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unitchiefs-blackbirdphoenix · 3 years

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You may have seen this going around but people are hating JJ for snapping at Reid in 10x11. Like maybe she shouldn’t of done that but she was having a literal breakdown and her ptsd affecting her a lot. Not to mention that Reid did the same when Emily asked if he was okay when he was going through his drug addiction and ptsd after Hankel but yet no one gives him hate for it. Emily also snapped at Garcia in 6x17 when Garcia checked up on her. They two were also going through a lot but people still defend them while JJ who also did the same as them gets the most hate (which doesn’t surprise me with this fandom). And at the end of 10x11 JJ thanked Reid for helping her and in a way apologised. Also Reid, Emily and Garcia didn’t take it personally when they were snapped at as they could tell something was going on. When you’re going through something especially trauma it’s possible you may end up snapping at someone and we shouldn’t give them hate for it.

Sorry for this rant, I’m just annoyed that people are hating on JJ for going through something traumatic

Hi thank you so much anon!

I don't know exactly what happened recently regarding this situation, but after reading this ask, I 100% agree with you! You are more than welcome to rant about this because I feel the same way. I think I have seen something like this in the past, and I still don't understand the JJ hate, which I will get at the end of the post under the cut. (I also apologize in advance if this is all over the place haha)

I think JJ has the right to feel the way she feels in 10x11. JJ probably thought Reid means well when he was asking if she was ok, but it also seemed very clear that she didn't want to talk about it. She also didn't want them to cause a scene in a place where it's public. Like you said, it seemed pretty similar to the scene about Reid getting mad at JJ for hiding the fact that Emily was still alive. He didn't get much hate as JJ did in that moment, too. Even people were blaming JJ for "hurting Reid's feelings" because she had to protect someone very close to her and the team. JJ already felt guilty having to lie to the team and while Hotch wasn't the target of Reid's anger, he still felt responsible for his actions and Reid's feelings. In fact, Hotch has made that clear for everyone to tell him how they felt about Emily's return. Even in 7x02, Hotch tells Reid if he is angry, Hotch is willing to take the blame for it and that he shouldn't be angry at JJ, in which Reid bitterly responds: "I can't. I didn't come crying to your house for 10 weeks." Hotch was guilty for hiding it from the team as well, and people have aimed their anger towards JJ because she "hurt Reid's feelings". It also didn't sit right with me when Reid implied that he was going to blame JJ for his hypothetical relapsing (that may be poor writing but it still doesn't sound right).

JJ was dealing with something traumatic to her, and so she deserved to feel frustrated, angry, etc. because it is difficult to keep all those emotions, especially negative ones, shoved into a box. Even though one pushes their emotions down, there is going to be a breaking point and all of whatever they have been feeling is going to burst out of the bottle sooner or later. That's the case with JJ. She wasn't mad that Reid was checking on her, she was only mad that it was at the wrong time. If it was at a time that was decent for them (aka when it's in a quiet place like at the end of 10x11), then JJ wouldn't mind as much. Over time, JJ has worked to push her emotions away because of everything that's happened to her. It becomes both better and worse for her coping. Better because she is able to get a task done fast. Worse because she isn't confronting her feelings, which is unhealthy. At the end of 10x11, JJ has thanked Reid for helping her and didn't seem too angry at him anymore, and in a way, has apologized. She felt somewhat relieved that she finally told someone about what she was going through (even though her trauma was still not entirely resolved, in my opinion).

I think you've made some interesting points using examples of other scenes that have characters snapping at someone else for getting them to open up about something troubling them. Derek and Emily have snapped at Garcia, who was checking up on them during a time of distress. Both of them know she meant no harm as well and they were both frustrated and stressed in those two times. Garcia understood and was only concerned about them. Same with Reid confronting JJ about her trauma. Or even Emily with Reid when he was taking dilaudid. They all were worried about each other and wanted to be there to support their friends.

People have different ways of coping with trauma and shouldn't be judged for it. It is a step forward to help them deal with it, and hopefully, make them feel safe and comfortable to talk about it.

Under the cut is how I feel about the JJ hate, so if you want to read that, feel free to do so.

This is something I needed to get off my chest. I'm already getting tired of seeing the JJ hate on some posts, here and on other social media platforms. Oddly enough back then, there wasn't this much hatred towards her character. Aside from the confession in later seasons, JJ has gotten a lot of hate now that the show's over. I have noticed the common thread of the hate being connected to Reid's character (note: I really don't want to get into some sort of hate discourse thing so please don't come at me for this).

I have seen fans say that JJ's the mean girl of the team because she is "mean to Reid" or because "Reid said so". I disagree with this whole notion because everyone has treated Reid the same way JJ has, and JJ wasn't super mean to him. I've always seen them interact like siblings, so they had that older sis teases little bro vibes to me. They both cared for each other, as seen numerous times on the show (this does not mean I ship them). In the scene where Reid thought JJ was a mean girl, she was defensive because she was hurt that someone close to her would think that lowly of her. Reid didn't even know that JJ was offended by that statement, so he just carried on with it.

People have also said that JJ is "too bland" or "too boring" of a character. I like to dig into little details of the show and/or the characters themselves, and learn why they are the way they are. People don't often see why JJ is the way she is like they do with other characters. To say that JJ's only trait is "being a mom" or "being too sensitive" is stupid. I agree that JJ's character was done dirty by the writers and producers, though. With everything that has happened to her, it explains why she is the person she is on the show. When JJ was younger, she didn't have any role model growing up besides Roslyn. She came from a broken family, who was often emotionally and physically distant from everything and everyone. Because of that, it shaped JJ into the person she is today. This is one of the reasons why she hates talking about her feelings and opening up because as her mom said, "Avoidance is what this family does best, anyhow." Her whole life, JJ pushes herself to work hard that she's never learned how to give herself a break, especially when her mental health is going bad. She needs someone to rely on and that she can trust to vent about anything she's having a hard time with.

Another thing people have to remember is that Reid and JJ are two completely different personalities and their own characters, so comparing them with each other or even pitting them against each other isn't going to make things better for many, and people will continue to fight about this.

Admittedly, this is one of the reasons why I don't join fandoms often because people are there to enjoy and share their interests with one another. I am aware that I have stated my opinions from time to time, but to waste all that energy continuously hating on something others like, is tiring. I like when people post things they like, instead of posting their absolute hatred on something that others enjoy often. I usually don’t interact with posts that have hate on something I like that I've seen and I try to filter that out. (I’m sorry if my wording doesn’t make sense here)

#jennifer jareau #spencer reid #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #i'm sorry this was a long post anon hahaha #alyssa's asks

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herohotline · 4 years

Text

Wet Clay (P.5)

Shouta Aizawa x Reader

Summary: You’ve got your own handful of problems- being a counselor doesn’t mean you can’t also have anxiety or feel overwhelmed by it all.

A/N: it’s finally here!! thank god!! and thank you everyone who was so patient waiting for the new part. i honestly had a lot of fun making this new chapter- i wanted it to be a bit longer as a Thank You for the long wait. I hope you all enjoy it, and look forward to the next chapter!

Word Count: 5,500+

Tag List: @babayaga67, @cosmichorse95, @sugacookiies, @howthe-f-didigethere, @rintomoj, @missadorable96

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Technically-not-but-still-technically House Arrest is finally over, much to your relief.

You, Bakugo, and Midoriya were finally freed from Aizawa’s punishment and proceeded with your regular schedules. And while Bakugo and Midoriya have a lot of catching up to do, the same goes for you.

Which you weren’t expecting at all, but you’re pleasantly surprised by a few students standing at your office on your first day back greeting you and asking for a scheduled meeting.

Slowly but surely, word of you and your practice has been moving around the school, which is exactly what you were hoping for. Especially since it got out that you were able to have a successful session with Bakugo, of all people, the students seem to suddenly have a newfound interest in trying therapy that wasn’t there before. It’s the progress you’ve been waiting for to report to Nezu, letting him know that students even outside of the hero course were asking about therapy.

Due to your agreement, you couldn’t give them a session. Your time was pointed strictly at the hero classes for the time being, but it wouldn’t always be that way. You had the interested students fill out a simple questionnaire once the idea popped in your head, which helped you immensely for your reports to Nezu.

They were simple questions, not asking anything too personal, of course. Things like, ‘why does therapy interest you?’, ‘what problems would you like to talk about?’, and ‘what are some of the things that stress you daily?’

The answers you received confirmed that you were right from the beginning- U.A needed a proper counseling team hired, and it would be best if it was sooner rather than later.

And on top of all that good news (though kids needing therapy admittedly wasn’t the best news, but at least it was being assessed instead of being ignored), Nezu agreed with you! After hearing and reading your reports on the students, he agreed to start working with you to begin making after-school programs and looking for professionals to hire. It would take a few weeks, if not more, but the beginning of your dream for U.A was finally taking big steps, and it was overwhelmingly exciting.

You haven’t been able to fill anybody in on your news quite yet, but your change in attitude was noticeable by the staff and the students. It’s especially noticeable to the staff when you come in one morning, cups of coffee and tea hot and ready that you had bought for them when they came into the Teacher’s Lounge before class.

Yamada enters with Kayama, whistling low as he quickly walks over and inspects the cups. “Ho-hey!” He exclaims. “What’s all this?”

“Good morning, Yamada,” you smile at him and nudge a cup his way, which he takes with a gleeful hum. “I was just feeling good this morning and I’m really thankful to how much everyone has helped me settle in, so I figured I could buy everyone a drink.” Kayama walks up as well, grabbing one of the teas, surprising you with her choice.

She notices, a deep frown on her lips. “You tempt me, honey, but I have to watch my figure!” She gestures to her body, which is on full display at all hours. Not that you’re a prude, but it makes you wonder how the pubescent boys and girls feel while in her presence. You’re not envious of them. “But I appreciate you very much, thank you.”

“It’s no problem, I’ll make sure to try and get something better for you next time,”

“Oh, don’t worry! A little tea won’t hurt me.” Kayama quickly waves off your concerns and she sits on one of the chairs available in the admittedly small room. “So? Why’re you so happy?” She raises an eyebrow, and before she can ask-

“Nothing that you’re assuming, I’m sure,” you tell her quickly. “Truthfully, it’s because my work is going well. My tenure here might actually be useful- Nezu and I are talking specifics on hiring other counselors, now.”

Yamada cheers, as loud as ever, “really?! Good job!” He wraps an arm around you and shakes you- if the coffee hadn’t woken you up before, you were surely awake now with his energy! “Does that mean you’ll be staying?” Kayama perks up from her seat.

“Oh, does it? It would be so nice to keep you around longer!”

“I’m not sure about that,” you laugh uneasily, “what the students really need is someone that can be fully devoted to them and their needs, you know? I can’t give that to them while I’m still working as a counselor on the side, and I’m really not sure if I can give up that job.”

“Aw,” Yamada frowns, keeping his arm secure around your shoulder as he looks down at you. The man was freakishly tall, honestly. “Shouta will be so bummed. Do you know how long your tenure lasts?”

“I sort of hoped you were giving up on that,” you deflate. “But, no, I’m not very sure. But it’s probably not for much longer. A month more, maybe two at most. Then I’ll be leaving.”

“Leaving?”

You and Yamada turn your head towards the door, and you get a face full of his hair, making you sputter and sneeze as he laughs at you and apologizes (but it doesn’t sound like he’s sorry). You shove him away so you can actually look at Yagi, dressed in his usual baggy, bright yellow suit.

“Morning, Yagi,” you greet him tiredly. If you said before that you were energized by Yamada’s behavior, you take it back now. He’s actually exhausting. “Yes, eventually. I’m not officially hired, you know.”

“I must have forgotten,” Yagi mumbles under his breath, looking equally tired but thankful as you nudge a cup of tea his way and he takes a long sip. You remember him telling you that coffee was one of the things on his long, long list that his stomach couldn’t handle. “I’m getting too old, probably.”

“How old are you, anyway?” Kayama asks from her seat and Yagi smiles.

“That’s a good question,” he says, and then looks to you. “You’re leaving in a month or so, though? That’s unfortunate, Shouta will miss you.”

“That’s what I said!”

“Nice job avoiding the question, pro-hero,”

“I swear the two of you never quit it!”

The three of you talk over one another at the same time, and after a moment’s silence, burst into laughter together. Despite everything, these people had quickly become your friends, and chatting with them like this every morning was a part of what made the extra stress and work all worth it. “I’ll miss all of you when I have to leave, I mean it,” you tell them once the laughter subsides, and Kayama coos.

“We’ll miss you, too. I’m sure the students will as well, you’ve grown on them.”

“That’s true… I don’t feel good about the whole making-a-relationship-and-bowing-out thing. It takes a long time for a child to feel comfortable talking to you about their issues, and I finally have that! And now that I'd have to leave…” You sigh heavily as you rest against one of the tables, crossing your arms at your chest.

“Give it some more thought, then,” Kayama suggests. “Everyone would be happy to keep you around, including Nezu. Think about all your options before you make any decisions.”

It’s good advice, but the truth is, you’ve already done that.

The time you’ve spent at U.A has been amazing, yes, but you’ve never been more overworked in your life. The stress of keeping up your two professional jobs has you tossing and turning at night, and the burden of feeling like you’re going to let everyone down isn’t good for your mental state, either. For your own health, you can’t keep working the way you are now.

You’re going to have to choose. And it hurts you more than anything.

Despite all of that, you smile at Kayama. “You’re right,” you say, and you try not to sound as tired as you feel, “I’ll think about it.”

—-

The first thing you have to do with your new duties from Nezu is put together after-school affairs. He doesn’t give you a lot to go off of- he just wants you to put together some sort of event or club that the students can go to after hours that will be good for them. Nezu is nice, but he gives you too much freedom. It’s hard to create ideas all on your own and be the judge on if they’re worth the school’s time and money or not.

You’ve thought of several things. The thing you’re trying to do is create an original idea that isn’t purely formed around therapy , per se, but a way for students to vent their problems in a healthy and calm environment. Your best idea has been a little something you called ‘food for thought’, a baking club students can go to where they can learn to bake and cook a variety of simple dishes, and while they bake, everyone gets a turn talking about something that’s bothered them or that they’re working through, no judgment. It can be a bit therapeutic to cook in general for some people, and if you gave students the chance to vent during that time, you think it might be something healthy and fun. And then they could all eat snacks afterward.

...But you doubt yourself again and think about scrapping the idea. There’s too many variables- some students might not like the idea of group therapy like that, and some students might abuse the club by coming only for treats and ruin it for everyone else. Plus, not everyone likes to cook.

You groan and deflate in your seat, laying face-down on your desk. This is too hard…!

Out of nowhere, your phone vibrates. It makes you reluctantly pull your head up, grasping for the device and wincing at the bright screen when it turns on.

It’s one of your clients asking for an appointment.

You take a deep, tired breath in, and let it out slowly. Slowly you sit up in your chair and open one of your desk drawers, fumbling around for your planner and slapping it down on the desk as you open the text and start to ask for details.

Your schedule is crammed, a lot more than it used to be. You end up feeling guilty not being able to see your patient soon enough and give up some of your free time in order to see them. Not that they know that- they thank you and tell you they’ll see you soon, and the conversation is ended.

Somehow, you’re even more tired than before.

Eyes wander over to your plush, comfortable couch. It’s a tempting idea, but… the scattered papers full of drafts of ideas for an after school activity are staring at you, so you shake your head at the idea and try to focus on the papers instead. You can’t afford to nap right now, even though it sounds so, so nice right now.

Your eyes droop, but you can’t sleep. Absolutely not. Your shoulders sag.

You fall asleep slouched over your desk before you can even realize it.

—-

Waking up is surprising, because you didn’t remember falling asleep. It’s always odd when that happens- opening your eyes and forgetting you even closed them, so it has you sitting there like, wait, what ? For a few moments.

You’re not even at your desk like you remember being. Instead, you’re laying on your couch- something you very much remember wanting to do, but you hadn’t. You’re alone in your office too, which is even more odd. You don’t think you sleepwalk.

As you slowly sit up and stretch your tired limbs, you look at the clock on your wall and see that it reads 3:20- school is just about to end.

Drat. You were hoping to get more done before now…

You suppose that’s fine- you can always work more at home and email Nezu if you come up with a great idea by the end of the night, but you sort of doubt that will happen. You go back to your desk to start gathering your things, but from the corner of your eye, a bit of yellow catches your attention.

There’s a sticky note on your ‘food for thought’ paper. Your eyebrows spring up in curiosity as you lean forward to read it.

It’s not much. It just says ‘good idea’ and then there’s, strangely enough, a doodle of a cat giving a thumbs up. It’s not the best drawing you’ve ever seen, but it’s cute.

Kind of strange though. A cat? Who even wrote this, anyway? Who was in your office when you were asleep?

You doubt it was a student. You’re not really bothered, but… the sticky note says it was a good idea. You were doubtful about it, but the second opinion makes you rethink your decision.

Maybe it wasn’t that bad of an idea? According to the mysterious cat-doodler.

Hm. You pocket the sticky note, and then put the paper with details of your idea in your bag as you continue to pack up. Maybe if you run into one of the teachers on your way out, you can ask them what they think. You should have thought about that earlier, to be honest.

Quickly you pack up and lock your office. You’re going to miss the train home if you don’t hurry, after all, and you want to get out of the building before the bell rings and the students crowd the halls.

Fortunately, though, you spot Cementoss- Ishiyama- at the front doors, and you wave to catch his attention.

“Ishiyama! You're heading out, too?”

The cement-like man looks toward you, and he walks through the doors, holding it open for you. “Mm. I need to make it to an appointment,” he says simply.

“I see. You wouldn’t mind if I ran an idea by you really quick? It’s for the kids.”

He shakes his head. “Not at all, I just needed to get out before the children did.” You grin and tell him you were doing the same- and then you tell him about your after-school baking idea.

