#i tried to talk to MORE THAN ONE mental health professional about it but they all shut me down cuz they were clearly uncomfortable with it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

In February 2021, Tumblr had 518.6 million blog accounts.

#i tried to talk to MORE THAN ONE mental health professional about it but they all shut me down cuz they were clearly uncomfortable with it

queers-gambit · 1 month

Text

Silence

prompt: ( requested ) anxiety plays tricks on your mind, making you mistake your boyfriend's stress for anger - at you.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 2.5k+

note: it's short but to the point.

warnings: cursing, hurt and comfort, depiction of mental health: anxiety, slight self-destructive thoughts.

Silence could be a good thing.

Libraries were silent for ample focus. Theaters were silent during the showing. Sometimes, long drives were peacefully silent.

Silence could also be a bad thing.

Demanding an explanation and the silence stretches. The silence before a doctor delivers life-changing news. Asking someone if they're okay and they don't answer.

When your boyfriend, Carmy, had returned from work that evening, he slammed the front door, dropped his backpack, toed out of his shoes, and stormed around the apartment silently. He didn't greet you, didn't offer a kiss, nothing - just breezed past you as if a pile of dirty laundry he's ignored for the past two weeks. You watched him from the kitchen, sipping a glass of wine, worry sprouting in your gut and chest. It was obvious something was bothering him - but couldn't fathom what it was that made him ignore you; to make him not look at you one single time.

It was like you weren't even there with the way he projected his moodiness. Even on his worst days, he always always always greeted you with a kiss; but the lack of affection hallowed your chest into a pit, wondering what you had done to make him avoid you.

Suddenly, the silence was eerily deafening, coiling your stomach and pumping lead through your veins; no TV or radio switched on to fill the void and create passive, background audio. Carmy was obviously upset about something, but the fact that he didn't even look at you made you think he didn't want to talk. This worried you because before dating, you and Camry Berzatto were the best of friends; talking about literally any and everything you could think of. He came to you with every single grievance, every frustration, every slice of drama - so why wouldn't he now?

Unless... Unless you were the cause of his annoyance? The idea made the pit in your chest stretch to your gut - anxiety rapidly spreading, confusion warping rational thought into something darker and self deprecating. The idea of upsetting Carmy - or anyone, for that matter - was enough to bubble nausea and turn your skin clammy. Muscles tensed, eyes darted, and your mind was plagued with every single thing you had said or done in the past 16 hours.

However, your memory couldn't pinpoint any moment you could've upset him; things had been normal and easy-going lately, there being no clear indication you were the culprit of Carmy's anger. However, there didn't need to be anything clear because your mind was fully convinced you were the bad guy now.

After swallowing a gulp of wine, your eyes adverted to give him privacy and begin on dinner; being obvious that his phone was much more important than you right now. Unfortunately, when it came to picking which sauce to dress your meal with, you were forced to slowly enter the living room where your boyfriend had taken refuge.

"Hey, baby?"

"Hmm?"

You tried not to be offended by his lack of verbal acknowledgement, but your intestines flipped and grew heavy. "Uh, just wondering, you want the marinara or Alfredo tonight with the - "

"Doesn't matter, you choose."

"I mean, which would you prefer?"

"I just said it didn't matter," he repeated with a hardening tone, "it's not like it's a difficult decision to make."

You didn't want to make his attitude worse, so you backed off silently and returned to your task. Yes, yes, Carmy was the professional cook between you but that didn't mean he wanted to come home and continue the act. So, you learned a few new recipes to keep meals interesting - a feat your boyfriend didn't seem to appreciate or even recognize most days. Tonight especially.

Tension tangibly filled the apartment the longer the silence stretched. Your mind conjured a hundred questions at once, begging your mouth to run rapidly if it meant getting answers - yet your logic stuck the words in your throat, refusing to let them fly, and even shoving them deep down for your soul to hold.

You poured a second glass of wine, throat thickening with silent emotion. There was always the worry in the back of your mind that Carmy would one day realize you didn't fit into his life and would break up with you. Or that perhaps, his irritation tonight wasn't due to anything you did specifically, but instead, was attested to your normal behavior and quirks - like the want to talk throughout the day.

Blinking the moisture away, you remembered Carmy hadn't answered a single one of your texts the entire day - a normal act for you, but maybe one that now got on your boyfriend's nerves. You dished up dinner, standing in the open kitchen with two plates and feeling silly for the nerves prickling your skin. You barely noticed the slight tremor in your hands. "Dinner's ready, Carm," you alerted, leaving the plates on the kitchen island you normally ate at; distracted by the need to pour a glass of water.

When you turned, your heart stalled in your chest when you noticed his plate missing - locating him in the living room, again, and it being obvious he didn't intend to eat with you. Now you knew for sure, you had indeed done something. So, you gingerly took a seat and tried to take up as little space as possible; shying in on yourself, eating silently and quickly so you could do the dishes right after.

Sure, there was usually the rule that the cook didn't clean, but there was no way you were gonna ask Carmy to do the simple chore; afraid of pushing him over whatever edge he teetered at. After storing any leftovers, you started the dishwasher and retreated to your bedroom with another glass of wine and the intention to get a bath. You felt like a glaring inconvenience all of a sudden, regret inking your blood and reprimanding yourself for being so - so - so... Clingy?

Is that what it was? Did Carmy think you were clingy? Perhaps texting him throughout the day without him ever answering was the final straw of annoyance he felt toppled the haystack. You wanted to apologize and eliminate the tension, but couldn't necessarily understand what you were sorry for; thinking you were simply paying attention to him, being attentive and interested in his everyday life.

Maybe you needed to apologize for being suffocating? Was that it? Your love was suffocating him? Was he feeling pressured by you? Did he think you two too comfortable in this relationship? Was your wall of texts an indication you were more serious than he? Oh, God, was that it - did Carmy think you were getting too serious, too fast?

Granted it'd been a few years of dating, a lifetime of friendship before that - so how much more serious could you get? Why would your attempts of communication rub him the wrong way? How could the pair of you ever manage to fall off from the same page? Make him think you were pushing for something more? Didn't he know he was enough for you? Didn't he appreciate your presence? The want to be closer? Your desire to maintain the friendship your relationship was built off of? The appreciation you had for him? The support you wanted to offer?

You soaked in epsom salt for the better part of half an hour. Draining the tub, drying off, and changing into pajamas were done silently; feeling almost fearful to venture out of the bedroom to return your wine glass to the sink.

So you decided to just get in bed, figuring if Carmy was so angry at you that it resulted in him ignoring you, he wouldn't want to sleep beside you, either. With your thick framed glasses on, you nestled into bed with your newest novel, trying not to let your mind go into overdrive as your need to fix whatever was upsetting Carmy was overwhelming. Yet there was also the nagging idea that trying to fix whatever was 'broken' would've made things worse - again, resulting in you doing nothing and giving Carmy his space.

The silence haunted the apartment like a ghostly presence; leering over your heads, embracing you uncomfortably.

When the bedroom door opened, you masked your surprise and just read the same paragraph three times in a row - distracted by your boyfriend milling around, preparing for bed. Your eyes widened in shock when the bed dipped and shifted, jostling you as Carmy got into bed beside you, but you still didn't look up from your book.

"What're you reading, sweetheart?"

His mood swings often gave you whiplash. You glanced at Carmy, finger holding your place to let you fold the book over and present the title on the cover. You worried that anything you said and did could make this tension fester, so, you remained silent and went back to reading.

"Is it any good?" He pondered, watching your profile. You nodded mutely, lips slowly rolling between your teeth in a show of anxiety Carmy could now recognize. "Hey, hey, you all right, babe?" He asked softly, sounding mildly confused - perhaps even alarmed.

"Yeah, 'course," you mumbled.

"Well, how was work?"

"Fine."

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

There was a brief pause, then Carmy gently pried, "C'mon, baby, what's wrong? Why're you so quiet?" He chuckled gently, "Usually so talkative in the evenings."

You offered him a bewildered look with slightly pinched brows, swallowing nervously and slowly shutting your book to trace the spine mindlessly in an effort to distract yourself. Typically when anxious, your hands needed stimulation, something tangible to do and feel when your mind numbed with nervousness.

With a great deal of bravery, more than you thought was necessary to muster when talking to the person you love, you asked softly, "Are you mad at me, Carm? I mean, did I do something? T-To upset you?"

"Wait, what?" He asked in confusion. "Nah, baby, you didn't do anything, why would you even ask?"

"'Cause you've been ignoring me...?"

He scoffed, "Ah, 'cause I didn't answer your texts?"

"That, and you've been ignoring me in favor of your phone since you got home. Slamming doors, brooding in the living room, didn't eat dinner with me - got a little snappy when I asked what sauce for dinner? Feels like I did something but I don't know what, so I don't know how to fix this."

Carmy sighed, leaning back to the mound of soft and fluffed pillows you had stacked on your shared bed. "Shit," he breathed, huffing a dramatic sigh, "didn't even realize I was doin' all that, baby."

"If you're mad, just tell me what I did - "

"No, no, hey, hey, hey, hey," he rushed, turning on his side to look at you, elbow supporting his weight; clocking the glassiness coating your eyes. "You didn't do anything, baby, I swear. There's nothing for you to fix 'cause you didn't do nothin'. I just - I've been havin' a shit day, didn't realize I was bein' mean to you let alone that you'd take it to heart."

"Kinda hard not to when I'm the only one here."

"No, right, I get that," he sighed. "I'm sorry, baby, I know you get anxious when I shut down like that, but I promise, I'm not mad at you."

"Well, who else would you be mad at? I thought you were annoyed 'cause I was texting you all day. Thought I was, I don't know, being clingy or something since you didn't answer me."

Carmen frowned, "Sweetheart, no, hang on, listen to me. You didn't do anything to upset me, okay? I didn't answer you 'cause I dropped my phone in the sink and it got all glitchy, I couldn't answer you. I tried to fix it when I got home, but I think I fried it - should just get a new one. It was just one of those days that everything went to shit, it all built up, got the better of me."

You nodded, still looking dejected and making a shot of guilt plunge his heart. "You usually talk to me when you're upset," you pointed out softly, "and when you didn't say anything, I thought I was the reason you were upset. Figured you wouldn't talk to me if I did something to cause your attitude."

"No, hey, I'm sorry, c'mere, baby," he opened his arms and curled them around you when you shuffled into his chest. "Shit, I'm really sorry, I didn't even realize what I was doing - but Goddamnit, that's no excuse, though. I don't mean t'take my shit out on you, you don't deserve that."

"I just got a little nervous, maybe let my anxiety get the better of me."

"That's okay," he promised, kissing your forehead, "I can understand why. I was a dickhead, being snappy and ignoring you when all you do is support and love me. I'm real sorry, sweetheart," he sighed against your skin, tightening his arms to keep you cocooned in his warmth. "You know, you can always talk to me - don't gotta shut yourself down and avoid me."

"Do you even hear yourself? Should take your own advice."

