#maybe go do yoga until her depression goes away

[sarasapen]

White Roses and Scarlet Letters

Been awhile since I’ve posted or updated due to exams so I’m reposting the first four chapters because why not!

@jason-todd-squad @lucy-roo @rockyrocket15 @toleble @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @belovedbratwonder @aprilchagoyaaa @vespertxne @thatwaspossesion @attackonnat @roseangel013bf

Red Roses and Scarlet Letters

----- Like most people, your life had a routine. You’d wake up early and go for a jog or do some yoga, depending on the weather. Then you’d spend a half hour on your phone, before you glanced at the clock and scrambled to get ready on time. You normally met Dick for breakfast before making your way to work.

Generally, your nights and weekends were more entertaining. You spent your nights donning a domino mask and Kevlar, punching assholes and stopping crime. Saturdays were sleepover nights with Damian, and Sundays were girls’ days.

So, considering you were standing on a rooftop with dead bodies littered around you when you were supposed to be watching a movie, you were not happy.

“Robin, come to my coordinates.”

“Tt.”

You smile slightly, rolling your eyes before you turned your head, catching sight of a man with a red hood and a symbol on his chest. You eyed the symbol skeptically. “I didn’t know the Bats had a new associate.”

The man remained silent, staring you down. His fingers twitched, and you noticed the gun holsters on his thighs. Two guns. Five dead bodies. He had seven bullets left. Okay, so maybe Bruce didn’t have a new associate.

“You gonna threaten me, or shoot me?” You say nonchalantly, gripping your escrima sticks. He moves quickly, and you’re darting to the side before you fully internalise he’s pulling the trigger.

“Alright then,” you huff dryly. “Guess you’re shooting me.” He raises the gun again, and you backflip away from the next bullets, lunging in his direction. Five. Four. Three. The next bullet snags your cape- two- and you swing your leg and attempt to knock him back. He dodges the kick and intercepts your path, moving to flip you. You kick back off the wall, using that as leverage to swing your body around his. You slam your escrima stick into the back of his head the same time his fist comes into contact with your jaw. You slip from his body, and he used the opportunity to kick at your ribs, sending you stumbling. He lunges at you, causing you to slam against the wall. One of his hands is around your throat, cutting off your air supply, and the other is holding his loaded gun, pressed against your temple. You know you can easily break his arm from the position, but for some reason, you can’t seem to move. Even through his voice modulator, the man’s anger is clear when he speaks, the words he growls out making your blood run cold.

“You let Jason Todd die.”

Your eyes widen and you’re going to swing out but instead of shooting you, he drops the gun and slams you back into the wall, your head hitting the wall with a loud CRACK-

-and then all you see is black.

-----

The first thing you register is the pounding in your head.

You groggily try to sit up and wince at the bright lights. A hand on your shoulder pushes you back down- what? No, you need to get up, you need to-

“Lie down.” A voice commands and your body goes limp. The figure looks funny. He looks like a bat. And a man. Hey! Batman!

A whine emerges from your throat as your face scrunches up.

“I don’t wanna,” you protest weakly, trying to get up again. Your voice comes out scratchy, and your throat hurts when you talk. Suddenly there are two hands on both of your shoulders, keeping you on the bed.

“Do you want Alfred to scold?” The voice softens slightly. You shake your head, wincing when it hurts. Fingers dance along your hairline, soothing you.

“Rest. Once you’re better, the family’s going to have a chat.”

“Mkay,” you wrap your fingers around the wrist above your head, and you let sleep overtake you.

-----

When you wake up, you’re alone. Well, for approximately 0.3 seconds before Alfred enters through the door. He’s carrying some meds and soup. He stands over you, making sure you finish every last drop even though your throat hurts like a bitch.

You manage to convince him you’re fine, with Barbara's help, before you spend a good hour or so on trying to conceal the bruises on your neck.

Barbara drives you and the girls to Metropolis to pick up Kara before heading to Central City. Despite all the fun the others seem to be having, you can’t take your mind off the previous night, or off Jason. You had no idea who that man was, or how he knew you were connected to Jason.

The weight of Jason’s death had weighed down on you somewhat heavier than the rest of your family. Bruce became reckless, and almost killed multiple times. Dick went off the grid for 6 whole months, and when he returned, he acted like nothing had happened. No one knows what he did or where he went. Barbara stopped coming to the cave. She still went out on patrol, but didn’t talk to you. Alfred assumed you needed some space, so he gave you that.

As your family pulled away, you started falling into the dark abyss of depression. You resorted to self harm as a way of coping. After Alfred inquiring on your long-sleeves, you moved the cuts to your thighs. You fell so deep into the hole that one day, you grabbed some sleeping pills and swallowed about 20. Alfred noticed the bottle was empty, and he rushed to your bedroom in time.

That was around the time Tim popped up as Robin.

Despite trying to help you, your family never quite understood you. Perhaps Bruce did, better than the two of thought, but Bruce was rarely one to talk about his emotions. When Jason died, you felt like you were to blame. You were quite literally the Batgirl to his Robin. You always patrolled together, always hung around, plotting the next prank to pull on Dick. Considering the two of you were practically inseparable, you felt so damn guilty that Jason went to the warehouse himself. You should’ve gone with him. Maybe if you had gone with him, he would have still been alive.

The guilt had been gnawing at you for five years. There wasn’t a single damn day that you didn’t miss Jason. The day he died, you had furiously scribbled a letter that was about 5 pages long, listing all the reasons you hated him. You were angry, and you wanted to make sure he knew you were angry. The next day, you wrote a tear stained letter saying you loved him, and you were sorry for everything.

You then wrote him letters, one for every day that passed. This time, Day 1564, you reccounted the Red Hood guy occurrence, before telling him about this cute waiter that Dick said had been flirting with you at the cafe. You asked him, rhetorically, if you should go for it. You signed off as usual, saying you loved and missed him.

You slipped the letter into a red envelope, making your way to the garden of Wayne Manor. You couldn’t shake the feeling you were being watched, but then you remembered Bruce had tinkered with the security, so that was probably it.

You moved towards the rose bushes, and eased your way into the tiny opening in between the white rose bushes. You grabbed a long wooden box you had been stashing there, slipping the latest letter inside. You shut it, placing it back in the bush, before you straightened.

Shoving your hands into your jacket pockets, you made your way to the living room, where Bruce was trying to get everyone’s attention.

“I have some information pertaining to the Red Hood. We all need to talk.”

-----

And So the Sky Shall Weep

-----

“We all need to talk.” Bruce moves to the grandfather clock, adjusting the time on it. The door swings open, and he goes in, beckoning for you to follow. Bruce stops in front of the Batcomputer, his face hard.

“You may want to sit down,” Bruce gestures to you, Barbara and Dick. Barbara complies, and Dick leans against the table. You do the same, crossing your arms. What could possibly be so shocking that Bruce wants you to sit down?

Bruce turns on the computer screen, and you hear Dick swear beside you. Barbara buries her head in her hand, letting out a choked ‘Oh my god’. Tim and Damian stop poking each other and pause. You seem to be the only one that’s got their shit together, but by the way Bruce is looking at you, you feel yourself unravelling and quick.

Because on the screen, bold and bright as day, the dna samples of Jason Todd and the Red Hood were a 100% match. That could only mean one thing.

“He’s alive?” Dick croaks, eyes shining with unshed tears. Bruce gave Dick a brisk nod as he placed a hand on Barbara’s shoulder.

“This concerns me how?” Damian drawls, earning a well deserved shove from Tim. Damian of course, retaliates, but Bruce ignores them. His eyes are trained on you, obviously concerned at how you’ve just frozen up.

“He’s dead.” You say, voice too loud and too far away.

“He’s alive-“ Bruce starts gently, but you cut him off.

“No!” You don’t realise you’re shouting until your throat burns painfully. That doesn’t seem to deter you though.“He’s dead! I saw his body! He can’t- he’s dead.”

You don’t want to believe Bruce, don’t want to believe the test. “It’s faulty,” you say.

“I sent it to seven different labs, all of them came back with the same report,” Bruce soothes.  You’re trembling, and Bruce reaches out to touch you. You push him away, walking backwards.

“I- I need to think.”

You sprint out of the Batcave, pushing past Alfred and out the door, getting on your bike and driving past the gate faster than you thought was possible. There was a strange sort of numbness that overwhelmed you, and you knew it was only a matter of time before the dam that held your feelings back broke. And you’re pretty sure you didn’t want to be around others when that happened.

You were unlocking the door of your apartment without properly registering it, your body moving on its own to put on your suit and grab your escrima sticks. Next thing you know, you’re on the roof of your building. Your eyes scan the skyline of Gotham, and you inhale deeply, letting the cool night air surround you. In. Out. In. Out. In-The rumble of clouds overhead breaks your focus, and you suddenly find yourself running.

You don’t know what you’re running from - or towards - but you just kept running. You leaped over the gaps in the buildings, hopping over ledges and power lines. Tears begin to blur your vision, but you don’t stop running. You regret that decision as soon as you trip over a plank of wood, flying forward. Luckily, or unluckily, the building had a ledge, which meant that instead of falling down 20 stories, your stomach collided with the ledge.

Hot tears fell from your eyes, and you didn’t bother trying to hold them back. You gripped the edge of the ledge tightly, your chest heaving as you choked on a sob. Lightning cracked nearby, and rain followed a millisecond later.

Five years. Five goddamn years. You mourned him for five years, you felt all that pain, all that guilt, and he was alive? You knew you were screaming when you felt your throat burn.

Screaming didn’t alleviate the weight on your chest, so you lifted your fist and brought it down on the concrete. The pain was shooting up your arm, but that didn’t stop you from hitting the ledge again. You felt like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum, frustrated and angry and sad, and having no clue on how to handle the situation. You screamed again, shoving the ledge and hitting it as if it could solve the problem.

Black gloves hands encircled you, gripping your wrists tightly and preventing you from hitting out. You thrashed in the hold, kicking out uselessly.

“You’ll hurt yourself!” Bruce’s voice came through. He hadn’t switched on his voice modulator.

“I don’t care!” You punctuated each word with a shove, but you slumped into his chest, closing your eyes. You’re sobs died down as Bruce held you, and you let the rain lull you to sleep.

-----

Love is Slowly Losing Your Mind

-----

Tick.

You can’t see.

Tock.

You can’t move.

Tick.

You can’t breathe.

Tock.

You hear footsteps.

Tick.

“She’s finally awake!”

Tock

You know that voice.

Tick

“Decided to join the party eh?”

Tock

Its always that voice.

Tick.

A cloth is ripped away from your face.

Tock.

Red lips smile right in front of you.

Tick.

Fuck.

Tock.

“Let’s play.”

Tick.

Your eyes snap open. You can’t breathe, you can’t move.

It was just a dream. You force yourself to close your eyes, focusing on the whirring of the fan above you as you calm your breathing. Just a dream, you tell yourself.

You sit up, pulling your hair into a ponytail and heading over to the bathroom. You brush your teeth, wash your face, and look in the mirror.

He can’t hurt you anymore.

You dress and go to the cafe, arriving half an hour early. A waitress places some coffee in front of you and you thank her with a smile. You don’t drink the coffee though.

The sound of the chair scraping on the floor causes you to look up, and Dick smiles down at you. Except this time, his smile isn’t genuine, it doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks tired, and worn down, something that shocks you a little. Dick isn’t normally one to be anything less that happy.

He sits across you, swallowing, eyes darting anywhere but your face. When the waitress placed your usuals down, neither of you make a move to eat.

“So,” he starts, voice rough. He clears his throat, sighing heavily and running a hand across his face.

“So,” you agree, picking up your cup and lifting it to your mouth. You wrinkle your nose at the now cold beverage. You make eye contact with Dick and the unspoken question hangs in the air.

Now what?

He’s a mob boss, Dick’s raised eyebrow says.

He’s dangerous, your frown responds.

He almost killed you, Dick slumps further into his seat, eyes never leaving yours.

“He’s family,” you say, voice quiet. Dick closes his eyes for a moment. “Yeah. He is.”

You don’t say much else, and you part to go to your respective jobs. You reach your office, and there are no new cases or any overdue paperwork to deal with, which is a first. Your boss tells you to take the rest of the day off, so you do.

You walk around Gotham for hours, only going back home when the sun begins to set. You contemplate skipping patrol, but you know you need the exercise.

Suddenly you were 10 years old again, clinging onto Dick’s hand before your first patrol.

There’s nothing to be scared about, you rationalise. Absolutely nothing.

You were wrong.

You don’t make it very far, just two blocks away from your apartment, when you see the Red Hood.

-----

When Can I See You Again?

-----

You stumble onto the roof, fisting your cape on your side. He’s leaning against the edge of the building, his arms crossed. He seems to be watching you, or waiting for you, whichever it is, you’re not entirely sure.

He watches you for a moment, and you watch him, a voice in your head telling you that there’s no way in hell that’s Jason Todd.

Red Hood pushed himself off the wall, striding towards you and easily towering over you. Your heart is drumming in your ears, with him being so close to you that you can smell him, and the doubt begins to fade.

The scent is a deep, musky sort of aroma, whiffs of cigarette smoke and alcohol mixing in nicely. It’s strange, reminding you of dark and dingy corners of bars late at night, but at the same time it’s so incredibly him, so incredibly Jason, that you don’t have the heart to deny yourself a little hope anymore.

Especially not with that stupid leather jacket of his, making his arms look so good.

You swallow nervously, tilting your head up to look at him. If either of you move any closer, your chests would be brushing.

And then he moves. He takes a small step closer, one of his hands now on the small of your back and guiding you backwards, into the shadows, until your back touches a wall. You don’t know why your body lets him, why you’re not reacting to him dragging guiding you around.

He’s practically pressed against you, one of his legs between yours, the hand not on your back is resting on the wall on the side of his head. He’s so much taller than you, your head practically looking straight up to look at him.

You hear an intake of breath which could be him about to say something, but then your hands touch his mask gently. He flinches away, body tensing. His hand leaves your back and is suddenly gripping your neck, pressing you against the wall.

“You got some fuckin’ nerve,” he starts, voice gravelly. You don’t care, or seem to have heard him, really, your hands going straight back to his hood. “Take it off.”

“Given’ me orders, huh? Never would’ve thought  you-”

“Take the fucking thing off or get your hands off me!” You retort, tugging at his hand around your neck. Surprisingly, you don’t seem to mind it at all. Hood’s eyes narrow and he pulls back very slightly, his hands leaving you. You’re almost disappointed until he pulls his helmet off, dropping it onto the floor. Not a second passes before he’s closed in on you again, this time applying pressure on your neck.

You’re nearly gasping for air, but you don’t struggle or make any attempts to get out of his grasp. Instead, you look at him, memorising his features. His eyes have hardened, a new steel in them that wasn't there before, but somehow they’ve stayed exactly the same. You see his features soften just a little as you breathe out his name, and you watch as his pupils dilate. Jason - it’s so clearly Jason - smirks, his head dipping down to yours. You can feel his breath on your face, your eyes locked onto his.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs, his thumb stroking your jaw.

“I could destroy you,” he continued, voice soft and eerily soothing. “I could wreck you and ya wouldn’t stand a chance. Could snap this pretty little neck o’ yours.”

A normal person would be trembling, scared shitless in this situation. You… were not normal.