By the time you finish telling him the small details, you’ve walked to the school’s parking lot and Ishiyama looks interested in what you have to say. “I don’t think that’s a bad idea at all. It’s creative, and I think the students would like having something to do besides sitting in a circle and talking.”

“Right!” You animatedly burst for a second- and then bashfully smile at your outburst. “That’s what I was trying to do. I’m glad to hear that it might be worth it. For hires, we could maybe hire a cook, and then the therapist who’d be willing to lead the conversation. That’s where my worry comes in- we’d be paying two people at most, along with spending money on ingredients…”

“Ah, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” Ishiyama says, and he slowly comes to a stop in front of what is probably his car. It’s a big, heavy looking vehicle- which kind of makes sense. The guy probably weighs a lot and needs something he won’t crush into the ground. “We have plenty of ingredients and food left over from lunch time, and Lunchrush would be willing to chip in. It could be something that’s held once a week, maybe.”

“Ah, you’re right. I guess I just didn’t want to assume anything on his part, since he already does so much.”

Ishiyama laughs. “You’re very considerate, but don’t let that get in the way of exploring your ideas. And don’t let Nezu scare you- he’ll let you know if it works or not. If it doesn’t, that’s fine. You’re not wasting his time.”

The words are, quite frankly, reassuring. You didn’t realize how much you needed to hear that, and your body naturally relaxes a bit. “Yeah,” you smile at him, “you’re right. Thanks a lot, Ishiyama. I’ll let you go now- good luck with your appointment!” You wave at the cement-man as he enters his car, but right before he closes the door, you suddenly remember something as you light up. “Oh! I had one more question?”

He looks up at you as he keeps his door open.

“Do you know anyone that likes cats?”

The question is an odd one, and his cemented eyebrows raise in surprise, but you don’t really have a proper explanation. Ishiyama thinks about it, and then he says, “the only person I know who actively likes cats is Aizawa.”

It’s your turn to be surprised. Really? You had no idea.

“Huh,” you say aloud. “Well- anyway, thanks a lot for your input! I’ll see you tomorrow!��

You wave off Ishiyama as he drives off, and once he’s gone, you pull out the sticky note still in your pocket. Aizawa likes cats, huh…? He might have been the person who looked over your paper, then, and he probably moved you over to the couch when you fell asleep at your desk.

The thought makes your chest warm. That was certainly nice of him, if that’s the case. But- ah!

The school bell rings, and you jolt into action. If you’re not quick, you’re going to miss your train home!

—-

Your phone had died on the train ride home.

It was tragic, honestly, because that meant you didn’t have anything to distract yourself with as you swayed in the crowded cart during your long ride home. No music, no texts, no articles… you busted yourself by reading the ads on the ceiling of the train, but there was only so much to read, honestly.

By the time you got home, you quickly plugged in your phone and started to make yourself some dinner. It wasn’t until after your dinner, which was just some quick and easy curry and rice from a package, that you were able to look at your phone again.

There’s several text messages waiting for you.

Some of them are from Yamada, and then there’s a few from a client of yours. But there’s an odd contact among them that you never saw in your messages.

Who knew Shouta actually texted people? He seems like the call-only type.

You click on his messages first. There’s three of them, all sent at different times during the day.

Shouta (7:43am): Thank you for the drinks. Glad to hear your work is going well.

You wonder who told him, but you figure it was probably Yamada.

Shouta (1:30pm): If you keep sleeping during work hours, you’re going to want to get a sleeping bag.

So it was him who was in your office! You should have known he’d be a cocky bastard about it, too.

Shouta (4:10pm): Bakugo only yelled five times today?

The last one was kind of funny. Without thinking, you reply back to him.

You (6:45pm): Thanks for the sleeping bag idea, but I’ll pass for now. It was sweet of you to move me to the couch, but next time you’ll need to wake me up instead!

You (6:45pm): Did you see Bakugo go anywhere after class?

Surprisingly, you don’t have to wait at all for his reply.

Shouta (6:45pm): You looked like you needed it.

Shouta (6:46pm): He didn't go to his dorm, but he stayed on campus. Why?

Hmm. You wiggle on your bed, plugging your phone out of its charger so you can relax in a comfortable position as your fingers tap on the screen.

You (6:47pm): I guess if anyone’s a good judge of someone’s need for sleep, it’s Mr.Baggy Eyes, huh? Go figure

You (6:47pm): also, that’s confidential. But I think he deserves a lollipop at this point. Bakugo cares a lot more than he likes to show, but the fact he’s actually thinking about our session and considering some new methods says a lot about his character. Thanks for telling me.

Shouta doesn’t say anything after that, at least not right away, so you move on and look at your other messages. Yamada’s are a bunch of absurd internet pictures, so nothing too important, and your other client who texted you is asking for a reschedule.

It takes a bit of back and forth with your client until you eventually decide on a new date where both of you have time- thankfully, it didn’t require you taking time out of your weekend more than you already have. By the time you’re done, you have one new message from Shouta.

Shouta (6:56pm): You’re right about that. Bakugo is difficult, but with some help, he’ll be able to do a lot for society. Hopefully you’ll be around enough to see him change. His trust doesn’t come easy.

The words make a heavy feeling in your stomach drop. Without meaning to, Shouta has stabbed you in the gut with guilt, and you’re feeling even more about your decision to leave U.A.

How could you leave, really? The students need you- but so do your clients.

Stress builds up in your shoulders again, and staring down at Shouta’s message, your head swarms with bad thoughts.

Anxiety and discomfort rolls over you in waves.

And you don’t really have anyone to confide in. Part of you feels like talking to Shouta- but you’re not really that close to each other yet. You doubt he wants to hear your complaints about work.

Shouldn’t you be grateful for your opportunity?

You blink as you barely make a reply, and then you toss your phone to the side once you turn it off. Your eyes look at the ceiling of your room, and despite the exhaustion deep in your bones, you’re suddenly wide awake.

You feel like you won’t be going to sleep tonight, as much as you would like to.

You (7:08pm): You’re right. I’ll try my best.

——

Coming into work the next morning is dreadful. The only thing keeping you awake and mildly aware of your surroundings is the caffeine that’s running through you- you’ve drank so much coffee and energy drinks that you wouldn’t be surprised if it’s a part of your bloodstream at this point. You look like a mess, but there’s work to be done.

It’s Friday, which is usually nice, because Saturday is your only day off. But you sacrificed your Saturday for a session tomorrow, so there’s no promise of a break for you for at least another week.

Overnight, due to your lack of sleep, you thought of three other ideas for after-school activities the students might like, and you sent all of them over to Nezu once the sun began to rise and you decided it was an appropriate hour to message him. He hasn’t gotten back to you yet, but that’s unsurprising.

With nothing else to do, you got on the train early enough that it's not even that crowded. You still can’t find a seat, but that’s fine. You’re afraid if you sit down and relax for more than a moment, you might fall apart.

Hence why you’re heading to work several hours early. Hopefully you’ll be able to pull yourself together before work starts.

You stumble a bit each time the cart shakes when it comes to a stop, but eventually you get off and walk to U.A. It’s practically empty, which is also unsurprising, but the doors are open for you, so that’s good. You were a bit worried it might all be locked down.

As you head to your office, it’s eerily quiet in the building. Beside the sound of your shoes tapping on the floor, there’s nothing. It’s a bit unsettling.

Maybe that’s just because you haven’t slept at all recently and your anxiety is through the roof at the moment. Who knows? Regardless, you make it to your office with no issues. But when you open the- unlocked- door, you jump.

And then you slam the door shut with a surprised scream.

“Oh my god!” You yell at the door, and you can hear the people scrambling from inside your office. “What’re you doing?! On my couch?!”

Kayama speaks up, her voice just a lilt higher than it usually is. “Would you believe me if I said it was nothing??”

“No! No I wouldn’t!” You yell back, and you rub your eyes with the heel of your palms. “I will never be able to wash my eyes from what I just saw, Jesus-“

“We’re sorry!! You’re really early!”

“Do you always do this shit on my couch?! I have students sit on that thing- oh my GOD, I was laying on it yesterday!”

“No- we swear-“

And then suddenly, as if from nowhere, Shouta is coming from around the corner with his face twisted up in confusion. “What’s going on?” He asks as he walks up to you, and you gesture angrily toward your closed door.

“Yamada and Kayama were fucking on my couch!”

“No we weren’t!!” Yamada’s screechy, way too loud voice denies.

“Yeah, tell me that again as if you’re not scrambling to put clothes on right now.” You huff, and Shouta’s eyebrows have successfully disappeared beyond his hairline. “Did you have any idea about this?” You look toward him, a hateful look in your eye- but he quickly shakes his head.

“I just got here. I was actually- well.” He looks toward your office. “I was going to nap.”

“ Lord - does everyone use my office as they so please? Do the keys I own mean nothing?”

Yamada wails, “we’re sorry- “

“Shut! Shut it!” You snap.

This is the worst. You have had no sleep, no food. You’re overworked and stressed enough as is- this was just the last straw.

“Clean up my office. Get rid of all your ridiculous germs- the door, my desk, the couch- anywhere the two of you touched needs to be squeaky clean or else.”

You’ve never been the type to really get mad, especially at your friends. Especially at friends who you haven’t even been friends with for less than a year. You try to keep your cool. This was just… bad timing.

“Yes, right. We promise,” Kayama says from beyond the door.

“And you-“ you point at Shouta, who is more than a bit surprised at your tone, and his face shows it. “You haven’t had sex in my office, have you?”

“Never.”

“Good.” You let out a frustrated breath. “Then you’re invited to get breakfast with me so I can cool down while those two put themselves together.”

He doesn’t really need much more convincing. He’s already walking by your side as you turn around, walking much faster than you normally do as you head for the front doors.

Shouta walks a bit faster and opens the door for you, too, which you barely mumble a thanks for.

It’s quiet as you walk down the sidewalk in the early morning, but eventually Shouta speaks up, keeping up with your pace easily. “Do you know where you’re going?”

You stop in your tracks.

“No.” You bite your lip as you frown, and you truthfully can’t even look at him. Instead, you keep your eyes on the ground, at the pebbles on the ground. “Do you know anywhere to go?”

“...Yeah. Follow me,” his voice is surprisingly soft as he reaches forward and nudges your arm his direction, and you both turn around as he takes the lead. You don’t walk for long, crossing a few streets and making a few turns, until you’re at the same place that Shouta brought you to last time.

The familiarity as you enter the restaurant makes you relax just a little bit.

“So,” Shouta starts once the two of you sit at a booth. A waiter handed you both a menu, but you haven’t opened it yet. “You’re not usually so tense.”

Shouta doesn’t make meaningless observations, you know that much about him. He’s inviting you to talk about why you’re acting strangely, and you’re tired enough that you take the bait.

You vent. You vent and vent and vent about everything you’ve been feeling lately- stressed from two jobs, guilty for having to leave, not wanting to leave, tired, upset you have to give up your free time, upset you can’t talk to anybody about your feelings, anxious that you’re not good enough- all of it.

You’re a therapist, so you know how important it is to communicate your feelings, but you haven’t been doing it for yourself. You should know better, but it’s hard. You tell all of that to him too, even though he didn’t ask for any of it.

He gave you an opportunity to speak, so you did. All of it.

And by the time you’re done, your food (which you don’t even remember ordering, so Shouta must have done it when you were busy ranting) is sitting hot in front of you and ready to be eaten. You feel like a hot pile of blubber by the time you’re done, releasing a big sigh full of all the ghosts that have haunted you the past few days. And then you stab your fork into your food, and it feels oddly gratifying.

“...Sorry.”

Shouta just barely moves his head as he closes his eyes- a fairly weak version of shaking his head as a way to deny your apology. “I’d be on my last wire if I saw Nemuri and Hizashi fucking, too.”

Despite yourself, you snort.

“I know you haven’t worked at U.A for long, but if you wanted to ask for a day off, I think Nezu would be willing.” You barely open your mouth before he’s already shutting down your argument, “you want to help the students, and I understand that. But how much are you going to help them in this state? You can’t do anything if you’re doubting yourself and you’re sleep deprived on top of it all.”

Brutally honest, but they’re words you needed to hear. You sink into your seat and nibble on your food instead of arguing with him, which Shouta snorts amusedly at as he eats his food too.

Once again, he pays for the meal, but you don’t really try to argue about that, either. You appreciate how considerate he’s being right now.

“You’re right, and you know it too, so I don’t really have to say it. But you’re right.” Shouta smiles as you play with your fork, food now finished. “I haven’t had a day off in so long, I guess I forgot they existed. I don’t even know what I’d do, besides sleeping a lot.”

“Sleeping is always nice,” He comments and you roll your eyes, because of course he’d say that.

“What do you do on your days off?” Shouta gives you a look and you click your tongue. “Right.” Sleeping.

“Could always go out of town. Have a day trip.”

“I suppose, but I’m not really sure where I’d go,” you hum thoughtfully. “I’m not really sure what I even like to do… I know I like spending time with you. But I guess you have even less time than I do to really go anywhere, huh?”

You’re too out of it to really think about what you just admitted, and you’re looking out the window so you don’t see how Shouta’s face shifts at your little confession. “If you’re fine with me being on patrol, we could go somewhere. That’s probably the best I can do.”

And you’re also not aware of how foreign it feels for him to offer his time up like that for another person. You really have no idea- you just smile at him and light up. “Yeah, that’d be fine! Just having a day out, walking around and all that sounds nice. Aw man, it’s kind of exciting now,” you laugh, your eyes squeezing shut as your nose scrunches up.

Shouta discreetly looks away.

“I’m not very exciting, but whatever you say.”

“Well, that’s true,” ow, “you’re relaxing. And I think I need to relax more than I need excitement, really.” Oh.

He just hums in response.

“Well, anyway. Thanks a lot for letting me say all that. It was really nice of you,” you move the subject along, rummaging through your things until you find your phone and click it on. “It’s still awhile until class starts, but we should head back and check on the two love birds.”

“Hopefully they’re decent by now.” Shouta rolls his eyes, scooting out of the booth with you, and with the food already paid for, you both walk out of the diner together.

“I really can’t believe those two to begin with. Did you have any idea they were together?” You look up at him as you walk.

“Honestly? No. And that’s on purpose. I don’t want to know.”

You laugh. “That’s fair.”

Shouta hums again in response, and the two of you chat some more as you head back to U.A together. It’s nice that you can feel a bit lighter than before, now.

But it’s not fair. It’s not fair that now you’re feeling better, a bit more energized than before, you completely miss the way that Shouta looks at you. The way he’s been looking at you ever since you were exploding with anger at his two best friends.

A look that’s a bit too akin to attraction.

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mikauzoran · 3 years

Text

Lady Noir/Adrienette: Save Yourself (I’ll Help You): Chapter Two

Read it on AO3: Save Yourself (I’ll Help You): Chapter Two: Self-Help

At some point three years prior, before Adrien became cognizant of his crush on Marinette, he had surreptitiously begun to pay close attention to her. These years of reconnaissance allowed him to quickly pick up on the fact that something was up with his charming friend that Monday at school.

She was fidgety and distracted, obviously preoccupied by something.

Alya and some of the other girls noted her particularly odd behavior, but, when asked what was wrong, Marinette politely waved away their concerns and made excuses.

Adrien let it go that first day. He knew she had a lot on her plate with all of her extracurricular responsibilities. Marinette was rivaled only by Ladybug in her jam-packed schedule and need of multitasking.

When she was noticeably agitated the second day in a row, Adrien caught her as they were packing up to move classrooms, resting a hand on her forearm and giving her a confidence-inspiring smile.

“Hey. You’ve seemed really stressed out the past two days. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. Even if you just need to vent, I’m here for you, okay?”

She blinked, blushed, and looked away, smiling weakly. “Thanks, Adrien. I really appreciate the offer. I’m okay, though.”

His own smile faltered slightly because she obviously was not okay, but…if she didn’t want to confide in him, it wasn’t like he could force her.

He nodded, turned up the wattage on his grin, and removed his hand from her forearm. “Well…let me know if you ever change your mind.”

She nodded, returned the smile with one even more fake than his own, and quickly finished packing her books, hurrying out the door as fast as she could without appearing to be fleeing.

On the third day of watching the woman he loved in obvious distress, Adrien could no longer stand by and do nothing.

He packed up quickly and waited for her outside the locker room after school, and when she came out with Alya, he flagged her down, asking if she were headed home.

“May I walk you there?” he inquired, shooting Alya a quick, meaningful look.

Alya promptly remembered that she’d forgotten a notebook she needed back in her locker, literally pushing Marinette towards Adrien as she beat a hasty retreat.

Quick of reflexes, Adrien deftly stopped Marinette’s fall and helped her get steady on her feet.

“I’m going to kill Alya,” she seethed, straightening her jarred purse and backpack as they nearly slipped off her shoulders.

“Forgive her,” Adrien chuckled. “She and Nino have this scheme about setting us up with each other so that the four of us can double date. Goodness knows I need all the help I can get to make you fall for me. Alya is doing God’s work.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, glaring petulantly at her friend’s retreating back as Alya disappeared into the locker room. “Goodness also knows that I don’t need help falling flat on my face, so I think I can do without Alya shoving me.”

“Fair,” Adrien allowed, holding out a hand. “May I carry something?”

Marinette shook her head, hugging her sketchpad closer to her chest reflexively. “No, thanks. I’ve got it,” she assured, starting to head for home.

In the back of her mind, she worried about coming off as rude, but the last thing she needed was for Adrien to carry her books and somehow see the endless doodles she’d been doing of Chat Noir all week as she fretted ceaselessly about him.

Slightly dejected, Adrien slipped his hands into his pockets and followed after her, regretting her brisk pace, fearing it wouldn’t give them much time to talk.

“So…” He cleared his throat as they made their way down the school steps.

She looked back at him and nearly tripped to her death.

Luckily, he caught her by the arms, keeping her from nosediving into the concrete.

Unfortunately, her books and notebooks went flying as she flailed in the seconds before he steadied her.

