like you have to save everyone you are going to break, sooner rather than later, and you have to accept that that will sometimes be impossible.

We’re going to see him swear this this book, I am confident we are going to see that this book.

And then we have our first Venli POV! We get a brief description of the hierarchy of the Singers--Singers are lowest, and then Regals like Venli who have Forms of Power, and then Fused, who kill their hosts as they take it over, then thunderclasts and Unmade.

Because everyone is at two degrees of separation at most, Venli is working as the Voice for Leshwi--working in these unsteady, tall watchtowers that have been constructed around Alethkar for the Fused to live in, although only the strongest get rooms at the top of the towers. Leshwi is one of those strongest, not only because of her power but also because she’s kept her sanity mostly intact, unlike many of the Fused.

Venli’s in envoyform, still, which is interesting because it lets her not only speak many languages, but also to understand full intent from the briefest notes of what Leshwi is saying, which is cool. We also get what her goals are, for the moment--she wants to build a dissident group of Singers, a group who could rebuild the Listeners and become a separatist group who follow neither the Fused nor the humans.

Which is interesting. I don’t think it’s going to work--this war is all-consuming, and it’s going to be very hard to fit yourself into a neutral position, especially because Odium and his side are looking for total control. They’re not going to allow people to just walk away.

But I respect Venli for trying. We get some more insight into her powers--she can use stormlight and voidlight, although if she does too much she draws the secretspren who discover Knights Radiant, and she can peer into Shadesmar without drawing their attention.

And then Leshwi barges in to say that something has happened, drawing the war to a new and dangerous point.

#row liveblog #row spoilers #navani kholin deserves better #venli and the long con #protect kaladin stormblessed 2k20 #adolin kholin is a ray of sunlight

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todomitoukei · 4 years

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Tbh I think that seeing Enji destroyed would further damage Rei’s psyche (especially since she’s starting to believe that he still cares about her)

Considering we haven’t seen too much of Rei in the story and the fact that everyone heals differently, it’s difficult to say how she would react with 100% certainty.

To answer your question, we need to look at her and also the role that End**vor and his attempt at changing plays in her life.

What we do know about her is the following:

Rei has been in a mental institution for ~10 years

She still feels scared to meet him

Her doctor also suggests it’s not a good idea for them to meet yet

Even though we don’t know too much about Rei’s situation, it always struck me as a little odd that she would be institutionalized for 10 years. Despite the fact that I’d say she only had a small slip-up with Shouto, most people do not stay in mental hospitals for anywhere near that long. This, to me, always showed that the hospital/doctor probably gets bribed into keeping her as a strategy to keep her away from the perfect child.

Whether that’s true or not, we don’t know her exact treatment/therapy, which in turn means we don’t know how the doctors treat her. All we know is while they don’t yet recommend her to see End**vor, they allow him to bring her gifts.

This article has a very interesting point on abusers giving gifts to their victims. To quote: “Abusers often apologize a lot and buy gifts and make big, sweeping excuses, and promise things will be different. And maybe they mean it […]. But it’s also important to remember that apologies can be part of the manipulation cycle.”

So while I see a lot of people interpreting the flowers as a sign for him genuinely caring about her, and maybe even he thinks so, it doesn’t have to be just that. Yes, abusers can actually love their victims. To quote the same article as above: “Abusive relationships aren’t void of love. They’re often filled with really strong love, as a matter of fact. Instead, they’re void of healthy love.”

It’s impossible for us to determine how he truly feels because it’s also incredibly difficult for himself to determine his feelings if he even tries to. Could you analyze why and how exactly you feel about your close relationships? Probably not. And that’s okay when it’s a healthy relationship!

The problem with this is simply that a lot of people see the “redemption” arc and treat it as a sign of him having completely changed, when it’s really not that simple to change behavioral patterns you’ve executed for +25 years.

There’s also something called the “Cycle of Domestic Violence” which predicts common patterns in abusive relationships as observed by psychologist Lenore Walker in 1979.

This cycle consists of three parts:

Tension building phase (tension builds and the verbal abuse begins; the victim tries to control the situation by pleasing the abuser; at some point, the physical abuse begins)

Acute battering episode (peak of tension and begin of physical abuse; unpredictable and beyond the victim’s control as it’s usually triggered by external factors)

And finally, the honeymoon phase, where the abuser begins being ashamed of their behavior, trying to minimize the abuse, followed by things like apologies and generosities. There are promises of the abuse never happening again. These positive behaviors can then strengthen the bond, which can convince the victim and keep them from leaving the relationship.

In abusive relationships, the cycle then repeats itself

The problem with immediately believing he is a changed man now because he apologized is… a very dangerous approach to a very fragile problem. Change doesn’t happen overnight.

To help him in his journey of change, he needs to be aware of or question his reasons for wanting to change.