“What’s stopping you then?” You say, voice low and equally calm. You inhaled and god he smelled good.

“Nothin’ if you keep runnin’ that mouth.”

“I’m calling bullshit,” you say, smug under him, despite the fact that he has you pinned and his hand is tight around your throat. He cocks and eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. “If you wanted to kill me you would’ve done it that other night.”

“Maybe I’m regretting’ leaving you alive,” he shoots back. You shrug, leaning your head back as if you were extremely comfortable. (Which, for the record, you totally were.) Jason - Red Hood?- lets his forehead rest against your for a moment, your lips almost brushing. You could just… tilt your head up…

With a heavy sigh, he releases you, taking a few steps away from you. He picks up his helmet, back turning towards you, and you let out a shaky breath.

“Next time I’m gonna kill you,” he says, voice not in the least bit threatening.

A sudden urge to touch him again courses through you, and you lunge towards him. His reflexes are still sharp, and he spins around, anticipating an attack. Your body slams into his, and he barely shifts. He only seems to stiffen when you wrap your arms around him. You press your cheek to his chest, breath shaky as you listen to his steady heartbeat. You don’t realise you’re crying until his gloved hand strokes your cheek. His other arm wraps around your shoulders awkwardly, unsure of how to react. You sniffle, arms tightening around him. He seems to get the hint and tightens his grip on you, his touch full of warmth and comfort.

You pull away first, and he avoids your gaze.

“You still gonna try to kill me?” You say, trying to lighten the moment. Your voice comes out a lot weaker than you would’ve liked.

Red Hood straightens up to his full height, staring at you head on.

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

#angst #Jason todd #jason #jason todd x reader #reader #reader insert #reader x jason todd #x reader #batgirl!reader #Wayne!reader #wayne #bruce wayne #dick grayson #batman #nightwing #robin #Damian wayne #red robin #red robin yum #Tim Drake #barbara gordon #oracle #Alfred Pennyworth #batfamily #red hood #red hood x reader #identity reveal #MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH #revival #past lovers

[anogete]

In Between

Hi, folks.  I’m sorry I have nothing to offer as far as fic goes.  Things have been... ::sigh::  You know, I don’t know what things have been.  Not good, not bad.  Just... things.  I wanted to talk--get things out of my head--this morning, but I realized I don’t have a person/outlet who can accept these things right now.  So, I will put them here for anyone who cares to read them.

1) My car blew up.  Well, the engine did.  I was on my way back home with groceries last Saturday, and I lost all ability to accelerate and brake.  So, I puttered out on the side of the road and waited to be saved.  The issue may be covered under the warranty so I had it taken to the dealership.  They’ve had it for a week and still don’t have answers for me besides an offer to lend me a car for free until they can figure out what to do with my car.

2) This deserves it’s own point, though I almost included it on the first point.  I’ve never bought a car without my grandmother.  She was under five feet tall and had a tendency to wear sweat pants and Christmas sweaters year-round.  She smoked Winston Lights and carried a purse covered in rhinestones.  The car salesmen didn’t know what hit them because she wasn’t at all the sweet old lady who would roll over and accept their first offer.  She was hard to read and she wouldn’t give an inch.  She also wouldn’t tell them what she was willing to pay.  No counter offers from her; she’d just tell you to “do better.”  Anyway, she worked her magic when I bought all three of my cars.  When I realized the problem with the engine was serious and might require me getting a new car, I went into a mental tailspin.  Yeah, yeah, I was worried about fitting it into my budget and all that, but mostly I couldn’t seem to cope with buying a car on my own without my grandma there to hold my hand.  I’m almost 39 years old and the thought of doing this without her had me sobbing in the floor.  Except, I didn’t realize my tailspin was due to my grandmother at first.  At first, I just thought I was incapable of handling stress.  Maybe that’s still accurate.

3) While we’re talking about expensive-ass shit, I knew the air conditioner and furnace on this house needed to be replaced sooner rather than later when I bought it last February.  It looks like the time has come.  I managed to find a nice man with very odd hair (think a longer version of the Prince Valiant hair-do, but bright white) through my boyfriend’s dad.  He does this for a living and said he’d give me a discount and do for $5,000 what other places were telling me would cost $9,000.  So, that’s happening next week.  I have the money, but the idea of writing a $5,000 check makes me want to puke.  Ugh.

4) The days are running together.  I’m working from home.  I can’t complain, though.  I’ve got it better than most.  I’m alone all day.  I have a library with a desk.  I can go downstairs and make tea or lunch in my own kitchen.  I’m getting paid my full salary with bonuses.  I can pretty much make my own hours.  The company I work for is taking the pandemic seriously and has told us that we can all work from home until we feel comfortable returning to the office.  Their timeline for “normal” is months.  I don’t think I’ll be back in the office until late summer, if that.  Those who want to return are permitted to, but they can’t use the public areas (kitchen, conference rooms) and have to abide by some strict safety requirements.  And they can choose when and how often they go into the office, working the remainder of the time at home.  So, better than most.

5) I’ve been doing this social distancing thing since March 19th.  It’s not difficult for me.  On good days I’ll exercise (I have a Peloton) before logging into work around 9am.  On not-good days (which seem to be more often than not), I’ll skip the exercise and just log into work early.  Work keeps me busy and I spend a decent amount of my day on the phone with clients.  I go to the grocery store once a week, but I order for pickup.  Someone else does the shopping for me and loads it into my trunk.  This is nothing new.  I’ve been shopping that way for years.  Now it’s just harder to get my usual pickup slot because everyone else has joined the party.  I do miss taking a break from work and leaving my office to grab a coffee and sit outside on a bench downtown.  I guess I could do that outside my own house, but it just doesn’t feel the same.

6) A few months ago, a husband and wife who are clients came in to meet with me at my office.  They’re in their 80s and both were having trouble walking.  They parked in the garage next door and couldn’t find the elevator to exit.  I walked over and escorted them to our office building.  They were both struggling with walking and the wife (Rose) had been fighting lung cancer for a couple years, so I suggested they wait outside and I’d valet their car once we were done.  The thought of making the trek to their car alone was painful to me because it was a monumental struggle for them to walk down a hallway.  Their daughter-in-law called me two days ago.  Rose passed away two weeks ago.  The husband, a former literature professor for a university, was in the hospital with four broken ribs because he’d fallen shortly after Rose’s passing.  He was a Jewish child in Nazi Germany during the war.  He’d told me stories about hiding from the Nazis, surviving off of tree bark and whatever he could find in the forests.  He also jokingly told me that he’d live until he was 120.  Now, it looks like he won’t survive the year.  He and Rose would tease each other all the time, but you could see all that love between them. Whenever I’d call him, he’d ask me in that wonderful accent to wait while he got “the boss” on the phone as well.  Rose thought it was silly that she was “the boss,” but she humored him.  You know, they’re shorties, too.  Five foot, nothing.  Just like my grandma.  Hearing that Rose was gone and Dr. (he’s a PhD) was likely soon to follow just broke my already fragile heart.

7) Fragile heart, huh?  Yeah.  After the car situation and the realization that one day I’m going to have to do big life things without having my grandma to help me, I was feeling pretty raw.  But I’ve been trying to be responsible and do things I’ve been putting off lately.  So, I gathered up all those medical bills from Ferguson’s illness last September.  (Ferguson was my soulmate little chihuahua mix that I had for over 13 years.)  I had pet insurance on him and hadn’t bothered to make the claim because I couldn’t handle it.  But it’s been almost a year so I pulled out the invoices, which were over $2,000, and logged into the website and starting inputting the info to file the claims.  The little box asks for a description of why I took him to the vet.  And answering that question just brought back all that shit like a wave.  I remember reading this nice description of grief and how it is like waves.  At first they’re big and they knock you around and you can’t breathe.  But over time they get smaller and you learn how to navigate them.  Still there, but manageable.  Filling in that box resulted in a bit of a tidal wave that knocked me on my ass.  My boyfriend came home to find me sobbing at my desk like a lunatic..  He’s... not so good with emotional shit.  And I usually keep it bottled up so that no one knows what’s going on inside me.  But some days...  Some days it just overflows.  So, after confirming that nothing terrible had occurred and that I was reliving September 2019, he slowly backed out of the room to leave me with my grief-wave.

8) I want to be one of those succulent people.  You know, the ones who have succulents lining their windowsills.  The dining room and kitchen windows are full of this oddball little plants.  The boyfriend hates it, but I told him he’d have to deal.  I’ll die on this hill.  I’m a succulent lady.

9) I’ve been reading memoirs or, rather, memoirs through collections of essays.  I don’t know if it’s the mental state I’m in or if social distancing has got me subconsciously reaching out for life beyond my head, but I can’t seem to read much else.  I loved Liz Phair’s Horror Stories.  I’m reading The Book of Help by Megan Griswold right now.  I’m determined to procure a signed copy of What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Blacker by Damon Young.  He did a virtual event for a local bookseller recently and they have signed copies available for purchase.  I just need to muster up the will to call them and ask them to hold one for me.  The little snippets of their life and experiences via these memoirs through essays bring me some measure of comfort.

10) I tried to watch Euphoria on HBO.  I managed to make it through the first episode, but I don’t think I can watch more.  I can’t relate, but that normally isn’t a necessity for an enjoyable story.  Maybe it’s just too depressing for me right now.

11) I binged Dollface on Hulu and wish I had more to watch.  Parts of it hit me hard.  I’ve always had trouble maintaining friendships, period.  But maintaining friendships while in a relationship has been damn near impossible for me.  Just like Jules.  Except, I’m not nearly as cool or gorgeous as Kat Dennings.  And I have no friends in this city to go back to.  Just friends at work. 

12) I haven’t worn makeup for 2 solid months.  I’m starting to miss it.  I found old selfies I’d taken in which I don’t recognize myself.  Did I ever look like that?  I must have since here is photographic evidence.  I look like shit now.  I’m forever in yoga pants and a hoodie with half-wet hair from the shower.  Maybe putting on a pair of jeans and a cute shirt and some makeup will make me feel like a human being again.  Maybe I’m not doing as well as I thought in quarantine.  Huh.

13) I hope you all are well.  If you’ve sent me a message, I’m so sorry for not responding.  My mental state has been delicate lately and the silence from me has nothing to do with your kind words.  I promise I read and treasure and appreciate anything that is sent to me.  I’m also sorry for having no offering of fic or a promise of something to come.  I haven’t written since last summer.  It’s been almost a year.  I guess I’m in a dry spell.

14) Since I’ve been struggling with loss/grief lately, I’ll leave you with a quote from Philip Pullman, taken from his novel The Amber Spyglass.  It’s about death, I suppose.  Or maybe just a transition to something else entirely.  It’s nice to think of my grandma and Rose and my sweet, sweet love of a dog falling in the raindrops and riding on the wind through tall grass.  If it wasn’t raining, I’d take my computer outside right now.

“Even if it means oblivion, friends, I'll welcome it, because it won't be nothing. We'll be alive again in a thousand blades of grass, and a million leaves; we'll be falling in the raindrops and blowing in the fresh breeze; we'll be glittering in the dew under the stars and the moon out there in the physical world, which is our true home and always was.” 

#Anogete in real life #personal #coping with grief #Mental health where did you go #adulting #struggle bus

[pluralismajestatis]

So, yeah. Therapy later today. If we can call it therapy, it's outpatient something or the other, not with a therapist but with a nurse. But given that I can't afford real therapy, it is what it is.

The plan is to fill papers. I'm okay with that, I like doing them, and it sounds like there'll be more this time than just the beck depression one. I've filled that so many times I'm kind of getting bored of it by now. The thing is, I have an extremely pressing matter on my mind and that's what I'd like to talk about.

I didn't know I had a system - let's say a month ago. It's not that I didn't know about my Others, it's that I refused to think about that as anything out of the ordinary. I've masked this thing up as long as I can remember, I'm not sure when it morphed from not knowing any better to deliberately modifying my language to come across palatable to others while still referring to the people I share space with every now and then, and quite honestly I've just never given it that deep of a thought. We've had our order and the rules by which everyone comes out and behaves, with me at the front taking responsibility for the rest and covering our asses so that we look "normal" to the rest of society. I never stopped to question whether other people are the same as me, I just knew that if they were, it was something that should be kept inside and not talked about, unless it was in a context of creativity. Writers were particularly easy and comforting to associate with, after all, don't we all have muses? Is it weird if mine are commenting on what I'm doing, living rent free in my head at all times, and sometimes take over my life entirely? If they buy my clothes and I buy clothes for them, if some of them feel more real than I am?

We had this way of keeping quiet, only associating with each other and occasionally with these other writers, but never directly. All my life I've had them sitting here commenting on my doings, but I've never talked back to them, never really acknowledged them further than by making sure they're alright, they're safe, and giving up control when it won't get us hurt. I knew about them and they never complained, we got along, we got through the day.

All this time I've very, very firmly kept it away from mental health professionals. My mantra throughout my treatment, which started when I was a child, is that I've got this. I can tell what's real and what's not. The parts of me that don't fit the definition of reality - my delusions, my paranoia, and my invisible cohabitants - are things that we don't talk about unless necessary, because a rational person would call that insanity. And it was never necessary with my Others, not like it became necessary with my psychotic symptoms when I stopped sleeping and believed the world was about to end. My Others are well-behaved. We take care of each other. They help me survive and I keep them safe. We have our own thing going.

And since they've never been a problem, just people I live with and experience everything through, I never recognised that this is an issue, or, like I said, abnormal. Maybe everyone does that. After all, those other writers just laugh it off when I tell them what X is thinking right now, how I'm being judged for what I said inside my own brainspace. So it's just creativity, isn't it?

Until I met others who, well, have Others. "Have you considered maybe it's not just imaginary?" "You sound like me." and "That's DID."

It's been one fucking HELL of a month. It feels like everything just kind of fell apart and the more I questioned it the more it was all over the place and I was no longer in perfect control as I thought I'd been. I've realised so many things about myself recently that I don't know how to process and my head hurts. One of them is that I'm barely a person on my own. I'm a paper doll. 2D. All I am is self-hatred and regret. I'm a traumatized mess who's been so hellbent on making everything look normal that I killed my functioning with it. The second I talked to Them, the second We had the smallest fraction of mutual communication instead of the one-way street I'd upheld for years, it's like a dam broke open.

I don't have to do this alone. There's no POINT in trying to do it alone, because I am so little, such a small portion of the whole. I don't have the fucking energy to take care of everything. So now we share tasks. At first it felt strange, after all, is it not the same hands picking up the trash and cooking the food and carrying the groceries? What difference does it make if it's me or J or T?

Turns out, every bit of difference. They have separate spoons from mine. J's not afraid of germs and he loves cats, he has no problems taking care of the litter box every day whereas I couldn't reliably touch it on a weekly basis and always, always had to throw out the entire thing instead of scooping out the dirty litter. T loves the outdoors, loves going out, loves getting his blood flowing, and loves carrying the weight of grocery bags up a hill whereas I'd rather die than do it as often as it needs to be done. M is patient and kind and will remind us when we need to rest and recover, he'll remind us that it's time to take a painkiller, and schedule us time to do yoga.

Together, we've planned up a sleep routine and a list of tasks for everybody. I care for the body and our social life. M manages the household. J takes care of the cat litter and reads books, which is more important than it sounds. He helps with my appointments. T exercises, takes out the trash, vacuums, goes shopping.