Once he was sure she wasn’t going to fall, Adrien bent down to gather up her things, only to be stopped as she gasped, “Don’t look!” and rushed to retrieve them herself.

“Sorry,” she added when she came to her senses. “Just…private stuff. I don’t…” She paused to take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. “Sorry I’m being such a spazz today. I have a lot on my mind.”

“Is it anything I could help with?” he offered, holding out a hand to assist her back to her feet.

She shook her head, getting up on her own. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, though.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, debating whether or not to let it go.

“…I’m really worried about you,” he confessed after a moment, unable to hold it in.

She stopped mid-step, turning to face him with a puzzled expression. “…You are?”

“Yeah,” he replied in a hushed tone. “Seriously worried. You’ve been really off all week. I’m not trying to force you to talk to me if you don’t feel comfortable doing so, but…I just want you to be okay, and I don’t think you are, and I’m feeling kind of helpless, so…”

He almost felt bad for forcing her hand, but it was getting to the point where he was worried about Marinette getting akumatized, and that was no good for anyone because how was he supposed to fight against the girl he adored if worst came to worst?

He couldn’t…so he crossed his fingers and hoped he’d be forgiven for being slightly manipulative.

“I’m concerned about getting akumatized over worrying about you,” he told her with a grimace.

Her eyes flew wide in alarm before fluttering rapidly in a series of astonished blinks.

“And, if that happens, I’m scared my akumatized self will come after you because you’re technically the source of my negative emotions, and then you’ll be caught up in things,” he elaborated, “and I really don’t want that. The last thing I want to do is add to your stress, so…”

He worried his bottom lip between his teeth and gave her a pleading look. “Sorry, but…isn’t there anything I can do to help? I’m not asking you to talk to me about your problems, but if there were some way I could feel like I wasn’t so powerless to help you…”

He watched as her surprise crumpled up like a note passed during class into a troubled, thoughtful expression.

“…Sorry for being such a pain. I don’t want to cause problems,” he added earnestly, dropping the act and retreating one step at a time. “Sorry. Forget I said anything, but if you do want to talk, know that I’m always here for you.”

He turned to go, but she caught him, fingers wrapping around his forearm, gripping, holding him in place.

“…Wait,” she called softly, a weary resignation in her voice.

He arched an eyebrow questioningly and waited for her to continue.

She sighed and tipped her head, motioning for him to come with her. “Walk with me a bit?”

“Sure,” he easily agreed and followed as she led him across the street and then past her house to the park next door.

They completed one lap around the square, Marinette deep in thought the whole time. Then, she went and took a seat on one of the park benches, and he sat beside her, waiting patiently for her to give some kind of cue.

She inhaled deeply and, gazing down intently at her shoes all the while, finally spoke. “So…there’s this guy.”

Adrien stiffened, his heart screeching to a halt as his mind called up helpful memories of all the times Ladybug had told him about her mystery boy.

Why was there always some other guy? Adrien wondered bitterly but then mentally slapped himself because of course there were guys in the lives of smart, talented, beautiful women like Marinette and Ladybug.

“A friend,” Marinette clarified. “A really close friend, and I’m worried sick about him,” she sighed heavily, shaking her head, at a loss as to what to do.

Adrien relaxed slightly at the friendship label but didn’t let his guard down as she continued.

“He’s having some trouble with mental health and his family relationships, and I think he’s really depressed.” She looked up from her feet to meet Adrien’s gaze, and it hurt his heart to see the glistening tears blurring her vision. “I’m scared, Adrien, and I feel really useless because there’s nothing I can do to help him.

“It’s complicated,” she explained softly, looking away as if it would hide her guilt as shame turned her cheeks pink. “I can’t be there for him the way a friend should, so…I guess I’m feeling for him what you’re feeling for me. I’ve been agonizing over this since Saturday night, and I don’t know what to do. I know that there’s nothing to do. I just wish I could make it all okay for him.”

She lifted her head once more as she vehemently informed, “Adrien, he’s one of the sweetest, best people I know, and he deserves better than what he’s stuck with. I wish there was something I could do so that he wouldn’t have to struggle so much. He shouldn’t have to.”

Adrien nodded, tentatively reaching out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’re such a good friend, Marinette. I wish someone would worry about me like that,” he chuckled, but the manufactured mirth didn’t quite make it into his voice. “He’s really lucky. It sounds like you care about your friend a lot.”

She smiled wretchedly, giving a sad little nod as she admitted, “I love him.”

It felt like getting hit with an icy blast of winter air or walking outside without a coat, shocking his system.

His hand froze on her arm.

It took a minute for him to form words, and, when he did, they came out stilted and awkward, betraying his distraction. “Oh. Wow. Uh… That’s… He’s really lucky.”

Marinette tipped her head to the side, frowning in concern. “Is everything all right, Adrien?”

“Sorry.” He forced a smile, cheeks stinging as he blushed. “Ignore me. I was just a little surprised because I think this is the first I’ve heard about you having your eye on someone. I mean, it’s only natural that you would, but…”

His hand went up reflexively to rub at the back of his neck, and he shook his head, trying to clear away his muddled thoughts. He was supposed to be helping her feel better, not having a pity party for himself.

“Sorry,” he repeated softly, sheepishly. “I’m just kind of flustered…and more than a little bit jealous,” he added honestly.

Marinette’s mouth dropped open, and she leaned in to stare at him in shock. “W-Wait. What? Like…what?”

“I thought I was pretty obvious,” Adrien laughed openly at himself, hoping to keep the atmosphere light so that she wouldn’t see his heart breaking. “You really didn’t know I have feelings for you?”

Slowly, she began to shake her head from side to side, speechless in her astonishment as she tried to determine whether or not she was dreaming this entire scenario up.

“Marinette,” he chuckled more genuinely, his voice warm and affectionate. “You’re amazing. Any guy who didn’t fall in love with you would have to be a total idiot.”

She gripped the bench seat to keep herself from tipping over and falling flat in the dirt.

Her head was spinning. How could this be happening? Adrien loved her?

Impossible.

And yet…he was looking at her with such a fond, soft expression in his eyes. It was just like the looks Chat Noir often gave Ladybug, so… Maybe it was real.

Her lips parted to respond, to confess her own feelings, but Adrien cut her off.

His eyes widened in alarm, and he gave a start, jolting back and putting up his hands in defence. “…Oh, but, I mean, I totally support you! With this guy. If he’s the one you love…. I support you,” he rushed to assure.

Marinette blinked, mentally reeling from the whiplash.

Did he love her or not? She wasn’t entirely sure now, if he weren’t willing to fight for her. His affections couldn’t be that strong if he was okay with giving up so easily.

“More than anything, I’m your friend, so I don’t want my feelings for you to get in the way of that or make things weird between us,” he explained, desperate for her to understand. “So, if you have to pretend that I never said anything, that’s totally fine. I support you. Whatever makes you happy is the most important thing.”

She had to pause to consider before responding. Her thoughts were so twisted up like a ball of writhing serpents battling to consume one another.

“Thank you, Adrien. That’s so sweet, and it’s seriously not a problem,” she promised, reaching out and placing a hand on his forearm. “We’re fine. Everything’s fine…. Honestly, there’s nothing for you to support. Things aren’t going to work between me and my friend, so…thank you, but nothing’s going to happen between us.”

Adrien’s eyebrows gradually pulled together into a V of concern. “Is it…because of his mental health situation?”

Marinette recoiled, staring at him in stupefaction. “What? No! No, of course not! Nothing like that. He’s amazing, and I’d be more than willing to stay by his side and support him through his struggles. He’s worth putting in the hard work for.”

Adrien’s stomach stopped clenching, and a faint hope welled up in his chest. If things weren’t going to work out between Marinette and this other guy, maybe Adrien still had a chance. Maybe she could see past Adrien’s struggles and still care for him too.

“So…what exactly is the problem, if you don’t mind me asking?” he pressed gently, chewing nervously at the inside of his lip.

She looked away, frowning down at her knees. “It’s…complicated.”

Adrien arched an eyebrow. “Is he gay?”

It was the only reason Adrien could come up with why a guy wouldn’t want to overcome all obstacles to be with Marinette.

Marinette chuckled softly, shaking her head. “No. He’s bi, so…”

She looked back up at him, scrutinizing his face, evaluating his trustworthiness. “…I’m going to tell you a secret.”

He scooted in closer, nodding that he was ready. “I won’t tell a soul.”

She glanced around, scanning the area to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard before she lowered her voice, whispering, “It’s Chat Noir.”

Adrien blinked slowly, uncomprehendingly. The words meant nothing to him.

Seeing his confusion, Marinette elaborated, her cheeks turning cherry blossom pink as she confessed, “My friend, the guy I’m in love with…it’s Chat Noir.”

Adrien’s brain crashed, and it took him a good ten seconds to reboot.

His initial inclination was to laugh hysterically because finally his love was requited, and he couldn’t have asked for a better romantic partner than Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

His mind next trotted off to construct a detailed plan of all the ways he was going to make her happy and spoil her rotten.

It then occurred to him that he needed to tell her his identity, but then he decided to table that idea because Ladybug would be furious, and he wasn’t sure how Marinette would react.

He also wasn’t so sure that this was the best time to reveal his identity because Marinette was convinced that things wouldn’t work between them. She was also currently upset…because of him.

“You’ve been worried all week because of Chat Noir?” Adrien breathed as his brain came back online.

She nodded meekly. “I…Yes. He’s having a rough time, and I’m worried that there’s nothing I can do to help him. I’m not doing a very good job as his friend.”

Adrien rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around Marinette and pulling her into a fierce hug.

“You’re doing amazing,” he whispered into her hair, wishing he could express how much it meant to him, knowing that her skylight door was always open when he needed a safe space to escape from his life.

He may not have confided in her before about how bad things were because he was afraid of burdening her and scaring her away, but all the times when she’d allowed him to hang out on her balcony or in her room, all the times she and her parents had strong-armed him into making dinner and eating with them once they’d found out he ate alone most meals, all the times she’d saved pastries for him and Plagg…

Chat Noir might not have let Marinette see how dark it was inside of his mind, but she’d always been there to help right when he needed her. She’d gotten him through many tough times, even if she’d never known it.

He pulled back to look her intently in the eyes. “Marinette, I’ve seen you two together before, and Chat Noir is crazy about you. Trust me. I can tell. If you love him and he loves you, why can’t you two be together?”

“Adrien, he’s a superhero,” Marinette snorted, rolling her eyes as if the problem were obvious.

“So?” he scoffed right back. “You don’t think you’re good enough for a superhero or something? Marinette, Chat Noir is the one not good enough for you. Stop being humble and date him already.”

“I’m not being humble,” she returned saucily. “I’m being practical. I can’t date a guy whose identity I don’t know.”

“Then let him reveal his identity to you,” Adrien suggested matter-of-factly. “You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.”

“I am not,” she protested, crossing her arms indignantly. “It’s too dangerous for me to know his identity.”

“How so?” he argued. “All you have to do is just not tell anyone that you know. Don’t get caught kissing Chat Noir, and no one will be the wiser. No one’s going to think twice if you start dating his civilian self.”

She pursed her lips, trying not to see his point. “What if I get caught up in an akuma attack and get brainwashed into revealing his secrets?”

“Chat Noir has been mind-controlled countless times, and he hasn’t given away his secret identity yet,” Adrien continued to stack solid argument on top of solid argument. “If you don’t tell anyone you know who Chat Noir is, Papillon won’t know to come after you. You’re perfectly safe so long as you keep your mouth shut. I think you can manage that, Marinette.”

“What if there’s a truth-telling akuma?” she tried in one last-ditch attempt.

He frowned at her in mildly annoyed disappointment. “Has there ever been a truth-telling akuma? In the past three and a half years?”

She averted her gaze, her lip pushing forward into a pout.

“No. No, there has not,” he answered his own question triumphantly. “See? I’m not going to say it’s perfectly safe for him to reveal himself to you, but the risk is small enough that I feel comfortable with you taking it. Don’t you think he would be worth it?”

“Of course he would be worth it,” she replied in a small, tired whisper. “It’s just…it’s complicated, Adrien.”

“It’s really not as complicated as you’re making it,” he sighed, gently cupping her cheek and tipping her head up to make her look at him. “Marinette, you’re a wonderful person, and you deserve happiness and love. Why won’t you let yourself have this?”

Her lips slowly moved into a self-deprecating smile, and she shook her head sadly. ��I’m afraid that I really am a masochist who doesn’t allow herself to have nice things.”

It was like a foggy pane of glass shattered between them at her words, and Adrien flashed back to Ladybug sitting on the roof of Sainte Chapelle saying the same thing Saturday night.

He couldn’t breathe.

“What…did you say?” he choked as the pieces slid together: Ladybug’s insistence that Chat go to Marinette when Ladybug couldn’t be there for him herself. Marinette’s claims that things were complicated between herself and Chat Noir.

She shook her head again. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

His Lady, his Princess…the same person? Could he be so lucky?

Her brow pinched into a frown as she registered his expression. “Why are you grinning like that?”

“Because I love you,” he chuckled giddily, rendering her utterly speechless.

She found that she literally couldn’t remember how to make her mouth, brain, and vocal cords work in concert to form any kind of reply, so she just sat there, parting and closing her lips like a drowning fish.

“Hey,” he called softly, slipping his hand into hers. “I really need to talk to you. It’s important,” he emphasized. “Could we please head to your house so we can talk undisturbed?”

She tried to speak, but it came out sounding like a collection of gibberish syllables, so, instead, she nodded and got to her feet, leading him back to her house and up the stairs to her room.

He had to let go of her hand in order to file up the narrow staircase, and, by the time they reached the attic, Marinette’s brain was once again semi-functional.

She took a seat on her chaise longue and motioned for him to sit anywhere he liked, urging, “Make yourself comfortable.”

“I’m good standing, thanks,” he assured. “I’m actually feeling kind of jittery, so…do you mind if I pace?”

“Uh…go right ahead,” she encouraged, watching as he did indeed start to walk back and forth across her carpet. “…You said that you needed to talk to me?”

He took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh, “Yeah. Yeah. I did. I do. I…”

He bit his lip, rubbing at the back of his neck as he tried to get his harried thoughts in order. “I’m not sure you want to know, but I feel like I have to tell you. You’re not going to be happy, but this isn’t something I can keep from you.”

He stopped and turned to face her. “Honestly, I’ve kind of been in a dark place lately, Marinette.”

Her eyes rounded, pupils dilating in fear for yet another one of the most precious boys in her life going through a hard time.

“I’ve been feeling pretty down,” he confessed. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to bother anyone or make them worry.”

“Adrien, we’re your friends,” she scolded, fighting back a whirlwind of emotions.

Hurt that he hadn’t trusted her, frustration that he thought so little of himself and how much he meant to them.

“Worrying about one another and supporting each other is what friends do,” she stressed, hands going to her hips. “When you need help or just someone to listen to you vent, you come to us. We will always be there for you.”

His lips quirked into a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I know. I just…have self-esteem issues. But I’m coming to you now, so…better late than never?”

Her expression softened, and she pushed herself up, going to him and wrapping him in a loose hug. “Oh, Adrien…you idiot.”

He rested his head against hers, muttering, “I was also afraid to talk to you about it because I was worried about ruining my chances with you. I know I wouldn’t want to deal with me and all of my insecurities and hang-ups. I couldn’t imagine someone as epic as you picking someone like me when you could do so much better.”

“Adrien,” she cooed, pulling back to meet his gaze with an abundance of sympathy and affection. “Don’t…say things like that. There are so many amazing things about you.”

“That’s what Plagg said too,” he chuckled softly.

She blinked, her brain not registering. “Plagg?”

He nodded. “Saturday…I told Ladybug about how lost and alone I’d been feeling, and she told me to come talk to you…so here I am.”

Marinette’s jaw dropped as she struggled to make sense of what she was hearing.

Saturday night, Ladybug had talked to Chat Noir, not Adrien, so…

Her lungs seized, cutting off her breath.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered like a chastened child waiting to be struck. “I know you didn’t want to reveal identities and that’s why you sent me to Marinette instead of trying to help as Ladybug, but…I think the cat’s out of the bag, My Lady.”

To her credit, Marinette did not faint. She would have liked to because, if she were unconscious, she wouldn’t have to deal with reality right away, but she remained in full control of her faculties and, thus, had to attend to the matter at hand in real time.

“I need to sit down,” she announced, heading back over to the chaise to compose herself.

Adrien followed nervously, taking a seat beside her without infringing upon her personal space. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

She waved away his words, shaking her head. “No. No. It’s fine. I…This is my fault. I knew you could potentially figure out my identity every time I had Chat Noir over to watch movies or play video games. I knew I was taking a risk.”

She turned to look him in the eye. “If I had the chance to do it all over, I wouldn’t change anything.”

“Oh,” he whispered, dazed as she leaned in and pressed her lips to his cheek, smiling softly.

“I don’t regret anything except not being able to be there for you more,” she added, making his heart swell. “But now we have to sit down and figure out what to do about this catastrophe now that we’re here.”

He arched an eyebrow, echoing, “Catastrophe?”

She nodded. “I mean…you know my identity. We’re in grave danger, Chaton.”

Deep furrows gradually dug their way across his brow. “Are we actually, though?”

She blinked, taken aback.

“Is this really the end-of-the-world scenario you think it is?” he pressed. “Like what I was saying earlier, if we don’t advertise that we know, why should Papillon target Marinette and Adrien more than any other Parisian?”

Marinette opened her mouth to argue her point but then closed it again when she realized that she didn’t have any good rebuttals to make.

“That’s why I’m always so careful when I come over here as Chat Noir. I don’t let myself get spotted coming and going so that I don’t tip anyone off to the fact that you’re important to me and could be used against me,” he explained, scooting in a little closer on the chaise. “If no one knows we know, how are we in danger?”

She pursed her lips and thought hard, trying to come up with a way to refute his logic. “…But what if there’s a truth-telling akuma?” she inquired weakly, knowing the feeble argument wouldn’t hold water.