As harsh as it may sound, to me, it’s always seemed that his journey went as followed:

wants to be the Number 1 Hero > fails over and over again > realizes it doesn’t work > decides to create a child with the perfect quirk to reach his goals for him > gets Rei to marry him > has several children, which he either neglects or abuses, alongside his wife, because he is too focused on his goal to see them as people > becomes Number 1 Hero because All Might retires > realizes it doesn’t magically change his life > realizes his family hates him > realizes he doesn’t really have anything in his life > decides he wants his family to love him

The problem with this is that, as much as he should definitely make up for his past, he needs to figure out first whether he could ever become a positive thing in their lives.

To focus back on Rei, the best thing for her recovery would be to continue keeping her distance from him. Regardless of whether he manages to turn his life around or not, the majority of their time together is filled with negative memories/emotions.

She does seem to believe that he is trying to get better, but that doesn’t mean it’s the best course of action for her to allow him back into her life. First, she needs to forgive herself and realize it’s not her fault. Furthermore, she needs to learn to live again, preferably without him to avoid any relapses.

I’m sure that as someone who has been married to him for +25 years, if anything bad were to happen to him, it would hurt her. Despite everything she’s gone through, she does seem to believe there is good in him, and when she speaks about him, there is no resentment.

It’s absolutely reasonable to assume she would be hurt seeing him being stepped on by Shigaraki. However, it’s more important that she can manage to become independent from him. To not rely on whether or not End**vor cares about her, because her journey of recovery is not about him, it’s about her coming to terms with her past, regaining control over her life, and to find peace and happiness within it.

#todoroki #rei #bnha #ask #mine #meta #276 #Anonymous #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha

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myheartislookingforyoualways · 3 years

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05.18.2021

Dear G,

It happened. You’re finally back fully . I mean fully because we were together in our souls the whole time you were away . I’m writing to you now in our old place while you’re at our new place and I’m just feeling grateful for the placae we are both at now in our lives. After all of thing things that we went through together we are really here and are fully with each other again . Mind, body , spirit and soul . It really is such a blessing to be able to simply hold you in my arms, picking you up so your feet are dangling and telling you i love you . Looking in those big beautiful brown eyes of yours as i tell you i love you .

Picking you up from the quarantine hotel three days ago now as i hid around that corner because i wanted to sneak up behind you and surprise you i caught a glimpse of you before you even saw me . i saw you first and i had butterflies in my stomach like i do every single time and i always will . You looked so perfect in your yellow bodysuit with the straps and your skintight blue jeans. I just looked at you in complete anticipation for what seemed like forever. Honestly it was probably just a few seconds but it was so perfect just looking at you moments before we were reunited that i could have stayed there in that moment forever.

We had two beautiful days until i was with my kids and it honestly felt like we were just right back to where we our in terms of our familiarity . It feels like we’ve known each other forever because we have . You are my soulmate. It also felt different too and we both felt that . It felt more peaceful , more secure. It felt exactly like being back home . We both felt that . I know that a few days ago you were scared about that too and at first you didn’t want to tell me out of fear for what that meant . Out of fear for it being different . Out of fear of change . But you did tell me . Of all the beautiful places to tell me your innermost feeling and fears you shared with me while we were both in the bathtub naked with each other . How fitting was it that as you were sharing your fears of our love changing we were sharing we were only having the second bath we ever had in our entire relationship and it was completely different than our first bath . We both know our first bath and thats a bath i never want to have with you ever again . Not that I didn’t love and cherish that memory with you for alot of reasons, mostly because I love you endlessly , but because i’m not that person anymore and i don’t want to go back there for myself and for us. So yesh , having that peaceful , loving little bubble bath with you a few days sharing in our love in a safe, secure and sober beautiful moment was the definition for us of change . The reason that we could have had that beautiful little moment is exactly because we both have changed. I remember a time long long ago when you told me that you thought we were past the honeymoon phase and I was just unable to deal with that and I desperately had to convince you otherwise . Now when i think of that moment that was such an insecure moment for me. I think of how now as we talk about change and our fears of change we are able to be able to express them to each other without fears of them manifesting but as a way to strengthen our love and commitment to each other . My love for you is endless and that is the foundation for where i begin to bring myself to our relationship . As we talked further and further in the bath more and more about it we both were able to remind each other of our commitment to ourselves and each other . We were both able to remember for all the highs that we had in our earlier way of expressing love to we also had really low lows. Lows that I never want to revisit. So yesh , my love , our love and our way of expressing love has changed