In the midst of all of this, and I haven't even began to catch up or adapt to what my life has turned into, I just... feel so much better. I called my mother and she asked me what's the magic trick I've pulled to sound so happy and full of energy for the first time in a long time. I can't tell her. I jokingly referred to my alter ego and T told me to never call him that again. I don't know how to explain this to anybody. I don't have to do this alone anymore. I can just let them help me. I can let them do what they've been trying, in their own ways, to do this whole time.

I don't have to act like I'm not crazy when nobody's looking, or around my friends who support me and mine even if we come across that way.

#apparently the new editor has a character limit so I'm just going to reblog this from myself xx

[loopy777]

Any headcanons for the gaang+Suki’s friendship with Ty Lee?

Oh, yes, building off my headcanons for Mai. I feel like I’m only starting to figure Ty Lee out, though. I’m satisfied with my use of her in fanfic, but it’s notable that she almost always goes off-script, so whatever I do when I’m planning must not match my mental model of her character. And I’ve mostly used her in a supporting role, so I feel like I need to level up before I can proceed with my plans to write a novel about her.

But, anyway, headcanons...

Aang: Did you know that Aang and Ty Lee never really fought each other in the cartoon? He threw one gust of wind at her in the Drill to keep her from landing on him, and that’s it. He barely even witnessed her fighting. He mainly knows about her style from the rants he got from Katara and Sokka. So he’s curious when he first gets to meet her as a friend, with no resentment. She’s kind of like this legend to him, between Katara’s fear and the reveal about how she saved Mai. And so the path is laid for her becoming Aang’s self-appointed big sister. They don’t get to see each other much, since Aang is always running around the world and Ty Lee is doing the Kyoshi Warrior thing, but their time together is always fun and intense. Ty Lee teaches Aang acrobatics, and he teaches her dancing. They always wind up singing a duet at least once whenever they get together. And Aang, for some reason, is the one person who Ty Lee never flirts with. Instead, she has decided to mentor him in the ways of flirting and romance and women and making people uncomfortable. Aang soaks ups all this knowledge like a sponge, and those in the know largely blame Ty Lee for Aang being voted Sexiest Guy In The World for several years running. (That was until he grew the beard. Ty Lee takes no blame for that one.) They’ve also had long discussions about chi, bending, and energy blockages. There’s no one else out there who can Energybend, but Ty Lee’s understanding of chi-blocking is what Aang figures to be the closest thing. That sometimes leads to long rambling philosophical discussions that no one else can keep up with. Also, Aang totally buys the aura thing and is disappointed that he can’t see them.

Katara: This friendship went from 0 to 60 in record time. Katara was initially very wary of Ty Lee, never having quite conquered a fear of chi-blocking. And, not to put too fine a point on it, but Katara got a certain impression of Ty Lee from the flirtations with Sokka. So she unconsciously expected Ty Lee to be chi-blocking or seducing people every moment of the day. Then they were out with Suki one time, and Ty Lee was like, “Hey, girls, lift your shirts to show more of your midriffs and I bet that guy will give us free spring rolls.” And Katara was like, ‘Oh, I get it now.’ And she and Ty Lee have been besties every since. It helps that they both do yoga. Ty Lee was the one who got Katara to warm up to Mai a bit. Katara especially likes how Ty Lee invites her on missions with Mai where they get to be the new Dangerous Ladies. Katara is also convinced that Ty Lee is a year older than her, and Ty Lee isn’t sure how long she can keep that deception going since everyone else knows they’re the same age (actually, Katara is a month older), but she’s going to tell whatever lies she needs to keep Katara from discovering the truth. Sometimes, though, Katara gets a bit tired of Ty Lee’s personality and energy. It’s nothing personal, but Katara just needs to get away from the color pink every so often, even if the pink is only in auras. And Katara wavers on whether auras are real, but leans towards it being true.

Sokka: He had a lot of misconceptions to get over. First, of course, he had to learn that Ty Lee is good now- yes, really- yes, she saved Mai- yes, Suki is really okay with this- yes, she’s going to teach people chi-blocking- no, Sokka, you’re just not quick enough to really do it right, just tie people up if you need to immobilize them. And then he was trying to figure out why the Kyoshi Warriors even wanted Ty Lee on their team, once they got the chi-blocking lesson out of her. He treated it as a mystery for a while, but the truth was that it was just the really mundane explanation of the Kyoshi Warriors being utterly charmed by her. (She would reenact her punching of Azula on command, embellishing it a bit every time. The Kyoshi Warriors like stories about Azula getting punched. And oh, the stories Ty Lee can tell about Azula, true or not...) Then, once he accepted Ty Lee as part of The Group (although he never considers her part of Team BoomerAang), he was worried for a while that Ty Lee’s completely one-sided (looking doesn’t count) romantic infatuation with him would cause problems with Suki. It didn’t help that Ty Lee never flirted with Aang. Then he and the Kyoshi Warriors had an adventure where they ran into Haru, and Sokka was flabbergasted to see Ty Lee all over him, and Suki had to break the news to him that Ty Lee flirts with every boy who isn’t Aang. He took it well, including all Suki’s teasing at how he thought he was special. By that point, Suki and Ty Lee were good friends, and Mai had been dragged into that dynamic. Sokka visits with Suki every chance he gets, so he wound up hanging out a lot with Ty Lee as a bonus. He considers that subset (him, Suki, Ty Lee, and Mai) to be ‘the mature ones’ of The Group. No, he doesn’t include Zuko in that. Ty Lee is obviously way more together than Zuko, although Zuko is more fun to hang out with. Toph’s more fun, too. And Sokka generally prefers Aang as a buddy if he wants that kind of optimistic personality around. Ty Lee isn’t as mean as Katara, though, so that’s fine. And he appreciates how decorative she is, even though he knows her flirting is all fake and he absolutely does not believe in auras.

Toph: Toph is not fond of Ty Lee. Ty Lee doesn’t like being hit in the shoulder as a sign of affection, and she spends way too much time hanging from the ceiling. When she’s on the floor, Toph can’t help but sense that Ty Lee is fundamentally dishonest. Ty Lee acts happy all the time, but she’s not. Toph doesn’t like that. It’s different from Mai just putting on a blankness; it’s obvious there that Mai’s hiding her feelings. But putting on fake feelings like Ty Lee does -- among friends -- does not sit well with Toph. Mai once tried to explain that Ty Lee doesn’t want to upset her friends and thinks smiling when she’s sad is a good way to become happy again. Toph thinks that sounds like bison dung and she wants no part of it. This led to a weird incident where Toph once encountered Ty Lee being visibly depressed, and she was so thrilled that she became Ty Lee’s best friend for a few hours. Or, at least, she tried. She didn’t really do a good job of it. Also, Toph doesn’t care about whether auras are real.

Suki: Suki became easy friends with Ty Lee for two reasons. The first was the glowing references from the other Kyoshi Warriors. The second is because Suki knows she can beat Ty Lee up. Most people would doubt this, including most of the gAang+, but Suki knows she saw Ty Lee fight one time, trained herself in response to that, and then fought Ty Lee to a standstill in their next encounter. And Suki learned from that fight, too. Never mind the chi-blocking training that Ty Lee has given the Kyoshi Warriors. Suki is super-secure that she is still the baddest monkeyfeatherer in the gAang+ (except maybe for Toph), and that makes it easy to get along with Ty Lee despite past acrimony. It helps that Ty Lee is genuinely charming, fully committed to the Kyoshi Warriors, and tells great stories about Azula. Also, it’s hilarious that Sokka thought she was madly in love with him. And Ty Lee introduced Suki to Mai, who has become another good friend (who Suki could also absolutely take in a one-on-one fight). So, overall, Suki is very glad to have Ty Lee as a friend. (If only Toph was as easy to get along with.) At first, she was a bit put out that Katara was invited to be part of the New Dangerous Ladies but not her, but Ty Lee explained that’s because Suki is her boss and so giving her orders would feel weird (Ty Lee is the leader of the New Dangerous Ladies), and also they wanted a Bender. Suki could understand those reasons, and approved of Katara as a choice. It’s all good. Suki isn’t sure whether auras are real, but the world is full of weird stuff and Ty Lee is strangely perceptive, and that’s what mainly matters.

#Anonymous

[artsandpoppy]

Get to know POPPY PINK who’s THIRTY years old and works as the OWNER OF OUT OF THE BOX CRAFT STORE in town. She is from FLORIDA and is often times mistaken for ANNA KENDRICK while others say she reminds them of POPPY from TROLLS.

about:

death cw, cannibalism cw, depression cw, pregnancy cw, miscarriage cw

when poppy was still only just a few months old her mother was killed by a serial killer cannibal on a night out with her friends. the killer was caught a few towns over three weeks later and has been in jail ever since. because of this she was raised by a single father - peter “peppy” pink, the longstanding mayor of their small town trollsville, florida.

even though she grew up with only one parent poppy never felt unloved or neglected. the entire town practically pitched in to help raise her - she was always bouncing around from “aunties” and “uncles” places while her father was busy with work.

peppy pink is the absolute greatest man as far as poppy is concerned. she loves her father to death and always dreamed of one day becoming just like him. which is why she planned for the longest time to follow in his footsteps and become a politician. when college rolled around she majored in political science and double minored in business and arts - figuring that was a good balance of things she loved to do as well as practical studies.

in high school as well as college she was a bit of a party animal, out almost every night with friends - even for just small get togethers - and disappearing from home completely on the weekends, unless mayor peppy had an event he needed poppy to attend. in high school she was fairly calm in comparison to a bunch of her friends and fellow party-goers, usually only drinking maybe one or two drinks per party. but once college rolled around she started drinking more and occasionally doing drugs on special nights, like big concerts or raves, etc.

her junior year of college was when she met creek and her entire life changed. she’d had past relationships before, but none of them compared to how quickly and hard she fell for him. within just a few months of dating she knew he was the one. 

and for a long time things were great, after graduating they got engaged but decided to wait to be officially married until his yoga studio was stable and her own political career had started to take off. she was working with her father and learning the ropes of being a small town mayor while her father still technically held the title. but even though they had decided to wait a few years, poppy still dreamed about the wedding everyday. she had scrapbooks planned and after a year of being engaged stumbled upon her dream dress and bought it without any hesitation.

about 2 years after graduation is when poppy found herself pregnant for the first time. it was the best news she’d ever received in her life and she and creek were over the moon (or like with everything else with creek - that’s at least what she thought) only for her to miscarry a few weeks after finding out.

that was hard on her and the first time poppy experienced one of her bad depressive episodes. throughout high school and college she’d had times were she’d get down and struggle for a day or two - but nothing as serious as what happened this time around. she was in bed for two weeks and struggled to even leave her room, much less the house. thankfully since she worked primarily with her father and other people she considered to be family, they all understood and she faced no repressions or setbacks at work.

there were a few pregnancy “scares” over the next year but nothing more than just a late period. each time it upset poppy, but nothing that lasted more than a day or two.

until it finally stuck and she found herself pregnant again. this time she made it through the whole first trimester and a month into the second, even found out it was going to be a girl and it was just when she and creek started thinking about names that she miscarried again. it was even harder than the last time, a surprise considering she had been told she was likely in the clear since most miscarriages are more common to happen during the first trimester. 

this was absolutely one of the lowest points of her life. she took a complete leave of absence from work and didn’t leave the house for a month. none of her friends could find ways to cheer her up and she pretty much shut them out anyway. only wanting to be by herself or with creek.

after about a month she started to slowly recover, gained her energy and her appetite back. it was during this time that she completely re-evaluated her life and realized she wasn’t as truly happy as she thought. sure, she had her crafts, her friends, and creek... but was being the future mayor really what she wanted? or was it just her following along in what was always expected of her? with these doubts she decided to wait a bit before going back to work - choosing to focus on music instead

she became a local musician, playing at coffee shops and such whenever she could. the yoga studio was doing good plus she always had the trust fund her mother left her to fall back on, so poppy wasn’t worried financially. 

it was great for her mental health and after a few months she decided it was what she wanted to do full time. a choice that she really had thought would make her life better, but instead brought it crumbling to the ground. because apparently that wasn’t what creek had signed up for. he had planned on marrying the future mayor, wanting to be the elite of the town himself, and when poppy gave that up it changed things for him - changed it so much in fact that he dumped her. called off the engagement and ended the relationship entirely.

the breakup was messy. real messy. the fact that he had cheated on her multiple times over the year was revealed, they both said horrible things to each other, and poppy went so far as one night destroying his yoga studio in a drunken rage with a baseball bat. it was the one time she actually got in trouble with the law, spending a night in jail but having the charges eventually dropped 

to this day poppy still isn’t sure if he ever even loved her at all. it’s fucked her mentally a lot when it comes to relationships. she’s constantly doubting the other person’s feeling despite how hard she tries not to. it’s the reason why most of her relationships post-creek have ended. with her getting stuck in her head and overwhelmed and ending things out of fear and insecurities. even if she still loves the person, which she always does.

when poppy falls in love, she’s in love for good. even with creek, as much as she hates and despises him for what he did and how badly he hurt her, there’s still a part of her that will always love him. when you picture your forever with someone that isn���t something that just goes away.

speaking of falling in love - poppy falls super fucking easily. she has a small crush on almost everyone she meets. she’s at any given time harboring active feelings for at least one or two people.

but anyway - after the break up with creek, poppy started going out even more than before. partying or clubbing every night. it was during this time that she got closer to her high school rival barb - a girl she’d always secretly had feelings for but never acted on because of the rivalry that was between them. this party phase lasted about a year before she got a little tired of it. around that same time was when corona opened and she decided to make the move.

her childhood best friend, branch, who has been there by her side through every up and down of her life was against the idea of her leaving at first. but once poppy sets her mind to something there’s no turning it back, so he gave in and decided to move along with her. the two got a townhouse together on the island and each opened their own business - for branch it was a sports and camping goods store and she started up an arts and crafts one.

the arts and craft store has a whole area in the back with a few comfy chairs and two tables for people to work on anything they want! she also has a little stand with a “mini business” run by bubbles (it’s a pet psychic stand)

moving to corona is the best thing she’s ever done. it’s helped her so much, she’s met so many amazing people - some of the best people she’s known her whole life. 

she still struggles with her depression at times, but she’s getting a better hold on it. she still also hella overworks herself, but that’s just in her nature and is likely something that will never change. about once every other month she has a crash day or two, where she does nothing but sleep and lay in bed - it’s a mixture of the exhaustion and sometimes the depression playing in, but most people close enough to her to know about her mental health struggles are aware that this is sort of her normal routine now

she has a girl band with barb and also occasionally performs at open mic nights solo - a part of her stubbornly refusing to give up performing out of spite against creek

a big stress baker as well as just a big baker in general - at least once every few month goes around to all the local businesses and gives the owners little treats because she likes to stay in touch with all of them

scrapbooking and kitting are her favorite crafty past-times, but she also paints and draws and does all sorts of artsy stuff

favorite colors are pink and purple. tho she loves a good blue too

pop is her top genre of music, but over the time of meeting people like barb and hickory she’s come to enjoy all types. but pop will always be her favorite.

she has the power of glowing. a guide to which can be found HERE

she has a bunch of minimalist tattoos which can be found HERE

#my ball of sunshine and love and music #with lil a sadness as a treat #intro

[planetsam]

Based on what happened in the finale I want to read some angst. Alex disappearing for a while, dealing with depression. Michael is with Maria when he finds out about it.