He cupped her cheek in his hand and swore, “I would literally die before I betrayed you.”

Her heart cracked open at the very thought, and tears started to stream down her face.

“You die too much already,” she whispered, looping her arms around his neck. “I don’t want you to die…. I love you.”

He didn’t protest as she leaned in and pressed a butterfly’s wing beat of a kiss to his lips.

“Okay,” he chuckled, resting his forehead against hers. “No dying. We’ll figure something else out, but it’s going to be okay, Marinette. No matter what, we’ll get through this together.”

“Promise?” she hummed, a gentle smile lifting the corners of her lips.

“Promise,” he affirmed, inching forward to steal a more substantial kiss.

When they broke apart, there was a question in his eyes. “…Me being Adrien doesn’t change the way you feel about me, does it? You said you loved Chat Noir, but…”

A scarlet flare lit up her cheeks and spread across the bridge of her nose as she finally confessed, “You know the mystery boy I’ve been pining after since we were thirteen?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Yeeeees?”

“His name is Adrien Agreste,” she giggled.

He burst out laughing. “You have horrible taste in men.”

She slapped him playfully on the arm. “You have horrible self-esteem. That’s the real problem here. I only fall for the sweetest, kindest, most thoughtful guys. I have impeccable taste.”

“…You really think so?” he sought to verify, amazed that such a thing could be true, that such a woman could want him.

She nodded, gaze earnest. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Adrien. We’re going to have to work on changing that.”

“Is this a team effort thing now?” he hummed, delighted by the prospect.

“Absolutely,” she confirmed…but then the air of teasing left her. “…I’ve been really worried about you since Saturday. If there’s anything—anything—I can do for you, please let me know. …What do you think I could do to help?”

He chewed thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek for a moment before answering. “…I don’t know, really. You’ve done so much already for me as Chat Noir just by giving me a warm, safe, place to go when I need to escape. I feel bad asking for more.”

“Don’t,” she urged. “It really is fine, Adrien. Earlier, you said that you wanted me to be okay, didn’t you? That’s how I feel about you too, so don’t ever feel bad for asking.”

Slowly, he began to nod as comprehension dawned upon him. “…Oh….”

She gave him an encouraging smile and squeezed his hand. “Yeah.”

Blushing, he looked down at their joined hands. “Okay. Well…I’ll have to let you know as I think of things, but…I don’t know if there’s a whole lot you can do. I think a lot of being mentally healthy starts and ends with me, so…I think I have to do most of the work myself.”

“But you can still let me know if there’s anything I can do to support you,” she reminded.

He nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. …I will. I think mostly I just need someone to talk to about things.”

“You can talk to me whenever you need to,” she assured. “I mean, I hardly sleep, so you can call or text whenever.”

He frowned at this. “I think maybe we need to reevaluate your self-care behaviors while we’re at it. I’ve always known that Marinette had a crazy hectic schedule full of stress and deadlines, but now that I know you’re juggling a side gig as a superhero on top of everything you do as Marinette, I’m kind of worried.”

She averted her gaze, sticking her lip out in a pout. “I liked it better when we were focusing on you.”

“I’ll bet you did,” he snickered. “Just know that this is a two-way street. I’m here for you too, Marinette.”

She dropped the pout and looked up at him with a soft smile. “Thanks…. I think you should talk to Nino about how you’ve been feeling lately. Maybe Alya too, if you feel comfortable talking to her, but definitely Nino. He’s going to freak.”

Adrien winced. “Yeah…. Yeah, I know. I just don’t want—”

“—Don’t you dare mention being a burden or bothering him,” she warned. “Nino would be insulted. He loves you literally as much as he loves his brother, if not, more.”

“Yeah,” Adrien sighed, sufficiently cowed. “I’ve just been too scared to say anything.”

She hesitated before continuing, “And…you know…maybe we could go see a therapist?”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise at the suggestion. “A therapist?”

She nodded tentatively. “I know I’m awesome, but I’m only seventeen, Adrien. There are a lot of things that I’m completely clueless about. I’ve looked into psychology a little bit to help me deal with akuma victims, but I’m not an expert. I was just thinking that maybe talking to a counselor would be helpful. Maybe they’ll think of things that could help that we would never come up with on our own.”

“That’s true,” he allowed, considering the idea.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I just know that there are a lot of times where I think, ‘Man, I wish I had an adult to help me out with this’. Most of the time I’m completely on my own—besides you and the others and Tikki, I mean…. I was just thinking that this is maybe one time where we don’t have to go it alone. Maybe an adult can help.”

“I’ll think about it,” he granted. “It would be hard to see a doctor without my father finding out, and he isn’t going to like this, but…it’s a good idea,” he agreed.

“Good,” she sighed in relief, leaning into a languid, exploratory kiss that Adrien was more than happy to return.

They broke apart a few minutes later with a contented hum and stared dreamily into each other’s eyes.

Suddenly, an idea occurred to Adrien, and he gave a start.

“Stupid question,” he announced hesitantly.

“No such thing,” she assured, wrapping her arms around him more snugly.

“Are we dating now?” he warily inquired. “Sorry. Do I need to ask you out still? I mean, I assume we’re on the same page because we both said that we loved one another, and we’ve been kissing, so one would think that we’re dating, but I just wanted to make sure because I’ve never done this before, and I’m—”

“—Adrien?” she cut him off gently.

He tipped his head to the side. “Yes?”

“Will you go out with me?” she asked so that there would be no doubt in his mind as to what she wanted.

“Yes,” he responded breathlessly, and the joy in his eyes made her heart melt.

“Good,” she chuckled. “For our first date, would you want to have movie night tonight? We could snuggle on the couch and make cookies together.”

He surprised her by saying no.

“That can’t be our first date,” he whined. “It’s not romantic enough. I’ve had our first date planned for years, Princess. There have to be rose petals and candles and mood music. We’re supposed to eat at this amazing restaurant and take ballroom dancing lessons and then have a rooftop picnic as we watch the stars and snuggle. We can’t have a night in as our first date,” he argued.

She stared at him with a deadpan expression, debating whether it would be damaging to their nascent relationship for her to face-palm.

“My boyfriend is a high-maintenance dork,” she sighed.

“Hey,” he pouted, and she could almost see his ears and tail drooping despite the fact that he wasn’t transformed.

“All right,” she relented. “If we don’t call it a date, would you like to hang out and snuggle and watch movies and bake cookies?”

“Definitely,” he easily approved but then thought to add softly, in a slightly hurt tone, “I’m not silly, you know, for wanting my first date with the woman I love to be everything I’ve ever dreamed it would be.”

“No,” she agreed, reaching up to stroke his hair lovingly. “I’m sorry. You’re not. You deserve to have the first date of your dreams. I shouldn’t have scoffed, even if it is a bit more…” She searched for the word, came up with “over the top”, and decided against voicing it. “…more than I had in mind,” she ended conciliatorily.

“I love you, and I want you to have nice things,” she assured, earning herself an affectionate nuzzle from him.

“Thanks,” he whispered. “That means a lot to me.”

She then did something she knew she would later regret as a show of her love for him: “You can plan our first date,” she offered. “Whatever you want it to be. Go wild.”

The way his eyes lit up at her giving him free rein confirmed her fears…yet, the pure joy in his expression made her think that, if a crazy rom-com-cliché-filled date was the price of his happiness, it was well worth it.

The End

#Lady Noir #Adrinette #Adrienette #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Chat Noir #Ladybug #Identity Reveal #Fluff #Hurt/Comfort #Friends to Lovers #Love Confession #Talking #Honesty #Mikau's Writings #Save Yourself (I'll Help You)

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ask-artsy-oncie · 3 years

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So I’m kinda in a meh/apathetic headspace in regards to my mental health right now. Maybe it would be best to just let some thoughts out.

Firstly, I do want to apologize for making stupid, borderline inflammatory posts and throwing them out there onto tumblr dot com, I know that’s never the best course of action. However, I really, really do not appreciate anons sending vague “are you okay”s at me. If you’re not close enough to me where you can’t PM me (relatively) face-to-face, then I really wouldn’t like random inquiries about my mental health from you. Maybe it’s just because I don’t 100% trust anons (I’ve been here for a decade, I’ve seen some shit, can you really blame me?) but I think I ought to make myself clear on that. Are we clear on that? cool.

I don’t know... I’ve felt so lost and tired recently, moreso than usual.

I’ve always had a massive complex about annoying people, being too self-indulgent, not having good ideas or opinions or what-have-you. People who have known me for a while almost definitely know that. I don’t think it all necessarily exists in a vacuum, either I have a genuinely hard time coming up with objectively good ideas. Sometimes I’m just straight-up “head empty” mode. I’m also often really opinionated and sometimes intend to die on hills that people aren’t really meant to die on (or are even necessarily worth dying on). I can get way too wrapped up on meaningless things because my brain is too hyperfocused on this one thing, or maybe something I rely too heavily on for comfort is... I don’t know how to put it.... put at risk? Challenged? I have a lot of mental issues and real life issues, though I’m not claiming to be massively oppressed or anything, but I tend to cling to comforts a little too desperately. And I’m not just talking about like. Media. Just comforts in general. Sometimes I’ll spend too much of the day laying in bed. Sometimes I cling to old relationships or old forms of relationships or I constantly worry about the day I’ll inevitably no longer have the same relationships I have now.

I’ve known I needed therapy for a while now. I’m waitlisted and everything, but I need to go about actually choosing a therapist to see and I’ve been dragging my feet on that so I guess that’s my bad. I’ll get to it. Shit’s overwhelming, yknow?

Anyways I know I have a lot of these flaws and problems and I think my horrible anxieties about being too annoying and whatnot is just a really extreme form of self-reflection. Maybe. Not entirely sure. Maybe a therapist could tell me.

I get way too passionate, way too easily, and it’s almost always followed by a super intense period of shame, like, to the point where I’m desperate to isolate myself and destroy my relationships with other people, because then at least I’m actually trying to destroy a relationship by being a bad person, rather than someone leaving me for... I don’t know, being too happy? Caring too much? Talking too much? Just. Shit I have less control over.

I’ve tried putting a cap on it, suppressing everything. Trying not to indulge too much, trying not to be so happy and talkative, straight-up deleting messages I think might be too annoying the second I send them. Trying to be inoffensive through being unnoticeable. I’m trying to do that now, honestly. It’s why I joked about deleting my blog. All it does is hurt and make me go fucking nuts because I’m bottling up a lot in doing that, I know. I’m just not fully convinced I don’t just deserve to feel that way.

There are a lot of points in my life where I’m convinced that my best course of action in succeeding or keeping people from being put-off by me is to just sit down and shut up and draw what I’m told to draw. To just completely lose my agency in drawing. It makes sense, when you feel like you don’t have any good ideas of your own, you just illustrate others’. And there are many, many points where I have done this out of a place of love. Fuck, most of what I’ve drawn for Lolly’s writing has come out of a place of genuine love, not just for her work, but for her. A lot of what I’ve drawn for Bethany (for any REAL long-time followers reading this) has been like that, too. But there are also points where it honestly just feels like my only purpose is to be a tool through which others may visualize their whims. That if I dare inject too much of myself into things, they’ll be permanently ruined. And then there’s the shame I feel in having wanted to impart a piece of myself into a work - a demerit for being too selfish or self-important to deem my whims anywhere near good or important enough to be included.

I have so many ideas. So many opinions and thoughts and feelings and genuine insight that I’ve suppressed or deleted because I either feel like that’s what’s expected of me, or I’m straight-up told that my thoughts and opinions are bad and wrong. Like. Fuck me for having opinions on animated media levels of being shut-down. And you know, I’ve noticed something in the past decade of being an insufferable opinionated prick about things like that - that it’s actually easier for me to enjoy media when I’m allowed to be negative and critical of it. When I am allowed to just share my thoughts. And I don’t mean like, without being disagreed with, I mean like, in an environment where I’m made to feel like I actually can share these thoughts. When I can pinpoint and analyze what I didn’t like or what made me upset, it can be a lot easier for me to then move on and be able to focus on aspects that I genuinely do like. Like, holy fuck, it is SO much easier for me to pick-and-choose aspects of a certain sequel film that I actually like and feel comfortable saying I like than it was for me to do with the original, because I no longer have an incredibly toxic person in my life (or at least, in my life as much).

But that doesn’t mean I haven’t had this kind of experience since then, like. There are STILL things I struggle to move past because I have been made to feel like I just can’t fucking talk about them without being insufferable (sorry if I’m overusing that word - it just feels like the best word the feeling I’m trying to describe) or just straight-up ruining something for someone I care about. Keeping shit like this in does crazy shit to me, for real, and there’s still a large part of me that tells me “Fuck you. Suck it up. None of this shit matters.” Y’know? Because in the grand scheme of things, I know it doesn’t. And then there’s the shame that comes from having cared so much in the first place. It’s a fucking cycle. There’s some shit that’s just irreparable ruined for me because of this and that SUCKS.

I don’t like losing comforts. Fuck, I hate it, really. And I’m not talking about new comforts coming along and catching my attention as an old comfort begins to wane, I’m talking like. Destroying relationships, feeling SO MUCH shame surrounding a comfort media that it’s too difficult to enjoy it no matter how hard I try, or having too hard of a time disassociating a comfort with a horrible event or person. And it’s feeling like at LEAST one of these is starting to happen to me again and Good Gods it’s just. It’s so terrifying.

But who do I tell? When my primary worry is annoying or offending or hurting people? Y’know? I can’t just vent to one single person to this all the time, that isn’t fair. But it gets to a point where my brain tells me “No, you can’t talk to ANYONE about this because that’s rude and wrong and a true friend wouldn’t do that. There’s a reason why you can make any number of concerning posts, messages, private ramblings, whatever, and the people you’re closest to won’t ask you what’s wrong.”

And, yeah, honestly, I do think it’s true that the people I consider my closest friends won’t read this. I actually don’t believe the average person will read this, or at least get this far. I genuinely do just talk too much and it’s a lot for most people to deal with. Otherwise, I talk too little, and probably enter the “you should be able to read my MIND” level of expectations, which, of course, isn’t far. I understand, I swear I do, it just takes some time to come to terms with every time I get wrapped up in my stupid mental stuff. And I also promise that I try to give these people the same kind of response I want, y’know? I try to look out for any worrying behavior and try to offer an ear and help in any way that I can. I don’t think expecting the same in return is fair, I just worry about any of them being like me, and I’m willing to play to that if it’s necessary. I’ll break quiet streaks for that shit, y’know?

Honestly, these stupid quiet streaks are probably more unbearable for me than they are even noticeable for most people. It sucks. I just wish my mind was normal so I A) wouldn’t have these insecurities to begin with, because B) I would never end up exhibiting the behavior to warrant such insecurities.

There’s so much shit I want to talk about, to analyze, or explore, that I want to share with the world, or at least with people I love, that I probably never will because my stupid brain has already decided that all this stupid shit is better kept to myself where it can rot and be forgotten eventually. Which is fine, in the grand scheme of things, I guess, because I functionally have never really been the guy who comes up with ideas (at least, good ideas) I’m just the pencil, the one who I guess makes things visual? I can’t even bring myself to say “I bring the ideas to life” because that’s pretentious and untrue. These ideas are already alive because they come from brilliant minds.

I don’t even think it’s fair for me to call myself a character designer unless the characters are my own. Otherwise, I’m just following the directions of a much more competent conceptualizer (there’s a reason my characters barely have any... well, character). That’s the reason why I removed my unearned credit as the character designer for Ty from Swindle’s description, because I really don’t deserve that kind of credit. It’s why the asks about the designing process of Ty have been left unanswered, because, fuck, what do I even say? “I just did what Lolly told me to do, just like I did with all of Swindle. Please don’t give me that kind of credit, I know I falsely ascribed it to myself earlier, and I want to rectify that”? I guess I could have, actually, now that I’m typing this. But people always get fucking upset with me when I try not to take credit, even when it’s shit that isn’t mine!! So I don’t know what to do!! I don’t know what to fucking do!!! Because I just don’t fucking want to make people upset or unhappy!!!!!!!

I’m sorry, this post is too long and I’ve worked myself up and I’m no longer apathetic. I’m gonna go cry myself to sleep so big win for my complexion, honestly.

Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I guess getting this shit out of my system is probably best to do in a big tumblr post no one will read.

I don’t want anons about this. If I can just ask one thing. Please.

#do n/ot reb/lo/g #rant #vent #long post #probably won't delete tbh #i don't know it's the most competent i've been about weird mind shit for a while now #so maybe it would be best to just leave it

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macattackp · 4 years

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Lies Chronically Ill/Injured People Tell Themselves:

1. I Am a Burden Who Only Takes From Others and Can Never Give Back

We all have things that we feel we SHOULD be able to provide. As a guy, it KILLS me that I can’t do things like shovel the driveway, help carry heavy items, or have a job that could make me a breadwinner for someone.

Don’t undersell what you do bring though! For one thing, chronically ill/injured people tend to be masters of empathy, not to mention we get pretty knowledgeable on the medical system. If you aren’t... don’t fret over it! If you can’t do something, then don’t! Focus on what you CAN do instead!

2. I Am Undeserving of Love Because Who Would Take on a Burden Like Me?

This one is another huge struggle for a lot of people. I know as a guy, I feel the added pressure of being worthless if I can’t provide financially for a girl. (No matter how progressive people may be, this progressiveness tends to vanish when their daughters’ well being are concerned), but I know just as many girls who say the same things.

“How can someone love me when I just am stuck in bed all day?” “Why would someone choose me if I could never have kids?” “Who would choose a spouse who may not be able to have sex?”

Look. I’ll be honest, I have no wise advice on this one as to find someone who is willing to support you on your struggles. Nor can I be dense and say “You’re just misreading people!” because let’s admit it... our lives are tough and there are many who would choose not to join us.... what I can say though... is I have had friends who had chronic illnesses. Some could never have sex. Some would require tons of medical expenses. Some were missing limbs or body parts. One was even pretty much guaranteed to die before she turned 30.... And they ended up getting married, and loved, and supported. I don’t know what the future holds for you, but I do know it IS possible! So don’t put yourself down or give up hope!