"Yeah, I should," he smirked. "Hey, promise I'll do better not to shut down like that."

You nodded in acceptance, wondering softly, "Do you wanna talk about it? Whatever happened today?"

"Uh, nah, you know what? Think I owe you some cuddles, maybe a dessert? You know, to make up for my bullshit attitude."

"You don't have to - "

"I got you all worked up, feels like the least I can do."

With a hum, you smirked, "I won't say no to a slice of cheesecake."

"What baby wants, she gets," he grinned, a hand caressing your cheek to direct your eyes up to his. His thumb swept back and forth under your eye, "Still sorry about today. I didn't mean to be such an oblivious dickhead, I swear."

You nodded, "I know, baby. Just don't shut me out next time. Had me worried when you didn't even kiss me when you got home."

"A heinous crime on my part," Carmy smirked. "Should I remedy that?"

"I'd be offended if you didn't."

He chuckled and pressed his lips to yours in a soothing kiss, hand sliding to the back of your neck. It was a slow and languid kiss, something he took his time in engaging; lips sticking together, moving in-sync, creating chains of saliva when he pushed his tongue against yours. "Yeah," he mumbled, "I'm the dumb fuck who had you thinkin' I didn't want this from you." He pressed another kiss to your waiting lips, "You're intoxicating, baby - always want your kisses. Yeah? Always. The day I don't, take me out back like Old Yeller."

You wanted to voice that he wanted your kisses now until one day, he simply wouldn't - but refrained from doing so because you knew it was just anxiety talking. So, instead, you chuckled at his comment and leaned in to initiate your own kiss.

requesting rules and masterlist

FX's The Bear masterlist

684 notes · View notes

jaspvids · 1 month

Text

The Diagnosis Of David

Disclaimer: I am by no means a mental health professional. This is just a meta-analysis.

What do we think of when we think of David?

His values of kindness. Optimism. Hope. Conviction. Passion. His drive to do his best every single day. The way he always makes an effort to reach out to others.

But also:

Attachment issues. People pleaser. Rose-colored glasses wearer. And at times, though the fandom doesn’t want to acknowledge it — Selfish. Unstable. Rude. Hypocritical. Kind of a dick.

See this video I made;

He’s complex, so let’s try to unpack him, and figure out what he’s got going on under that floof.

On David’s Childhood

David has been through a number of traumatic events in his childhood, most notably:

Witnessing Jasper fall to his near-death.

Finding Jasper, and being almost mauled by bears during the escape.

Clown school was apparently very bad, given the flashback-like reaction he had when it was mentioned. I’m unsure of his age when this occurred, however.

The fight with Jasper at the cave before they parted ways.

Losing Jasper. He says Cameron told him he was picked up by his parents, but I’m not convinced it’s not just his mind trying to erase painful memories.

As far as what we don’t necessarily see in the show, but can infer, David’s father was either not present or not great. He dreamt Cameron was his real father, as seen below.

And we all know Cameron is an awful father figure to begin with.

Yet, that’s better to David, apparently, than whatever he had at home. Which implies it was likely a pretty bad situation.

This can also be backed up by his attachment to the camp — growing up (and even now) it seems to be more of a home to him than his actual home.

That’s a home that hasn’t ever been mentioned, by the way. Contrary to Gwen, we know absolutely nothing about his family. He hasn’t talked about them once, if I recall correctly.

David is often open with emotions, if not wearing his heart on his sleeve. So why would he never mention his family and home?

We know why.

Even as an adult, he has retained this attachment to Cameron (who has in turn, continued to use this attachment to his benefit). He gets very excited about helping Cameron change in “keep the change” — because he needs to believe people who hurt him can get better. Otherwise, it’s too painful to bear.

The Loss Of Jasper

Part of his childhood, but significant enough to warrant its own section.

Jasper and David had a very interesting relationship. We’ve seen in the past that David was pessimistic, foulmouthed, and hot-tempered, directly compared to an optimistic, peppy, popular Jasper.

But then Jasper saw Cameron’s real self, and David received a modicum of praise for what was likely the first time based on his reaction. And so, they basically did somewhat of a switcheroo.

(David takes on many traits of Jasper after this experience, showing that he does admire him at the end of the day. I believe these traits are the foundation of David’s many masks.)

Despite the whole shebang, further episodes show us that they form a strong bond (or maintain one, we don’t know what happened before the first Jasper and David episode.)

What makes this friendship especially crucial in David’s development is that I believe Jasper was the first person to truly stand up for David.

David is, as we have seen, easily manipulated. Jasper picks up on this, and knowing Cameron’s just trying to use his best friend, tries to take Cameron down.

Jasper essentially died trying to protect David.

If Jasper hadn’t died, I don’t think David would have ended up as gullible and dependent as he is. If he had the more rational and realistic Jasper by his side during the rest of his developmental years, I believe things would have ended up much, much differently.

With Jasper’s death, there seems to be nobody else at camp who knows of Cameron’s crimes, or possibly, doesn’t want to speak out about them. Nobody to stand up for him. Nobody to redirect him.

So there’s nobody to stop the unhealthy-attachment-train from picking up speed.

Cameron And David’s Relationship

Cameron is manipulative and abusive towards David. This even becomes physical:

Despite this, David continues to idolize him as is seen in many cases of abuse. He works his ass off maintaining Cameron’s camp. Cameron’s approval makes or breaks him, because this is the man he sees as a father, unfortunately.

In addition, David is unable to let go of the hope that Cameron can change, because he’s convinced himself that deep down Cameron is still “good”, based on his skewed perception of him. And we all know how that ended.

But as Diane from Bojack Horseman once said —

And that is David’s problem — he wants so much for there to be a “deep down”, that there will be a day where Cameron showers him with praise and throws signed adoption forms at him, etcetera.

He judges Cameron not on who he actually is, but who he wants him to be. And so, the unhealthy attachment remains.

(Which is, of course, incredibly destructive to his mental health.)

Other Things We Know About His Mental Health, From Canon

We know he takes meds.

We know he has (sometimes dissociative) panic attacks.

We know he has been seen to suddenly snap, even to the point of violence.

My Final Conclusion: C-PTSD

(As the trauma has been not just one event, but many over the course of his life, and among other reasons, I believe CPTSD fits better than PTSD.)

David meets much of the criteria, most notably:

Lack of emotional regulation

Dissociation

Flashbacks

Anxiety

Guilt and shame

Distorted perception of abuser

Relationship difficulties

Okay this was long I’m tired good night.

#camp camp #camp camp david #cc david

316 notes · View notes

chimcess · 3 months

Text

Waterlog || pjm (1)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, Age Gap!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 17.4k+ Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: discussions of significant death (does not happen in story), talks of a bad car accident, talks of drunk driving (please drinking responsibly), more than likely wrong swimming terms and poor understanding of how the Olympics actually works (I did so much research, pls be nice to me lol), strong language, lots of mental health discussions, reader has mommy and daddy issues, Older reader, Jimin is a complete sweetie, the tamest chapter of them all A/N: Well, well, well, look who came back. I first wrote Waterlog back in 2021, and while I enjoy the premise, I hate the finished product. I wanted to go back and edit/fix what I originally had, but when I tried it became so different, I was better off rewriting the entire thing. I hope you guys like this mini-series. If you would like to read the original go to my blog archive. Thank you for reading!

masterlist || next || playlist

Staring at the pool, I managed to calm myself with relative ease. Jin had been right, physical therapy had made things easier. The water glistened prettily in the lights, and I waited with bated breath for my trainer to come in.

Emery was a sweet guy, pretty with a lip ring and tattoos, but with a surprising amount of shyness it was laughable. His softness was offset by his powerful muscles, and I enjoyed his never-ending sense of humor. Unlike Dr.Maddox, Emery treated me like I was a normal person. Not an Olympian who almost lost her leg in an accident, or the woman whose fiancé died. I was just Y/N, and it was a relief to be around him.

Running my fingers along the scars on my leg, I mindlessly drew patterns around them in the silence. It was not normal for Emery to take this long, but his assistant had said he was running behind due to another patient, so I was unbothered. I had planned my entire day around this, so I was in no rush.

Finally, the door swung open revealing a disheveled Emery. Breathing heavier than usual, he rolled his eyes at me in frustration before saying his pleasantries. Whoever it had been had gotten him worked up.

“Rough morning?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

With an annoyed sigh, he nodded.

“I shouldn’t say this, but I hope that woman never comes back here.”

I laughed, “We all have that someone. Don’t feel too bad.”

Shaking his head, I could tell it took restraint on his part not to rant and rave about the woman who had left. Emery and I were more friendly than most. I had been seeing him for over two years now, but we still kept a semblance of a professional relationship. Especially Emery.

“How’s the kids?” He asked, making small talk as we started getting ready for a swim.

I was the coach of a high school swim team in town, something I talked about quite a bit, and Emery always liked hearing about. He was a great water polo player but chose to go into physical therapy while he was in college. After seeing one of his friends get injured and how much physical therapy had helped him, Emery decided to change his major. Four years later, he says he could never see himself doing anything else.

“They’re doing well,” I said honestly. “We got a couple of freshmen on the team, but they’re doing a lot better than I thought they would.”

Emery hummed, offering me assistance getting into the pool. While walking had been mostly figured out, the obvious limp aside, I still had some trouble with getting in-and-out of things. Even my bathtub had to be switched out since I was unable to step over it. I still used the medical chair while in there, too.

The water was cool against my skin, and I felt instantly relieved. The dull aches and pains left as soon as I got into the water. Swimming to my usual spot, I waited patiently for Emery to join me.

“That’s great to hear,” He smiled.

Going to the edge of the pool, Emery grabbed a set of barbells and handed them to me. Taking them, the two of us went over the workout plan for the day. Pulling himself up on the pool’s edge, Emery picked up his stopwatch and told me to begin.

Getting on the interstate, I sang along to the radio as I made my way to Hoseok’s. The two of us had been friends since high school, our mutual love for swimming making it impossible to keep apart, and only growing with time. He was one of my biggest support systems after the accident. Both of us had retired years ago now, but I remembered our days as Olympians fondly. Those were the best years of my life.

A small group of our friends were getting together at his house to watch the summer Olympics this afternoon. The women’s swimming finals were happening today, and I knew two of the girls competing. Turning on my blinker, I quickly got off the interstate.

Pressing around my car’s radio screen, I went to my contacts and pressed Andy’s number. She was off today and in charge of getting everything together. Hoseok had tried to do it himself, but always seemed to forget who should do what and ended up buying everything himself. She picked up after the fourth ring.

“What’s up, sugar?” Andy greeted, her voice soft and light. Her Memphis accent was thick and brought a smile to my face. Everyone had made jokes about her being southern when we first met. “Don’t tell me you’re missing Nationals.”

I shook my head even though she could not see me.

“I’m on my way,” I replied. “What should I pick up? I completely forgot.”

Andy sighed, “You’re just as bad as Jin.”