“As you can see, this is our yoga room and our library—“

Michael tries to pay attention to the woman dressed in some hybrid of scrubs and yoga clothes, but it’s kind of hard. He isn’t here for himself, he is here because much to the chagrin of Ann Evans, Isobel has made him her medical proxy and power of attorney and everything else. Isobel has decided she needs to go to a treatment center and Michael is fucking proud of her for the decision. He volunteers to go on the tour. The intensive program is designed to help and he hopes it works.

“Now i can show you our women’s dormitory,” she says, “if your friend—“

“My brother can stay here,” isobel says, “library?”

“Why not?” Michael says and goes with minimal complaining.

The library is nice, he has to admit. If he was in this place he would probably spend all his time here. It’s a bright and airy ground floor room, complete with a librarian who makes sure everyone has authorization to be here. Michael doesn’t know how books can be used to hurt yourself but he can see they aren’t big on sharp edges in this place. He wanders through several of the big shelves, looking at the spines of the books. He’s always liked the library, it’s one of the few places in Roswell he hasn’t been kicked out of. He’s taking down a book on old mechanical clocks when he sees a flash of coal black hair. It makes him pause like every person with hair that dark does. And before he can come up with anything he looks.

Shit, it is Alex.

His heart leaps into his throat because Alex is there dressed like all the patients. He has glasses on and is trying to read but clearly not enjoying the book. He doesn’t look well by any stretch of the imagination, but he still manages to look better than anyone else here. Michael watches as he flips through another page in the book before giving up and falling backwards on the window seat, dropping the book onto his face as he does. He swears into the pages. Michael approaches and Alex lifts the book up before letting it drop and muttering another swear.

“I mean I respond to all varieties of that word, but technically it’s Guerin.”

“What are you doing here?” He asks, not moving the book. So Michael takes it off his face. Alex blows out a disgruntled breath and pushes himself up.

“I’m taking Isobel on a tour,” he says. Alex nods, “what are you doing here?” Alex gives him a truly withering look, “right, dumb question.”

The awkwardness of the situation rocks him. He’s very used to things being awkward on his end, but Alex isn’t there to be the rock like he usually is. He’s been trying to let go of it, but now he actually feels like he’s drowning. Alex refuses to meet his eyes except when he has to and that is also crippling. Alex can be a thousand things towards him, hell he’s even used to his self loathing by now, but this feels different. He doesn’t fucking like it. And the guilt he feels doesn’t help matters. Michael knows he’s a disaster but he tries not to put that on anyone else. He still replays Max telling him that he pushed his parents away. Michael would never ask that of him. He knows every time he’s used his powers, even on people like that dick Wyatt who deserve a hell of a lot worse. Michael keeps people away for a reason, and that reason winding up here anyway feels awful.

“How long are you—“

“Can we not talk about this?” Alex snaps, wrestling as much control of the situation and for one moment Michael feels like he’s back on solid ground, “I’m so fucking tired of talking,” and the ground goes away.

“Okay,” He says. He offers the book back instead. He’s still got his thumb where it was open to when Alex put it on his face and Michael looks at the numbers charted on the page. Alex takes the book back and Michael goes back to his book that’s half off the shelf and comes back. Alex hangs his head but almost makes that scoff Michael recognize, “can I sit here?”

“What did I just—“

“No talking,” he says, holding up his book, “just sitting in companionable silence until Isobel comes back.”

Alex huffs but scoots over.

Michael sits.

He glances at Alex out of the corner of his eye as Alex stares at the page. He can see him trying to focus. Alex is smart, dangerously smart and more determined than anyone outside of Max. But Alex has his pride. He’s already embarrassed at being caught here and now he’s clearly stuck on something the book is illustrating. Michael wants to help but he knows Alex will strike him down. The next time Alex looks at him, Michael catches his gaze. Alex looks away, color on his cheeks and then looks down at the pages before closing his book and getting up.

“Hey where are you—“

“I can’t sit here and pretend everything is okay,” Alex says, looking at him, “I came here to get better.”

“And I make you worse?” Michael challenges.

“This isn’t about you,” Alex snaps. Michael glares, “it’s not all about you,” Alex corrects.

“What’s it about then?” He questions. Alex looks away, “come on, if it’s not about me and dating Maria—“ Alex winces, “whats it about?”

“I said I don’t want to talk—“ Michael stares him down, “i don’t want to talk,” he says firmly.

“Well there’s a surprise,” he says.

Alex stiffens. Michael gets the sense he’s dancing by a line that he’s not supposed to cross. But that’s never exactly stopped him before. He spreads out in the seat, occupying as much space as he can while Alex stares him down. For a while Alex has been careful and scared, but Michael’s seen glimmers of an Alex he hasn’t seen a while. A defiant little shit who can’t back away from a challenge no matter how much in his interest it may be.

“I’ve gone through two deployments,” Alex says finally, “my biggest issue with you stems from before that.”

“You mean when your dad brought a hammer onto my hand,” Michael says, flashing him the fixed appendage, “all better now.”

“I mean when I couldn’t protect you from him,” Alex says.

Michael stares at him, truly surprised.

“We were kids,” he says.

“I—“

“He abused you your whole life,” he continues before Alex says anything, “you don’t think I blame you for that, do you?”

“No,” Alex says finally, “but I blame myself,” he gives a tight smile that chills Michael, “I need help so I’m here to get it,” he says.

“I don’t blame you for it,” Michael says, “okay? I don’t. I wanted to protect you—“ it’s not the first time Alex has stepped away from him, it just hurts as badly as all the others. Worse, maybe, because some stupid part of Michael believed he’d stopped, “damn it.”

“I’ll see you around,” Alex says.

He walks as fast as he can away, pausing only long enough to check out the book he’s reading. Michael knocks his head against the wall, cursing his own stupidity. Of course Alex would get help and be better and he would still walk away from him. Michael doesn’t know why he thought any different. He fights the lump of emotion that knots his throat. An arm comes around his shoulders and he turns to Isobel. He smiles tightly at her, beyond her he sees Ann Evans talking to the woman leading the tour.

“Hey,” Isobel steers him back, “would it be possible for someone to give my brother a tour of the men’s dormitory?” She asks.

“Iz—“ He begins and she shushes him.

“We can figure it out,” she says, “I can’t think of a better use for Noah’s life insurance money,” she adds, “he always said places like this were for loonies.”

Michael rolls his eyes.

“How did we not know?” He asks

“I can’t make sense of it either,” she says, “but just look? Please? I want to get rid of that money as fast as possible.”

Michael looks at the two women standing there. He knows why Ann Evans didn’t take him. He knows he needs help, or he’s starting to think he does and his own inability to afford it has always been an issue. But if this helps Isobel, well, maybe he can do the mental gymnastics for accepting it. At the very least he can take a small step forward.

“Sure,” He says, “give me the tour.”

#michael guerin #alex manes #isobel evans #Malex #malex fic #if u squint #michael x alex #roswell new mexico #roswell nm fanfic #prompts #malex fanfic

[revengeisalwaysanoption]

[Skam Italia] Ficlet: Flawed 2/2

And that’s it :D Again, it’s an unbetaed&unedited VERY LITTLE story I am writing to cope… I hope you will like it as well :) ! Edited to add:  I’d like to dedicate this to Ibisco and @annefraid The first, with her wonderful story (Resilience: go and read it if you understand Italian, it’s so good HERE ) I am a sucker for the boy squad taking care of Nico, so… Another reminder that THEY - both Nico AND Marti - are not alone was due ;) ! And Anne… wow, what an insight on Marti’s deep rooted insecurities in “try and evolve”! I mention them here but it’s all thanks to amazing fic for making me realize how Marti might see Niccolò!

******

Martino knows he screwed up. He isn’t that much of a ‘disaster gay’ – no matter how often Filippo (and his own friends, those jerks!!) likes to address him as such, to rile his Rose up – not to notice the way Nico’s mood plummeted as soon as he sat down at the table this morning. Regretting having to deal with how grumpy Martino can be, before he had any caffeine in him, already? That’s understandable… But quite unlikely. They aren’t really living together, yet, but they are past those petty fights. Who cared if someone seemed always to be too tired to do the dishes or to mop the floor? They never even discussed such trivial things, to be honest: taking care of Nico, making sure he lives in a spotless and tidy environment, is not a chore and Marti really doesn’t mind. Besides, they have a clashing definitions of order and totally different perceptions of how dirty the flat can get before it has to be cleaned. They easily met halfway, agreeing to let Niccolò do things his way and at his own pace, without having to talk about it.

So… if it wasn’t about Martino’s charming decaffeinated personality… What made him run for the hills? Was it something he said? It must be. Fuck. Why does his brain-to-mouth filter always fail him when he needs it the most? And yeah, there is a niggling voice in his head going like ‘You shouldn’t have to overthink every word you say, in fear you’re gonna hurt Nico or something. You should be free to be yourself, including who you are at your worst.’ but he’s not listening to that. What’s wrong with refusing to settle for the person he is now, and striving to become a gentler and more considerate one in the future? What’s so bad about Niccolò inspiring him to give it a try, at least? Nothing; you can’t change his mind. Moreover, he has to make up for the complete lack of any talent whatsoever… Like, okay, compared to Nico - who excels at everything he does, and it’s a lot- he can be dull and boring but at least he’s great at owning up to his mistakes - the whole ton of them - and learn. And it’s more that can be said for so many people out there, including dad, so… Lesson of the day: do not speak until you had your coffee, Martino, and a kiss from Niccolò so that you don’t forget how lucky you are to have this - HIM - to come home to. That no matter how awful you day is going to be - and no, you can’t really know beforehand, so stop being so damn negative and over dramatic… - there are always going those moments with Niccolò that will brighten it.

Okay? Okay. Now, let’s get back to the matter at hand. After the unfortunate comparison of an obsessive-compulsive disorder to a penchant for loving neatly written notes, and finding out that Martino still his that awful word – ‘psychopath’ – in his vocabulary… It wouldn’t be too far for Niccolò to persuade himself that he was belittling his efforts (as well as his mother’s) to get out of bed in the morning, on his darkest days. That’s not what he meant, of course.

’Well, you know none of your friends meant it when they said they wanted somebody to kill them, or that they were going to jump off a bridge because of school. They don’t do that anymore, because they know it reminds you of the bad place Nico’s mind can go sometimes… but some other classmates still throw those words around like it’s nothing, like they are really clinically depressed because their shitty most beloved show got cancelled or their favorite character died.’

That’s it: that’s exactly the point. He knows and it still hurts. It still makes him want to stand up and scream ‘SHUT UP, YOU IDIOTS! YOU KNOW NOTHING, YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!’ at the top of his lungs. He can’t blame Nico for being so disappointed with him that he had to leave…

Well, all this mulling and self-deprecation won’t fix anything. He’d better think how to show him that even though he quite an asshole, he never acts out of maliciousness. He might have hit where it hurt out of anger, in the past, to drive people away… He wouldn’t do it, now. Not even as a last resort. He can only hope it will be enough, for Nico.

So… What should he do next? Should he run after him? Leave him some space? Should he really let Niccolò believe that he forgot what tomorrow means for them – for Martino himself - not to spoil the surprise? He had even persuaded Sana to let him be the main speaker, for once… He had a Spotify playlist ready to play, to let Niccolò know what he cannot say with words and sometimes fails to show with his actions…

He… He has no idea, like, his brain is fuzzy static and he’s pretty sure he will start hyperventilating soon… He needs help. Yep. If there’s one thing he got out of those hell months back in 2018 is that he doesn’t have to deal with any kind of crisis alone. Luca reaches out to them when he can’t find the right outfit for his dates with Silvia, when he doesn’t know if it really would be wise to eat that last piece of sushi even though he’s about to puke… And they should be aware that Niccolò might need them as well, even though he doesn’t dare to ask.

“Marti. First thing you gotta do is calm down…” Giovanni writes in the chat, as soon as he listens to his frantic voice message. “Don’t die on us, man. Oxygen is your friend. Even if it’s being a bitch now, being so heavy and shit…” Elia adds, making him smile. “Deep breaths. In. Out. Picture yourself lying down in a field… Feel the grass. Be the grass.” Luca joins in, earning rolling-eyes emojis and thumbs down.

“Is this something you heard from Silvietta, Lu?” “Actually from our yoga teacher…” “Well, stop it because it’s making me long for some weed and we have to stay lucid and sharp here for Marti and Nico.” Giovanni says in the chat, before calling Martino. “Listen. I’ll be quick: show up at school, because we can’t do much over the phone. I know you probably want to send out a search party for Niccolò rather that sit behind a desk for so long, but you have to trust that he knows how to take care of himself and that, like any of us, simply needs a couple of hours to cool down. It’s not like you killed someone, come on…”

“Yeah, but… what if he doesn’t forgive me?” He forgave him so many times, ever since that morning in the boys’ restrooms, what if this is his breaking point? “Then it’s his problem for holding you up to impossible standards, man, not yours. Don’t even try to fight me on that. You’re my best friend, Marti, and I won’t allow anyone to talk shit about you. Not even yourself.” “I’m far…” “… from perfect? Who isn’t? And don’t say Niccolò. Nope, I hate to break it to you, but he’s some major flaws too. And so do I, and so do you, Eva, Sofia, and anyone out there. Trust me: I call you out when you’ve got your head so far up your ass that you forgot how sunlight feels like and THIS is not the case. Don’t make me come over and drag you all the way to 5B’s door.” Martino is aware that it’s just an empty threat, that Giovanni would hardly ever pressure him into anything, and yet he sighs and promises he is going to be there for nine o’clock. Perhaps, if he gets out, Niccolò will feel like it’s safe to come back…

To Nico: Leaving for school, now. Hope I’ll get to see you, later.

It takes him the whole ride to school to decide that no surprise is worth having Ni thinking he doesn’t hold dear that 11th of October, that the day he felt an immediate and unprecedented connection to a nameless boy could ever be insignificant.

To Nico: Can’t wait for you to hear what I’ve got in store for tomorrow

As he expected, Nico doesn’t get back to him. It’s fine. He can wait.

*****************************

Alright: he might have overestimated his patience. He doesn’t know how much longer he can take, before he leaves no stone in Rome unturned while looking for Niccolò.

Thankfully, he’s got a plan to stick to. Sana’s. Who will most likely make him regret the day he was born, if he steps out of line. It’s not ideal, as it relies on too many factors – Nico having his phone on, reading his text messages, being in a place where he can listen to Radio Osvaldo – but it’s the best they’ve got.

“Well, thank you, Ivano… Sharing with us how it’s life with a bipolar disorder must have been hard, but I’m sure that many of our listeners found comfort listening to how you got your happy ending with Sax… To some of us things look so bleak we don’t even see the point of anything, but your story goes to show that it does get better, when you start building bridges instead of burning them. And Martino, you must be so proud of our special guest today. A woman who was brave enough to come and talk to all of us about she is dealing with her depression. Unfortunately she had to leave early, but thank Teresa on our behalf. We hoped to have a former student of this school to conclude this special feature on Mental Health Day, as they are dealing with one of the most stigmatized illnesses… Unfortunately they couldn’t join us. If you are listening, however, remember that we’re here for you. All of us.”