Of course I’m not perfect. Far from it . I still have my insecure , anxious moments. Moments where i feel like i desperately need validation . Moments where for whatever reason , usually being tired , mentally or physically , my mind slips into an earlier insecure way of relating to love and expressing it to you . Last night was one of those times . It was late and i knew I was tired . Had a beautiful two days with you my love and then a beautiful afternoon with my kids . But i was tired and i knew it . As I get tired i’ve noticed now that my insecure attachment starts to express itself more in my actions . Makes alot of sense because I’ve learnt now that most of our poor judgements thoughts and feelings occur when we’re either hungry , angry , lonely or tired. Last night was the exact same . Now that I think of it , in the past when i’ve been really insecure and been unable to stop the spiralling that I used to have i would always choose actions based upon that insecure self and they would always result in a fight somehow . It would always lead to that. Then after I would feel so guilty and so sorry and beg and plead you for forgiveness. At my worst i would call you endlessly which I believe would trigger your avoidant attachment. Nowadays I have more of a senses of self awareness and have tools to be able to recognize when i am beginning to get to that place . Its so simple but it is powerful to be able to ask myself if I’m hungry or angry or lonely or tired? Something i learnt in rehab . Most of our poor choices are made as a result or have something to do with our mind / body connection being in any one of those states, or several , or all of them . in a rehab setting where i learned this it applies to relapse moments but honestly as I know now it can apply to earlier ways of acting and being . So now as I have these I just question myself and i just ask myself what i need to do to be able to self care and get back to a centered place of love for myself and my expression of love. Honestly its so simply but so powerful . I think now of all the moments where i could have simply asked myself those questions and based my self-care on that . Now i am grateful that i can think of all the upcoming moments where I will use those tools to simply be kind to myself , give myself the self care i need so that i can express my love to myself and to you at its highest level . Yes of course I am not perfect and I’m not ever going to try anymore, but i do recognize my limitations and when i need to self care and heal myself . Sometimes its really just as simple yet powerful as having a good nights sleep knowing that all things, including feelings , no matter how uncomfortable or scary , will pass and i will be able to recenter back to the self that i am working on becoming . A secure self.

I am always working on centering myself .

I recognize that am not perfect and have limitations.

I know that my limitations don’t hold me back they allow me to be most me.

I always will work on being able to love myself and express that love to you from my most secure and highest part of me but if I don’t at times thats also ok because i know i will again and i love myself .

Also I love you

Also also I love you forever and a meow meow my meowsita

~Meowsito

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ask-the-jsegos-archived · 4 years

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You mentioned some shared experience with JJ? What happened (if u dont mind me asking)

Ah yeah, that... Well, it’s a bit personal but I don’t mind sharing! It does involve eating disorders though, so I’ll just keep talking under the cut.

Alrighty. So, this isn't something I talk about often, but I do think it needs to be addressed, for multiple reasons. One reason being the stereotype that only white girls have eating disorders. Neither Jamie nor I are white girls (obviously), and we've dealt with crippling issues along these lines.

Anyway. For context, I'll talk about my original battle first. I've never had a straightforward relationship with food. For me, it's always been too much. When I first started falling into bad habits, I was just starting highschool. I'd been working out for a couple years before, but it just got more and more intense once highschool hit. I could probably make a whole other post on the reasons why I fell into a disorder in the first place, honestly. I started doing less stamina workouts and more fat loss/muscle gain. I started eating just a little bit less every week, just enough so i wouldn't tip off my family. I was losing so much weight, and I felt really good. But it never felt like enough. No matter how much I lost, I was always able to find that one spot that had too much fat, or the one spot that wasn't enough muscle. I was never satisfied with how I looked. Surprisingly, my parents never fully caught on until I'd moved out. They had their suspicions, but never acknowledged them. In any case, I'd moved out, and into an apartment with Marv and Henrik. The two of them had noticed from the beginning, and were constantly trying to make sure I was taking care of myself. Obviously I'd lie, say that I was fine, that I've definitely eaten today. It wasn't until I passed out on a dual patrol with Marv that I realized how little I actually knew about what I was doing to myself. After so many years of doing this to my body, I honest to God thought Henrik was gonna say that I've ruined it. But I hadn't. Not yet. Recovery was a bitch, and it involed many restless hours of not working out, lots of guilt after eating something anywhere close to a normal portion, and so on. Eventually, I was up to a healthy weight. My old superhero suit didn't fit me anymore, so I had to get a new one. I kept the old one though, thinking it would remind me of how far I've come. After around a year of recovering, I'd gone out parkouring near the skate park because I needed to do something. I wasn't allowed to go alone, so Marv had tagged along to make sure I didn't fall back into old behaviors after all of my hard work. This is actually when I met Chase! I'll spare you the lame, cheesy details, but we got to talking, and somehow I ended up accidentally giving him the opportunity to compliment me, which he did. Hearing a genuine compliment from someone I barely knew was almost enough to just make me cry, right there. And I almost did, too, but I'm under just enough control of my emotions to not start bawling in public, haha.

I got a little sidetracked there, whoops. But that's my fight. Now onto Jamie, and the shared experience we had.