Seokjin was Andy’s husband. The two of them had been together whenever they moved to Colorado, married before I ever met them, and became quick friends with Hoseok when they moved to the Springs. That was how I had met them. Whenever their daughter Dani was born, Andy had asked me to be her Godmother and I sobbed in her lap. They were my closest friends next to Hoseok. Jin was indeed very forgetful, though, and the jibe made me chuckle.

“Cut me some slack,” I argued. “I’ve been working out for two hours straight.”

I could hear the smile in her voice, “Just get some pizza or something. We’re picking up some wings and Hobi’s in charge of the drinks. Minho and Tilly are bringing… something. I don’t even know anymore.”

Fully laughing now, I saw a Little Ceasars up ahead and got into the correct lane. Minho and Matilda were loose cannons when it came to our parties. While sweet, and fiercely loyal, I found myself wondering why I hung out with them at times. We were night and day personality wise, but I loved them dearly. Minho would probably bring some Korean side dishes from home, and Matilda would pick up a few packs of ramen from the store. Andy was stressing over nothing again. I hoped she was getting proper rest on her days off.

“I’m at Little Caesars,” I told her, parking my car. “I’m going to get the basics. How many things of Crazy Bread should I get?”

She thought for a second before replying.

“Five?” She was definitely unsure about her answer.

It was hard to gauge just how hungry everyone would be, and Jin was a bottomless pit.

“Sounds good,” I said instead, already thinking about getting more.

“Drive safe. See you in a bit.”

“See you, Andy,” I unplugged my phone from the charger.

Pressing it to my ear, I pressed my start button and turned it off. I climbed out of my car and started walking to the store.

“Love you,” She sing-songed playfully.

“Love you, too,” I replied. Opening the door, a worker greeted me with a smile. “I’m about to order.”

Shoving my phone in my back pocket, I gave the worker an awkward smile before telling him my order. I ended up getting seven bags instead of five. Just in case. Dani really liked the stuff and Jin could smash an entire bag by himself. While I waited for the cheese pizza to come out of the oven, my phone started ringing.

“Hello?” I answered, unable to check the caller ID while the cashier shoved the crazy bread into my arms.

“I heard from a little bird that you’re thinking about competing again.”

I grinned and thanked the cashier as she handed me my other pizza.

“Hello to you, too, Frank,” I replied. “And your little birdie wouldn’t happen to be Hoseok, would it?”

Frank and Sarah Boone had become a part of my life after the accident. They ran a local support group to help those affected by drunk drivers to get connected with resources and therapy. The two had lost their son when he decided to drive home drunk from a party and used the group as their own coping mechanism. They were wonderful people and owned their own joint coffee shop and bookstore in Denver.

“Won’t say names,” He chuckled, “But it might have come from a certain part-timer. So, is it true?”

I placed the boxes in the passenger seat and rounded my car. This was not a conversation I was expecting to happen today. I had brought up the idea to Hoseok since the Olympics were coming up next year, but I was not committed to it. I was enjoying my new job coaching and did not think I was in any condition for competition. When he brought up the Paralympics I laughed. Those competitors were in better shape than I was, and I doubted I would qualify. I was disabled but my disability did not (as far as I knew) carry over into the pool.

“I was just talking shit, Frank,” Backing out of the parking space, I put in Hoseok’s address and started to drive. Switching over to my car’s phone, I put my phone down and looked at the road. “You know I’m happy with my life right now.”

He made a grunting noise that told me he did not really believe me. No one did. All of them were sure I was miserable about my career ending far before its time, and while that may be true, I felt more loss about the life I was supposed to have than winning medals. I missed Namjoon more than any medal. Frank and Sarah understood that.

“I know that,” He cleared his throat, and I could hear the congestion. Frank had come down with a nasty case of walking pneumonia two weeks ago and was still recovering. “Just got a little excited is all. It would be nice to see you putting yourself back out there.”

It would be nice to see myself back in the pool, I could admit that. I had dreams of it at times. Being a competitor was a part of who I was. From the first time my dad took me to my swim classes when I was six all the way until I claimed my eighth Olympic medal, everyone had said there was nothing I hated more than losing. I was fiery, free-spirited, and kept my eyes on the prize. It was the thing Namjoon loved about me the most. That made me frown.

“I left a champ,” I forced a laugh. “Need to save some gold for the rest of them.”

Hiding behind humor was a pastime.

Frank laughed, oblivious to the hollowness in my tone. “Heard they have a new guy taking your place.”

That made me snort, “He’s not taking my spot. Totally different competitions, my friend.”

“Winning gold like you, that’s for damn sure.”

It must be Jimin Park. The kid turned up on the scene a year after my accident. He was a very, very talented swimmer. Fast as a bullet with the best butterflies I had ever seen, Park was a force to be reckoned with in the men’s league. It was a joy to watch him swim and this year would be his first Olympics. Hoseok and I were very excited to watch him.

“If you’re talking about Park,” I chuckled. “He’s far from new. He’s been competing for a few years now. First Olympics, though.”

“He’s young, ain’t he?”

I nodded, “23, I think.”

Truthfully, I did not know how old he was. I remember the buzz around how young he was when he first broke out on the scene. He was eighteen when he took home gold all season before a family emergency took him out of the Olympics last minute. No one knew what really happened, but his team had said his brother was in an accident, tragically losing his life, and Jimin was prioritizing his family. He’s competed every year since and with the Olympics next year, I was certain Park would be there. He deserved it.

I was parked in front of the house now and from the cars outside, I was the last person to arrive. Frank and I talked for a few moments. It was cute how much he had learned about swimming so we could be buddies. Sarah was the only person who recognized my face when I first started going to the meetings and her husband was determined to get me to open after weeks of sitting in bitter silence in the back.

We hung up after I promised I would make it to the meeting next Thursday. Frank was not happy about me skipping the past two weeks, but understood I was taking some time to myself. My boys were going to compete this year, I had fought tooth and nail for that funding, and the extra hours at school were exhausting. Jeremy and Evan showed promise, but they knew how to drive me up the wall with all of their simple mistakes.

As I suspected, the party was in full swing. Matilda and Minho were laughing loudly on the sofa, Hoseok sporting a beer in the recliner next to them, and Dani practicing her gymnastics in the middle of it all. I could hear the commentators talking animatedly about the girls, who they believed would come out on top and highlights from the night before, but I never really paid them any mind.

“Pizza’s here!” Minho boomed, practically running to greet me.

I laughed, handing over the boxes, “Need help carrying the rest in.”

Matilda offered, happily taking my car keys and leaving the house. Minho had disappeared into the kitchen. Dani spared me enough attention for a smile and wave before launching into excited pleas for me to watch her new moves.

“Super cool, babe,” I smiled sweetly after her handstand. Dani was not particularly good at gymnastics. She started later than the other girls, rarely did anything she was actively afraid of, and hated her coach. Andy was already looking for a better gym, but I just thought she should start pointing her in another direction. Dani loved dancing and she would be a wonderful ballerina or figure skater if given the proper training. The Kim’s, however, seemed fine watching her deal with gymnastics and cheerleading. “You’re getting better.”

Dani beamed, “Daddy said the same thing.”

Flipping the right way around, her hair coming out of its messily tied bun and falling down past her shoulders. Brown, loose waves made her look so much younger than her eight years, her small stature only selling the illusion even more. Her skin was smooth, and she always looked as though she had been playing outside in the sun, a constant tinge of pink beneath her sandy skin. Her features favored her father, large eyes, long face, and plush, pillow-like lips, but after meeting Andy’s parents, I could see her grandmother hidden within the mischievous glint in her eyes and too small ears.

“Your dad’s a smart guy,” I joked.

She continued to babble away as I made myself more comfortable, kicking off my shoes and tossing my hat onto the small buffet table that sat above the shoe rack. Matilda came back inside, her arms filled with bags of bread, and I took two from the pile. With a thankful, thin-lipped grin, she also complimented Dani’s moves before disappearing around the corner in the direction of the kitchen.

“Dani,” Hoseok seemed to have finally grown tired of hearing the girl talk. I would imagine this was all he had been hearing since he arrived. “Do you want to color with me?”

The little girl clapped happily, her eyes bright and shining, before abandoning her mat to gather a few coloring books and her massive hoard of crayons. Hoseok looked at me then, a sly smile on his face before winking. I chuckled and shook my head. He always did that to make her shut up.

I left the living room before Dani came back. I loved her dearly, but I could admit she talked too much. It was a good thing for a kid her age to be so social but that did not mean I wanted to hear her every waking thought. Andrea and Seokjin were the only parents in our little group, and I imagined it would stay that way for a while. Even if my dreams of children were still alive, I did not have anybody I wanted to take on that responsibility with.

Minho was eating the pizza, as expected, while Matilda had already claimed her own bag of Crazy Bread. Andy and Jin were snuggled up at their dining table, his arms securing her to his chest, and she curled into him. I loved watching them together. I had grown up in a house with two people who hated one another, barely kept up a facade of civility before my mother skipped down to be with her new boyfriend in Florida leaving my dad and I behind in Pennsylvania. We made it work but things were never the same after that. It made me happy to know little Dani would feel the love radiating in her home as she grew up. I had never seen two people so enamored with one another in my life- not even Namjoon and I.

“How was therapy?” Minho asked after we exchanged pleasantries. “Hoseok said you were talking about competing next season.”

I laughed in disbelief. That man did not know how to keep his mouth shut. I said the same thing I told Frank over the phone, and he scoffed. Minho never truly laughed, if I was honest. It was always a snicker, scoff, or chuckle. He was a man of little words and even fewer outbursts of joy, and I found his versions of those things just as reserved as the rest of him. He was the most expressive when he smiled, but those were just as rare as a genuine laugh. Dani managed to squeeze more out of him than anybody else.

“Stop meddling!” Andy scolded the other man from her spot in Seokjin’s lap.

“Never,” My friend replied, amusement clear in his voice.

“Never!” Dani echoed, voice louder than Hoseok’s. She was giggling happily alongside him, and I rolled my eyes. He was her favorite. “Never!” She repeated again, pleased when Hoseok laughed. “Never!”

“That’s enough,” Jin’s voice was even and smooth.

Dani did not shout again but we could all hear her and Hoseok attempting to cover up their laughter. Andy smiled fondly. Their little friendship had warmed her heart. After Dani, Andrea had been diagnosed with cervical cancer. It had come back six times before her doctor said she needed to get a hysterectomy. She grieved the children they would never have, the large family she dreamed of stolen from her, but once Dani was old enough to walk, she had been glued to Hoseok’s hip.

Hoseok for all he spoke about never wanting children, he adored Dani. His family was small, he and his sister the only children, but they were extremely close. She lived in New York City as a fashion designer and got married last year, and I always had the feeling Hoseok felt lonely without her. Dani was a welcome break from routine and made him feel special. It was sweet but I hoped my friend would find someone to share his life with someday.

“It’s starting,” Hoseok announced.