“I am. My mom truly is the best. Yeah, I can hear you all groan, but that’s a fact. It took me ages to see it, so maybe you should cut your parents some slack as well. Unless they’re abusive jerks, of course. And I couldn’t be prouder of that person you just mentioned as well. They keep on being strong, kind, and compassionate in a world that constantly tries to tear them down… They- ”

“Martino, if you keep on going like that you might just as well say their name.” Sana warns him, shooting him a reproachful glare. Too bad she can’t stop him. He just realized how he can make Nico understand he treasures every second they spend together. The best and the worst.

“They are who I want to spend my life with: Niccolò Fares, will you marry me?”

“YES!!” The door barges open, he’s swept off the seat and carried to the nearest secluded corner. What the fuck? He’s not complaining, but really: what the fuck has just happened?

*****************

They would later agree that the marriage is not going to happen for another couple of years, that a proper and more romantic proposal is order from them both… and Martino finds out that while he was busy with Sana, ‘contrabbandieri’ and ‘matte’ joined forces to delve into Nico’s past. So that they could call Niccolò’s old friends to the rescue. Together they managed to locate Nico and then Gio – of course it was him: the love wizard - and Michi talked some sense into him.

“So, tell me… What exactly have you got planned?” He sounds a bit hesitant, now that the euphoria of the impromptu proposal has worn off.

“I was thinking about a tutorial on how to grow weed in your closet. Followed by a cooking show hosted by the famous chef Niccolò Fares, a ten step guide to on how to break in a deserted pool, a top five on the most romantic spots in Rome… Can’t quite decide who’s gonna get the first place, the bins had their charm but so did the toilets…”

“… well, it can’t be a fair ranking until you’ve seen my favorite spot. Come on, Marti. Keats and Shelley are waiting for us!”

“Lead the way.”

#martino rametta #niccolò fares #they've got amazing friends #skam italia #my writing

[teruthecreator]

💘 for macknerva!!

anon, you are a genius. you’ve basically just sent the magical question that has now unlocked for the world: macknerva origin story (bc honestly i realized i just start posting abt it without rlly explaining it??? and someone people are loving it??? so thank yall for being my ultimate favs but u deserve this origin) 

also this is several days late (thank u Depression) and also super long (thank u Dumb Brain) so i hope you can forgive me for both of these things   

💘: who developed a crush on the other first? 

it’s time we take it back....Back To The Start.  

so since this is my magical world of My Own Personal Canon (since i stole griffin mcelroys rights), minerva ends up in Kepler in a completely unnamed and not talked abt manner (bc im too tired to explain my general alternate theory hgkgldlgbfhke but busically she just got on a ship to earth to avoid dying) and is staying with duck until further notice. she doesn’t mind laying low at duck’s apartment until they’re able to figure out Everything and get her set up w a place of her own (spoiler alert: that never happens, but duck won’t admit he just misses having a roommate so they let it slide). 

after about a month (which feels like eons in minerva’s mind), she starts to get antsy. she’s already been introduced to the pine guard and amnesty lodge, by this point, so she’s constantly trying to hang out with someone so she isn’t stuck in duck’s apartment all hours of the day. 

which is how minerva ends up in the cryptonomica the day kirby has to run into his job at the theatre for a good portion of the day. it’s pretty empty in the shop--i mean museum, so it’s not like ned minds (plus him and mack have already struck up an agreement, which i explained in a previous post abt ned and macks friendship) especially when minerva’s around to willingly pick up the slack. 

but this second job has minerva curious: 

minerva: I assumed your assistant, Kirby, had only the singular position at your museum?  ned, from behind the counter: Oh, for a while he did, but then the theatre opened up and his services were needed elsewhere. And who am I, Ned “Theatrical” Chicane, to deny such a marvelous establishment of the skills and technical prowess Kirby possesses?”  minerva: Oh? A theatre, you say? 

here comes some random personal hc: on her homeworld, minerva was involved in her planet’s form of theatre (which i’ve always pictured to be very greek-esque, thus explaining her naturally booming voice) and absolutely adored it as a hobby. she, obviously, understands there will be a difference between Earthen theatre and the theatre she once performed; but there is no denying that that thought barely crossed her mind as she proceeded to pester ned about the theatre until he suggested she get a part-time job there. 

(ned knows mack’s struggles with keeping hires at the theatre, which is why he is quick to suggest minerva get a job there. that, and ned knows enough abt mack at this point to pretty accurately guess her Type. so let’s just say ned was doing this for both macks gain, but also for his gain to be able to harass her abt her hot new employee that he totally inflicted on her on purpose) 

ned probably brings it up later that night, or the next day. just really casually drops that he has someone interested in a position at the theatre:

mack: Holy fuck--yes, Ned! Tell them they’re hired!!! What can they do?   ned: Hmmmmm, well she’s quite fit, and has no qualms with getting her hands dirty.  mack: Oh, perfect! I need some more set builders! Thanks a whole lot, Ned. I knew you’d always have my back.  ned, knowing full well what he’s just wrought: Oh, of course, dear Mackerel. Anything for a friend! 

cue the next day: mack is just going about the theatre, business as usual, staying sort of close to the house doors so she can be Right There when ned comes in with the new hire. she’s faced away from the doors, checking something on her phone (probably her texts with ned, to see if he’s arrived yet) when she hears the doors open and shut. mack turns around to witness the Hottest Woman She Has Ever Seen In Her Goddamn Life. 

she’s tall--holy shit is she tall--with beautiful dark skin painted with these almost glowing blue tattoos that travel all the way across powerful arms and a prominent collarbone. but the tattoos don’t stop there, of course they don’t. they go all the way up to this woman’s bald head, perfectly framing her beautiful face. high cheekbones, strong chin, a wonderful nose (mack doesn’t have much of a preference for noses but this one is perfect she just knows it), masterfully-carved eyebrows that look like they were chiseled out of stone, and those enchanting, bright, beautiful bright blue eyes.  

mack’s brain basically short-circuits once minerva smiles at her (with those pearly white teeth and a grin so inviting it feels like her whole heart is melting), so she’s barely able to process the smug ned beside minerva. 

@goforduck drew this scene for me a while back and imma show it to u all bc i love him, his art, and the hot takes he gives my special lil ship: 

needless to say, mack Is Attracted, but i wouldn’t necessarily consider it a crush. meanwhile, minerva’s pov, she’s so damn excited for this job that she’s practically vibrating on the way in. and then, like romantic poetic would have it, all of that energy halts as time stands still and minerva locks eyes with....mack.  

mack definitely looks a little disheveled, but it’s like every fly-away hair crowns her head like a halo as those gemstones-for-eyes lock w minerva. she’s never seen someone she has felt so immediately attracted to in her life. but, that being said, she still does not Have A Crush. 

so after all the awkward blustering (AKA mack tripping over every eighth word as minerva turns on the Charm to keep that blush on mack’s freckled face) mack starts to get minerva accustomed to the work environment and the tasks she’d need to do. eventually, she hands minnie off to kirby bc shes got work to do, and the rest of the day goes by uneventfully. 

now minerva works at the theatre, and she’s Delighted w it. the job is easy but entertaining, she’s making friends, her knowledge of the world is expanding, and she now has a target for some very playful flirting and obvious showing-off of her muscles. because, listen....she has Eyes. she Knows mack always blusters whenever she’s around. and she knows herself, too. mack is cute and minerva likes making her blush. but there hasn’t been that moment where things are taken seriously.  

until about a month in, when minerva walks into something she maybe shouldn’t have but also definitely should have. 

you see, mack has a very important ritual in the morning. she arrives at the theatre at the absolute ass crack of dawn so she can get her yoga/stretching/vocal warmups in (since she is still a performer at heart and this has been her routine since college) and then sit by herself on the stage just sorta soaking it all in before kirby comes in with her coffee (which she needs in order to get up from her seated position on the stage bc she is that much of a coffee addict). just about every employee on staff knows not to even bother coming in this early bc 1. this ritual is very Private and Sacred to mack and 2. ur not even gonna be able to speak to her unless ur kirby w her coffee. 

“just about” encompasses every employee except for minerva, who decides to show up before kirby to bring mack her coffee (that she memorized after cornering kirby for the specifics one day) 

so she comes in the back entrance and is sort of at a loss as to where mack may be bc she doesn’t know mack’s routine. and she’s just kinda wandering aimlessly through all the shops and little rooms until she reaches the wings, where she hears the gentle strumming of a guitar. 

she approaches, with all the caution of a woman who has spent years mastering the art of stealth along w her combat studies, and comes upon the following scene: 

mack is seated in the exact center of the stage, eyes shut peacefully as her body sways to the tempo of the song she’s strumming on the guitar she’s playing (which minerva recognizes as the guitar that some idiot pit member left here about two weeks ago). she’s singing (the song is Dream A Little Dream of Me), and her voice is so soft yet so resonate that minerva feels as if she could stand right next to her or be 1000 feet away and hear the exact same thing. and she sounds so good, so completely in the song she’s performing and in her contentedness that it eases some subconscious unease minerva was holding. in the time minerva’s known mack, it’s the most natural she’s ever heard or seen her, just playing for an invisible audience in the dim lights of a theatre not yet awakened. 

minerva doesn’t realize she’s drifting closer to mack until she steps on an uneven plank, and the noise snaps mack out of her little world as she turns to the noise. needless to say, she’s a little surprised that minerva’s here this early, but then minerva wordlessly hands her her coffee and so mack could care less. she accepts the drink w a smile and then decides to go to her office to get started on some business emails. 

it isn’t until mack has already left the stage, and minerva is still stuck in the same position she was when she handed mack her coffee--heart racing a million miles a minute, face hot, and stomach feeling as if an entire colony of butterflies suddenly took refuge there--that minerva realizes that she is Endlessly, Hopelessly Fucked In Love. 

So yeah, TLDR; Minerva was first. 

#ignorance cloud on #mack attack tag #macknerva #fellow keplerians #long post #so uh yeah consider this my coming back from my hiatus lmao!! #i decided its easier to be active and sad on here than to be inactive and sad irl #my posting will probably be a little erratic still but uhhhhh whatever #sorry this took so long anon some shit went down

[svetlanabelikova]

JOURNALING VI

content warning:

weight loss

calorie counting/food discussion

so,,, it has been exactly a month since i last updated this little series. 

november was a rough month for me, i ended up being sick for like, a week and a half in the middle there, and it is always hard to get back to working out after laying around resting up.

but that’s neither here nor there-- i want to focus on 2 topics for this hopefully short update:

1. my current weight and how i feel about it 2. my current work-out routine and how i’m tracking stuff.

i am currently sitting (obviously, in a chair typing this) at 318lbs (un)officially. of course if i hopped on a good scale at the doctor’s office, it’d read smth else, but this is what i’ve written down. 

that is -31lbs. 

which, i need to celebrate. this is the lowest i’ve been in about 8-10 yr.s so i have to remind myself of that. that me at 318lbs is better than me at 350lbs, even if i still look and feel like 350lbs.

no one has noticed anything. not that i see a ton of people, but i just expected them to notice by now. i have to keep reminding myself that my work isn’t going to show until i lose closer to 50 or 60 lbs. when i move down a size or two in clothing, then ppl will probably notice. 

i feel it though. not on my joints or anything, not yet, but in my clothes. they all fit better, and a lot of my comfy clothes are getting a little baggy in some spots. not crazy loose but still. also the ring i’ve worn constantly for the last 15ish yr.s is loose on my finger. i’ve had to put a smaller ring in front of it to keep it from sliding off all the time. 

there is progress... i must keep reminding myself of that. there is progress being made, it is just slow. and when it is slow, i triggers my depressive reaction to say “fuck it, it doesn’t matter. might as well eat 10 sandwiches and die.” but i’m trying to recognize these feelings and not let them get the better of me.

speaking of food, i’ve been trying to stay under 1,500 cal/day. and that is w/o factoring in what my work-out takes off. that is all just a lot of math. i did finally download a couple apps to help me. my mom gave me her fitbit (that was still in the box b/c she never even opened it) so i’ve got that tracking my steps, sleep and stuff, i’ve also downloaded My Fitness Pal, which is where i track my calories for everything i eat, how much water i’m drinking and my weight-- which i’m now measuring every week. it still feels like i should be doing more, especially constantly seeing stuff on youtube and insta titles shit like “how i lost 100+ pounds in 6 months!!!” 

i almost want to join some kind of weightloss community, but stuff like that, just makes me feel like i’m not doing enough and i hate myself for it, and then i want to just give up and the spiral just, continues... so i’m just doing everything alone right now. maybe once i get under 300 lbs. i’ll look into joining somewhere for a little extra help. 

there is progress.

as for my work-out routine, i’ve doubled my efforts. in october and november, i was walking about 3-5k every other night. it was all i could do. after that, everything began to hurt and i’d be puffing along feeling like i was dying, go home, shower, climb into bed and die a little for 8ish hours.

now my routine is getting up at 4:52am, getting out of the house at about 5:15am, and walking down to the park, walking around the park 4 times, coming back down my street then taking a side street to add a few more steps in. 

i get home at about 7am, in time to help get the kids ready, make lunch, etc., then on tuesdays/thursdays/saturdays, do my 35 min.s of yoga. 

i work out in some capacity 6 days a week. 

on average i’ve been walking about 8.5k steps every weekday morning, though today was the first day to mark 10+K steps, consecutively, and it felt great. i’ve doubled both how many days i work out a week and how much i work out each day. and it is coming easier, day by day, even when my ankles hurt and my lower back-- and my shoulder for some reason, the pain hits later in the work-out and goes away quicker. and i can walk almost 5 miles first thing in the morning in the frigid air, and just breathe. 

i’m going to keep adding on. hopefully by the start of january, i will be over 10k a day-- especially if my parents get my a treadmill like i’ve asked for. it sucks ass to walk around w/ wet socks and shoes when it is like, 35F outside. :/

#personal #;journaling series

[quercussp]

Tired to the bone

Rating: G

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Dan is really tired after the tour.

Authors note: This fic is a gift for @phantasticlizzy that I wanted to publish next week, but got too impatient. Sorry:)

A huge thanks to @nihilismdan and @secretlizard for betaing! You guys are awesome.

Warnings: reference to depression

[read on ao3]

There are different levels of tiredness. Sometimes your body is tired and you need a nap. Sometimes your mind is tired and it helps to aimlessly scroll through twitter for a couple hours. Sometimes your entire being is tired, and you just need to blackout and sleep for 14 hours to recover.

But there is also a type of  exhaustion when you are so tired you can’t even sleep. You are consumed by the lack of energy and all you can do is suffer aimlessly in your bed, hoping to fall into deep sleep, but instead shifting in and out of consciousness and just feeling more and more tired as time goes by.

That’s the type of tired Dan feels after they get home from the tour. The jet lag and all the stress and the exhaustion from touring the world for 5 months and meeting people and performing on a stage, sometimes twice a day, coupled  with the feeling of it being over and done, all of that has put Dan into one of the worst withdrawals he has ever had.

Phil has gotten out of bed this morning after a good solid 12 hours of sleep, and has been in the lounge playing fortnite all this time. Dan, however, is just lying in bed with no lights on, praying to feel better and to fall asleep again. Everything seems exhausting and draining, the whole world feels grey and Dan doesn’t even have the energy to be upset about it. It’s torture.