When Jamie came to us, he was fucked up. We knew he'd be in a bad state, considering we literally just tore him out of Anti's grip without warning, but nobody was expecting him to be in quite as bad of a state. He really struggled with eating, but most of us just played it off as anxiety or something. But something that Anti did to him must have lead him to believe he wasn't worthy of eating, or something similar, because some of his behaviors seemed all too familiar. I noticed the look on his face when he ate, and I remember having made that exact one countless times. When he walked past a mirror, I saw how he quickly glanced, making sure he still looks "skinny enough." He started wearing baggier clothes, hiding as much of his body as he could. What really broke me, what made me feel just so awful for not stepping in earlier, and so so awful for Jamie, was when I caught him actually body-checking. His fingers were wrapped around his wrist and he was so caught up in whatever fat he saw in the mirror that he didn't even hear me approach him. I don't have many specific memories of things any of us said during this period, but I'll always remember that I said "Whatever you see, it isn't there. You're perfect exactly the way you are." I think that moment was the one that really started that bond between us.

Another event that strengthened our bond was our first relapses. The one downside of living with another person going through the same shit as you is that when one gets hit, you feed off of each other and you both end up in a bad space. I relapsed first. I don't even remember what triggered it, but the entire time I just felt like I wasn't really in control of it. It just took over, and I was along for the ride. I tried my best to keep it a secret, keeping my schedule the same, any extra workouts were done in the privacy of my room. This me was determined to be able to fit back into my old suit. Everything was going as planned, I was losing weight fast, and all I got was the occasional "You okay?" from the guys. Until stupidly, I left the scale out. Henrik had taken out the batteries and put it out of sight when both of us had recovered, just as a caution. I'd been using it for some time now, but I was usually pretty good about putting it back. I must have gotten an emergency call or something though, because I never put it back. When I get back, I start to my room and hear Jamie crying. So I knock on his door to announce that I'm opening it, and I see him sitting on his bed, his fingers around his wrist. I know immediately that it's my fault, and all I can do is pull him into a tight hug and apologize. We talk for a while about what the hell we're dealing with, and promise each other that we'll tell the guys ourselves this time. That didn't happen until a few weeks later (happy birthday Chase, your friends are relapsing), but we told them and they're doing more for us than we could ever have asked for.

As of right now, Jamie and I are both still working on recovering, but we're both in a really good space.

#jacksepticeye #therealjacksepticeye #jackieboy man #jacksepticegos #jacksepticeye egos #jse egos #septic egos #jameson jackson #ask #anon #eating disorder tw

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acti-veg · 5 years

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“Are there people who can’t go vegan?”

The question of people who cannot go vegan is usually raised in one of two contexts. It is either asked by vegans as a genuine question as to what sort of circumstances might prevent a person from going vegan, or it is raised as a “gotcha” by those who consume animals as a criticism of veganism as a movement. In either case, the answer is a little more complex than you might expect.

It is first necessary to define what it actually means to be vegan. Veganism is defined by The Vegan Society as “a way of living which seeks to exclude, as far as is possible and practicable, all forms of exploitation of, and cruelty to, animals for food, clothing or any other purpose.” It should be obvious that under this definition, anyone can be vegan. Anyone can seek to avoid animal exploitation as far as is possible or practicable for them, regardless of their living situation, finances or disabilities. Built into the very definition of what it means to be vegan is the acknowledgement that it is not we cannot expect perfection, all that can be expected of vegans is the honest effort to do their very best to avoid all animal exploitation as far as they are able to. So long as you are doing that then according to The Vegan Society’s own definition, you are vegan.

However, this is not usually what people mean when they say the word vegan. A word’s founding definition and it’s common usage are often different things entirely, and that is very much the case with the word vegan. Both vegans and carnists use the word interchangeably with being completely animal product free, and particularly with consuming a 100% plant based diet. This definition prescribes not only a philosophy or the striving for an ideal, but something we actually achieve, in that we need to be 100% plant based to be able to use it. Under this limited definition of veganism, it has to be acknowledged that while there is no vitamin, nutrient or mineral which cannot be obtained on a vegan diet, there are some people for whom it is not possible at this stage in their lives to live a completely vegan lifestyle.

The reasons for this are diverse, and summing them all up here would be impractical, but so I will instead choose a few select examples. While no one has ever been able to name me a physical health issue which makes going vegan impossible, there are a myriad of other health problems which can present significant and sometimes insurmountable barriers to going vegan. The most common of these is probably those in recovery from or currently suffering from eating disorders. While many people find veganism hugely helpful for recovery in that it redefines food as a positive thing, others find the restriction, ingredient checking and general conscious focus on food, which is such an inherent part of especially early veganism, to be highly triggering. Many people worry, quite understandably, that this will cause them to relapse back into unhealthy eating or purging behaviours. It would be inadvisable for some of these people to attempt a transition to eating 100% plant based, and instead it would be better for them to focus on recovery until they are in a better position to make the decision to go vegan a little later in life.

Similarly, there are certain food sensitivity issues which can make veganism very difficult if not completely inaccessible. This is not usually the case with ordinary allergies, but some people do have extreme aversions to certain food types and will consistently eat the exact same food over and over. This can be the result of being autistic, of extreme intolerance and allergies, and while it is far from healthy to live this way, pressuring these people to further restrict their options would be irresponsible, again this may change later in life, but it a genuine issue which can prevent someone from eating entirely plant based. Plant based options come in a very wide variety of textures and most vegetables score very low on the allergen scale, so there issues may be rare, but they are legitimate and should be taken into account when advocating.