3. I Have to Work Harder to Keep Up With Everyone or Else I Will be a Failure!

This world has a main road, but that main road has a lot of cracks... and there are probably more people in this world who have fallen through the cracks, than walk on the main road. But we feel like everyone in this world is on the main road because once people fall through the cracks they tend to be overlooked even though there are so many of them.

It is not fair, nor is it doable to be expected to keep up with others when you are carrying a different burden. We have the Paralympics for a reason. Would you ask a man with one leg to race against the Olympic sprinters? Would you ask someone carrying a massive boulder to outrun someone without one?

And in all honesty, it is not always as cut and dry as “Accept you’ll get 4th or 5th place.” Our world tends to try to put us on rails. We make everything systematic and anything that doesn’t fit within our metrics is considered broken. We often judge people more by their process than their results! But the way laid out by others as the “Right way” isn’t always the only or even the best way!

Learn how YOUR body works! I was a horrible student in school until I finally gave up relying on teachers and just studied the way I enjoyed it. I figured at that point “As long as I pass, what else matters.” but had the added surprise when I jumped from a 60′s-70′s student at best to my lowest grade being a 94! It doesn’t always work out this well, but your body is yours. No one else can tell you how it works. Learn from what people have done in the past but look for the way YOU work best! When you look back you realize, none of the biggest world changers really ever lived their lives by the book anyways!

4. I Have To Get Better So I Can Have a Life!

To an extent, this makes sense. Without energy, or finances, and with a schedule stuffed to the gills with doctors appointments meaning you can never go far from home... it is hard to feel like there is really much you can do... but... at the same time....

YOU ARE ALIVE NOW!

You may not have the finances to do what you want. You may not have the social life that you enjoy. You may not have an overabundance of time or energy... But you are alive RIGHT now! You are allowed to live!

Write that book you always wanted! Learn a new language! Cook yourself a big meal! You may tell yourself “BUT I HAVE SO MUCH OTHER STUFF I SHOULD BE FOCUSING ON INSTEAD!”

Look! That stuff will be there whether you focus on it 24/7 or 12/5! Don’t let it get out of hand, but if you aren’t going to be able to solve it by worrying about it more then don’t! Spend your time doing things that will revitalize you, help you grow, and give you some interesting stories to tell once this is all over!

5. I Am Not Allowed to Be Happy or Have Fun Until I Am Better!

This one is a tough one as it ties into our impostor syndrome. That horrible feeling that we get every time we start to enjoy ourselves or smile in public of “Oh no! What if people assume I’ve been faking this whole time?!?!?!”

You are allowed to laugh. You are allowed to smile. You are allowed to have good things happen to you. Yeesh, there is no time in life that it is more important to have happy moments than through hardships!

Being happy or enjoying yourself from time to time through hardships isn’t a sign that your hardships were never that hard. It is a sign that you are fighting forward. That you aren’t letting this take over your life. And plus, as human beings we NEED hope and happiness... we die both mentally and physically without it

6. There is No Future After This

This is one that I personally struggle with... if we count the 6 years of trauma as a kid that originally gave me PTSD, and these last 7+ years of pushing as hard as I can only to fail harder and harder (including these last 2.5 years that have been giving me a whole new layer of trauma on top of my previous trauma) I’m reaching the point where more than half my life has been going through miserable, destructive times where I lose most things that matter to me and find myself alone at the start again in a dark place. It is hard... honestly... Anyone who follows my account and sees my tagless venting posts know that there are more than enough times I question why I even try anymore when I don’t even know what’s left of me...

But there was a movie I watched a while ago... another cheesy hallmark movie, but it was a good one as far as hallmark movies go. I remember they had this one line in it that really stuck with me.

“I’ve lost everything 3-4 times now! It’s the perfect place to start!”

Now I’m not as optimistic as that ambitious old man from the movie was... but I do know this.... You never know what life can hold. The same way you can lose everything that matters to you in a year, I’ve seen people gain more than they ever thought possible in a week. Not to say we are all about to win the lottery or by some miracle wake up completely healed of all afflictions... but I do believe that if it was possible to have things go this bad, it is also possible for things to go much better.

And let’s admit it. You might be thinking “Oh! But I’m not strong enough to make it happen!” and you’d be right... you aren’t. But honestly who is? We live in a world where tons of people succeed or fail... and very few I can say “earned it.”

Life IS unfair, but if it wasn’t, we’d all be dead! What we really get upset about is that it seems to be more unfair in some peoples’ favour than our own. But life is tough. The fact that any of us live is a miracle in itself. Don’t limit what the future holds for you based on what you feel you’re able to do. You aren’t a static person, and this world doesn’t rise or fall on your shoulders either! (even though it feels like that most mornings). Give it your best with what you’ve got every day, and realize even if each day feels like a year, this is still only a season of life. Personally I want to fight and survive long enough to see a day where this all seems like it was worth it!

7. I Will Never Be Self Sufficient!

The lie in this one isn’t that you will be self sufficient! The lie is that people assume ANYONE is self sufficient!

Look. Do you see people growing their own food? Even if they do, do they grow their own fertilizer? Even if they do, did they build their house from scratch, their car, their fridge, do all their electrical work, never once look up anything on the internet?!?!?! No!

We are NOT a self sufficient species. From the minute we are born we NEED people just to stay alive let alone to succeed! So you have to rely on people in a way you don’t see others needing to rely on people! Does an electrician complain that he needs to call someone to fix the backed up pipes when the plumber doesn’t??? No! That would be stupid! And to try and fix it on his own would be stupider!

You are ALLOWED to rely on others. You are ALLOWED to ask for help. This doesn’t make you any less of a person! This makes you human!

8. I’m Not Worth It . . .

This is something I struggled with even before I realized just how much was stacked against me from the start... I remember one time, someone very precious to me sat down in front of me and for 15 minutes she said nothing else but “YOU ARE WORTHY!” She repeated it over and over again in different ways, not letting me talk and refusing to say anything else until I finally just accepted that I maybe was. Times change, and she may not be around to say that anymore, but those words still stick with me, and that moment still pops in my head every time I am feeling really down on myself like a planted warrior to fight against my internal self doubt...

There are many things in our lives that make us feel worthless.... “I messed up and hurt them.” “I have a lot of health concerns.” “I am not attractive.” “I have a perverted mind.” “I don’t fit with what society says I should be.” “My parents/people who I care about said I wasn’t good enough.” The list goes on... but YOU ARE WORTHY!

“But I don’t deserve to be happy!” YOU DO!

“But I don’t deserve anyone to put up with me.” YOU DO!

“But I don’t deserve a happy life” YOU DO!

“But I don’t deserve a second chance.” YOU DO!

Whatever you’re worried about

Whatever is bugging you

Whatever lies are bouncing around in your head right now saying you should just disappear and stop being a bother to others

YOU

ARE

WORTHY!

Don’t let anyone or anything tell you otherwise, LEAST of all yourself!

I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you’re going through. I don’t know what you’ve done or haven’t done.... but I can tell you this right now. You are a one of a kind beautiful life. You are allowed to exist in this world, you are allowed to flourish, you are allowed to enjoy your time with it and interact with others. What’s more, you aren’t just put up with, you are NEEDED! Because there is only one of you out there, and this world needs you. Treat yourself well, and let yourself know just how valuable you are. You are you, and that is beautiful!

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uncertaininnit · 3 years

Text

tommy brainrot/rant/inner discorse(how tf do u spell)/vent @ self/ general concern for my mental health basically if you want to read my mind for a bit this might be the thing for you but like self-hatered tw

i stayed up all night and it started fine then i watched the house burning vod and it was cool, tommy and ranboo’s dynamic is actually hella cool and i like it a lot. then i watched some other shit, i can’t really remember, and then i tried to watch asmr before getting bored and angry and stopping. and then i think i watched tiktoks for an hour and then, when the light began filtering through my window, the guilt started filtering through my mind and man. this is why i dont stay up all night. because when the morning rolls around i have convinced myself i am a shitty person. man.

sometimes its just in general but it’s often tommy-based, like today. so, you know how tommyinnit is a persona? just like quackity? like that isn’t Alex or Tom? because its an internet persona? well, let me tell you, i love their internet personas! especially tommy, he brings me exceptional joy! but something else that brings me exceptional joy is seeing tommy think out loud, or just generally be transparent about how he feels.

tommy is a very transparent guy. just in general. it’s one of the coolest things about him, how is isn’t afraid to share the way he feels about things. also, at the like very start of his streams, the intro, the part cut off by the vods channel, he is very real for a little bit, just chatting, and it makes me really happy. also, when he’s with his good friends and being soft and real and a generally good friend? one of my favorite things ever.

but 7:45 sleepless brain had just been reading shit about how shitty people are prying into people like dream’s lives, and trying to figure out their names, where they live, etc. those people suck ass, and what they are doing sucks ass. don’t fucking do that. but tired brain was telling me how i’m doing the same thing, deriving happiness from the moments that tommyinnit isn’t tommyinnit anymore, he is himself. Tom Simons is NONE of your business. NONE. You little bitch, why on earth would you allow yourself to be like this? you tell yourself you set boundaries, always respect, no fanfics especially not x reader (i dont like x reader in general, y/n is so different from me i just can’t visualize her as me and so it’s always like oc x cc) but really? you fucking cunt. tommy thinks out loud often, he probably doesn’t MEAN to be transparent a lot of the time, he doesn’t want people prying into his life.

and i’m not prying. no, yes, you are, almost. you aren’t directly prying, obviously, but you are still being inappropriate. no, what? im not harming anyone. all im doing is being happy. because of some stuff some guy on the internet is doing. you aren’t taking it from what some guy on the internet is doing, you are taking it from that guy on the internet’s real self! you dickhead, that isn’t a man on the internet anymore. of course it is! yeah? yeah! like, he wouldn’t say any of that stuff if he minded, right? you can’t make any assumptions like that! he is 16! he is probably going to regret many of his actions now in several years! he doesn’t really know what he’s doing! if he was having issues with what he was doing he could stop. no, he couldn’t! he is SIXTEEN and in the public eye! 100k viewers on his streams all the time! this is where he is in life! and you have no right to be invading his privacy like that! i wouldn’t actually invade his privacy, though! i would fucking rather cut my vocal chords with a sickle than disrespect him! he means so much to me! but he SHOULDN’T. don’t IDOLIZE him, don’t make him into this image of what you think he’s really like when you know you aren’t correct. he doesn’t owe you a thing, and you have NO rights to know ANYTHING about Thomas Simons. don’t fucking DO that to him. the boy didn’t know what fanfictions were until Ranboo told him! it’s not FAIR to him.

i’m convincing myself as i write. am i wrong? am i a terrible person for enjoying it when tommy is genuine it sounds harmless in passing but there are so many arguements against it. i don’t actually expect a lot of people to see this/interact with it because it is genuine rambling, but i genuinely am hurting myself with worry while i try to figure out how my actions are reflecting. so, um, help?

#um i won't give that many tags #just #mcyt #tommyinnit #dream smp #i dont need a lot of people having to deal with this if they dont want to see it lol

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momo-de-avis · 4 years

Text

To everyone who sends me asks about their mental health, in particular ones concerning violence and abuse

With no trigger warnings, with absolutely no prior warning and no heads up whatsoever:

I am not a psychologist. And you guys need to learn that.

I normally try to overlook this. Normally, normally, it doesn’t bother me. Not always. Sometimes it does. But I just normally brush it aside. But it keeps bothering me still. I look the other way because, as always, I keep thinking people just have real problems out there, while here I am, you know.

(Some of you guys send me an ask beforehand asking like ‘Can I vent?’ and that’s actually pretty cool, I love that. Gives me the perfect heads up I need!)

Then came today.

I just turned on this website and read an honest to God such a violent ask without even a single “hello”. Someone just came into my page and poured into MY inbox their personal experience with violence. Did not ask me. Did not give me a heads up. And I need you to understand I am only a regular joe navigating through life.

What you just described to me is not something you randomly deliver to anyone on the streets. This is an online website I use to relax, occasionally talk about serious matters, but generally not a platform I use specifically for mental health issues. If you’ve been follwing me for a while you know that when I do post crap about that, I always used the read more thing and specify it in the tags, and though admittedly I am absolute shit at trigger warnings because I am shit at remembering to tag stuff (well, general organization competences tbh), I keep reminding you guys to not hesitate to coming into my inbox if you would like me to tag something that you deem reasonable.

But there are several blogs entirely dedicated to mental health.

But some of the stuff I get in my inbox is downright mentally exhausting. When I tell you’ve been asked in real life repeatedly how the fuck do I deal with the stuff I’m sent on here without breaking down, you know it’s reached a point.

And after the particular ask I’ve gotten that’s sitting on my inbox, I’m sorry but this is way too fucking much. You have to understand I am not a pyschologist. I love doing my best with helping, with providing what I can and being there for you guys, but certain topics are above the internet’s pay grade. I get my kick of fun navigating through r/relationships too but even there you see some shit that you just do not solve on the internet.

And I do not mean that you shouldn’t share these things online. Be free. Get a blog, go on reddit, you name it. But it is specifically haunting for me that you came anonymously into MY inbox and decided to, without even saying “hello” or even “I’m just going to vent”, like 99% of the asks I get, just drop an extremely violent story in MY inbox. To ME. No one else. What the hell am I supposed to do? Do you understand how powerless I am? Do you understand that I can virtually do nothing, and that you could have literally triggered a very dangerous reaction out of me by doing that?

I am not, in any way, eliminating your experience. It was incredibly traumatic, and I am so, so sorry you had to experience. But just to explain to you the extent of my impotence, I know in my heart there are serious resources, like associations, that can help you, but I don’t know them. I literally don’t know what to do. I hope you find the support and help you need, but I don’t know how I can do that.

Please, seek help outside. Real, professional help. I have literally spoken to my therapist about this because it’s gotten a bit out of hand in the past. She’s actually told me once: “Do you know why I do this job and you don’t? Because I studied it for six years, and you didn’t. That’s also why you do your job, and I don’t. I have training, and you don’t. It’s not easy.” If this isn’t an option, try finding communities that will listen to you, a friend, or write a journal. I am not joking. People think I am being condescending when I say “write a journal” but writing a journal literally saved my life as a teen. Buy a notebook and a pen and write a journal. Dead serious.

But stop and think for a second next time you go on somebody’s inbox and to just drop a story there.

I’m sorry for this, as I really really love getting anons, but I’m turning off my inbox for a while now.

#momo speaks

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chickensarentcheap · 3 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 88

Warnings: none

Tagging: @tragiclyhip, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007

The final attempt at sleep had been successful. Although the road ahead of him is destined to be long and extremely difficult -and no doubt agonizing- his brief moment of wakefulness had done wonders to life Esme’s spirits. That chance to speak to him; to see him open his eyes and know -with one hundred percent certainty- that he was able to acknowledge her. It wasn’t a drug induced incoherent rambling or hallucination. He actually saw her and was able to engage; giving appropriate responses and showing concern for her and the baby. Able to express how he was feeling and that telling her he loved her. No one could ever possibly understand how just incredible that small moment was, or what an enormous impact it had on her state of mind. She knows it won’t be easy. There will be weeks, even months, of healing; tremendous pain and more hard times than easy ones. A full recovery could take as long as a couple of years; countless rounds of physical rehab will be needed and most likely therapy for mental health and addiction issues. But he’s already shown just how tenacious and strong he actually is; his will to live a lot more powerful than the agony he’s experiencing. With so much to live for, his desire to be with his family again is his main driving force, and she knows he’ll be willing to do whatever it takes to get back on his feet again.

Nathan may have been able to break his body, but he hadn’t made a dent in his spirit.

The burden she’s been carrying -the fear, worry, and uncertainty- had been lessened, and she’d been able to drift off; both body and mind allowing her to rest. So soundly in fact, that she’d only briefly stirred in the wee hours of the morning when Julie had come in while on her rounds. Merely lifting her head from the pillow; quietly observing as the nurse switched empty IV and medicine bags with full ones. Then she’d simply rolled over, pulled the blankets over her head, and easily drifted off.

Her sleep once again had been filled with dreams of the past. Millie’s first steps and how ecstatic and proud Tyler had been; never getting to experience many of Austin’s milestones because of deployments. How tearful he’d been the morning he’d walked into her room and Millie -who’d been standing up in her crib, excitedly bouncing up and down at the mere sight of him- had called him ‘daddy’ for the very first time. And the way he’d broken down in the delivery room when the twins had been born -even harder than he had when his daughter came into the world- and the nurse had given him TJ and said “Here’s your son”. He’d lost his first, and getting that moment again -a baby boy presented to him- had profoundly affected him A man that rightfully shouldn’t even have been alive. Who’d been given a second chance and at times didn’t feel as if he deserved it. There are still times he thinks that way. When the demons of the past resurface and play havoc on his brain; convincing him that the mistakes of a younger man and the amount of blood on his hands has turned him into a monster. It’s the nightmare of living with mental health issues and PTSD; those dark moments where he questions his mere existence and openly states that he doesn’t deserve the life he has now; a wife and children that love and accept him unconditionally.

It’s hard for people to understand. How a man that is so big and so strong -and often intimidating- can have those kinds of thoughts and vulnerable moments. But they don’t know everything that he’s battled. His childhood is one of his best kept secrets; only her and Koen know the full extent of his father’s behaviour, the abuse inflicted, and the long term damage it has caused. It’s not something he readily talks about; even with her. That toxic masculinity still gets the better of him at times. His father’s attempts at beating into him that a man -a REAL MAN- doesn’t show emotion; it means that he’s weak and there’s nothing more pathetic than being weak. And she’s tried to break him of it; years spent assuring him that he isn’t a weak man. A weak man would have given up in that storage facility. In the same way he would have given up on the Sultana Kamal Bridge seven years ago. And he certainly never would have survived the nightmare of his upbringing. Nor would he be so determined to be a better man; the kind of husband and father that a wife and kids can brag about and proud of. Who never have to live in fear of him ; cowering every time he raises his voice or even comes too close to them. Who know -beyond the shadow of a doubt- how much he loves him.