It was a great day for the U.S. Opal Simmons was one to look out for. She was the oldest woman on the team, a shocking 24, but she could out swim a vast majority of them. Her freestyles were amazing, earning her a gold with Japan just a few points behind. I was hopeful she would be able to come out on top in her distance swim. While not the fastest in the pool, the girl knew how to pace herself. The cameras cut to the shot of one of her coaches smiling triumphantly at the performance.

He was a good friend of mine, Oswald Bunch. He had been heavily involved with the Olympics for years now, promoted to one of the lead coaches back in 2020, but I remembered when he was still competing. A few years older than me, Ozzie was known for his backstrokes and long-distance swimming, and we bonded whenever we got the chance to meet in London back in 2012.

That was my first Olympics. I was a fresh-faced 20-year-old on a mission. My team at the time was stoked to have me around and I was excited to be there. I had built up a solid reputation over the course of two years, winning seven medals my first adult-competitive season, and the high was incredible. Back then, I was always the one to beat at the breaststroke and therefore, the medleys were in my favor as well. I walked away with 4 golds that year, and again in 2016. The accident happened a year later, but I left the competitive world with 8 gold Olympic medals and 19 world champion gold medals. Katie Ledecky held the record now, but for a time, I was the most decorated female swimmer in history. I was excited when I was finally passed up, happy for the younger woman.

Ozzie was the man, but sadly never got out of Michael Phelp’s shadow. It was not his fault. That man was insane in the water and would become the most decorated Olympian ever. Bunch was a great swimmer, but I did not know a single person who could compare to Phelps. Hoseok, maybe, but he only had 12 gold medals. Phelps had 23.

“Simmons looks great out there,” Hoseok praised, a large smile on his face.

“Her butterflies could use a little work,” I murmured back, already seeing how I could fix it with some extra exercises. “It’s slowing down her freestyle. What else is she scheduled for?”

“I think she’s doing the 200-meter freestyles and the medley relay,” He replied, taking a sip of his beer. “Bunch is banking on her pacing.”

“She won’t win those,” I was positive. “She’s just going to get tired. Breaststrokes are obviously not her thing.”

He laughed, “You’re the breaststroke queen, Y/N. No one's as good as yours.”

I shrugged, “Ledecky is a great swimmer.”

“Never said she wasn’t,” He sipped. “Her freestyles are killer. Girls could never beat you in breaststroke or a medley. You’re untouchable there.”

It made me smile despite myself. Hoseok was right, those were my competitions. Even if Katie had surpassed my record for most gold medals ever, I still had more Olympic medals than she did, and they were in completely different events. I could have kept my title had the accident never happened. I would have. Even if we were friendly, Ledecky would have been my competition, and I would have fought hard to keep the record.

“What’s Jimin doing this year?” Matilda asked as the women’s scores were posted. Opal would be a strong contender. “Anyone know?”

I nodded, “I haven’t watched every competition, but he’s sticking to what he does best. Didn’t he swim the 200 yesterday?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok replied. “He’s skipping out today and doing his individual tomorrow. Swimming back-to-back after that. Kid’s a fucking animal in the water.”

I couldn't agree more. As I stared at Opal’s smiling face, her pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes, I wished I had been able to watch Jimin instead. She was cold and impassive even with a large, perfectly white grin that took up most of her face. In fact, I found her quite boring outside of the water. No flair or features that set her apart. Just a tall, well-built blonde with a nice smile. Ozzie would have to work hard to make her memorable.

“Simmons did well,” I yawned. “It’s getting late, though, and I have work in the morning.”

The goodbyes were quick, and Dani made me promise to take her roller skating soon. There was a girl at school making fun of her and she wanted her “super cool” and “famous” aunt to tell them off. We all laughed, and I told her we could go this weekend after gymnastics practice.

My drive home was uneventful. It was already dark out, something that bothered me more than I would ever admit out loud, and I never turned on the radio. I preferred to drive in absolute silence, eyes and ears glued to the road. I had only started talking on the phone recently.

I was much worse after the accident. I refused to get inside of a car for weeks and if I did, I was a mess. No one was allowed to be a distracted driver either. No radio, no phone, no conversations. Nothing. Jin had been the default chauffeur during that time and put up with my anxiety better than the others.

It was close to a year before I tried to sit in the front seat again. Another five before I got behind the wheel. For hours I would sit in the garage with my hands on the steering wheel staring off into the distance. I was still in a wheelchair for most of my daily activities and a very obvious limp made me too self-conscious to be seen. Isolating was easy. Keeping the others away was more difficult.

My drives started with me just backing out of the driveway. I went around the block a few weeks later, hands shaking and Andy trying her best to soothe me in the passenger seat. I did not drive past the Whole Foods two minutes away from my house until after the second year. Things were easier after I ditched the wheelchair and got more open to the idea of therapy.

Moving out of Denver was the best decision I ever made, the Springs were easier to drive in and the traffic was not as awful. Andrea and Jin bought in Black Forest once I was settled in Briargate, so loneliness was never an option.

Matilda almost moved in after the housewarming party Andy threw for me. She said it was far too big for one person and the neighborhood was to die for. I laughed her off at the time not really wanting to admit how nice it sounded.

Nestled in Fairfax, my house was a beautiful piece of architecture. The striking brick and wood front exterior provided a warm welcome, with teal trimmings bringing a fresh feeling to the otherwise plain color scheme. With five bedrooms and four bathrooms, I dreamed of the day I was able to fill them all. A dream that I hoped would come before I hit 35.

Pulling up to the house, I waved to Chika next door. The old woman raised her hand, still nursing a large mug of what I assumed to be tea and smiled. They were lovely people and we often helped one another out whenever we could. Chika liked to bring over food if she cooked and I paid my landscapers to keep with their lawn.

“Late night?” Chika called out from her front porch.

“Went to a friend’s house,” I replied.

“Good,” She meant it. “Glad to see you getting out of the house.”

I smiled but was not sure how well she could see my face in the dark.

“Yeah. Night, Chika.”

“Night, Y/N.”

I showered quickly and sipped on a cup of chamomile tea before heading off to bed. After taking my night medications, one to force myself to sleep while the other blocked the never-ending nightmares, I climbed into bed. I was able to play a single game of solitaire before they both kicked in. I fell asleep with the sound of gentle rain humming in the background.

“Let’s go, guys!” I yelled, blowing my whistle.

The twelve boys waited, their small talk coming to an abrupt end. We had just finished warming up and I allowed all of them a short water break. I was a huge advocate for rest periods. No one needed to pull a muscle or fatigue early due to over working. I had a 2800-yard routine prepared, 800 of those done during our warm-ups, and the rest divided between our main set and cooldowns.

Jordan, our captain, was smiling happily. He was such an excited kid, and his positivity was contagious. While some of the boys were disappointed when I first chose him to replace our old captain after his graduation, I was sure his spirit would do everyone some good. It did not take long for the others to come around and he was beloved.

“Alright, so we have a 1600 main set. In between each of our reps, we will be doing a switch out of easy breast and backstrokes. Clear?”

“Crystal!” They all replied in unison.

“Alright. That's what I like to hear,” Flipping through my clipboard was more for show than anything. I used to rely on it heavily when I first started teaching since brain damage messed with my short-term memory, but I had been doing this long enough to know what was happening. Now it was just a way for me to write notes about their performances. “We’re starting with a 4x100 with 15-second rest; the first 25 butterfly. 3x100 with 10-second rest; again, first 25 butterfly. Following?”

No questions were asked, and a few guys voiced they were good for me to keep going.

“Good. Then we have a 2x100 with 5-second rest. First 25?”

“Butterfly,” Jordan replied.

“Thank you, Abbot. Okay, and we’re finishing up with 8x50 freestyle. Fast and easy.”

All twelve of them began to prepare to take their mark. One by one they stood on their blocks and waited for me to make the call. I admired them all for a moment. You could see the difference in each one of them. Those who were confident stood tall, their shoulders squared, and head held high. Newcomers were still figuring out their place on the team but were eager to prove themselves. Two of them would be leaving us this year, Gabriel and Marcus, and neither one of them were continuing to swim after graduation. It was a sad thought, but I was happy with how they carried themselves. They had both come a long way.

“Take your mark,” My voice echoed. Each boy got into their starting position as I watched them like a hawk. One of the freshmen, Phineas, needed major work on his form. I would talk to Jordan about it. Grabbing hold of my stopwatch, I took a deep breath. “Go!”

Marcus was the first in, like always, and I ignored him. I knew he was fully capable of taking care of himself. Phineas was the weakest link in my chain right now. He was struggling, his arms growing tired and his speed nonexistent. The other freshmen, Tobias, or as the guys called him, Twig, was not much better. He had more strength, but I chopped that up to his size. I would need to really start working some more beginner drills to get them in shape. Jordan and Gabriel would be more than happy to give up a Saturday or two to help out.

Marcus was the first one finished and I marked his time. Still a tenth of a second faster than Jordan. After Jordan came Gabriel and then Joseph and Anthony. I was disappointed in Jett’s time, but I would invite him to the weekend practices with the others. He needed some foot and hip exercises. Twig came in before Phineas, but every other boy was already out of the water by the time they made it back. Phineas was visibly upset, and I made a note to pull him to the side after practice to cheer him up.

Practices typically lasted two hours and the boys swam hard. Phineas did, in fact, perk up after I told him I was noticing tons of improvements in his performance. Twig just seemed happy he was not the worst guy in the water. After talking it out with Jordan, we decided on a good weekend time for extra practices, and I stayed behind to print off a poster and signup sheets for the rest of the boys. I had a feeling almost everyone except Marcus would show. He had a part-time job now and his weekends were full.

Sitting in my office, I poured over my observations and timecards. With a team this large I should have an extra set of hands to help with timing. I sent an email to the principal asking about helpers and got back to the nitty gritty.

All of them could work on something. Phineas might have needed the most work, Twig not far behind him, but my most seasoned swimmers had room for improvement. Jett was still struggling with maximizing propulsion, Anthony and Milo needed to get better water balance, and Gabriel’s pull could be better. Even my best swimmers, Jordan and Marcus, could use a bit of refinement in technique. It was nitpicking but they were too talented to give up on their potential.

It was close to nine when my phone began to ring. I knew it could not be any of my usual calls. Andy was working nights this week and Jin was fast asleep at home with Dani. Minho was in bed by eight, Matilda would never bother me this late, and Hoseok hated phone calls. Checking the caller ID, I was shocked to see Ozzie’s name.

“Hello?” I answered tentatively, afraid he might have called me by accident.

“Otter,” Ozzie greeted me happily. He seemed so delighted that I answered, I smiled even though I hated the nickname. “How’s life going?”

I chuckled, “Rockin’ and rollin’. Saw your girl last night. Looks great, Oz.”

“Appreciate it,” He was so dismissive of it I became interested. This was not a catch-up phone call or else he might have hooked onto the bait. My stomach twisted in anticipation. If it was not for pleasantries, then it was for work and that was something to be excited about. “Still teaching high school?”