A different but related reason why someone may claim they cannot go vegan is that they rely on medication which contains animal products or is tested on animals. This is the case for most prescribed medicines due to drug safety laws in most countries, so it is pretty much unavoidable. These people usually fail to appreciate that there is a general consensus among vegans that nothing you don’t have a choice about makes you any less vegan, especially when it is required for your health. No good vegan will ever shame someone for the medicine they have to take in order to look after their physical or mental health, plenty of vegans take non-vegan medications so this is a non-issue.

Claims are often made about physical health issues preventing people from going vegan, people often reference “certain diseases” but almost no one ever wants to be specific. Taking these claims on good faith, it is likely that many people are told by their doctor that their disorder or condition means they cannot go vegan, when this may not quite be the case. General practitioners receive startlingly little training on nutrition, something medical students frequently raise as a concern. This means that a doctor is not much more likely than the general population to know anything about nutrition, this won’t come as a surprise for many vegans, since most of us can recall occasions of doctors blaming completely unrelated health issues on veganism, even when they actually pre-date our adoption of the diet. Some conditions commonly named are the likes of anaemia and diabetes, but neither of these in any way require the consumption of animal products, in fact many report an improvement of their symptoms after going vegan. It is important to realise however, that just because a physical health issue doesn’t make going vegan impossible it can still make it more difficult, so these concerns should always be treated seriously and help offered to work around it.

In others cases, someone can be physically and mentally capable of living a vegan lifestyle, but is unable to due to their living situation. If someone is living with a parent, guardian or carer who they are financially dependent on, it is likely this person controls what foods are available in the household, and if they are not supportive of veganism it just may not be an option. The compromise in this situation is usually to eat vegan whenever there is an option to do so, especially when eating out or buying your own food. Similarly, in areas of food deserts or indigenous sustenance hunting communities, the availability of plant based options at reasonable prices can be extremely poor, making a fully vegan diet unobtainable for some.

None of this means that we shouldn’t be advocating veganism widely and consistently, or that we need to put disclaimers on the bottom of every post about going vegan that we aren’t talking to people who can’t. But developing an understanding of some of these situations is important for effective activism, since offering to find ways to help someone be as vegan as they can be is far more likely to encourage someone to try than calling them a liar or asking them to prove their disability to you. I find it is always best to give people the benefit of the doubt, and work with the existing limitations they have given you. No one should be required to prove a disability or health issue to you, take people at their word and work with the limitations they have given you, it is seldom the case that there isn’t something which can be done to help someone move closer to a vegan lifestyle, even if they can’t avoid all animal products just yet.

The key is to challenge this all or nothing mentality which people tend to have when it comes to veganism, that if you can’t do it 100% then there is no point in trying. We need to emphasise the fact that none of us are perfect, that veganism is about doing your best, and that no one will shame you for falling short if you are genuinely doing all that you possibly can. Being inclusive in our activism means that these people will feel much more able to come to us for support on how to approach veganism within their means, rather than simply dismissing the lifestyle as unobtainable.

#ask #vegan #can't go vegan #issues going vegan #FAQs #original

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nikoalaa · 4 years

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usually this is something i’d post on a side blog with no tags or followers (just to get out of my head), but i think this time i want the possibility of someone helping. idk how long this will be but i’ll put it under a read more when i’m on my computer.

i’ve been struggling more lately. idk if it’s just the pandemic and quarantine and everything getting to me, but this has all been happening before too, just maybe not as often. i’m more anxious, i’m more depressed, i want to shut myself away from friends and not leave my house much unless it’s a quick trip somewhere by myself. i’m so tired all the time. i’m just so, so exhausted. and since i’m home a lot with nothing to do, i’ll sleep. my schedule is so messed up. i sleep basically 5am-2pm and then sometimes still take a nap. like today i slept 5 or 6 am- 2, woke up and had something small to eat, sat at my computer and then slept again 6:30pm-9pm. i jokingly call this my “unemployed schedule” with my parents, but i think they just think i’m lazy.