Tyler Rake is anything BUT weak. And he’d shown that the night before. Somehow finding a way to battle his way through this thick haze of multiple medications; gathering the strength to not only open his eyes, but actually think coherently and communicate. He was right. He DOES do whatever he wants.

When she finally wakes, it’s to the patter of rain against the window and the sounds of hospital life trickling through the half open door. Doctors being paged, the shrill ring of patients’ using their call buttons to summon for help, the loud rattle of gurneys being pushed through the halls. It’s a harsh reminder of her current situation; stuck in the ICU of a private hospital in Dhaka, thousands of miles away from her children and the comforts and security of her own home. She misses it. The sound and the smell of the ocean. The morning breeze and sunshine as she stands out on the back deck enjoying that first cup of tea, watching her husband as he helps Millie and the twins search -and dig, at times- for shells, rocks, and beach glass. Often wondering who is enjoying the quality time more; father or children. The dinners cooked on an open fire down by the water; the smiles brought to their faces -and that unconditional love and immense pride in his eyes- as they watch their children play and listen to those little voices and musical giggles floating on the air. And those strong, protective arms wrapped around her from behind as she sits between his legs. Her head resting against his chest as they quietly marvel at the sky; painted vivid shades of orange and pink as the sun sets.

It’s a life she had never even dared to dream about; a beautiful home in an even more even more beautiful place, amazing children and a husband that is faithful and loyal and only has eyes for her. All those things that she’d come to believe SHE didn’t deserve and had long ago given up on finding. How poetic in a way; two broken people coming together to make a slightly dented whole.

Sighing heavily, she rolls from side to back; eyes closed as she stretches and yawns The morning sickness has returned. With a vengeance. More than likely made worse by lack of food and the stress and worry that have accompanied the last twenty four hours. When she manages to quell the threatening nausea and brief spell of dizziness, she opens her eyes and sits up, finding a small paper bag sitting on the extra pillow beside her; name written on the front of it in black marker. And the contents bring the first genuine smile since yesterday morning; aside from Tyler’s brief period of consciousness. A bottle of prenatal vitamins, a small carton of chocolate milk, and an enormous blueberry muffin. Accompanied by a handwritten note from Julie; asking Esme to promise she’ll look after herself AND the baby, assurance that she’ll be back on in the evening, and her home phone number. The latter being offered as not only a ‘helpline’ if she feels overwhelmed and scared and needs someone to vent and cry to, but so she can give the nurse a list of some of her favorite foods. Julie vowing to bring a selection when she clocks in for her shift. It’s refreshing; having someone WANT to take care of her in that motherly fashion. Especially when her own has been anything but.

She shoves her feet into her sandals and climbs off the bed; returning it to its couch form. “Hey baby,” she greets as she stands at the side of Tyler’s bed; combing her fingers through his hair and pressing her lips to his temple. “Good morning. I hope you slept god. You didn’t snore, I know that much. That’s a first, huh? Me not complaining about your snoring? Must have been a really good sleep for you to be THAT quiet. You deserve it; that kind of sleep. Your face looks a little better, I think. Not as swollen. Pretty bruised though. And you’re going to have a couple wicked scars at the end of this.”

Her fingers gently touch the stitches below and above his eye.

“You’d probably joke about how it balances your face out; the right catching up with the left in the scar department. I think they’re going to make you even sexier. Which should be illegal, if you ask me. One man being that sexy? No wonder you’re a DILF. The thirsty ladies may drive me crazy, but I can’t really blame them. Right now I’m kind of mad at you though. I am so nauseous. And I swear, the bump is even bigger this morning...look…” she pushes her fingers through his, then draws their joined hands through the safety railing and places them on her stomach. “...bigger, right? You can’t tell me this is normal. None of the other ones were this size so soon. Not even Declan, and he was over ten pounds when he was born. And you better not be thinking multiples; one is all we can handle right about now. Let’s not bite off more than we can chew, alright? Six is more than enough. And speaking of babies, I’m going to ask Ovi to bring Addie here. She’s tiny still, Tyler. She shouldn’t be away from us this long. Especially me. She needs to be with her momma. And I think it would do you some good, too; having at least one of them here. So that’s my decision and you’re just going to have to live with it.”

She moves his hand back inside the confines of the bed, gently setting it on the mattress

“I love you,” she says, and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You keep sleeping, okay? And I hope if you’re dreaming, it’s good things for a change.”

****

She gives a small start when she exits the bathroom and finds Koen sitting in the bedside chair. Sipping from a take out cup of coffee and freshly shaven; his face bearing its own fair share of bruises and a handful of butterfly bandages keeping small, superficial wounds closed.

“Morning, sunshine!” He cheerfully greets, and nods to the cup of tea and a bag of fast food breakfast sitting on the window ledge. “I finally get to see you in your sexy jammies.”

Esme gives a derisive snort. “You DO have issues if you find sweatpants and an oversized shirt sexy,” she says as she journeys over to the window “I was going to give you shit for scaring the crap out of me, but seeing as you come bearing gifts, I’ll let it slide.” She peers into the bag, a grin tugging at her lips. “Either it was just a lucky guess, or you somehow know that when I’m pregnant, I always crave breakfast burritos.”

“There’s a lot I know about you. Someone talks about you. All the time. Mostly about shit I don’t need to know.”

“Well I’m glad you listened. Because this is a very nice surprise. Thank you,” she lays a hand on his shoulder and presses a kiss to his cheek. “And what’s up with this?” She lightly taps a hand against the side of his face. “All cleaned up. Smooth like a baby’s bum.”

“I thought there might be some hot nurses walking around. Want to put my best foot forward. Maybe you can hook me up; put in a good word for me.”

“Why would you want to hook with someone here? You’ll be going home soon.”

“Exactly.”

“Ewww…” she grimaces. “...I don’t need to know that you’re a ‘pump and dump’.”

“Considering the things I’ve had to hear from you and him?” Koen nods in Tyler’s direction. “What I said is tame. I’ve actually had to listen to you two….”

“I thought you were moving on from random hookups?” Esme remarks, and she perches on the arm of his chair and delves into one of the burritos. “I thought you were getting too old for that shit?”

“Excuse me, who are you calling old?”

“I thought Tyler was rubbing off on you. That he was some sort of inspiration to you and Rata; convincing you two it was time to stop sowing your wild oats and settle down once and for all. Didn’t you say it gave you hope? That if...and I quote…’someone can put up with the likes of him, that’s proof there IS someone out there for everyone’.”

“I did say that.”

“So what gives? Why are you looking for a random? You deserve more than that”

“Well if he was awake and could tell me where to find another one of you, I’d be all set.”

“Sorry. I’m limited edition. And I’ve already been claimed. A couple breakfast burritos just aren’t enough to make me divorce my husband and run away with you. It definitely takes more than that.”

“I knew I should have gotten you hash browns too.”

“That would have done it! Boy, did you ever blow that. I would have for sure ran away with you. Right this very second.”

“You know, as much as I enjoy our little banter, I don’t think I could handle you.”

“Oh, you definitely couldn’t. It takes a special breed of man, believe me. And I’m serious; aren’t you tired of NOT having someone to call your own? Someone to go home to at the end of the day? Someone that is your ‘be and end all’? Your ‘ride or die’?. You deserve to be happy. I WANT you to be happy.”

“I think Tyler took all the happy and didn’t leave any for anyone else.”

“When we get home, I am finding someone for you. I don’t care what it takes; I will put you on every dating site out there.”

“What about your sister? Or step sister. Whatever she is.”

“Riley? Are you serious? She’s twenty three!”

“And?”

“And you’re thirty years older than she is!”

“How old do you think I am?”

“I know you’re eight years older than Tyler. He’s almost forty two. So I lied; you’re only twenty seven years old than she is.”

“And?”

“And that’s fucking disturbing!”

Koen shrugs. “She’s cute”

“She is. You know who else finds her cute? Women. Who she is into. And she’s not a switch hitter.”

“Doesn’t take after her older sister, huh?”

Esme frowns. “He told you THAT, too?”

“He’s told me a lot of things, sunshine. You forget; he’s a chatty drunk. Until he’s a depressed and weepy drunk, that is.”

“There are many sides to him you don’t get to see. Sober sides. And don’t worry; my sister isn’t in contention, but I WILL find someone for you. And speaking of someone, where’s your sidekick?”

“He saw something downstairs he liked.”

“Really…” she playfully wriggles her eyebrows. “...blond or brunette?”

“Something in the gift shop. For the baby.”

“He knows?”

“EVERYONE knows.”

“Yaz has a big mouth,” Esme grumbles. “We weren’t going to tell anyone until we got home and found how far along I am. It’s what Tyler and I wanted.”

“I could gather a guess. About how far.”

“Sure you could,” she mutters. “And why do you keep looking at me like that? Why do you keep staring at my crotch?”

“I’m looking at your stomach. Where’d that come from?”

“It’s been there. I’ve just been hiding it because no one was supposed to know! Now that everyone does, I guess I don’t have to wear baggy clothes anymore. And it’s big, right? The bump? Bigger than any of the others?”

“How should I know? I only saw you pregnant with Millie and Addie. Never saw you with any of the boys.”

“It’s never been like this so soon! How big IS this baby?”

“Look at the size of the kid’s father. Maybe it’s taking after him. Or maybe there’s more than one.”

“Why would you do that? Why would you think it? Don’t put that out into the universe. There’s just one. That’s it. That will make it six. A nice even number.”

“Number six must be pretty damn big then.”

“You know what? You’re off my Christmas card list. There’s no way we’re running away together. You totally shit the bed. No second chances for you.

“What if I bring you chocolate?”

“Not even then. You just had to jinx the entire thing.”

Koen gives an over dramatic pout.

“Buddy, I have seen better pouts on a much bigger man. That won’t work on me. You have nothing on Tyler’s pout.”

“He doesn’t pout.”

“He sure as shit does. I’m going to prove it one day. I’m going to catch him doing it and take a picture. Then I’ll have the evidence. Tanner has the EXACT same pout; he mostly does it when he’s sleeping.”

“Speaking of pictures, I’ve got a little something for ya.” Koen reaches into the side pocket of his cargo pants, pulling out his cell and then thumbing through the gallery; choosing the image he wants and offering the phone to her. “Thought it would make you smile. The world’s a shitty place when you don’t. You got yourself a pretty nice smile.”

“You’ve been taking ass kissing lessons from the best, haven’t you,” she chides, then pops the last of her breakfast into her mouth and wipes her hands on her thighs. “Oh...my...god…” she breathes, and almost squeals in delight at the sight before her. Her husband long before the hardness and weariness brought on by his time in the military, substance abuse issues, and the dangers of the job. Before all of those demons took hold of him and he’d yet to go under a tattoo artist’s needle and no scars marred his body. Tall and lean; broad shouldered and bearing the start of the strong and solid physique of a soldier. A brush cut and a smooth, clean face; the smile -genuine and pure- making his eyes crinkle and sparkle.

“Back when he couldn’t even grow a proper beard yet,” Koen muses. “When he was still wet behind the ears. Nothing hard ass about that bloke in the picture, is there.”

“Where did you get this?” Esme can’t explain it; the tug at her heart and the emotion choking at her and the tears that well in her eyes. There’s something so surreal about it; seeing the person you love long before a hard and unpredictable life got a hold of them.

“Found a box of old pictures when I was going through some stuff back home. Meant to show it to him, but never got around to it. You mentioned before that you’ve never seen what he looked like before...well...before all of this.”

“I’ve only ever ever seen one picture of him. When he was five; with his mom on his first day of kindergarten. He doesn’t have any other ones; he says it’s not worth the grief he’ll get if he asks his dad if he has any. This is…I don’t know...it’s amazing. You have no idea what this means to me; seeing this. ESPECIALLY right now. This is everything. You can’t possibly understand what this does for me.”

“I think I do. I know how you feel about him. That you’re just as much a fool in love as he is.”

“I certainly am,” she smiles. “How old is he here?”

“Nineteen. Hadn’t been out of basic long; a couple weeks maybe. When he was a cocky little shit and as green as fresh baby shit. Cute, ain’t he?”

“Very cute. It’s weird seeing him like this. I’ve only seen MY Tyler. The one I’ve spent seven years with. I’ve never seen THIS Tyler. I know that sounds strange.”

“I’ve heard stranger.”

“Fourteen year old me would have had a huge crush on him.”

“What was fourteen year old Esme like?”

“Awkward. Geeky. Short as fuck and chubby. I had braces and jet black hair and I dressed like a goth. Big old Doc Marten boots that went up to my knees and everything.”

“Now THAT I’d like to see.”

“I don’t even have pictures of ME when I was that young. Tyler’s never seen old photos of me, either. I think the youngest he’s ever seen me was when I was twenty-three and just got into the Corps. It’s what happens; when your family is toxic and you’d rather not deal with them. Can you send this to me? I’d love to have this. And I’d love to show the kids. Especially Millie. She’d like to see her daddy when he was young and cute.”

“I’ll send it to ya. And when we get home, I’ll bring that box down and we can go through it. I’m sure there’s more you’d love to have. “

“Thank you.” She can’t hold back the tears. “You have no idea what it means to me. Even just having one picture. And I’m sorry; that I’m a whiny bitch baby. I would like to be able to blame it on the baby and my hormones, but it’s not those things. It’s just me. I’m not exactly having the best twenty four hours. I miss my kids. I hate being so far away from them. Especially Addie. But I can’t leave Tyler here. I just can’t.”

“I could stay,” Koen offers. “He wouldn’t be alone, you know that.”

“And I appreciate it, I do. But I need to be here with him. I didn’t leave him seven years ago, and I’m sure as hell not leaving him now. It’ll be better; when he gets sent to a hospital back home. Closest one is an hour from the house. It’ll be better than.”

“Well I’ll stick around as long as you need me to. Sort of made a promise that I’d take care of ya. I ain’t breaking it.”

“You’re all heart, Koen. You can pretend to be surly and hard ass all you want. I’m onto you.”

“Yeah, well I kind of like that giant, dumb ass bloke you’re married to. And you’re growing on me. So I figure I might as well step up and take his spot and treat like you like the queen you are.”

“You smooth talker,” she teases, ruffling his hair and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you. For the picture. You really don’t know how grateful I am for it. And thanks for being here; for both of us.”

“Anytime, sunshine.”

“And thank you for being with him yesterday. I could tell he was scared and in pain, and when I think what would have happened if he’d been alone…”

“Well he wasn’t. Alone. So don’t even think about that.”

“Thank you for getting him out of there. At least if he DID die, he wouldn’t have been left there. I don’t think I’d ever get over that; if I had to leave him here. I couldn’t cope with that.”

“Let’s not think about that, yeah? He got through it. He got out of there and it’s only uphill from here.”

“He really thought he was going to die, didn’t he.”

“Honestly? We all thought he was going to die.”

She releases a long, shaky sigh and blinks back tears. “I’m glad you were there with him. At least if the worst happened, he wouldn’t have been by himself. That is my biggest fear when it comes to the job; that if it DOES happen, he’ll be alone. I don’t know why it bothers me as much as it does. I just don’t want him to be alone...you know...IF…”

“Can’t dwell on stuff like that. You’ll drive yourself insane. Or give yourself gray hair.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t already HAVE gray hair.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“I appreciate you feeding my ego, but I know you can see it. And believe, every one of my gray hairs has Tyler’s name on them. Maybe TJ too. Go figure; the junior being a TRUE junior.”

“That kid is his dad through and through. Tough on the outside, all heart on the inside. And that Millie…”

“Female version of him.”

“Exactly. It’s fitting if you ask me; him having a girl first and her being just like him. Gonna have his hands full with her.”

“She called last night. Wanting to talk to him. She had a bad dream and he always makes her feel better after a bad dream. Daddy’s the one that chases all the monsters away. She has so much faith in him; she knows he’d never ignore her. She’s already questioning why she can’t get a hold of him. I have to tell them; I can’t keep lying to them. And I’d rather they hear it from me than someone else. They’ll take it better if it comes from me, I think.”

Koen nods in agreement.

“But on the bright side, he had a really good night. An amazing night, actually. He woke up. Twice. Once for the nurse, once for me.”

Koen frowns.

“What?”

“He woke up?”

Esme nods. “The first time, Julie...his night nurse…said he woke up and wanted to know who the hell she was and that he asked for me. And he even told her he was feeling sick and she gave him some meds for it.”

“Hmm…”

“Second time, he opened his eyes and looked right at me. Told me to not cry. He said he wasn’t in any pain and that he was just tired. And he asked if the baby was okay and he said he loved me. It was amazing; to see him open his eyes and hear his voice.”

“Are you sure? That this happened?”

“What do you mean am I sure? Of course I’m sure. Why wouldn't I be?”

“Thought the doctor said they weren’t going to bring him out sedation for a few days? At least.”

“Julie said it isn’t uncommon; moments of wakefulness and some lucidity. It’s just sedation, it’s not a medically induced coma like last time.”

“He actually woke up? After everything he went through during the day? All the surgeries, the amount of meds they’re pushing into him? He opened his eyes and talked to you?”

“That’s exactly what happened. Why are you questioning it? I wouldn’t lie about this.”

“I’m not saying you’re lying. Maybe you were dreaming. Maybe you were hallucinating from lack of sleep.”

“I wasn’t dreaming and I wasn’t seeing things. He woke up, looked at me, and talked to me. It happened. It was real.”

“Esme, don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe it was wishful thinking on your part and…”

“It happened,” she insists. “I was there. I witnessed it.”

“And I was there in that storage and in that van. I know what kind of shape he was in; I know how close he was to lights out. Permanently. And you’re telling me, after all the injuries, all the surgeries, all the meds, he just woke up? The same day?”