“Mhm,” I fiddled with my pencil, papers forgotten. “My boys team is strong. I only have three girls that signed up so we’re just training during P.E. and hoping some more join.”

We chatted a bit more about the team. The longer it went on the more knots I had. Oswald was fishing for something, and I wanted to figure out what. After telling him about Phineas, I asked what the random call was about.

“Always cutting to the chase,” He joked.

I did not laugh.

“Alright, you caught me,” Ozzie sighed. “Look, the Olympic team is looking for another assistant coach and your name came up a few times.”

My mouth went dry. I had heard about Tiara Marsh leaving to focus on her family. She had a baby and stepped down a few months after coming back from maternity leave. I respected the decision and messaged her my congratulations. Ozzie had taken the lead coach position three years ago with Todd Packer as his partner. The other assistant, Drew Jones, was a sweet girl from what I heard and working with her would be a dream.

Still, it was an impossible task. Trying to imagine myself on the sidelines, coaching the next big names in sporting history with a massive squad behind me made my stomach queasy. I doubt any of them respected me. My leg was ruined, my career burned out just as quickly as it started, and I never had the chance to reach my peak. Now I am a 30-year-old washed up recluse. Just thinking about the media frenzy made my breathing get a little heavier.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Oz,” I murmured.

“I told them you wouldn’t go for it,” He replied, unsurprised. “They’re going to approach Storm Kline instead.”

“Oh,” Now I was confused. “Why’d you bring it up then?”

“Because I got to thinking,” I braced myself. Ozzie was known for his big, bright, dumb, impulsive ideas. “I knew the Olympics would be asking too much of you. Cameras and interviews are the last thing you want after the fucking circus you went through last time.”

That was an understatement. Circus did not even begin to describe the absolute hell the media put me through after the accident. So many speculations and insensitive remarks managed to ruin any peace I could have gotten during that time.

While I was in a coma, no one knowing if I would ever wake up again, the news thought it wise to harass my friends and family. My old coach, Victor Stanley, was assaulted whenever he left the hospital. When news got out that Namjoon was pulled off life support, his mother and father were so sick and tired of people parked outside their house they packed up and moved away before I even woke up. I wanted nothing to do with the media after that.

“It’s a little different but I think you’d be a great fit for the job,” Ozzie continued. “One of my boys, Jimin Park, is in need of a personal coach. His mom is sick and he’s wanting to stay in Michigan for as long as he can before coming out to the Springs to start training for Paris.

“I almost called Jung, but I don’t think the two of them would get along well enough for this to work. You’re the only person I know I can trust with him, and from what I’m hearing, you’re one hell of a coach already.”

This was somehow even more nerve wracking than the assistant position. I had never trained one-on-one before, at least, not long term. I was sure I could do it, but a high schooler was very different from an Olympic athlete relying on me to keep him in shape for the season.

“What happened to Hamilton?” I asked, still unable to wrap my head around the situation. “I thought he was Park’s personal trainer.”

“He was but the two fell out when Jimin decided to stay in Michigan. You know how Matt is.”

That I did. Matthew Hamilton was a massive asshole, and that was putting it lightly. He was one of the best trainers around and got results which was why he still had a job despite his rotten attitude. I had the misfortune of running into him quite a few times over the years and my distaste only grew with each passing. I could imagine that conversation not going over particularly well.

“But what about my team?” I asked, staring at my desk. All of my plans and strategies were mapped out and I was ready to put them to use. My boys were counting on me and leaving them felt wrong. “I don’t want to leave them high and dry, Oz.”

“Ask Hoseok to cover for you,” I rolled my eyes at his blase attitude.

“This is my team.”

“And this is Jimin Park.”

I hated that I understood where he was coming from. Most of my boys would never go off to swim professionally and their skill set was not on par with anyone out right now. They were not committed to the strict regime that would take and I did not get paid well enough to justify the extra hours. Jimin, however, would pay me extremely well and I would get that experience under my belt. I might even learn a few new things to add to my own drills.

“Give me a few days to think about it,” I finally conceded. “And set up a phone call, or meeting, or something with the kid. Need to make sure we’re on the same page before we waste one another’s time.”

Ozzie laughed, “I think you’ll get along just fine, but sure. I think he’d appreciate the gesture.”

Nothing of much importance was said after that. We hung up with promises of talking soon and then I was alone once more. My office was still just as messy and swamped with paperwork as it had been before, but it all looked different. It felt like I was already gone, and a deep homesickness settled in my chest. I stared at the papers in front of me and sighed before shooting a text to Hoseok.

As I expected, everyone had told me to jump at the opportunity. Hoseok even said if I didn’t, I would be the biggest idiot he had ever met. Matilda asked if she could come (I told her no), and Dani just seemed bummed that we could not hang out anymore. Andy and Jin were the most supportive of the situation while Minho the most cautious. He was worried about the media catching wind of something and causing a frenzy. After Matila pointed out how old news I was, I felt a little less afraid of that possibility even if it was a hit to my ego.

Ozzie seemed pumped when I told him I was open to the idea if Jimin and I seemed to mesh well. I was firm in my decision to talk to him before making any concrete plans, and from what Ozzie told me, my future student was extremely receptive to the idea. I also learned that Opal was jealous of her fellow Olympian, but I tried not to let that puff up my chest.

That was why I was sitting in my home office, hair nicely styled and a light layer of makeup on waiting for Jimin to join our Zoom call. I wore blue since Ozzie said it was his favorite color, but the material was slowly driving me insane. While the color was nice, deep blue and sparkled whenever the light hit it, it was scratchy and irritated the skin around my chest and shoulders. I almost got up to change but a small icon with the letters ‘JP’ in the center popped up before I could.

“Hello?” A soft voice called out.

“Hey,” I replied with an awkward wave. “Can you see me?”

“Yeah, can you see me?”

I shook my head, “Just your icon.”

Cursing under his breath, Jimin apologized for the tech issues. I adored how nice he was to listen to. It was unique, gentle and raspy, but also feminine in its softness. There was no bass or hardness, every sound and syllable light and airy with self-depreciating laughter after every insult he threw at himself. Apparently, Jimin was not great with technology and always had a difficult time with cyber meetings.

“This is fine with me,” I tried to reassure him. “I don’t need to see your face to talk.”

“No,” He agreed, “But it’s a little awkward for you to have your camera on and mine’s off.”

I could hear him clicking around. “I’ll turn mine off, too, if that helps.”

He shut that down immediately and continued clicking and typing. After a few more minutes, he found his problem. Then the icon was gone and there he was.

His face was round, his cheeks plump, and chin soft. The first thing I noticed about him was his lips. They were rounded and plump like a baby duck with a soft, heart shaped cupid’s bow that led up a small, button nose. Everything about his face was soft except his eyes which were almond shaped and flicked outwards like a cat’s. His hair was pitch black and parted down the middle, framing his face and making his pale skin look like snow. When he caught a glimpse of himself in the camera a large smile took over his face and I felt the wind get knocked out of me.

“Can you see me?” He asked.

I nodded, “Yeah, I think we’re in the clear.”

Neither one of us knew what to say for a moment. He swirled around in his chair in search of his water bottle. He stood up, excusing himself for a moment. He was also wearing a blue shirt, a pair of black pants, and seemed just as nervous as I did. He left the room while I sat and thought about him.

There was one word to describe Jimin: pretty. His soft lines and tiny waist made him look so much smaller than I had imagined him. All of the years seeing him on the tv did nothing to compare to watching him walk around a little room in his home. Without a cap and goggles, Jimin was angelic, and I felt uneasy. How was I supposed to work with someone I found this attractive?

“Sorry,” He was back now, a large Yeti cup in hand. “I should’ve made sure I had this already.”

“No worries. I’m not in any rush.”

He sat back down, and I finally noticed the large oval necklace he was wearing. I did not know what it could mean to him, but I had seen him with it a few times at events. It was simple and silver, no gem in the center of the pendant, and sat directly over his heart. He took a sip from his cup, snapping me back to action.

“How’s your mother doing?” I asked. “Ozzie told me she wasn’t well.”

His expression saddened me, and I hated that I brought it up. I knew how much I did not enjoy talking about Namjoon’s death, and while his mother was still alive, she was not well. Unfortunately, I could not take the question back.

“I’m not sure how much you know,” He started, leaning back in the leather computer chair. “She has melanoma and isn’t doing chemotherapy anymore. I’m staying in Michigan so I can spend as much time with her as possible.”

My heart ached for him and his family. Cancer had a reputation for ripping families apart and I could only imagine how this was affecting the young swimmer. My own grief was long and drawn out, guilt and shame hanging over my head for years before I was finally able to let it go, but the death itself was swift. Joon was dead and buried before I woke up from the coma, but I could recall every detail of that hospital room when Victor told me what happened. I hated to think about watching the life slip from him, knowing he would die, and knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

“I understand. I’m really sorry to hear that.”

I knew it was inadequate, but I did not know this man well enough to say my thoughts out loud. Maybe later, after a few weeks of training together, I could get the courage to let him know I would be there if he needed someone to talk to. I knew all about navigating grief and I would happily help him stay motivated through this horrible, tragic time. Jimin stayed quiet so I took it upon myself to get the ball rolling again.

“I know you’re going through a difficult time right now, and I just want you to know that I get it and I see you. If we work together, I will make sure your mental health comes first. Whatever you need, whatever your family needs, will always come before getting in the pool.

“You were working with Hamilton before this, and whatever happened between you two- I don’t know, that’s none of my business, but I can promise you I will try my best to make sure our professional relationship doesn’t reach that point. Just tell me what’s up and I’ll make it work.”

Jimin smiled a small, sad smile that paled in comparison to that blinding show of teeth earlier. My eyes could not help their roaming and I felt guilty. There was a chance we would be working together, and I could not feel this way about him if that time came. I could only hope that if we did decide to move forward with this arrangement, any affections I could have for him would get buried. I would have to talk to Hoseok about this.

“I have to take her to appointments once a week,” He replied, voice small and eyes staring at something off camera. “She’s not getting her chemo anymore but still goes to see her doctor often to manage symptoms as best she can. She also has a dance class every Sunday morning and I will be going with her.”

I nodded, “I can live with that. As long as you’re still putting in work you can take your mom anywhere.”

He took a deep breath and finally looked at the camera again. The vulnerability I found there took me off guard. Jimin must be someone who wears their emotions on their sleeve, and I would have to learn to nurture that. Namjoon always told me I needed to work on being more sensitive to others, a skill I had yet to master.

“Matt didn’t like how much time I spent out of the pool. I understand where he’s coming from but I’m hoping we can come up with a training schedule that works well for the both of us. I feel bad enough pulling you away from your life, and I don’t want my personal shit to bleed into what you’re going through.”

It was a kind gesture, one I appreciated, but he needed to get over it. I told him in so many words that I was happy to help him.