and speaking of them, i think a lot of my problems i have with myself would be nonexistent if i just had good parents. my crooked teeth wouldn’t be an issue if my dad didn’t hate doctors and was scared of the dentist, therefore never making appointments for me or my brother, resulting in us both not having good teeth. my weight and unhealthy relationship to food wouldn’t be an issue if my mom would have just made me eat a god damn vegetable when i was a kid instead of just giving me chicken nuggets so i would stop whining. and when i was chubbier then other kids, instead of herself trying to fix my diet by actually cooking healthy food and making me eat it, she made me see a doctor and go to group sessions of other kids in similar situations (that i was very uncomfortable going to, to the point of me crying, but she forced me to go anyway). which none of that helped anyway, it just made me self conscious about eating so i now hate food and when i do eat in public, i feel gross and that people are staring at me. and now my body has tricked itself that if i’m out in public, i can only eat very little or else i get sick and throw up. and my mental illness could be in check if my parents just put in any effort. they’ve been aware of my depression since i was in 3rd grade (which my mom would phrase as “you don’t seem as happy anymore”) and i recall having anxiety since kindergarten. i get that we didn’t have a lot of money when i was growing up, so maybe they just made me see the guidance counselor every friday for two school years. which is fine, that’s what they could do and it was at least something idk. but after that it’s like they stopped caring. i went on to public school after that and i hated it. i constantly would go to the nurses office in 5th grade and pretend being sick so my mom could pick me up or some how get me home. that should have been a red flag. or whenever my dad asked me how my day was and i never said “good”, another red flag. i was so depressed for the rest of my time in public school, and they didn’t do anything. sure i would join clubs or play sports to try to make myself happy and have fun, but it wasn’t ever enough. high school was even worse. i was angry all the time. just that angry emo kid sat in the back of the class. and eventually i lost almost all my friends. i started cutting, but i kept it hidden until i got changed after gym class one day. someone i was kinda friends with spotted the cuts on my upper arm. they gave me a knowing look and asked what happened. i said my dog scratched me. but it was way too many cuts and too dark to be dog scratches. but they didn’t ask again and i was grateful because i didn’t want help at the time. rest of school went on, the cutting stopped (or at least stopped being as frequent. relapses now and again), had panic attacks before and during school (that i always seemed like a burden for having when my mom had to deal with it), then i had a manipulative friend/ex gf i’m not even going to get into rn. long section short, my parents knew i was struggling. they would mention it off handedly. “you didn’t seem as happy” “we saw their was something going on” stuff like that. but they did nothing to help me. never asked questions, never talked to me, never asked if i needed help or someone else to talk to.

after highschool the panic attacks weren’t as frequent, but the depression was there. and they knew it. because even now and then i would bring it up, especially when i was having a breakdown. i would tell them i need help, i need a therapist and i need medication. she said (because it was always my mom i would go to) that she would see what she could do. then nothing happened. another time, full break down, and i fully told her i am suffering and i need help. she made me feel like such a burden and an inconvenience. she said she had no idea how to get me a therapist. no idea where to start. so i told her, mainly yelled, to ask this one lady we know (someone who had actually done more for my mental health than my own mother) for advice because i know her two kids go to therapy and stuff. she said she would try but she never did. few weeks ago, i have the biggest panic attack i’ve had in a while. full hyperventilating, almost going to throw up, all because there was a bug in my room trapped under a bowl. that is not healthy. i’m sobbing and gasping for air as my dad is trying to get the fast bug off the floor but not lose it, and once it’s gone i’m in bed sobbing and heaving and my whole body is twitching uncontrollably. she thinks she’s hot shit because she did that “5 things you can touch” bull shit once i was starting to calm. nothing again after that. what they did, they bought a hand vacuum so i could catch bugs myself. i guess so i won’t have to bother them at 4 in the morning and again freaking the fuck out. all in all, if they got me therapy as a teen and i had meds, i probably would be much much much better off. i won’t even go into the trans stuff rn. i think they think it went away because they ignored it and i don’t talk about it with them. even tho in the rest of the world away from family, i go by my chosen name and my friend calls me “he”. but it’s been almost 4 years, if not already 5 years, since i came out to them. they said they looked up therapy and stuff but again, nothing ever happened. i joke with my parents and say they’re lucky i don’t steal my dogs prozac and they laugh. i know it’s exactly the one used for people because it’s the same exact one my ex took. these days i’m starting to see things out of the corner of my eye, but nothing is there. i tell my mom i think i have adhd or something because i’ve read symptoms and it would make sense. and i also don’t remember a time where my head wouldn’t just be quiet. even now. it never is. but she says i was tested and they didn’t say i had adhd. when i was 7... and it’s misdiagnosed in afab people... and especially since i was anxious as a child.. and nervous around the lady who tested me. when. i. was. 7. shit develops later in life. but she won’t believe me because she says she’s trained to see the signs for her work. but then she’ll bring up how my uncle, grandma, and dad, are like the poster kids for adhd. and she just won’t believe me.

i’m really struggling with just everything. and i feel guilty that i’m even struggling and “feeling bad”. i’m a white kid from the philly suburbs. everything could be much much worse for me. but then again, i know thinking like this isn’t good for me. just because it could be worse, doesn’t mean it still can’t be a hell of a lot better too. i just want to be okay. i want to be healthy and happy. i’ve never really gotten to experience it all. my happiness seems fake and it fades away. my idea of health is “going to the gym and the right amount of anorexia.” i know that’s not healthy but that’s just the only way i know. my mom doesn’t seem to care anyway. i tell her that when i am working or i was in school, i would only have like one meal a day. she didn’t say a thing. i just want to be happy. i don’t want to die. i really don’t. i hate being alive but like, i’m already here. i’m not going to take myself out. but it’s just so hard to exist a lot of the time. idk how i’ve done it this long. and i can tell it’s gonna get bad again because i tried to cut myself a few nights ago. the knife wasn’t sharp enough to really make a mark but i had no energy to keep trying. i really need help but idk what to do anymore.