He knows that the healthy thing to do would be to get out of bed, have something to eat and maybe a shower, do some yoga or go for a run and try to get his body to work properly again. The healthy thing is the last thing Dan feels like doing. He just wants to mope. He is allowed. He is tired and depressed and overworked, so yeah, he is allowed to just be miserable for a little while.

Every couple of hours he hears Phil coming into the room to check on him. He softly sets a glass of water on the side table, carefully pulls back the covers to see if Dan is asleep or not and gently kisses his forehead, or murmures something sweet if Dan’s awake. He also asks if Dan wants him to stay or if he wants something to eat, but Dan always rejects him. One of the reasons is because he doesn’t want to suck Phil into his hole of exhaustion, another is that he just really wants to be miserable, and being miserable with Phil lying in your bed requires more energy. Something that Dan doesn’t have.

Dan tries to remember the last time Phil checked on him. It must have been a couple hours at the very least. His overtired brain instantly provides him with an explanation: Phil is tired of his shit and doesn’t care anymore.

He lets himself wallow in that feeling of hurt and sadness for a couple minutes, until he reluctantly pulls himself out of it. That’s ridiculous. Phil has seen Dan in much worse states, they have survived through horrible ups and downs of Dan’s depression, through fights and pain and conflicts, and Phil’s compassion and love for Dan has never waivered. But it’s kind of nice to feel all forgotten and abandoned so Dan allows himself to do it. Serves Phil right for abandoning him.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but the sun has set outside of his curtained windows, and his brain has already gone through all the scenarios of Phil finding him cold and alone and sick and then weeping over his lifeless body, cursing himself for not being attentive enough. Dan’s a dramatic person, ok? Could he text Phil and ask him to come cuddle him? Of course, he knows Phil could come running. Could he just stand up and walk into the next room to see him? Yes, he could. But instead he just watches the light from the streetlights filter through the blinds and leave orange stripes on the dark wall of his bedroom.

His misery is interrupted by soft footsteps in the corridor and the sound of the door being opened.

Finally. Took Phil long enough to check on him. Either because of tiredness or to punish Phil and not give away how much he was waiting for him Dan stays still, not looking towards the door and just lies under the covers curled up. He hears Phil sit down on the other side of the bed, turn on the lamp on the bedside table, but then he hears a weird squealing and panting. He is almost tempted to look around to see what the strange noise is, but stops himself. He doesn’t have the energy to care.

And then he feels something wet and cold gently nudge his shoulder and then a warm, wet, scratchy tongue licking his neck, and a tiny fluffy paw nudging him.

Surprised and startled, Dan finally turns around and is met with the sight of the most adorable puppy he has ever seen. It’s brown and cuddly and small and it’s now eagerly licking his face and nudging him and its soft and warm and precious.

He looks past the puppy and sees Phil sitting on the bed fully dressed, smiling at the scene.

“This is Yuka, I borrowed her from my friend Lizzy,” Phil says softly. “I thought that she would cheer you up a bit.”

Dan continues staring at Phil, but the adorable plush puppy in his face is demanding attention, and he doesn’t even notice how he starts running his hands through Yuka’s soft curly fur while she licks every inch of skin she can reach.

He digs his face into the puppy’s fur and takes a deep breath. She smells like warmth, and like a dog and a little bit of shampoo. It’s so good. So easy. So relaxing. He sees Phil gently petting Yuka as well and their hands brush each other in her fur every once in a while. Dan’s chest is getting tight and he is so grateful that Phil stays silent, because he’s afraid that if he opens his mouth a ragged sob would come out and that would be embarrassing, wouldn’t it.

After some time and some intense petting, Yuka settles in curled up under Dan’s side, cuddled up close to him, her breathing slows  and she falls asleep. Both Dan and Phil continue running their fingers softly through her fur, and Dan looks up at Phil again. He’s too tired right now, but when he has the energy, he’s going to take some time to cry about how much he loves his partner at this moment, and in general. And how adorable Phil looks right now, with his quiff all messy, glasses askew and a soft smile on his face. About how Phil went out of his way and traveled somewhere to get a dog to cheer Dan up. How much he loves and cares for him. Not now, now he just wants to rest.

He carefully curls his lanky body around the tiny dog and presses her to his chest with both arms. Phil pulls away his hand and starts to stand, and Dan catches his fingers in his and gently squeezes them. He knows Phil will understand.

He lets go of Phil’s hand and closes his eyes. The soft breathing of the dog in his arms and the feeling of her body moving slightly and the smell of her fur makes him feel so comfortable for some reason. He feels his brain starting to fall asleep, and his limbs relax.

In the back of his mind he registers Phil turning off the light, and walking into the bathroom to shower.

By the time Phil comes out of the bathroom, puts on pajamas and climbs into bed, Dan is already deeply asleep with a tiny puppy in his arms.

#phan #phanfiction #my fic #please tell me what you think #<3

[swayinghummingbirds]

i feel like i need to blog more stuff out of me to research my own thoughts ignore me or help me either is welcomed. 

so like i was diagnosed with mdd , panic/anxiety disorder so i know how it goes and how it feels and all that jazz. used to be on medication and not for almost two years. i can usually cope well since while i was on medication ifound many ways to do so. but now ive come across season affective disorder and i gotta say i am not a fucking fan. i cant bring myself to do the coping mechanisms because im fucking cold and there is no sun ever.  

this time last year i felt the exact same way and almost moved back to fl but didnt want to give up on tn yet. but im wondering is it maybe time to give up on it? i have no family here. and my family is expanding and growing without me. which makes it worse. 

ive been where i am for almost a year now and its been good. but there are no sidewalks like anywhere? im so tired of sharing walls. sure, its a townhouse and its pretty big and two floors and fire place but my neighbors are so annoying and for some reason in tennessee so many people think its absolutely okay to let their dogs out with leashes? 

knoxville is a really cool city and ive loved living here but idk if i can stand the winter. and its just a mild winter, idk how yall in the north handle it. i see now why when i moved abck to pa for 8 months my mom had it by the time march came around and we moved back to fl. 

a part of me feels like i might even just get bored with where i am after a certain amount of time considering how i was brought up. i have moved 17 times, which is wild for a child. probably why i have a hard time making friends too. 

tried leaving work yesterday after i got my list done (usually isnt a problem for my manager but the ass. manager always fights me with it). i told him three times i already had 2 1/2 hours of overtime and ill be leaving when im finished but bitch never listens to me and acts like he didnt hear me say it to his damn face.Usually i ask just to be polite and make sure but this time im telling him. kind of snapped on him because the day before i just cried all fucking day and had that feeling in my stomach and felt the same way when i woke up. old me would have called out, one because the position i was in was easily fillable but now im actually needed so i go to do my job and if i get done early that means im working my ass off and sweating like a pig to get done three hours early. (and the girl who does the work on the two days im off never gets the shit down or sets the room or anything up in order to have a good morning because the whole thing is very time sensitive and its very frustrating. also she called out like three times this week and made my week shittier than it needed to be.) like bitch no that doesnt mean i want to stay and help with other things after exerting so much energy that i dont even have in myself to begin with. so anyways i cried and then the manager came and talked to me and was understanding because he is aware of my mental health issues and i forgot steve- the ass manager (assistant manager , but also ass because he can be an ass) was not aware. so all in all i talked to my manager and told him and he was very supportive and then i went to apologize to steve and he reassured me i was valued and adored here which was nice. and i had to basically tell him if im trying to leave early it usually means because im feeling like a crazy bitch whos on the break of a mental breakdown so. quit fighting me. 

so anyways. 

even if i did move back fl ive finally gotten myself where i wanted to be in my job but i guess if it was meant to be the universe will take care of it just like it did when we moved here. 

a week before almost moving back to fl my grandparents came to visit and we were in crossville, which is the half way point from here to where we were living at the time and i was like hey lets try knoxville and the next day we went to look at apartments and as we were looking this place went up for rent almost as if the universe here, ask and you shall receive. because i was only looking at places that was in between the three stores that we could have possibly transferred to because i had no idea which one it was going to be i just new it was going to happen. and then when trying to transfer we my fiancees assistant manager knew the manager at this store here and said that he would take both of us and needed help in the area i wanted to be in and i was like wow amazing its all working out. and it did and it was great and then it got cold. and then holidays came. and birthdays came. and i ive learned so much about myself and i feel like yes i needed this part of my life. and now im not sure if istill need it. 

we have a vision of owning a little home a nice big plot of land near the mountains with a spring and creek on site with woods around. if we kept it up and really searched when the time came yeah im feel like we could find it. but what if i still feel this way when were there? then weve bought a home and it would be harder to get rid of. i have a vision of my own business with yoga. i find myself in capable of moving between the months of decemeber and march. then what. even when i get on to the mat i cant get into the flow. 

and what if we move back to fl. would he resent me for giving up on our dreams? will i be tired of people demanding my time and energy? will i bitch about the heat all the time and the fact that neighbros are every where? probably, yes, yes, and yes. 

but will i resent him for not moving back to spend our lives with our families? will i resent myself for not listening to the feeling in my stomach? or would i resent myself if i did listen to that feeling and gave up on the mountainous dreams. 

i know we would welcomed back with opened arms and i know not many would miss us here. 

the mountains are beautiful and so mystical when there. i wonder how it would be to live there. i always end up feeling so creeped out at some point of hikes because i feel like something is watching us, and i know there is, there is always is whether its and animal or a spirit. but sometimes those spirits, or beings, are just so strong of a force. what if we bought a property with one of those that wouldnt be able to make peace with us? i always imagined if we ended up with a property with strong entities then we would make peace and ring singing bowls and plant luscious plants for them. but what if they hate it all. and what if our neighbors down the street end up being cannabilistic cult people? what if some animal tried to maul my dog (which already happens frequently, shes a chihuahua everything is out to get her). what if something happens at oak ridge? i had no idea i was living next to a giant nuclear power plant thing. 

but then its like okay what if theres a giant hurricane that tears my house down (i had a tree fall on my house during matthew which is one reason why we left) or the storm sturge sweeps my house away. trey is scared of tsunamis, not that one has happened there probably ever, idk but it is a weird fear of his. surprisingly tornados do happen in tn too. 

and a day like today, where trey is working all day and i have the day off. there isnt much to do. its cold out so i cant sit on my patio for a few hours like i would in the summer. i dont like to go shopping. i dont have a friend to hang out with, which is my own fault people im really not a big people person. i have hung out with a couple a few tiems, and idk ij ust would rather not. but if i were in fl i could go hang out with my brother, or treys sister, or the few friends i have there. or go to the beach and sit on my own, because its not fucking weird to sit alone there and usually you dont have to worry about getting mugged. i cant go to the parks here on my own. i cant take my dog for walks around here because there are no side walks and people just look shady af everywhere. 

when i went to visit for my brothers wedding in october i realized how i did not appriciate the plant life naturally around all year round when i lived there for 11 years. i guess mostly because it wasnt until two years ago that i really got in to plants but omg i cant stop imagining what our yard would look like if we were in aplace where things could just be outside all year round. i would take cuttings of my plants andjust put them every where have my own little tropical paradise in my front and back yard. 

i know this all is really sounding one sided atm but this time last year i was having the exact same visions and the exact same thoughts. and i thought about how what if my brother has kids and im up here well hello here we are now and thats happening. i feel like i need to be there. theres even a house for sale on the same street as him and all i could was fantasize what i would do to the house and how i would baby sit for them and be able to see my dog that i left with him because ultimately she was is but we co owned her together and just to be there. and be with my mom. shes living in orland with her boyfriend and i feel like the fact shes goingt o be a grandmother might sway him into moving closer, she hates the city and i imagine shes just as depressed as i am to be away and to be in a city where you dont feel safe to go outside alone. we are creatures of nature and both pisces and very sensitive to everything. 

and what if trey and i have a baby at some point? we have no one here to help us. i was thinkg about how our wedding date is a year and like two months away and i have no one here to help me plan. and for a long itme i always imagined myself getting married at this place called sugar mill gardens, a botanical garden that i had always loved in my home town there. when trey and i got together we would pokemon go there and take clippings, and i still have those plants today. but then this new vision came where we would get married on our future property. i feel like we are still a long way away from buying a house here though. idk if we would be there in time. and since we went back in october all i can think about is getting married in sugar mill. he reproposed to me when we were there and that was so sweet and just made me want to be there instead for it. 

this is very long but these are my constant thoughts that all happen at once and it feels nice to get them out to piece them together and not feel so overwhelmed with all them at one time in layers upon layers of thoughts. sometimes my vision even goes out and i dissociate and just work blurred vision cross eyed for ten minutes, who knows maybe its an hour. im back there by myself for eight hours a day idk. 

#v long #nothing to see here #sorry for clogging your dash #idk how to break it

[ollie-ask-and-roleplay]

Everything you need to know:

Looks defined: Silver hair. Blue eyes. About 5'6" tall, weighs around 130 pounds. Natural hair length is just past the ears, they have hair extensions that can make hair shoulder blade length. Has strap on breasts.

Their name:

Oliver Emanuele (Usually goes by Ollie)

Age: 22

A little about them:

Ollie is bigender (identifies as both a boy and girl), they are biologically male. They have a stutter due to severe, constant anxiety. Definitely the mom friend in a group. 100% human unless somehow changed in the future. Most of the time they are kind and shy, although this is the first muse that has seen the NSFW side of roleplay. They are confident and dominant when in "the mood" ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). Haha (I like to think that they are secretly very kinky; but that's yet to be explored)

Has a history of self-harm, suicidal thoughts/tendencies, depression, and crippling anxiety. They are currently working on controlling themself better and improve mental health.

Likes: Making food for other people, helping others, quiet places, windchimes, baking, hoodies, zen gardens, low intensity yoga, etc.

Dislikes: Small spaces, themself (🙁), nuns, large groups of people, spicy foods, etc.

(Likes and Dislikes are to be updated)

Anyways! Ollie often carries fresh cookies with them, don't question it.

Usual Attire: When feeling more male they usually wear a large hoodie with whatever pants they have around. When female it's always different. (Just assume there is a skirt or dress)

Pronouns: Ollie uses They/Them to avoid confusion.

Background Knowledge: (warning: story about parents first) Ollie was born into a very "normal" family. A mother and a father that were happily married and went to a Christian church every Sunday. It was the happiest day in their lives when their first and only child was born with the birth name, ''Oliver". The mother's name was Elaine, she had lovely deep brown hair and bright, piercing blue eyes. The father was Samuel, with blonde hair like sand and blue eyes like the day's clear sky. They were highschool sweethearts. Unfortunately, it was Samuel's brother who had silver hair, received from their father above them. Of course, it could have been a gene that simply skipped Samuel, but he was certain.

Elaine was over-joyed and had hope that they could continue their lives as a happy family. After all, what her husband didn't know couldn't hurt him, right? Oliver was a happy healthy baby, that they both adored almost to the point of worship. Samuel kept quiet for the first month, acting as if the thought hadn't occurred to him. One night, after they had gotten Oliver to sleep, he confronted her.

"Elaine..." He said, the look on his face so morose it could bring someone to tears. "That isn't my son, is it?"