“Trust me,” I said. “If I didn’t want to do this then we wouldn’t be talking.”

Jimin seemed to like my bluntness and I was fond of his over-analytical anxiety. The way he fidgeted reminded me of Namjoon, his forward and direct confrontation of his emotions and needs so strikingly similar it made it nearly impossible for me to dislike him. I don’t think a person alive could dislike this man.

“I can be in Ann Arbor next week,” Jimin had gone on another rant about inconveniencing me and I shut it down. “Everything here is already squared away. We can discuss it more later, how does that sound?”

He smiled wearily, his nerves causing him to squirm in his seat.

“I’m really looking forward to working with you, Y/N.”

I hoped my expression looked as sincere as I felt, “I’ll take care of you, kiddo.”

Pulling a face, Jimin laughed heartily. Triumphant, I smiled brazenly, his laughter contagious. I made a note to pull out a few age jokes now and then if it meant making him smile like that.

“I’m an adult man, I’ll have you know,” He was still laughing.

“Could’ve fooled me,” I teased.

“We’re going to get along just fine,” He seemed more confident than ever, and it warmed my heart. “Let me know when you’re expected to get here. Do you have my number?”

We exchanged our contact details. After days of talking over email, I finally found a smiley face emoji in my notifications, a Michigan area code attached. Saving his number, I replied with the old woman emoji earning myself another laugh.

“Talk to you later, Park.”

“See you, coach.”

I left the meeting, my chest much lighter after talking to him. He was a sweet man and not half bad to look at. I was a few years older but not disgustingly so, and he was more than available from the sound of things. Realizing the direction my thoughts were going in, I stood up from the chair to start writing out some drills and scheduling prototypes. Before I could get out of the door, however, my phone vibrated in my hand.

Jimin: 👶

I did not respond until I had my flight booked.

Me: I’m flying in on Tuesday. Know a good place to stay?

He replied a few minutes later.

Jimin: Do you need a lot of space?

Me: Not really

Jimin: One of my neighbors has their mother-in-law suite for rent. I could probably cut you a good deal with them.

I smiled. He really was a sweetheart.

Me: Thank you. And no deals. I can pay for myself.

Jimin: My mother would be very upset if I didn’t at least try.

Jimin: I was raised to respect the elderly.

I laughed out loud, thoroughly amused. I had a feeling he was testing the waters after I poked fun at him earlier. Jimin was probably used to the stick stuck up Hamilton’s ass. He was in for a treat. At the pool I was cool and collected but I could cut up with the best of them.

Me: Sorry, couldn’t hear you over the sound of my hip breaking

I was practically giddy with excitement waiting for his response. It had been such a long time since someone joked around with me like this. Hoseok tried but he was awful at taking a joke, so I stopped poking the bear. It was refreshing and all too familiar.

Jimin: I’ll get you one of those life alerts just in case.

Was he flirting with me? Did I care? Shrugging, I went along with it. I would remain strictly professional while we worked together, but if things developed after that I would let them. Happily. I barely knew this guy, but I remember this feeling. It was the first time since Joon’s death that it showed itself to me and I wanted to hold onto it.

First work then play, I told myself.

Who knows? This little bit of infatuation could fade just as quickly as it came, and I would leave Ann Arbor with a new friend instead. Might even be able to score a steady job with the kid if things worked out. My life in Colorado would remain untouched, my friends happily accepting a new kid in the group when he came to visit, and my house just as bare and empty as it always had been. The years continuing to pass me by.

I tried not to think about why that thought made me want to cry.

“I told you I’m fine,” I sighed into the phone, waiting at the baggage claim for my things. “You’re in rare form today.”

Andrea laughed, the sound slightly hysterical and I winced. That was the wrong thing to say, but she was driving me insane. I had traveled around the world multiple times, and she was acting like Michigan was going to kill me.

“Well excuse me for worrying,” Andy bit back, her tone clipped and harsh.

“I’m sorry,” I heaved one of my bags off the conveyor belt. “I know you’re just looking out for me, but I promise you I’m fine Andrea. You’ll be my first phone call if that changes.”

The other bag finally popped up and I quickly snatched it. Slinging the large duffle bag over my shoulder, I adjusted it until it rested comfortably on my shoulders. Lifting the handlebar off my large suitcase, I drug it behind me while I followed the signs for the exit. Jimin said he arranged for someone to pick me up but did not specify who. He was busy with a few interviews this morning and could not get me himself. He had been very disappointed about it.

“I know I’m nagging,” Andy groaned. “Scratch that. I’m acting like a total helicopter parent.”

I laughed, “Your husband had been even worse. The man tried to book me a charter flight because he was worried about my leg in an airport. What the fuck does that even mean?”

Everyone had been super happy for me, especially my team. Those boys almost cried when I told them who I was helping out and Jordan begged me to bring him back something autographed. None of them seemed as familiar with my own background but I was fine with that. All of them took to Hoseok rather well, except for Marcus who made me swear to come back before school let out. I did not tell them I was planning to make monthly trips to give Jimin some space with his mom. I was sure that surprise would go over very, very well.

Despite his indifference when I was first talking about the job, Seokjin became an overprotective dad as soon as I made him aware my flights were booked. He was quick to cancel them and put in a few calls of his own. Jin was an operations manager for Delta airlines and knew plenty of pilots. He was able to get me a plane to land in Willow Run out in Ypsilanti, but I quickly intervened and told him a normal flight was perfect. I rebooked my tickets and flew into Detroit Metro at 10 am.

Andy snorted, “He means well.”

It was snowing in Michigan, and I was finally hit with the realization that I would be seeing far more of it here than I ever did back in Colorado. It was only mid-September, so it was still light and melted away quickly. I would have to ask Jimin if it stayed this calm into December, but I had a feeling things would pick up by late November.

It was a very cold morning in Detroit, and I was excited to get into a heated car. Getting off the phone with Andy, I quickly sent Jimin a quick text message letting him know I was outside and looking for my ride. A loud honk made my jump, almost dropping my phone in the process.

Pulled up at the curb was a navy-blue Volkswagen Beetle. I could tell from its body that it was an older model, and it was a convertible. Sitting behind the wheel was a little old lady, a pair of gardening gloves on her hands and a pair of large, hexagon sunglasses taking up most of her face. Her face was familiar, and it hit me. Sitting behind that wheel was Jimin’s mother.

She smiled at me and waved, beckoning me closer to the little car. I forced myself to smile back. My nerves made it feel damn near impossible, but I managed. Opening the door, I did not know where to put my things. The backseat was so small.

“There’s a lever on that side that’ll push it up. You should be able to get everything to fit if you try hard enough.”

Fumbling around, I finally found the little handle and pulled up. The seat lurched forward, folding in on itself, and I clumsily shoved my suitcase into the backseat. It smelled like stale cigarettes and fake pine, but when you had a car this old it usually had history. I was excited to pick up my new car from the dealership. My Porsche already had a difficult time driving around Colorado and I did not think it would survive the heavy winters in Michigan, so I decided to leave it home and get an Altima. I had the money and could easily get rid of it. Tilly had been talking about needing an upgrade.

Finally managing to get both bags into the backseat, I put the seat back and got into the car. Closing the door, I sighed in content. The heaters were at full blast and pointed directly at my cold face. Buckling my seatbelt, I leaned back and tried to relax after the long day of flying. Jimin’s mother pulled off the curb.

“It’s cold out there,” She laughed, her voice just as sickeningly sweet as her son’s. “Glad you were able to make it okay.”

I nodded, “I’m surprised to see it snowing so early. We don’t usually get anything until closer to Thanksgiving.”

“Colorado, right?” I could hear a faint accent and I remembered that Jimin was first-generation Korean American. Both of his parents moved to the states before he and his brother were born. Media outlets loved talking about it, but I was not sure how much he enjoyed discussing his personal life. While he came off as a sweet and mild-mannered man, he kept his personal life private. “I’ve heard it’s very pretty.”

“It is. Too expensive, but very, very pretty.”

Then she was fiddling around with the radio, and I finally cracked a genuine smile. I was not sure how much work had been done on her car, but I was positive the sound system had been completely redone. A brand-new radio, complete with a touch screen and Bluetooth, lit up at the touch of her fingers. A man’s voice serenaded us through the updated speakers, and I was in awe at how beautiful it sounded. I assumed he was speaking Korean and Jimin’s mother sang along fluently.

“What’s your name again?” She asked once the song was over. Another, more upbeat song started, and she increased the volume. “Jimin told me but I’m horrible with that sort of thing. I’m Na-Yeon, but Audrey works if it’s easier for you.”

I pulled a face, “Audrey?”

“It’s my American name. It’s easier for people to pronounce and more convenient. All of us have one. Jimin’s is Christian.”

It was odd to think about. A name that was mine but not mine. Christian did not suit Jimin, but I could imagine growing up with a name that other people made fun of would be difficult. Maybe even impossible. Still, I did not feel comfortable calling the woman Audrey. She did not seem to particularly care for the name and I did not want to alienate myself from their circle for convenience's sake.

Namjoon’s mother had been similar to Na-Yeon, always afraid her culture and customs would make me uncomfortable or burdened, but I managed to calm her fears and reassure her after years of showing up to Chuseok with a smile on my face and food in my hands.

“I like Na-Yeon,” I finally replied, voice small. “It’s nice. I’m Y/N.”

“I like Y/N,” She echoed back to me, making me grin. “It’s nice.”

It was a long drive filled with K-pop, ballads, and sporadic conversation. Na-Yeon was very funny. She sang along to every song, dancing as she went, and calling on me to sing alone. Of course, I could not speak Korean very well and hummed the melodies instead, but it appeased her. When she did speak to me it was to ask me questions about myself.

“You’re that swimmer, aren’t you?” She asked, sparing me a look once we stopped at a redlight. “The one everyone’s trying to beat.”

I shook my head, “At one time, sure, but not anymore. I’m retired.”

Squinting her eyes at me, Na-Yeon pursed her lips.

“We used to watch you. Haru called you a mermaid.”

That was not too much of a shock. Jimin was swimming at that time. While I am a few years older than him, he would have been in middle school when I went to my first Olympics. He had told me he joined the swim team the year before. He said that watching Michael Phelps win 6 gold medals changed his life forever, and I could not help but agree with him. I had a huge amount of respect for my fellow Olympian and wished him well in his retirement. What shocked me the most was the mention of Jimin’s little brother. The dead brother.

“That’s sweet,” I did not know what to say. “I felt like a mermaid back then. I’m not that good anymore but I still like to swim sometimes.”

“You were in an accident,” It was not a question. “We saw it all over the news. Couldn’t believe all of those people harassing your family like that. So sorry for your loss.”

It was strange to talk about it again. I appreciated her keeping it vague. I had gone through a tremendous amount of change and growth since then, but it was nice to hear someone else validate how crazy the media frenzy was. I would not wish it upon anyone, and I was happy her family was allowed to grieve in peace. Neither Namjoon’s nor my own were allowed that luxury.