#im so sorry this is so long #it took me an hour to write #ill put a read more later #im so sorry #tw depression #tw anxiety #tw eating disorder #tw anorexia #tw self harm #tw cutting #ask to tag #just in case #im gonna try to sleep cuz its now almost 5:30 am

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sureivy · 4 years

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is that HALSEY? no, that’s just IVY CALDER. SHE is TWENTY-FOUR years old and is an EMPLOYEE AT DON’T FRET & PAWS 4 LOVE. rumor has it they’ve been in town for FOUR MONTHS / TEN YEARS. on a good day, they’re CREATIVE & VERSATILE. but watch out! they can also be IRRESPONSIBLE & VOLATILE. TRIGGER BANG BY LILY ALLEN (FT. GIGGS) plays in my head whenever i think of them. can’t wait to see them around springhill!

hello my pals ! i’m amy ( 20 // est // she/her ) and i am super excited to be here! we also over here bringing back a fairly old muse (i,, apparently,, play her during election years,,) with a couple of tweaks, so we love that for me! also! pls forgive me if this is lowkey disorganized, we’ve been in and out of airports all day! can’t wait to contract that sexy corona!

QUICK FACTS:

full name: ivy rose calder

date of birth: may 2, 1995

*does not perfectly reflect the below big three zodiac chart because that’s too much math

zodiac big three: taurus sun, pisces moon, aquarius rising

gender & pronouns: cis woman & she/her

sexual orientation: bisexual ( preference for women bc we luv that for her but we also luv leaving things open to chemistry )

education: high school diploma

enneagram: 7w8?

mbti: enfp

moral alignment: chaotic neutral

positive traits: creative, versatile, passionate, compassionate

negative traits: irresponsible, volatile, impressionable, hedonistic

BACKGROUND INFO:

triggers: brief implied sexual abuse, suicide, a lot of death talk?, drug abuse ( desoxyn ), overdose

ivy lived the first eight years of her life in newark, nj. she had a mere family of three – her mother, a model-turned-stay-at-home-mom, her father, a politician, and herself. she was much closer to her mother, but she and her father were close at night.

when her mother finally found out about this, she wasted no time in taking ivy’s father’s side. what a good mom! instead, ya girl was already getting in touch with cps herself... but wow... it was gonna ruin his career in politics :\

“Now, one thing I lerned from Storys is, when something big is about to okur, a riter will go: Then it hapened! This tells the reeder: Get Reddy. Here I go: Then it hapened!” - fox 8

then it happened!

humiliated, clearly never getting a platform back, and absolutely bitter, ivy’s father killed himself before being sent to prison.

Very Tragique™

ok. so. to distance themselves from the poor memories, but to save money, ivy and her mother moved to springhill, temporarily sharing ivy’s aunt’s apartment while her mother began collecting enough money to buy an apartment of their own and keep it.

during this time, ivy was seeing a lot of people and she didn’t know why! they asked questions about her mental health, but she didn’t know why! i mean, totally not traumatic, right?

yes. instead of managing communication well, she became very fascinated by the concept of death. she had many questions about it, she, a youth, had some extended conversations with clergymen about it –– she never killed any animals, god forbid, but she was absolutely fascinated when she ran across them.

SO CLEARLY THAT WAS ALSO TRYING TO BE DEALT WITH.

ok, i’m gonna skip ahead a little. now in teen years and still fascinated by death, but in a healthier way!, and no longer in therapy because... like... that costs a lot of money!

she dealt with it the best she could. became enamored with music... because why wouldn’t she? some covers here and there, some originals here and there, living that youtube lyf, but not expecting anything to come of it. just liked validation! mood!

she also dealt with it the worst she could! became enamored with drugs! naturally, it started out small. some weed, some lsd, some molly –– you know, just drugs that you don’t typically think of as addictive. although her grades suffered, it was harmless enough...

upon graduating high school, she figured... no college. instead, with barely any money to her name, she was like “i... will go to new york... and i will become famous.”

and she did! she did go to new york! she found a few sketchy places that didn’t charge much for a few nights as she began networking - both socially and “i would like to be known for music” (i literally just forgot the word for networking like..... employment wise.... y’all i’m so dumb). when she’d made some friends, she began crashing on couches that were not quite as sketchy!

but :\ she did meet these friends in sketchy places :\ and they were like “ok here r some new and more addictive drugs for u to try!”

what she wound up abusing using the most was desoxyn. it kept her awake, it kept her focused, it even shed a few pounds to create an excellent figure! what wasn’t to love!

i mean it’s literally a prescription methamphetamine,,, when abused,,, literally almost exact same effects as meth,,, but when meth mouth, skin lesions, acne, etc aren’t occurring as a side effect? who was she to care!