“I know it sounds crazy. And I wouldn’t believe it if someone told me either. But I SAW it. With my own two eyes. And you know how tough he is; how damn stubborn he is. Does it really surprise you that of all the people who would fight THIS hard, it’s Tyler? You know him; you know how strong he is. You know he’d do anything for me and the kids. So is that big of a stretch that he’d wake up like that? Even if it was just to give me some hope?”

Koen sighs.

“He woke up AND he talked to me. And you know what? It was incredible and made me feel better; to know his brain is working and that he’s not giving up. I needed that; some kind of sign that he’s going to be okay And he gave it to me.”

“So why isn’t he awake now?” Koen challenges.

“Maybe he used up all his energy last night and he needs to build it back up again.”

“If he’s got it in him to wake up last night, he should be awake right now. I’ve got some shit to say to him for scaring me as bad as he did. How come he’s not up now and talking to me?”

“I don’t know. I only know what happened last night. I only know…”

“Maybe I don’t want to talk to you,” Tyler’s voice -weak, groggy, and slightly slurred by the effects of medication- pipes up. “Now shut the fuck up. You’re given me a headache.”

“See!” Esme smiles triumphantly. “I told you.”

****

When she returns from taking a much needed shower, she finds Rata outside Tyler’s room tightly clutching a gift bag from the shop in the front lobby and pacing at a near frantic rate. It’s odd to see him this way, clearly frazzled and nervous shoulders tense; chewing on his bottom lip and occasionally stopping and peering into the room. Normally he’s the ‘life of the party’; clueless in an adorable way, always acting far less intelligent than he actually is just to get a laugh. Possessing an air of confidence without an ounce of cockiness; quick with sarcastic comments and witty comebacks. The ‘uncle’ that always sits at the kids’ tables during Christmas dinner and then helps build lego sets and put together toy car race tracks instead of socializing with the adults.

“Hey you,” she warmly greets, and lays a comforting hand on his back. “You okay?”

He responds by wrapping her in a huge; strong, muscular arms noticeably trembling.

“You alright?” Esme asks, as she runs her hands up and down his biceps. “You don’t look so good. What’s going on?”

“I don’t like hospitals much. Especially a place like THIS in a hospital. Where people are really bad. EXTRA bad.”

“He’s a lot better than anyone thought he would be. Especially so soon And he doesn’t look THAT awful, I swear. He’s even waking up for a little bits at a time. A person who is ‘extra bad’, wouldn't be doing that, would they?”

“I just don’t know if I can go in there just yet. I mean, I was there. Yesterday. In the van. I saw what he was like; how bad he was. And I’ve never seen Tyler like that. I’ve seen him shot a couple times during our tours in the Middle East, but those were nothing. Just flesh wounds, you know? But that? Yesterday? Those weren’t just flesh wounds. And by the time he got back home seven years ago…”

“He was already somewhat on his feet and in rehab.”

Rata nods. “He was almost back to himself. It’s going to be a long while before he gets back to himself this time.”

“Yesterday was pretty awful, huh?

He releases a small, shaky sigh. “Wasn’t so much how he looked. All the blood and what not. I mean, that was bad, don’t get me wrong. It was fucking awful. Pardon my language.”

“I hear and say worse all the time. You don’t have to filter yourself around me. You’ve met my husband, right? You can’t be easily offended AND stay married to him. It just won’t work.”

“It was terrible. A fucking nightmare. To see a friend of yours THAT messed up. But the worst part? It was what he SOUNDED like. When he was talking to you. I’ve never heard him sound like that. Ever.”

“Neither have I,” she admits. “Not seven years ago, not even the two times he tried to...well, you know. He never sounded like THAT.”

“Like he was going to die.”

“Yesterday I tried telling myself he didn’t sound that way. That he was just tired and scared and in pain and he just needed it to end. I convinced myself that he didn’t sound THAT bad. Near death. Now I realize I was just trying to make myself feel better, know what I mean?”

Rata nods.

“He was a lot closer to it than I want to admit. I thought nothing could be worse than seven years ago. I was so wrong.”

“It was what he said to you. How he said it. He was pretty sure he was never going to see you again. That’s the only thing he was really scared of; the thought of not getting to be with you anymore. You and the kids. You’re his entire world. I didn’t think I realized how much he loves you all until I heard the things that came out of his mouth. Opened my eyes; made me see him a different way. A good way, just different. He’s lucky. He’s got someone that loves him as much as he loves them. That’s something I think we all want but never seem to find.”

“Sometimes I wonder what I ever did right to deserve him,” she confesses. “And he’s here because of you guys. You and Koen. You did whatever you had to go get him here alive. So thank you. I know it wasn’t easy; what you had to see and do. I was there myself. Seven years ago. I know how hard it is.”

“I feel like such a dick. For not being able to go in there. Like a total pussy.”

“You’re not any of those things. People handle stuff like this in different ways. But you should go in there. He’s really not that bad. And he was awake and talking a bit to Koen. I don’t know if he still is, but I do know he’d like to see you. I know how much he appreciates what you did to help him. I’ll go in with you if that would help.”

“It would. A bit. But first,” he offers the gift bag. “ I have something for you. And the baby.”

“The baby won’t be here for months. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. Just a little something.”

She reaches into the bag, smiling at the stuffed tiger that she pulls out of its confines. “How did you remember the tradition? Every Rake baby gets a stuffed animal?”

“Just something that stuck with me, I guess.”

“It’s adorable. Thank you. Better not let Millie get a hold of it. That girl and her stuffed animals, I swear. You didn't have to do this. You didn’t…” her voice trails off, fingers reaching for the familiar object tied to the ribbon around the tiger’s neck. Eyes narrowed at first, then slowly widening when the realization sets in it. “Where did you find this? Where…?”

“I didn’t find it. Tyler gave it to me. Before we got to the storage place. He asked me to give it to you if something went wrong.”

“He did?” Esme unties the thin piece of fabric, sliding the ring off of it and then cradling it in her palm.

“He wanted me to make sure you got it. If he didn’t make it. Said it was important that you got it.”

“I thought it was lost,” her voice cracks with emotion. “I thought maybe he took it off beforehand and put it in his pocket and it fell out. Or that the ER staff misplaced it. I didn’t think I’d ever see it again.”

“I should have given it to you right away. Yesterday. Please don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying because of what you did or didn’t do. I thought it was gone. Forever. And I know it’s not much; it’s not expensive or fancy or anything like that. But it’s his. All the dents and scratches that he’s on it over the years. Sounds weird, but they all mean something. I really thought I’d never see it again. And I didn’t think I’d be as torn about it as I was. But it killed me inside; when I couldn’t find it. It felt like a piece of him was gone and I was just waiting for all the other pieces to disappear too. Thank you; you have no idea how much this means to me. To have this back.”

She hooks the handle of the bag around her wrist, then reaches around to the nape of her neck and removes the necklace -the custom made piece with the beach glass Millie had found- and slips the ring onto the chain.

“I’ll do it,” Rata offers, and steps behind her. Large fingers clumsy and struggling at first, but then manage to secure the clasp.

Esme lays a palm over the ring, firmly pressing it into her chest. Feeling the smooth, cool metal with its many imperfections, the familiar weight of it against her. And the relief that simple piece of jewellery brings is profound, stifling sobs with both of her hands as she turns and tightly embraces her friend.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction fan fiction

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jess-rewatches-prodigalson · 4 years

Text

Episode 12: Internal Affairs

Not going to lie. I know some people hate this episode but it’s one of my favourites.

SPOILERS AHEAD.

0:14 - Sure. Let’s start this episode off by shoving a knife through my heart. Look at Malcolm’s broken little face. :( He knows Gil didn’t deserve that outburst. Gil knows it too - but it still to hear. This episode aired months ago and I think my heart is still trying to heal.

0:20 - Look at Dani’s inner conflict here. She loves both of these doofuses and she can’t decide who to go and comfort.

0:30 - Dani just figured out that Malcolm is hallucinating. She knows what he looks like when he hallucinates from 1x5. Now she’s scared. So is Malcolm. Look at their eyes. Mmmmhmmm. This is good whump.

1:30 - This is Gil being a total dad to Malcolm. He’s already forgiven the idiot for being a jerk last night. Now he’s helping Malcolm put on his tie like Malcolm is 12 years old. You can see that Gil is still a little annoyed with Malcolm but I think it’s probably based out of concern. Gil’s scared because he knows Malcolm isn’t sleeping and he knows Malcolm’s mental health has been spiralling lately. He’s terrified because he knows that Malcolm (unintentionally...sort of) tried to kill himself last night. Gil’s scared that Malcolm is entering active suicidal territory as opposed to his usual passive suicidal territory. Maybe Malcolm’s behaviour is also reminding Gil of a time when Malcolm was suicidal as a teenager? Gil’s probably worried about the investigation too and how Malcolm’s mental state will affect it.

2:21 - Malcolm walks into that interview room and just starts exuding manic energy. Yikes. This boy looks tired, scared, manic, and determined. He needs a nap and a hug. This will not go well.

2:54 - “I’m not sure I have a safe space.” There’s a couple of these types of lines that Malcolm lets slip during this interview. Every one of them scares me because they’re completely true statements that Malcolm would never normally share out loud. Especially since he knows the room is wired and the team is listening. He doesn’t want them to think he’s weak. He doesn’t want Gil to make him stop working. It sheds a light on just how fragile his mental state is and that is just heartbreaking.

3:10 - So everyone knows that Malcolm uses humour as a coping mechanism for his trauma and pain. Good to know. Check out Malcolm’s face right after he says, “What else did they warn you about?”. He looks scared and a little confused. Almost as though he wasn’t entirely aware that he used humour as a coping mechanism and he’s afraid of what else the team might’ve picked up on regarding his mental state. He’s scared that if the team knows too much about what’s going on with him, he won’t be allowed to work anymore.

3:25 - Total side note here. Every time I watch this episode I have to do a double take because for a moment I think Dr. Coppenwrath is played by Marc Evan Jackson (Kevin in Brooklyn-99, Shawn in The Good Place). It’s not, but try telling that to my sleep deprived brain.

3:36 - Soooo was the room wired for everyone’s interview of just Malcolm’s? Because JT just verbally admitted that he’s friends with Malcolm. Does this mean the Malcolm has access to recorded evidence that JT is his friend? This is character development I can get behind. Look how far their relationship has come since the pilot. I’m so proud and so happy.

3:45 - Malcolm was in the hospital for “weeks”. I really want to know exactly how much time has passed since the end of 1x11. Also. How the hell did someone keep him in the hospital that long? The boy seems to like signing himself out of hospitals AMA. AND WHAT HAPPENED TO WATKINS?!?!? and why is no one giving me a scene of the team visiting Malcolm in the hospital?! This is the scene that my heart wants.

4:04 - It physically hurts me to watch Gil say “Watkins tortured you”. Kudos to Lou Diamond Phillips. Gil looks wrecked - almost like he’s trying not to cry. He probably blames himself for the extent of Malcolm’s injuries because he didn’t find Malcolm sooner. He’s probably remembering just how scared he was when he showed up at the Whitly house to find his kid bleeding out from a stab wound (in my headcanon Gil is the first responder on the scene and he finds all three Whitlys upstairs).

4:09 - hahaha that look. Gil is like “you can’t lie to me you little idiot” and Malcolm immediately back peddles. hahaha this is a true father/son moment. I love it.

4:25 - One of the reasons that I love this episode so much is because it makes me feel an array of emotions. I go from worrying about Malcolm’s mental health to laughing at some stupid comment one of the characters makes. I mean seriously : “If Bright was an actual state he’d be Florida.” hahahaha that is iconic.

4:42 - Yep. Malcolm has reached peak mania. He’s ranting about jello with a very manic expression on his face. Which is kind of adorable but also very concerning.

4:47 - OMG. This whole Elsa/Jessica/Dani/Malcolm scene is amazing. Jessica is so extra here and Malcolm is done with it. Really makes me wonder what Jess was like when he was in the hospital. AND look at Malcolm’s broken little face when Jessica mentions his “more unruly nightmares” he’s so embarrassed and ashamed. :( AND DANI. OMG. Every time the camera pans to her she just has this perfect expression on her face like “This whole family is whack. I feel like I’m intruding but also I kind of want to be here because I sort of care about this loser?”

6:44 - I love how the whole team is showing their own personal brand of concern for Malcolm when he shows up at the scene. Malcolm reacts so perfectly to it. He looks a little overwhelmed that they’re all concerned. Like he was only expecting Gil to care.

7:00 - I’ll say it again. Someone needs to show my dude Gil some love. This man needs a break. Look how utterly exhausted he looks when he says “100%”. Ugh. This man worries way too much about his kids.

7:14 - hahaha the look that Gil gives Edrisa here. hahaha he’s so shocked and annoyed that she knows the details of Bright’s injuries because she pulled his medical records. I love it.

7:31 - The way Gil sort of directs Malcolm to the crime scene with his arm concerns me. By the look on JT’s face - it concerns JT too. That arm is a signal of defeat. Gil is resigned to the fact that Malcolm just won’t take care of himself. Gil is too tired to send Malcolm home again especially since he knows that Malcolm won’t rest. So, Gil is giving in because at least this way he can keep an eye on Malcolm. BUT the fact that Gil gives into this is not a good sign for Gil’s mental health. THIS BOY NEEDS A NAP.

7:53 - Check out the way Malcolm’s eyes narrow when Coppenwrath insinuates that Malcolm’s “patients” help him understand himself because he too is a killer. This is a bad therapist move right here.

8:19 - I love that JT teases Malcolm when he’s concerned about him. It’s really sweet. SIDE NOTE - Malcolms shoes are nice. Dang.

8:46 - Check this out. Is Gil even listening to the profile? He’s staring at Malcolm with so much concern that I’m not even sure. While they are at the graveyard Gil does not look at Malcolm with anything but concern. Gil knows that there’s something more than Watkins going on with Malcolm right now.

9:30 - That is a haunting look. Malcolm looks numb. Dissociated.

10:14 - Malcolm almost looks like he’s having fun here? He’s lying through his teeth, living in a manic state but he seems to be enjoying the conversation. So that’s good, I guess?

10:32 - The look Malcolm just gave Coppenwrath is awesome. It’s a look that suggests that Malcolm is profiling the hell out of Coppenwrath right now and what he’s learning is really interesting to him.

10:38 - Is Coppenwrath allowed to know this much about the investigation? I mean, I thought he was evaluating Malcolm’s mental health - not the current case? He doesn’t really need that many details about the case.

10:57 - Awww. Gil going to bat for Malcolm is so sweet. <3 My heart is full.

12:02 - ....why does Gil know so much about the Vosler institute? Previous case? Advertisements? #justcurious

12:20 - Is Malcolm talking about himself here? He’s definitely guilty of a low self-worth and some schizotypal thinking. Has he been tempted by a cult?

13:54 - Is Dani checking Vosler out? I can’t tell if she’s amused that he’s such a bad liar or if she thinks he’s hot.

14:15 - Was Malcolm at the institute at the same time as the rest of the team? Wouldn’t they have seen him?

14:51 - Myers-Briggs is a personality test. How the hell would that identify how much trauma you have? ...but I’m not a doctor so what do I know?

15:30 - I feel like Gil is in an actual therapy session ranting about his dysfunctional, passively suicidal son. Gil looks almost comforted as he vents about how Malcolm can’t sleep. He still looks concerned for Malcolm but he looks less scared and more calm. I feel like this was a good experience for Gil. It’s allowing him to process just how bad Malcolm’s mental state is getting. Maybe we should get Gil a therapist.

15:37 - Things are getting too real again; so Malcolm is deflecting with humour.

15:43 - Again. If Coppenwrath was actually evaluating Malcolm’s mental state he wouldn’t care about Vosler. He wouldn’t keep asking Malcolm to tell him about the case and specifically about Vosler. Coppenwrath is so obviously hiding something. Ugh. It drives me crazy.

16:03 - That was honest. “I want it to go away.” Malcolm looks sincere, a little scared, and a little desperate. It breaks my heart.

16:53 - The fact that Malcolm let Vosler shock him is so upsetting. I know Malcolm is desperate to solve the case like usual. However, this time he’s disregarding his own health just a little too obviously for comfort.

17:15 - Look at how terrified Malcolm is as he gets shocked. Look at how much pain he’s in. Yet, he still finds it in him to glare at Vosler. I’m kind of proud of him?

17:41 - Malcolm is being sincere here. He really, truly doesn’t think he’s vulnerable to Vosler. Malcolm doesn’t seem to have self-awareness to his own low sense of self-worth. He’s so depressed that he doesn’t recognize how bad he’s getting. He’s just desperately trying to get answers and make trauma go away without addressing the side-effects of his trauma. My. Heart. Is. Shattering.

17:52 - This scene is another one of those moments when Malcolm unwittingly reveals a little too much about his mental state. He’s being honest with Coppenwrath when discussing his motivations to solve cases. It’s problematic because he accidentally admits that he values the lives of complete strangers over his own health and well-being. Someone please give Malcolm a hug.

18:43 - Another instance where Malcolm is acting like an amazing, kind, empathetic human. Look at how much compassion he has in his eyes for Andi. He so desperately wants to help Andi and it’s beautiful. Malcolm Bright (a man who is currently suffering in a self-destructive, manic, pain-ridden state) has transformed into a calm, sympathetic, comforting, level-headed guy. It’s amazing. He’s somehow able to shed all of his trauma and poor mental state and become 100% pure, untraumatized Malcolm Whitly. Gorgeous. A++.

21:35 - This. Ugh. Just. Just. It’s freaking perfect. “But I didn’t want to lose him.” Gil you are straight up breaking my heart. Look at how sincere Gil is right now. You can see just how much he adores Malcolm and how desperately Gil wants Malcolm to be happy, healthy, and safe. Ugh. I’m in love with this moment.