And like that, Elaine's fragile hopes cracked to reveal the ugly truth. She had to face what she'd done. She touched Samuel's face as both their tears started to fall, his of bitter pain and her of regret. She gazed into his eyes knowing this would be the last time they would look at her without hatred.

"... No, not biologically. Ol-Oliver was conceived b-by... your brother and myself." She could no longer look at him and her voice was no more, for sobs had started shaking her body to the core. Her hand fell from his face as she moved to cradle her own body.

Samuel had known. He let his tears fall and left his wife to cry alone. He went into the nursery where baby Oliver was sleeping peacefully, unaware of anything that had happened.

Samuel kissed Oliver's forehead and whispered, "I'm sorry, my son. They wronged us both. I'll be sure they pay for it..." Samuel stood there for a few more moments, tears dropping into Oliver's crib.

The events that followed that night were not what anyone had planned for.

Samuel left his home with his wedding ring on the counter. He drove to his brother's home and didn't bother knocking. He broke a window with a brick laying outside and climbed in, knowing exactly where to go. Samuel stood beside his brother's bed with a brick in hand. He stood there, his rage boiling just beneath the surface of his stoic face. The rage of a man whose family had been stolen from him. Then, as the unsuspecting man was started to wake, Samuel hit his brother once over the head with the brick. Twice. Three times. Samuel did not kill his brother that night, but he did cause brain bleeding which which lead to death several days later.

Samuel got back into his car and started driving back to his home to gather his belongings. He planned to get a small apartment in town and fight for custody of Oliver. However a semi-truck had other plans. Samuel died in a "crash", his small car practically obliterated.

The only reason Elaine had to live was Oliver now. Unfortunately Elaine had always been selfish and her child wasn't enough for her. After attending her Husband and her child's father's duel funeral, she grabbed Oliver in his little mourning tux and left them on the porch of a nearby orphanage. Little Ollie had only the clothes on their back, a letter detailing who they were, a roughed up stuffed bunny, and a chain-necklace around his neck with Samuel and Elaine's wedding rings. Elaine knocked on the door and ran as fast as she could. She committed suicide later that day.

(Okay, parent story end)

Ollie grew up in that orphanage. It was a religious orphanage run by nuns. Ollie wasn't bullied at first, but was often ignored. They were small and quiet and did everything they were told, so the nuns decided they didn't need any extra attention besides "Have you eaten?" and "It's bedtime now".

They played with their bunny until the arm ripped off, at age 5, which triggered his first fit since he was an infant. The nuns quickly sewed their bunny together again, not used to the quiet one being so upset.

At age 8, a boy named Johnny on the playground at school decided to start picking on Ollie because they were an easy target. Ollie started coming back from school with scrapes on their knees from running away and falling. Plus bruises from Johnny and his group when they caught up.

At age 10, Ollie got caught playing with one of the older girls' makeup and dresses for the first time. The nuns were called quickly. Oliver got punished with 10 spanks for getting into another's property and 10 more for "inappropriate behavior". Ollie didn't understand why wanting to be pretty was wrong.

At age 12, puberty had started and something was really bothering Oliver. Some days they didn't feel right in their own skin and other days they were perfectly fine. Oliver was in middle school now, which meant everyone around them were becoming couples for a week or less at a time, and being very curious with themselves. One day, Oliver was listening in on some 8th graders and words of "sexuality" and "gender identity" were getting thrown around. They got curious. "Am I different?"

At age 13, they started seriously researching gender identities on the public library's computer. They were in awe that there were words to describe how they were feeling. They decided they identified with two genders, male and female. Ollie decided to start going by "Ollie" instead of "Oliver".

At age 14, Ollie got up the courage to ask a nun for a dress, and "maybe a lip gloss". The nun was outraged and gave him 10 spanks in front of all the orphan children at dinner time. The nun "made an example" of them and let all the kids know that the orphanage would never spend money on something a child does not need. Especially when the child wanted something that would "make them a disgusting fag". Ollie started getting picked on not just from the kids at the school, but from the kids in the orphanage too. So many slurs and hateful words were thrown towards Ollie that they started to internalize it.

At age 16, they were severely depressed and constantly on edge. The bullying didn't stop and had started getting more physical; ending up in the ER a couple times for stitches or broken bones. They had tried to kill them self multiple times at this point and always wore a baggy hoodie. The life was quickly draining from their eyes. A younger nun, who had only been with the orphanage for a few months decided it was enough. One evening the nun directly asked them, "Do you want to live?"

They replied, "Not here."

The young nun gave Ollie 2,000 dollars of her savings and told them to get as far as possible. They gratefully took the offer and was gone by dinner time the next day.

At age 18, Ollie had made a great life for themself. They lived with two other people to help pay rent of an apartment. They got a girlfriend. They work at a nice Subway job and graduated high school as the Salutatorian of their class. They were fairly accepted as a bigender person both at home, and in school.

At age 20, they broke up with their longest relationship of 3 years. Ollie sunk back into a deep depression and what little progress they made was thrown out the window. Ollie barely managed to keep their job, calling in "sick" too many times. Ollie worried their roommates by spending most of their time in their room alone.

At age 22, things have settled down. Ollie is over the breakup but the depression still lingered. They are trying to heal. They now go to college to get a culinary degree and hope to get their own bakery or restaurant one day.

Thanks for reading Ollie's Story!

[thewayshefeels1]

Dear Mike

Hey, it’s me. Comin at ya at 12:30AM from my bed. Insomnia sucks. It’s so frustrating tossing and turning until you finally find that perfect position and then you’re off. Time goes by so fast when you’re asleep. It’s like you were up and then bam the hours pass by and now here you are… again. I have to pee but I’m too lazy to get up. Why am I telling you this? I have my best thoughts this time of night, or my worst depending on how you look at it. I think about you, I have been. You texted me last night and it made me really nervous. I was going to ask you “what did I do?” But I didn’t. Instead I just sucked up my upset and took my anxious ass downstairs with a bad of edamame. I watched these videos on my computer. They’re pretty interesting. The last 3 years of my life I’ve made a video each month. I told my mom if anything were to ever happen to me to watch these videos so she could find out who I really am; she could see the truth. And I guess that’s why I’m writing this to you now; I don’t even know if I’ll give it to you, if I’ll read it. I wrote to you before but who knows where that is now, on moms laptop I think. I may just write for catharsis, and in a few months or years look back and reflect on what I’ve learned, laugh at my younger, naive self or cry… it’s all relative at this point. You asked to see me tomorrow, which I guess is today. I don’t know what’s going to happen… I don’t know why you had to text me and make me worry. But I guess we’ll find out soon enough. I know what I have to say to you. They say the truth will set you free… and that’s all any of us really want isn’t it? To be free? So here goes… I briefly remember the first time I saw you. We were in the back room having a huddle by the truck line. You were slightly hidden but you were tall enough to peer over the people nearest you. I was hiding around the corner like I usually do. I was trying to sneak a glance, without looking interested. You were wearing a bright red shirt and you were next to someone whose name I will not mention. The next time I saw you; there you were again, next to he who shall not be named. We might’ve made eye contact, we may have not. The third time I was introduced, by a “friend”. I probably smiled and most likely was feeling self-conscious. You were behind me and I was wondering what I looked like. Were you looking at my ass? This time we had our huddle by the dressing rooms. My friend said we were married or something and I had hoped you disregarded this because my friend is not my type but you were. Fast forward to your last day and I recall holding my breath and calling your name to invite you over or ask for your number/some combination of the two and praying I didn’t sound like a thirsty weirdo but thinking “ah what the fuck” if I did. I remember my two confidants Christa and Jeremy both being oh so very proud and me doing a celebration dance in the aisle (success!) after. I remember you standing outside my house and my mom using her creepy camera to ask which is the hottie I was talking about but I couldn’t decipher between you and Zack. And when they were playing poker truth or dare and someone asked “if you could fuck anyone in the room who would it be” and you were sitting next to me holding a beer and I was going to say you but somebody asked me to get them something so I got up and couldn’t say it (saved by the bell) I remember showing you the photo of Casper in Dina’s room and you being so fascinated and me being so fascinated by your fascination; which may or may not have been real but I don’t need to know (or might’ve been the alcohol) Blame it on the alcohol. Then I remember showing you my room and you being the only one I took upstairs and my mom asking me about that the next day (oops?) I remember someone mentioning he noticed the way I looked at you. “Is it that obvious?!” I said embarrassed… You texting me saying you had a really good time and despite the fact I was ridiculously tired and you didn’t work at target anymore me feeling a sense of success. I remember asking Christa what I should do because I wanted to see you again, then the way I felt when you asked to see me again, subtlety but you did nonetheless. And you see THIS dear friend is when everything changes. But I knew it. I knew everything would change - I’d hope for the better; which I’m not saying there’s no happy ending to the story (stay tuned) but what I am saying is it’s like when you’re about to jump into the deep end and you hold your breath for what’s to come, or maybe you do a belly flop. Maybe you’re a great swimmer, maybe you float or maybe… you drown. I braced myself because I said “Lauren what are you getting yourself into? This isn’t a good idea and you know it” somehow I keep taking chances and I see it as a flaw. The whole romance department is a total weakness cause as much as I’d like to camp out in the woods where no one can find me, I keep coming out of hiding and give it another shot. But I’d rather not.. I can’t risk getting hurt and that may sound cowardly but good I don’t care. I am a coward I’ll admit it. I don’t have courage and I’ll be the first to say it. The whole saying “I’d rather loved and lost than rather have not loved at all” doesn’t ring true for me. I just don’t find it worth it anymore. But I digress..

(Continuation 11:45AM next day)

Hello again. This time I’m on my mom’s laptop. Much easier to write this way than a cell phone except her period key is broken so that’s an annoyance. I had a nightmare last night so I crawled into bed with mom. My jaws been hurting every morning so I think I have a teeth grinding problem.. Great, just great. Any who, you said you wanted to get to know me better so I will tell you a little bit about myself. You may know already that I love cats and pigs are my favorite animal. You may already know my favorite color is purple, I’m a carboholic who loves country music and exercise. Yoga keeps me as sane as possible and reading and writing are some of my favorite past times. You may know the basics but do you really know the person sitting next to you? You know what I’ve told you.. Maybe you know what you’ve observed. I’m self-aware, sensitive and reserved. I am emotionally honest and personal, but moody and self-conscious. I withhold myself from others due to feeling vulnerable and defective. Typically I have problems with melancholy, self-indulgence, and self-pity. At my best I can be inspired and creative. By seeing myself as fundamentally different from others, I sometimes feel isolated from everyone else, and consequently that no one can understand or love me. When I am healthy I’m self-renewing, introspective and individualistic. Generally I’m a very revealing person; gentle, some may say funny and hopefully strong. But at my worst, I’m self-inhibiting, angry, especially at myself; I become depressed and alienate myself from others. I become blocked and paralyzed. Ashamed, fatigued and unable to function. This leads to further torment and delusion - self-contempt, self-hatred, and morbid thoughts. I blame others, but mostly myself. I drive away anyone who tries to love me. Despairing, hopeless, self-destructive, obsessive and addictive behaviors come into play. To the fullest - breakdown and thoughts of suicide may occur. On a daily basis when I’m somewhere in the middle, normally I’m a very romantic, aesthetic, passionate, imaginative girl. Now you may be saying, OK lady, just get to the point already, where do I fit into this? I know you like to skip all the mumbo jumbo and hate small talk. But maybe that’s where I’m going with this? I sort of don’t know where I’m going. You see… I don’t know anything about you. I could tell someone your favorite color is blue, I could tell them as of a week ago I now know your middle name is James, that you have 2 pit bulls, you go to a gym in Patchogue, that you and I used to work at Target together. I could maybe tell them a few minor details about you. All the things on the surface, but I couldn’t really say who you are. Did you know I’m an organ donor? Do you know why? It’s not that I don’t want to know you – quite the opposite. I want you to see my bucket list, I wanted you to know my dreams and I wanted to know yours. I want you to look over my tattoos – learn why I got them; to understand the meaning behind them. I’m a writer, a lover of details, I soak in the little things in life. But from what I’ve observed, you like to skip the introduction, the plot. You want to get straight to the point; and that’s totally fine. But for me, life is like climbing a mountain, it’s all about the journey, the whole story, not Sparknotes. I’ve learned it’s not about the destination because once you get there it’s usually not what you expect it to be. And then you’re onto the next one. It’s about the lessons you’ve learned and the people you’ve met along the way. I’m not judging you, we’re all different – you’re not a bad guy – you’re a nice guy – a normal guy. But I won’t put labels on you and tell you who/what you are because it’s not my place to do so. I’m just some girl you met a few months ago. The first time we went out was Saturday January 28th. We hung out approximately 25 times. I might’ve missed a time or two, but I wrote each time we saw each other. Is that weird? I just didn’t want to forget. I like to remember incase my memory fails me which it so often does; it’s very frustrating. I hope I haven’t caused you any pain but I can’t say I don’t think I have. I know I’ll never get girlfriend of the year award, although I do try, and I know you do too. We did have some fun in the beginning, but due to timing and circumstances, we aren’t as happy as we could be. Truthfully, my depression is pretty bad right now. It’s not because of you, nobody can make you feel a certain way. Intimacy and relationships hit a trigger point for me - just being close with someone has the potential to flare up certain memories due to previous traumas and I hope one day it’ll lesson. I take responsibility I’m not available for this relationship; if I’m not as present as I thought I would be. I’m so afraid of getting hurt that I subconsciously make sure I never invest past a certain extent. I think I act like I don’t care so I won’t get hurt if you go away, so I push you away instead. It’s funny how we sabotage ourselves sometimes so that we can confirm our beliefs. Not funny, but ironic rather. And I hope you don’t think this is just all one big excuse. If it was, I wouldn’t be taking days and hours to write it. I mean, you could just rip it all up or burn it. If I do decide to give it to you, do with it what you must, tell me to fuck off, yell, I understand. I’m writing since you know by now I’m bad at expressing my feelings. And we’re all entitled to our feelings. I really do like you Mike, but I can’t keep doing this, we both can’t, not like this. I know you said things will change, but do you really believe that? Or do you just hope they will? I know from personal experience, from my own experience, that it’s not that simple. Just because the weather changes and you get a few extra hours to spend in a week.. Doesn’t put you both in a good place. You’re not a bad person and I hope you don’t think I am either. I don’t want to hurt you anymore and I don’t believe you want to hurt me. But I fear we are doing more harm than good by prolonging this – you think I’m hiding stuff from you and that makes me sad. I wouldn’t go behind your back; I have more integrity than that and I respect you too much to do that. I don’t expect you to give me 100% trust, but you need to give people the benefit of the doubt sometimes. You can’t just take their phone, or look through their shit hoping to find something, because if you’re searching, you’ll make crap up in your mind to confirm it. You don’t think I have trust issues? I know we all have our insecurities and things to work on, but believe me, if you want a satisfying relationship, you can’t let that come between you and someone. It will eat away at you. I’m sorry if this isn’t what you want to hear. The silence between us lately has been deafening. You have been lovely but it would be wrong to keep you around for myself when underneath I’m still lonely. It’s nothing a man can fill, not a void I’m looking for another person to satisfy, but something I need to figure out myself. You have helped me to realize that. When I became involved with you, I thought I was ready to date again; I thought I had moved on from my past but they say you meet people for a reason, a season or a lifetime. I hope you don’t feel used by me. I know our time together might feel cut short. You may be boiling inside [maybe not, I can’t read you sometimes] nevertheless, I’m getting to know myself better each passing year. I hope you can say the same too. You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for. I’ve learned that I am not ready to date, I am not fully over what happened and it’s not fair to act like everything’s A-OK. My scars aren’t fully healed and I need to love myself 100% before I can begin to let another person into my heart. I thought I was there but I’ve come to accept I’m not. It’s hard for me to let go, but it’s becoming easier. It’s a necessity in life, but still challenging. I can’t fake happiness anymore, I’m working on becoming a more authentic version of me. I think people can tell when you’re not being honest, and that’s a good thing. We could keep trying at this but I think we should both be 100% in, and it wouldn’t be right.. It wouldn’t feel right, at least not to me. So in conclusion as our high school essays would say, there’s been many good times (& food) as well as some not good times, but clearly you need to focus on your job and whatever floats your boat and it would be best for me to focus on keeping my boat afloat as well as physical and mental health. I told you I despise clichés because they sound so fake but sometimes they’re true, so don’t hate me for saying I hope one day we can be friends but in my life right now I can’t make a relationship my top priority. I will stop reading/talking now and give you a chance to process and take all this in. I hope things don’t get awkward but chances are they mostly likely will. The end.