“Thank you,” I replied. “I’m sorry about Haru. I can’t imagine what your family went through.”

She smiled sadly, “I think you can.”

We did not talk much after that. The music still played, Na-Yeon still sang, and I still hummed, but we did not ask any more questions. Neither one of us wanted to bring up those hurt feelings. It was not until we turned down a long, empty road that I realized I had yet to ask her about her cancer.

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked.

“As good as I can,” She breathed. “My boys are both worriers so don’t take anything they say to heart. Bunch of hypochondriacs.”

And even though I laughed along with her, I knew that she was lying. They were not overreacting. She was sick, refusing treatments, and letting herself die. Anyone would be worried about her. Na-Yeon must dislike being taken care of. Well, I thought she would need to get used to it. I loved spoiling others.

“Eloise and the kids must be here,” She muttered to herself, pulling to a short driveway.

I did not know who Eloise was, but I would soon find that out. There were two cars parked out front. One was a simple, black Tahoe with a brightly colored steering wheel cover. The other was another vintage model. Painted a pretty light, muted green the truck was in pristine condition. It was an old Ford, the branding written across the tailgate, and a spare tire was bolted to the side. I asked Na-Yeon about it and she smiled happily.

“It’s Jimin’s,” I felt my heart rate increase. “He must’ve gotten back. Pretty thing, huh?”

I nodded, not really paying attention to the truck anymore. I was about to meet Jimin for the first time and my nerves were taking over. I knew how much his looks affected me over video chat and I was afraid I would not be able to control my facial expressions in person. I was resolute not to act on whatever attraction I may have felt toward him. My professionalism would not allow it. It did not mean, however, that I wanted to discuss it with Jimin at any point. It would make him uncomfortable and affect our working environment.

“Keep your bags in the car,” Na-Yeon told me. “Jimin’s going to take you over to meet the Andersons this afternoon.”

Walking up to the house, I was first struck by two things. The main one being the impressive teal it was painted and the other the loud talking and laughter coming from inside. It was odd. Thinking about my own parents I knew we had never been so happy. Mom had left when I was so young that I could hardly remember her, but I could recall the screaming and shouting. Dad was quiet after she left, spent most of his time locked away in the garage watching sports channels and leaving me to my own devices.

When I started swimming it helped for a time, but when I was old enough to leave, we spoke two or three times a year. After he met Danielle, his new wife, he stopped reaching out altogether. The accident had spooked him enough to warrant holiday and birthday calls for a time, but when he had another baby those slowly faded away. My half-sister and I had never met, Danielle did not like acknowledging that my dad had a child with another woman, and it seemed as though my dad was fine with how things turned out. I dealt with it.

The laughing echoed through the house, and I could hear loud foot-steps pitter pattering on the tile floors. The house smelled heavily of kimchi and lemons making my heart ache. Joon and I used to keep the windows open for days after his mother came over to make kimchi with him. We would squat on the floor for hours, laughing and talking. I missed those days more than I realized and I smiled involuntarily. For the first time in years, it felt like coming home.

“Sorry about the smell,” Na-Yeon whispered to me.

I shook my head and took my shoes off. “I love kimchi.”

She smiled brightly, her shoulders immediately relaxing. I was glad I had spent so much time with Namjoon and his family. Na-Yeon was someone who wanted to make others feel more comfortable even if it put her own peace at risk, but I would never ask her to change her routine for me. I loved learning about other people and her little house brought me more happiness than I thought possible.

“Sounds like we have company!”

A short, stocky man came into the living room. He was wearing a white polo shirt and khaki shorts; his hair was very short with silver streaks starting to take over the once very black strands. Catching sight of me he smiled.

“You must be Y/N,” The man said. “I’m James.”

His accent was much thicker than Na-Yeon’s and he introduced himself in his English name. He seemed much happier about it than his wife did, and I decided to go along with it. If he wanted me to call him James, then I would.

“Nice to meet you,” I replied, giving him a small bow.

His smile got even bigger somehow, and he returned the gesture. Na-Yeon chuckled beside me and started to speak to her husband in Korean. I picked up a few words and deduced that he was supposed to make sure I was going to get a nice lunch, and she wanted to know if he had taken care of it. He nodded and told her he had.

“Hungry?” James asked, Na-Yeon already disappearing into the house.

“Yes,” I quickly followed behind him.

“I made jjigae,” He frowned. “I can’t say it in English. Sorry.”

The house was small and warmly lit. Cream tile flooring, exposed wood beams, and white walls. Whatever loud conversation they had been having before I got here had died down, but the footsteps did not. I could hear children giggling somewhere in the little home and my curiosity peaked. I did not think they were Na-Yeon and James’s.

“I want to say it’s soup,” I kept my voice down not wanting to make him feel awkward. “Or stew, but I don’t think it matters that much.”

“What’s the difference?” James asked, just as amused as his wife at my vague knowledge of Korean words. “Soup and stew the same, no?”

I shrugged, “I have no clue. I’m a miserable cook.”

That made James laugh. We passed all of the rooms in the house, the kitchen, living room, and dining room all in the back of the house. As we passed the second room to the left, James said it had been Haru’s photography studio before he passed away, but they ended up converting it once Eloise gave birth. He did not say it out loud, but I had gathered the kids running around had been their youngest son’s. I did not know how old Haru had been when he died, but it was far too young to be having children. I was 31 and still felt ill equipped for the job.

It was a small kitchen with very simple and plain colors. The countertops were obviously laminate, but someone had taken the time to stick on a marble patterning to make it look nicer. Black appliances clashed with the chestnut cabinets. The tiles were no longer cream but hideous black and white checker printed that clashed heavily against the olive-green backsplash. While the rest of the house seemed to go through renovations at some point, I had a feeling the kitchen remained largely untouched.

Sitting at a small table on the other side of the room were Na-Yeon, Jimin, and a young woman. She was a cute girl, long brown hair and blue eyes, a large number of freckles across her cheeks. Her outfit was very modest, a pair of flowy cream pants and an equally flowy olive shirt. Her hair was tied back with a ribbon that matched her pants, and taking a closer look at her, she wore no makeup. A classic girl next door.

“Come sit,” Na-Yeon waved me over, her voice showing no room for argument. “Hyun-Soo is in charge of lunch.”

I was only briefly confused, the name completely unfamiliar, but by the time I sat down I was sure she was talking about James. It made sense for her to call him by his Korean name, and since I had shown no qualms about using their proper names, she saw no need to bring them up herself.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Jimin’s sweet voice reached me, and I smiled at the sound. “I hope getting here wasn’t too bad.”

He reached out to me, and I happily took his hand in my own. The skin was soft, perfectly smooth, and warm. It was over far too quickly but my displeasure was easily hidden. Andrea always complained about my poker face and how difficult it was to get past it. She said it was too good and thus refused to ever play poker with me again.

“It was nice,” I meant it. Na-Yeon was wonderful company.

“Hope the concert was nice.”

That made me and Eloise laugh. Na-Yeon smacked Jimin’s arm playfully, unable to keep the smile off her face, and the two began to bicker. Having them in the same room highlighted the differences I hadn't noticed before. Jimin’s nose was closer to his father’s, his eyes, too, and both of them had a slight lisp. Na-Yeon’s teeth were perfectly white and straight while one of Jimin’s front teeth was slightly chipped. Jimin had a dimple; his mother had none. Their English soon turned to digs in Korean and I could no longer follow. A few words here and there but nothing substantial. James joined them.

“Hi,” Eloise shyly greeted me, obviously used to being left out of conversations.

“Hey,” I replied lamely. “Eloise?”

She nodded, “Cam and Harper are playing but you’ll meet them in a bit.”

I nodded along and cemented the names into memory. It would look bad if I forgot them and kids had an ability to remember the worst things about a person. I did not want them to dislike me this quickly. Their giggles and feet were still going, and I suspected they had their own rooms on top of the little playroom in the hall.

“What do you do for work?” I asked Eloise, hoping my attempts at small talk were going over well. The other three were still chatting and I stopped paying attention long enough to be completely lost. Their dialect was different from Namjoon’s family, and I gave up entirely once they switched in and out of it with ease.

“I’m taking over Audrey’s restaurant,” Eloise, it seemed, preferred to use their American names. I wondered if she called Jimin ‘Christian.’ I really did not like the name for him. Not at all. “We used to be co-owners but she’s preparing for…” Eloise’s eyebrows scrunched together as she struggled to come up with a way to voice her thoughts, “her next steps. You know what I mean?”

I nodded. It was so easy to forget why I was really here when Na-Yeon was so full of life. She laughed and joked easily, sang off-key in the car without a care in the world, and called the shots at home. I had hardly noticed any sickness, but I knew better. I already figured out she hated being cared for and our trip in the car could have taken a lot of her. More than I realized.

Wanting to change the subject, I asked about the kids. Eloise was more than happy to talk about her little ones. Cameron and Harper were twins, names that she had originally been very against but when she lost Tony (Haru preferred his American name, Anthony, and all of his closest friends called him Tony), her opinions changed. Harper was the bigger, older baby, while her brother needed to stay in the NICU for a few days after birth due to his weight. They were joined at the hip and rarely seen without the other, something Eloise was happy about given she was usually too busy to spend as much time with them as she would have liked.

“How old are they?” I asked.

“Almost 4.”

Jimin was 19 then. I shuddered to think about how old Haru was, or Eloise for that matter when they became parents. When I was their age, I had been at the top of my game, though not what I would call my prime. If I had gotten pregnant my career would not have been over, but meeting Joon never would have happened. That was a travesty regardless of how things turned out. Trying to picture a life without him touching it made me physically ill and so I pushed any of those thoughts away.

Cam and Harper came out of their room when dinner was ready. They were both very cute, loud, and dressed identically. Harper’s hair was braided down her back while Cam’s was in a bowl cut, and I laughed every time the little girl made a big show about her sparkly red shoes.

James made a very spicy fish stew. It was delicious, so salty and hot, but I needed multiple glasses of water as I ate. He used red snapper adding a sweet, nutty flavor to the otherwise savory dish and I loved the zucchini. Like many Korean meals there was an array of side dishes surrounding the large pot of stew. Tonight was braised potatoes, steamed eggplant, a radish salad, and, of course, kimchi. A small bowl of rice was given to all of us to eat the stew with and the rice cooker was filled if any of us wanted more.

The Parks were a lovely family. Jimin was quiet and did not talk to me much but his mother more than made up for his silence. After getting all of the details about my coaching job she moved on to my life back in Colorado. We talked about my friends and what they were like, my house, and even my neighbors. Na-Yeon seemed particularly interested in Hoseok since Jimin had been such a fan of his growing up.

“You need to get her over to Calvin and Violet’s,” James told his son, scraping up the last bit of the soup out of his bowl. “They’re expecting her soon.”

Jimin looked at me, eyebrow raised, “Are you ready?”

I nodded, “We can leave whenever you’re done.”