22:03 - I love how JT holds Malcolm back in this scene. As soon as Malcolm starts running out to Vosler both Dani and JT look concerned. JT grabs Malcolm but the way he holds Malcolm back is also sort of a hug. It’s not the way JT would hold back a stranger or a suspect. That’s the way you hold back a little brother. <3

22:10 - “She was taken by them”. Malcolm looks terrified here. He looks haunted, suspicious, and confused. It’s heartbreaking. Gil and JT look a little alarmed and concerned too.

22:12 - Gil is looking at Malcolm with pure dad!panic here. He’s watching Malcolm unravel and he looks scared, concerned, and a little angry. I’m mildly shocked that Gil didn’t call Jessica to come and take Malcolm home.

22:34 - “Okay. I wasn’t fine. I’m a mess.” This one hurts. I mean, I’m proud of Malcolm for being at least a little self-aware. This just sucks though. You can see the pain in Malcolm’s eyes when he admits it out loud. Followed by the stubborn look he gives Coppenwrath - the one that’s inviting him to ensue that Malcolm can’t do his job. It’s just heartbreaking to watch. All I can think about is the team’s faces as they listen to Malcolm’s outburst.

22:50 - Coppenwrath gives Malcolm a look here that says, “Damn, you are messed up.”

23:50 - The second someone reveals a personal trauma and/or personal problem Malcolm instantly becomes the most understanding, loving, compassionate human being on the planet. It’s beautiful.

24:28 - Malcolm looks so sad here. My heart is shattering.

24:38 - Wow. Malcolm’s voice is deep here. He sounds really upset. He’s angry and scared. I love it.

24:54 - Gil has soccer trophies in his office. In other scenes we’ve also been able to see that Gil has some signed baseballs in glass cases and some model cars in his office. Gil doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy to keep his own sports trophies in his office. Maybe he plays casually in an NYPD league and those are the 16th precinct soccer trophies? BUT here is my true headcanon: Ainsley and/or Malcolm (but I’m feeling that this was more Ainsley’s thing) was really into soccer as a kid. Maybe Gil coached her team? Or he and Jackie took her to all of the games/practices because Jessica had to deal with Martin’s trials? Maybe she gave all of Gil her trophies at some point because she thinks that he deserves them too and he proudly displays them all. The baseballs and cars? Christmas/birthday gifts from Malcolm, Ainsley and/or Jackie over the years. I will die with this theory because it makes me happy.

25:50 - More hints from the writers that there’s something romantic brewing between Jessica and Gil.

26:40 - This whole scene with the deprogrammers is strange. It’s weird that Malcolm is standing next to the couch like some kind of butler. BUT DAMN it is funny when Jessica starts making some not-so-subtle hints about wanting Malcolm to accept his trust fund, settle down, and give her grandchildren. I especially like this because it suggests that Malcolm doesn’t have access to the family money. I assume he pays for things with his salary except for when Jessica buys him things that she insists that he needs (like clothes? food? fancy headboards for his bed?).

27:40 - I love this whole JT, Gil, and Malcolm are tag teaming the interrogation thing. I love that JT and Gil are visibly pissed (because this dude killed someone) and they’re flanking him. I find it interesting that Malcolm is standing so far away - watching, until it’s time to start rambling about his observations. It’s a really great dynamic (I miss Dani though).

28:31 - Look at Malcolm’s face when Coppenwrath mentions the “incident”. He looks sad and guilty. He clearly feels bad for losing it on Gil. Look at the true fear on Dani’s face - she’s terrified at Bright’s mental state. AND GIL. Trying to take some of the responsibility for the incident because he looks sad, and scared for Malcolm too. My heart is so full with all of this whump.

28:48 - Another instance where Malcolm has his own desk. I seriously want to know what the deal is with the desk. Is it his? Does he share it? I want to know. So. Bad.

29:01 - Malcolm’s eyes remind me of the Pepe Sylvia scene in It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. He looks like a manic dude riding on the wave of a crazy conspiracy theory. It’s not good. Gil looks like he’s walking on egg shells because he doesn’t know what to say to help Malcolm. That’s almost worse.

30:38 - Edrisa’s little moments in this episode are cute and funny. BUT WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO HER ABOUT THE CASE IF SHE DOESN’T HAVE ALL THE DETAILS? Aren’t you supposed to be talking to her about Malcolm’s mental state?!? Ugh.

31:00 - This exchange between Coppenwrath and Malcolm is great. Malcolm looks sooo upset. The way he bites his lip and stares at the ground to avoid eye contact. The way Coppenwrath lowers himself to enter Malcolm’s line of sight. Malcolm looks on the verge of tears. He’s openly admitting his current biggest problem: what Watkins told him and the hallucinations. Not just to Coppenwrath but to Gil, Dani, and JT too. He just wants a dad who loves him and my heart is shattered. He looks so so wrecked. Somebody hug him. Please.

33:30 - Malcolm isn’t talking about how he’s going to miss his work friends because he thinks going to get fired. He’s talking from the fear that his friends will abandon him when they find out that he’s hallucinating. He’s afraid that they’ll abandon him because they think he’s crazy. He looks so truly sad here. Ugh.

34:33 - Watching Malcolm expose Coppenwrath is upsetting. Usually, Malcolm has a look of determination, desperation, and mild sympathy in his eyes when he talks to a killer. This time - Malcolm just looks vacant, then self-satisfied, then annoyed. It’s different than usual, which is unsettling.

35:50 - Now Coppenwrath looks scared.

36:39 - I’ve never been so proud as the moment that the team steps out from the shadows to support Bright. Right as Coppenwrath is trying to convince Malcolm that the team thinks he’s crazy. My heart is full. Kill me now - I’ll die happy.

36:54 - I love this angle here. It’s not JT or Dani that we can see pulling out their guns. It’s papa Gil. The man who will undoubtedly shoot Coppenwrath if anything happens to Malcolm.

37:00 - Another issue I have. Malcolm doesn’t look scared when there is a gun pointed at his head. He looks alarmed but not scared. More proof of his suicidality. I am not okay.

37:05 - I love the scene where we see JT, Dani, and Gil all pointing guns into the room - desperate to help Malcolm. Look at the panic in Gil’s eyes as he orders a hostage negotiator.

37:37 - Only Malcolm could possibly feel bad for the man with a gun pointing a gun at his head.

38:45 - I do not like how visibly upset Malcolm is in this scene. I mean my whump heart adores it but I also hate it because you know - whump is complicated.

39:23 - That hug was as much for Malcolm as it was for Andi.

39:40 - This is one of my favourite Gil/Malcolm scenes. It’s just wonderful. Gil looks so worried about Malcolm and Malcolm looks a combination of scared and resigned to what Gil is going to ask him. There is something about the way Gil asks “Are you okay?” that just feels like a knife in my heart. Then Malcolm answers truthfully, and I’m pretty sure my heart stopped altogether.

40:00 - Gil looks even sadder (if that’s possible) when Malcolm responds truthfully but he also looks resigned. He’s not surprised by Malcolm’s answer just of how easily he got the truth out of Malcolm.

40:24 - Gil has the absolute perfect response. “Okay.” Because Gil’s done too. Gil is almost as tired as Malcolm and for now Gil’s comforted by the fact that Malcolm is self-aware and being honest with him. For now - that’s enough.

40:44 - GIL YOU NEED A VACATION TOO.....omg. Can we get a Gil+Malcolm joint vacation. Please?!? That would be amazing. Someone write the fic!! Please!!

41:22 - Malcolm can see that Gil is upset. He knows he’s worrying Gil and he still feels guilty about the incident. Malcolm may be a little cracked right now but our boy is a mature adult. Watching Malcolm sincerely apologize to Gil feels like a warm hug. Gil’s little smile is everything. I want to cry happy tears.

42:30 - “I’m a civilian now Sunshine.”....does this imply that sometime between 1x6 (when Gil refers to Malcolm as a civilian on the police radio) and now Malcolm has become an official member of the NYPD?

I. Love. This. Episode. It’s not perfect but the insight to Malcolm is amazing. Thanks for hanging out my dudes.

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ceasarslegion · 3 years

Text

its 2:30am and i havent made much leeway on this paper but i just need to vent for a second yall

im sick of this shit

i had lower expectations for myself going into this year because of the [gestures vaguely] but man im sick of being the one whos expected to lower that because the system refuses to change or accommodate anything

what has online learning even been? i only have 2 classes that are actually synchronous,, the rest refuse to make accommodations for anything and essentially lay the blame on us if we cant basically teach ourselves the shit that we’re paying THEM to teach us

and what have we done, really? i havent absorbed shit. im too preoccupied with madly flailing in the ocean of bullshit that is online learning just to keep myself afloat to actually learn how to swim. you cant learn that safely without solid ground to retreat to and someone to pull you up in case something goes awry, and they just threw us in the middle of the pacific and blame us when we get saltwater in our lungs. My only goal this year academically is just to PASS, but its hard not to feel stupid when you have a prof who throws in 3 graded quizzes every week and refuses to give partial marks when you get SOME options on multi-option questions right. I’ll tick 3/4 of the options right, but it’ll mark the whole question as a 0. I’ve failed a lot of quizzes in that class that I would’ve done well on if he just gave partial marks. I got most of the answers right. Why are you perpetuating an all or nothing mentality right now? If you talk about how much you care about your students’ mental health in one more class email im gonna throw my whole laptop out the window. Fuck.

and that’s not an outlier. all of my classes are pulling this shit to some extent. Not that specific case, but... a million more assignments and readings than previous years and fuck all else. Total disregard of time spent per class per student because who gives a shit when it’s asynch, right? 60 pages of readings, minimum, screenings because I also study cinema, massive papers, and then 4-5 hours of lectures? All in one day? How many hours do you think are IN a day?! “noooo dont speed up your lectures you might miss vital points!” yeah and i cant get anything fucking DONE if i dont bump it to 2x speed. “make sure you get enough sleep!” on your schedule? 4 hours is my batting average. I closed my commission. I stopped my hobbyist writing, which is why y’all haven’t seen an AO3 update from me since August. I don’t draw anymore. I don’t read anymore. If I’m lucky I might have the mental energy after all this to play 15 minutes of Animal Crossing, but then I get a headache because it’s more. fucking. screen time. Don’t blame me for splitscreening my lecture and notes with discord or tumblr when you’ve consumed my existence to such an extent that I only get a reprieve when I sleep. God forbid I allow myself some fleeting sense of joy, for it may take away from the hammer slowly chiselling away at my psyche. I literally can’t afford to be burned out. But I am. And I’m tired, and I wanna lay down, and I wanna take a walk in a park again. I wanna sit down in the grass and read my book or listen to McElroy podcasts and toss nuts at the squirrels like I used to, and then forget about what I brought just to watch them for hours, like I used to.

Winter’s rolling in, though. Which means they’ll be hibernating until march. I really fucking hate the cold. I have 5 papers due in 2 weeks, all within 3 days of each other.

This isn’t even adding onto the fact that this is a psychologically damaging collective trauma that we’re all going through right now. This doesn’t even account for the mental shit I have that makes it that much harder to learn in standardized environments and that much harder to absorb material. I don’t feel like a person this year. I feel more like a shell.

How dare you charge me full tuition for this fucking bullshit. Take your fake concern about our mental health and shove it up your ass. If you really cared, you wouldn’t be charging me for memberships that are closed and slapping us with no-extension policies in the middle of a pandemic. Shove it up your ass. I should’ve gone to McGill

#vent post #plagueblogging #shut up dames

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fireyalex · 4 years

Text

Final Stress

A/n: So I decided to write this to vent out my stress from senior finals and I had no intentions of making it this long but enjoy! ^^

Summary: Logan is studying for his finals late at night.

Ship: Logicality

Word Count: 1316

Logan is seen sitting at a desk late at night, a single lamp turned on next to him. There are several papers scattered across the desk along with a calculator, text books, and a cup of straight, black coffee. “Alright, if the derivative of this is that, then the second derivative should be…” he sighed and took a sip of his coffee, not realizing how much he shook doing so. “Dammit…”

Logan set his pen to his paper once more as a knock was heard on his door, startling him, his work now scratched off. He sighed once more as he stood, straightening his tie. Before another knock could be heard, the door swung open to reveal a concerned Patton.

“Heya, kiddo. You wouldn’t mind if I came in to check on ya, would you?”

Logan shrugged and looked at him, “I suppose it would be adequate. I was just working on my studies for the night, anyways.”

Patton tilted his head, noticing how fidgety Logan had become in this moment, as well as the deep bags under his eyes. “How… much sleep have you been getting lately?”

Logan was briefly taken aback before shaking his head. “I don’t see how that’s relevant. But I can assure you that I’m quite alright, if that’s what you are asking.” He reached for his cup of coffee once more, only to realize he was completely out. He cursed inwardly before sitting down at his desk once more, continuing his studies.

Patton took notice and pulled up a chair to sit next to Logan. “You’ve sure been studying for quite a while, kiddo… Maybe it’s time for you to take a break.”

“No!” Logan slammed his hands on his desk and tensed up as he noticed Patton flinching. He let out a deep breath. “I mean… I am fine. I do not need, nor do I want, a break. However… I thank you, for your concern, Patton.”

“Logan, please. You’re exhausted, sleep deprived, and you’re shaking a lot right now. You need water and sleep. Your physical well-being, as well as your mental health, are more important than stressing over your finals.”

“I don’t stress, Patton. Why would I even stress over something as facile as a few finals? It’s absolutely asinine.” He shook his head at the idea and began working again, looking away from Patton.

He sighed at the response and the look of concern grew on his face. “If these finals are as easy as you say they are, then why have you lost sleep over them, studying in every single moment you’ve been home-”

“I haven’t been losing sleep-”

“You’re sleep deprived and have baggy eyes, not to mention you’re fidgeting because you’ve been drinking too much coffee to stay awake. And the fact you looked defeated when you noticed you were out of coffee.” Logan grew silent, and Patton sighted. “If the finals are so simple, then you wouldn’t even need to study…”

Logan scoffed at the idea, opening his text book. “Yes, I do.”

Patton glanced at the textbook, then back at Logan. “Why’s that? You’re the smartest guy I know.”

Logan hung his head slightly, irritation rising in his voice. “Because I must achieve a perfect 100% on each test.”

Patton crossed his arms now, more out of curiosity and concern than anything. “Why?”

At this point, both of Logan’s fists curled into balls, closing his eyes. “Because anything less than that is failing!” His words echoed around the room before it finally grew silent again. He let out a sigh and lowered his head even more, then turned his head, looking away from Patton. His eyes opened but drooped, his eyes and face painfully soft. “I can’t fail this. I can’t… I refuse to become a failure, Patton…” His voice grew soft as well and nearly broke at the end. For once, he was glad Patton couldn’t see the failure in his face, the vulnerability in it, as tears began to swell up in his eyes.

While he hated feeling any strong emotion, he particularly loathed this feeling. Feeling vulnerable, especially when others were around. He would have to lecture and scold himself about this later, he knew. For now, however, he simply tightened his fists and took several deep, quiet, yet shaky breaths.

Without another word, Patton moved to hug Logan tightly . “You aren’t, nor will you ever be, a failure, Logan,” he spoke softly. “You don’t have anyone breathing down your neck anymore, forcing you to get perfect grades.”

Logan was stiff, everything painfully tense. “I can’t… I have to be perfect. I must be…”

Patton pulled away from the hug to look Logan directly in his red, tear-stained eyes. “Logan… perfection is in no way important.” He gave a soft, sad chuckle, “In no means am I perfect, but I’m not a failure. Not by a long shot. Just because someone isn’t perfect, it doesn’t mean they’re automatically a failure.

Logan pursed his lips and shook his head. “You’re wrong… Maybe to you, sure. However-”

“Logan, stop… You aren’t a failure. I-” he hesitated and let out a breath, looking down. “You already are perfect. At least… you are to me…” He looked back up at him, his face flushed with deep red. “And it pains me to see you holding yourself to such an impossible standard, even years after your parents left the picture, and destroying yourself in the process…”

It seemed that that statement was enough, and Logan broke, no longer able to hold back his tears. Before they could begin falling, he grabbed Patton, burying his head in his friend’s shoulder. For once, he allowed himself to release everything, allowing himself to cry.

Patton hugged back tightly, not caring about the fact his shirt was wet from tears. He hummed a quiet, calming tune that had always helped himself in moments like these. Inwardly, he felt his heart drop at seeing the person he loves cares for broken and hurting this badly. It pained him greatly, but he was also glad that at least Logan wasn’t hurting alone, that he could be here to comfort him in a time of need.

After holding him for several minutes, Patton noticed Logan’s breathing slowly returned to normal, allowing him to finally take long, deep breaths. A small, sympathetic smile flashed across his face as he gently pulled away to look at Logan.

Logan immediately tensed again, refusing to let go. “Please… not yet,” he said softly, “I don’t… I don’t want you to see me like this…” His voice was raw and painfully soft.

Patton nodded, and hugged him once more. “I’ll hold you as long as you need, then, de- Logan.” Without thinking, Patton gently kissed the top of Logan’s head before resting his shin on his friend’s shoulder in order to hug him closely.

Logan was thankful for the second time for the fact that Patton couldn’t see his face, as a wave of blood rushed to his face. After another several minutes, Logan’s grip on Patton loosened as he slowly looked up at him.

Patton had a soft, caring smile as he looked back. He saw a stray tear falling down Logan’s cheek and he delicately placed a hand there, wiping the tear away with his thumb.

Logan flushed again, though he hoped it wasn’t obvious with the red from his crying was still there. “I… apologize for that display, but thank you, Patton. For being here.”

“Well, where else would I be? I’m glad I could help comfort you.”

Logan took a deep breath before pulling away from the hug completely. “We probably should get some rest… I… would you mind staying with me, Pat…?”

“I would never mind.”

The two smiled softly at each other before Logan turned the light off, both of them falling into a peaceful slumber for the night.

#sanders sides #vent #short story #fanfic #Logan #logan sanders #patton sanders #patton #thomas sanders #Logicality #my writing

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