Love or whatever word I don’t know I should use,

Lauren   

#breakup #breakups #loveletter #loveletters #blog #blogger

[nuwandatowanda]

(via What It’s Like to Live A Day with ADHD)

Writing about a day in the life of someone with ADHD is a tricky thing. I don't think any two of my days look alike. Adventure and (somewhat) controlled chaos are my constant companions.

As someone who runs a YouTube channel called How to ADHD, who’s engaged to someone with ADHD, who has ADHD herself, and who talks to tens of thousands of ADHD brains, I can tell you this — if you’ve met one person with ADHD, you’ve met one person with ADHD. We’re vastly different creatures.

We do have a surprising amount in common though, especially when it comes to the stuff we experience on a daily basis. Most days, it’s:

a rollercoaster of successes and failures

some moments feeling like a genius, and others feeling stupid

both distractibility and hyperfocus

good intentions gone off the rails

little emotional wounds from being judged by the outside world — or ourselves!

the healing from being understood and accepted for who we are

I hope this peek into my experience of one day with ADHD helps with that understanding.

The morning scramble

I wake up suddenly, search for my phone — what time is it??

Oh, okay. Still early.

It takes me awhile to fall back asleep — restless legs — but as soon as I do, the alarm goes off. The snooze button and I trade punches until my fiancé turns it off.

I jolt awake — what time is it now??

I scramble for my phone. 11 am.

SHOOT. Totally missed my morning yoga class, and now there’s not even time to shower. I growl at my fiancé — “why did you turn off the alarm??” — and stumble toward the dryer for clean clothes … which are still in the washer. I start a new cycle, then dig through the hamper, literally sniffing for something to wear.

I throw on semi-decent clothes, deodorant, mascara, take my meds — I’m almost out, SHOOT, gotta make an appointment to get another prescription — grab a Fiber One bar on the way out the door …

And then I run back inside to grab my phone. 11:15. YES! I’ll still make it to my meeting!

With time to spare, I run upstairs to kiss my fiancé goodbye and apologize for my morning crankiness. And I’m out the door! Woot!

I run back inside to grab my keys. 11:19. STILL GOOD!

The part where I wish time machines were a thing

As I jump on the freeway, I remember to call my psychiatrist — also that I forgot to charge my phone last night. Gotta decide between my headphones or my charger (thanks, iPhone 7).

4 percent battery? Charger wins. I wish wireless headphones were an option, but I have a hard enough time not losing regular headphones. And technically, they’re on a leash.

I try using the speakerphone but it’s too noisy on the freeway, so I hold the phone up to my ear as I call. The receptionist says there’s only one appointment available before my meds run out — do I want it? “Um … let me check my calendar … ”

Shoot. It’s the same time as coffee with Anna. This would be the second time in a row I’ve canceled on her. Not much choice though.

I’ll make it up to her, I vow … somehow.

I bring the phone back to my ear and see police lights in my rearview mirror. I panic and wonder how long they’ve been following me. The receptionist is halfway through confirming my appointment — I hang up and pull over.

One policeman eyes the dirty plates on my passenger side floor — I call these my car dishes — as the other hands me a ticket. As soon as they turn away, I start bawling. But I’m very aware I deserved it and weirdly grateful for being called out. I’ll definitely drive safer from now on.

Wait, 11:45?!

I get back on the road and check Waze obsessively to see whether I can make up for lost time. I drive faster, but Waze is annoyingly accurate. Eight minutes late as predicted.

Well, not terrible … you don’t really need to call unless you’ll be more than 15 minutes late, right?

Except I still needed to park … and fix my mascara … and walk over.

12:17. Ugh, I should’ve called. “SO sorry I’m late!”

My friend is unfazed. I can’t decide if I’m grateful he isn’t annoyed, or depressed that he expected it.

I tell him that, half joking. But he takes me seriously and says, “I used to have trouble with that, too. So now I just leave early.”

But this is what I hear: “I can do it, why can’t you?”

I don’t know. I try. It never seems to work out. I don’t get it either.

He starts pitching an internet project he wants me to write and I’m having trouble focusing. I’m doing a good job of pretending, though. I’ve got the thoughtful nod down.

Plus, my meds should kick in soon … Seriously though, does he have to talk that slow?

I see a server hand someone a check and I wonder how much my ticket was for. When do I have to pay it by? Do I have to pay by check? Do I even HAVE checks anymore? Wait, did I set up autopay for my new credit card?

I’ve missed half of what he’s saying. Oops. I start playing with my spinner ring to ground my attention. Focusing gets easier, but this doesn’t look as good as the thoughtful nod. I can tell he’s wondering if I’m listening now. Ah, the irony.

Honestly, this project sounds cool. But something feels off — I don’t know what. I have good instincts, but I’m kinda new at this whole “success” thing. I failed pretty regularly the first decade of my adult life.

It’s weird being successful enough that other people want to work with you. It’s even weirder having to decide whether or not they get to.

I awkwardly end the meeting.

Back on schedule — let’s try to keep it that way

I check my bullet journal, the only planner I’ve ever been able to sort of stick to, to see what’s next. Research from 2 to 5pm, dinner 5 to 6pm, writing 6 to 9pm, relax 9 to 11:30pm, bed by midnight. Totally doable.

My meds are in full effect, my focus is good, so I decide to head back home and start early. I should maybe eat lunch, but I’m not hungry. The table next to me orders fries. Fries sound good.

I eat fries.

On my way home, my friend calls. I don’t answer. I tell myself it’s because I don’t want to get another ticket, but I know it’s because I don’t want to disappoint him. Maybe I should do his project. It was a cool idea.

Back home, I cuddle up with a soft blanket, and start researching — and realize why I didn’t want to do the project. I reach for my phone and can’t find it. The hunt begins — and ends with me giving up and using the Find My iPhone feature. A loud beeping emerges from my blanket.

I call my friend. He answers. Does anyone else find that slightly weird? I almost never answer when people call. Especially if I might not like what they have to say. Call it phone anxiety, but a text to announce a phone call is the only way to get me to pick up — maybe.

But he answers, so I tell him why I don’t want to write his project: “Because YOU should write it!” I tell him what he said that made me realize it and walk him through how to get started. Now he’s excited. I know he’ll crush at this. I feel successful for the first time today.

Maybe I do know what I’m doing. Maybe I — I hang up and see what time it is. 3:45.

Oops. I’m supposed to be researching dyslexia for an episode.

I throw myself into the research until my alarm goes off at 5, reminding me to stop for dinner. But there’s stuff I still don’t understand yet. Ehhh, I’ll just keep going until 6.

It’s 7 and I’m starving. I grab way too much food — wait, wait.

I bring the food to my desk and begin typing furiously: “Turn ‘reading with dyslexia’ into a game …”

I write half the episode.

I get a better idea.

I start working on that one — WAIT — laundry! Not gonna beat me THIS time!

Switching the clothes to the dryer, I realize my workout clothes aren’t in there. Argh, I missed today so I have to go tomorrow or I’m not gonna feel good.

I grab my yoga pants and a bunch of other clothes off the floor of pretty much every room in the house and start a new load. I remember to set a timer!

I sit back down to write, but the idea doesn’t seem as great now.

Or maybe I don’t really remember it.

ADHD, the after hours

I can tell my meds are wearing off. It’s getting harder to hold all the thoughts in my brain while I work with them. The page in front of me is a random tangle of words. I’m getting frustrated.

The timer goes off. I gotta change the laundry — except the dryer’s still going.

I set the timer for another 10 minutes and head to the couch to hang upside down and try to get my brain to work.

Upside down, I remember I’m trying to get better about work-life balance and wonder if I should stop, even though I haven’t gotten much done. But tomorrow’s super busy, especially now that I have to work out, and — BZZZ.

I race back to the laundry room, take a corner too sharply and run into the wall, bounce off, grab the dry clothes, dump them on my bed, switch over the wet ones, and start the dryer. I race back and check the clock. 9:48.

Okay, I’ll keep working, but I’ll stop at 10:30. And fold the laundry. And relax.

10:30 comes and goes. I find a way back into that idea and I’m in a flow. I can’t stop. This is hyperfocus, and it can be both a blessing and a curse for those of us with ADHD. I write and write, and rewrite and rewrite, until my fiancé comes to check on me and finds me passed out in front of the computer.

He carries me upstairs, sees the pile of clothes on the bed, pushes them aside, and tucks me in. I promise to do better tomorrow, to make more time for us. And to fold the clothes.

He kisses me and tells me that clothes are just clothes, but the stuff we make lasts forever.

I hug him, hard. And see the time over his shoulder — it’s 3am. I’m gonna have to choose between sleep and yoga. Tomorrow’s gonna be another scramble.

Written by Jessica McCabe on July 27, 2017

#add #adhd #attention deficit disorder #attention deficit hyperactivity #adult add #adult adhd #mental illness #mental health #article

[diegopetrucci]

An honest retrospective on 2020

Earlier today I've come across this post on an Italian facebook page, it's sort of a nihilist post that says something along the lines "it's dec 31, you're about to write a carefully curated retrospective post about 2020 with just the positives, when in reality it's been a shit year spent in ways that you really didn't want to spend it in. but you're still celebrating with a prosecco glass showing that not only you have a good life, but you know how to enjoy it too".

Let's do something else then, let's do an honest retrospective.

2020 has been a mediocre year for me.

Let's start with the positives so I don't get too sad. I've changed jobs, leaving a place that had become toxic for me (and many others, sadly). It was scary, leaving a stable place during this pandemic, especially for me, I always feel like the biggest impostor not having a college degree, but I had slowly realised that that environment was eating me inside and making me feel miserable — and I have to say thanks to my partner to nudging me to make the jump. I'm now in a good place, a bit chaotic maybe, but chaotic in a genuine way, surrounded by good people.

I've moved in with my partner — it's been hard, stressful, and a big change of the status quo. Our first flat was a dud and we've moved again after just eight months, but now we're in a much better place.

We got a cat. It's been just three weeks, and she's a lot of work, but Mononoke is giving me more than I'm giving her.

I've started paying more attention to cooking, and slowly learning how to do it properly. I'm not good at it, but I enjoy it, and that's all that matters.

I've gotten closer to a person that was already a friend, but not that close yet. In my last big retrospective [1 and 2] I was lamenting that I had loads of friends but no one really close, and moving out from my flatmates made it worse. Luckily it seems like I've found someone that is filling that gap. I just hope I'm gonna be a good friend for them too.

~

Now the not so positive things.

I'm bad, mentally. The second half of 2018 and 2019 have probably been the best years of my life, but 2020 has been among the worst. I've lost a lot.

I'm incredibly shitty at texting, I reply too late, if I ever, and it's my fault, and yet I can't learn. Because of this, I get progressively more distant to the people I care about. I really care about them, and yet I'm shit at talking with them. I am sorry, genuinely, and I don't know what to do. I even have a reminder every day to reply to people but doing it still consumes so much energy that I struggle with it. I am really sorry to everyone I've hurt. This has made me grow more distant to a lot of people, and I'm feeling the repercussions now that I can't meet people face to face. I talk to very few people these days, and it's slowly getting worse.

Moreover, a big factor contributing to my social circles was the bachata and salsa dancing, and that's gone for obvious reasons. I thought I could do without it, that it was just another hobby, but I was wrong. It was not. It had that mix of positives — being surrounded by people; doing physical activity; releasing serotonin; providing me with an anchor, something to do most nights, to fall back on — that nothing really has, so I haven't been able to replace it in any substantial way.

A similar fate has been happening to the gym — I haven't gone much this year, again for obvious reasons. And not only something that I was enjoying has been taken away from me, but some health issues have already started to creep in: as an example, there's been a period of a couple of weeks where I was barely able to sleep due to lower-back pain, and it was making me miserable during the day.

I've been getting fatter, too. I gained ~5kg, not too much, but still. Leaving aside considerations about my physical appearance more weight is not good for my body, especially for my sleeping (this is the weight where I tend to snore and have sleep apnea which affects sleep quality a lot).

But it's on mental health where I've got the biggest hit. I've talked about it, and I don't wanna go too much into it, suffice to say that if someone is extremely outgoing (5x/week), has a couple of good and stable social circles, does physical activity 3 to 5 times a week, well, what has happened this year is a recipe for disaster. Bad habits of mine have come back too, habits that I had not solved but greatly diminished with therapy and other good habits — I am extremely stress-prone these days, and I get angry for the smallest of things. I'm not that good of a person to be around for my partner sometimes. And I hate it.

A while ago I read that to have a good life you should have a few streams of things that bring you happiness (or at least content-ness) so that if one goes down the others can keep you afloat, at least until you get it fixed. Streams like family, hobbies, work, friends, physical activity. I've lost the hobbies, I'm far from my blood family, I do no physical activity, and I've barely been keeping up with friends. It's not good, and the way I get so easily stressed, the anxiety, and the anger, they all show that my "table" is missing too many legs to stand on.

~

But I don't want this to be just a list of things, it needs to have some action to take. And again, it's clear what to do. I need to stabilise the good things that I already have and work on getting back the ones that I don't. The restrictions are not helping, and so the general environment, but I need at least to try what I can do —— things like pushing more into developing new hobbies, and keeping up with friends. It won't be the same but it should be enough, at least for a while.

Since I wrote that I might be depressed I've not made a lot of progress yet, but already having Mononoke has helped a lot, and I've booked a few appointments for a therapist (it's been two years since the last ones, time flies!). I'm also gonna try doing some yoga classes, I hate running so that's the next best thing. I've done a lot of yoga at my previous job and it was such a nice activity (especially for the social aspect, I've made so many good friends in the classes, but oh well…).

By the way, the idea of having a few streams of "stuff" to rely on is common in therapy, but I've read it the first time in How will you measure your life by Clayton Christensen (RIP). It's a good book, I recommend it wholeheartedly, and there are some videos too on youtube.

So yeah, not a great year, a regression on so many aspects. But I feel like I've finally come to a good level of awareness about it, so I'm ready to start tackling the problems. Let's see what happens next.