20, she released an actual ep with the help of a super cool friend who made everyone call him puppy mills! wow! things were excellent! it wasn’t necessarily seeing mainstream traction, but there was a decent enough following! enough to release an album at 22!

perfect timing, btw! desoxyn was starting to become too expensive for puppy to afford and trying to fake having such a severe form of adhd that desoxyn would be prescribed as opposed to something like ritalin or adderal when it’s literally illegal to prescribe in some countries now?? too hard :\ but the money from the album helped her and puppy!

*olaf vc* puppy died. *end vc*

she was there for it too. she thought it was just a freak-out, took a LITTLE too much, but not OVERDOSE worthy... then he l i t e r a l l y died. and it was a painful death!

“oh wow! maybe prescription meth isn’t super cool after all! shucks!” but that was also an opening?? to visit death herself?? like... she didn’t necessarily want to die (sort of), but she wanted... an answer to the question that had plagued her her entire life... so she was like “ok hope i die then someone revives me but if i die then :\ i guess i die!”

did not die. but also did not get a satisfying answer to her question. the only way it would’ve been truly satisfying? if she had been dead for longer than a minute - then it would’ve given a definite answer! because the answer she received was just nothingness which, while peaceful... is it true?

she tried to detox alone, what because rehab is a business, and it... only... sort of worked. she would be clean for a few weeks, then fall back in, then clean for a few weeks, then fall back in. whenever she wasn’t just naturally focused and awake, or whenever what she was focused on was the past, she would fall back in.

i mean, a side effect is memory loss, so win/win!

she made the semi-wise decision to move back to springhill. wisest would’ve been to just move to a town/city she had absolutely no memories in, but better than moving back to newark!

so... without much to show, and with an unreliable streak, she knew she wouldn’t be able to start looking for much of an occupation – but she still needed money! so she began working at don’t fret out of a love for music, then began working at the animal shelter after completing training.

the main training was, of course, for putting animals to sleep.

FULL CIRCLE.

ah yes. how she pretends it’s healthy... even tho there are studies and statistics relating suicide to veterinarians and shelter workers who euthanize animals... ah yes.

has been back for four months now. love that. do not know how to finish this.

TL ; DR:

born in newark. moved to springhill at 8. childhood trauma that she is still carrying causes fascination with death. “i love music.” moved to ny at 18 because realistic. childhood trauma also causes dependency on desoxyn. releases an ep and an album. does not become famous, but they both have decent traction. moves back after an overdose. relapses... often. now sells records and puts animals to sleep. miss american dream since she was 17, amirite?

PERSONALITY / MISCELLANEOUS INFO:

one person one week, a totally different person the next.

wants to please people, but also wants to be her own person? it’s a whole deal!

in spite of her slight icarian incident, she still hopes to maybe one day become a real musician and performer. until then, we selling records and saying ‘goodbye’ to sweet animals!

can truly flip like a switch in interactions! does love ruining things for herself! almost always feels bad after bc :\ damn :\ alright :\

i’m very bad at these sections i really hate that i always include them!

is still avoiding healthy coping mechanisms. love that for her.

favorite movie is, unironically, the bee movie. favorite horror movie is cats.

SO GOOD at memorizing random lines or trivia. could probably recite literally all of who’s afraid of virginia woolf? other than that?? her memory is so bad. hate drugs for that :\

she uses her hair to express herself! (that sounds really boring.) ...she uses her hair to express herself!

but no. seriously. wears the black shag weave the most, followed by the blue/yellow combo ( we stan the badlands aesthetic ). occasionally forays into other colors and styles when money permits, but it’s usually gonna be one of those two!!

was an envy on the coast stan in high school which makes an inappropriate amount of sense.

will go out and steal the dumbest shit when she’s drunk. has a history of stealing chickens.

once again: hate that i always include these!! feel free 2 j consult the personality parts in the quick facts!!

CONNECTION IDEAS:

ok we gonna list some general ones for right now! all are open to multiple people unless there’s an asterisk by it!

close friends –– moonie, teagan,

ride or die

childhood friends –– moonie,

bad influence ( mutual or her on them ) –– veronica ( mutual ),

good influence ( them on her ) –– presley, hayden, gabrielle,

exes ( can be from high school or something like that if based in springhill, can be from 20s in new york if based in new york )

fwb –– trent,

will they, won’t they –– presley,

someone who knew her music ( can be neutral, a fan of it, or hate it afhkjsl ) –– presley, moonie, teagan, indiana,

will also possibly be sending in some wanted connections for things that are! more specific!

truly anything!! also up to brainstorm and/or look at yours if you have them!!

UPDATE: i have created a wc page so we luv that for me.

OK. like this or hmu if you’d like to plot!

#springhillintro #DONT WORRY THERE'S A TL;DR I. DIDNT KNOW WHEN TO STOP.#also!! am gonna leave the ooc post up for a few so i have reference for who liked it bc i must!!#depart for about an hour and a half and i do not want!! to forget!! y'all idk what im doing today.

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