He smiled and went back to eating his meal. Eloise left before I did, Cam was tired and Harper was bored without her playmate, so she decided it was time they went home. Cam liked an afternoon nap still, but his sister could run all day if you let her. Harper gave me a big bear hug before she left, something Na-Yeon said she did to everyone, and held her brother’s hand on their way out.

Na-Yeon eventually got up from the table, James followed after her, leaving Jimin and I alone. I did not know what to say, if he wanted me to say anything at all. He had hardly spoken to me since I arrived, and it left me feeling out of place. I was here for him, and he wanted nothing to do with me. He kept eating, the spice unfazed him, and getting bowl after bowl of rice.

Watching him walk around I was struck by how short he was. Most male swimmers were huge, well over 6 feet, and broadly built. Not Jimin. He could not be any taller than 5’9” with a thin, tiny waist. I could see defined muscles hidden underneath his white t-shirt, but nothing spectacular. Even his body was soft and elegant, moving gracefully and quietly, and absolutely none of it would give away that he was a world-class athlete. As if he could feel my eyes following him, Jimin’s eyes snapped to meet my own.

“Sorry,” He pulled his spoon from his mouth. “I’m sure you’d like to leave and here I am gorging myself.”

I stopped him before he could stand, “No, no. I’m fine. I was just thinking about your workout routine.”

The lie felt heavy on my tongue, but I could hear how natural it sounded. He sat back down and took another bite of his food. His workout regime was standard for most swimmers. Pull-ups, bench, squat, lunge, power cleans, power cleans to overhead press. After that he was in the pool for a few hours before going about his day. He usually added in another swim at the end of the day, but he had recently given it up to have dinner with his family.

“What are you doing for your core?” I asked.

“I stick to pull ups, crunches, thrusts, and back extensions.”

I nodded, frowning, gears in my head turning. I have always believed the core was the most important part of swimming. Arms as well, but I have seen many overwork those muscles and lose from weak turns. Hoseok used to joke about my performance and how I only won because of my turns. I would make sure he would be able to see a little bit of me in Jimin’s swimming. There was a reason I won gold.

“You don’t look very impressed.”

I chuckled, “Just thinking. You need more variety than that.”

“Gym snob, are we?” His mouth stretched into a playful smirk, and I could not help but smile back. “You must be an animal in there.”

“I don’t work out like I used to,” I admitted, averting my eyes. “Most of my exercises are yoga and running now. I swim twice a week.”

I was hoping to get back in the pool more often, but I was not sure I was ready for the disappointment that would follow. My sessions with Emery were simple, exercise-focused, and had little to no expectations behind them. They were there to help me gain strength and confidence in myself. Saturdays were spent with Hoseok doing laps around the pool and shooting the shit. It was just enough to get your heart pumping but never went past that.

Failing was daunting. I could not remember a time before swimming consumed my life. My dad always said I was afraid of the water; it was the biggest reason he placed me in lessons. He did not have the time (nor patience) to teach me himself, and after I saw younger children getting into the pool I was determined to act like a “big girl.” I was only three at the time, so the memory was lost to time, but I went every week after that. It gave my dad a break and I had friends for the first time. I learned later that mom had left for a few months and dad was drinking again, but at the time all I knew was that I liked swimming, and I was good at it.

It was frightening to believe that all of the time, energy, and hard work went to waste. 30 seconds. That was all it took to destroy my life. 30 seconds and all of my joy, love, and happiness was gone. My career, my health, and my Joon. I hated the man who hit us. Hated the way his family cried for me. For him. For Joon. Squeeze my hands into fists, I was glad they were hidden underneath the table. Getting in the water and realizing it was truly over would only make that hatred worsen, and my therapist told me I needed to let go of my anger.

“Violet and Calvin are excited to meet you,” I did not know if Jimin could see something in his face, perhaps my eyes, but he changed the subject. The look on his face made me feel exposed. “We should get going.”

No one was around when I left so I did not get to say goodbye, but Jimin yelled that we were leaving. We did not get a response and I wondered if his mother had actually gone to do laundry or take a nap. She looked tired when she left the table. Jimin told me to get into the truck and laughed when I said I could grab my own bags.

“Your hip might give out, granny.”

Off guard, a strange, loud noise came out of my mouth. He had yet to start up our playful banter and my heart soared. Jimin was a very cheeky man, his tongue sharp, and with a quick snapback time, he was difficult to take down. Our text exchanges were always brief and about work, but he managed to squeeze in at least one teasing comment about my age. He said calling him ‘kiddo’ is what started the whole thing.

“Just get in the truck,” He sighed melodramatically, rolling his eyes.

Huffing, I went across the lawn and got into the unlocked truck on the curb. The interior was just as refurbished as the exterior. The bench was covered in a dark green vinyl, and I could tell the rubber carpet mats were new. It smelled much better in Jimin’s truck. Less like cigarettes and more like the cologne he wore. It was floral, powdery, but with a subtle spice that made it bitter-sweet. It had a nice scent. It suited a man like Jimin whose own spice was buried underneath his pretty visage.

Watching him jog across the yard, I suppressed a sigh. It was easier to ignore how pretty he was when we were around other people. Now it felt impossible. His clothes stuck to him like a second skin, the black leather pants (which I had only just noticed were leather) making his thighs bulge and accentuating his backside. He was gorgeous and I felt sorry that I would have to keep it to myself. Jimin deserved to be told things like that, but it was not my place to do so. Not as a coach, trainer, or otherwise.

He tossed my things into the cab of the truck as if they weighed nothing. Arms lifted; his shirt rose revealing a delicious patch of skin. Watching him in the rearview mirror, I swallowed audibly. A thin, almost nonexistent patch of hair touched his belly button. Forcing myself to look away, I took a few deep breaths.

This trip was going to be long. Very, very long.

The drive down the road was quiet. Jimin’s radio was out, and he needed to replace it, so music was not an option, and he did not seem to want to fill the space between us. Neither did I. My growing bashfulness around him was distracting and strange. I had always been surrounded by attractive men, all of my friends back home were very good looking, but none affected me in the same way Jimin had. Perhaps it was due to my relationship with Namjoon that made all of the other men pale in comparison, but I could never know for sure. Either way, it was incredibly frustrating.

We drove for less than ten minutes. Calvin and Violet were the elderly couple renting out the small house in their backyard. Jimin had spoken to them for me, and they were all too willing to help me out. Violet nearly cried when I told her I was going to pay all of my rent up front, and actually did when I told her that I would help her fix up some things around the house while I was in town. The Andersons seemed like lovely people, and I was happy to know them.

Pulling up to the house I smiled. It was exactly how I imagined it would be. The Anderson house was a simple, All-American home with a front porch. The window trimming was black, house white, and a beautiful garden wrapped around the front at either side. The roof and front door were the same color green as Jimin’s truck, and it helped the otherwise unnoteworthy home feel more inviting. Sitting on the porch swing was Violet, her silver hair braided down her shoulder.

“Before we get out,” Jimin mumbled, waving at Violet through my window. The old woman waved back, a large smile on her face making her look twenty years younger. “The Andersons are great people, but Calvin’s starting to forget stuff. Violet won’t admit it but it’s getting hard on her to deal with him. He can become very angry so keep an ear out. Last time he had an episode, Violet called my dad crying. She’s not handling it well.”

I frowned, my heart hurting, “Sure thing. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

“Thanks.”

He was out of the car a few seconds later, voice so sweet and bubbly you would have never guessed what we had been talking about. Staring after him, my eyes squinted. I would have to keep my eye on him. Jimin was a great actor.

Getting out of the truck, I took out my bags and slung my duffle on my back. Jimin was quick to take my suitcase away once he caught me in the corner of his eye. Violet seemed positively giddy about it and made a few inappropriate comments about Jimin needing to settle down.

“I’m just saying,” She laughed when Jimin scoffed, face flushing the prettiest shade of pink. “You’re going to make a young woman very happy. Might as well get started.”

It was strange to think about my trainee seeing someone. He had made it very clear in his interviews over the years that his dating life was on hold until he was finished swimming. He did not want the added distraction and his family life was far too chaotic for him to focus on someone. This did not seem to deter Violet and her comments about his love life, or lack thereof, continued until we got inside of the house.

“Well,” Violet acknowledged me for the first time since I arrived, “This is the main house. It’s not much but it’ll work. Christian, take her stuff out back.”

I cringed. It really did not suit Jimin at all, but he seemed completely unfazed. Violet used his names interchangeably, sometimes calling him Jimin and other times Christian, but his English name rolled off her tongue more often than not. I wondered why she even bothered calling him Jimin at all. He did not seem to care either way.

Looking around the little house, I was pleasantly surprised by how clean it all was. The floors were carpeted and the walls a bright white, family photos hung up alongside landscape paintings. During my two-hour phone call with Violet, the woman talked my ear off, she bragged about Calvin’s art. I had to admit they were all very beautiful and I wanted to know where he had found all of the slices of heaven he captured. I hoped the places themselves were more colorful than he depicted. The muted washes of color made them blend in with the rest of the boring house even with how nice they were.

The furniture was just as boring as the house itself. All of it was cream or beige, nothing of importance really stuck out to me, and I was disappointed. All I could figure out about the couple was one was an artist and they had children and grandchildren they loved displaying. Even the smell of the house lacked character. No air freshener, no food, and no perfumes. Nothing to give away that people actually lived here. The Anderson home was a foil to the Park’s in every way.

“Come on out back,” Violet was already across the house, standing in front of a door beside the kitchen. “This is the utility room. You can do your laundry here.”

Following behind her, I felt even more depressed looking at her kitchen. It was nice, new appliances and a pretty coffee station on the corner closest to the utility room door, but it was bland. All white cabinets, white marble countertops, and stainless steel everything. Even the curtains hanging around the windows above the sink were dreadfully plain.

The utility room, like everything else, was plain. The washer and dryer were white, the floor concrete, and the shelving barebones. The detergent was the most colorful thing I saw since arriving. Somehow even this room smelled like absolutely nothing. Directly across from the door we entered was the backdoor and Violet told me where they would hide a key for me to be able to get inside.

“Ready to see it?” She asked, smiling politely.

I nodded, “Thanks again for renting it out to me.”

She chuckled, “No thanks needed. You were paying, that was enough for me to say yes.”

The back porch was tiny, just barely big enough for the both of us to stand on. There was a small vegetable garden along the side of the house, but it was empty. Noticing my wandering eyes, Violet told me all about the turnips and gourds she had been planting this season. She had watermelon and tomatoes in the summer, but they were long gone. The rest of the yard was taken up by my home for the next few months.

It was small, but that was to be expected. What disappointed me, though I should have not been very surprised, was how white it was. The windows were a dark gray, a small porch was set up with enough room for one of those hanging egg chairs, and two built-in planters. They were empty and Violet told me I was welcome to give gardening a chance if I was interested. She was planning on growing some flowers eventually, but she was not sure what she wanted.

The front door was open, Jimin already inside, and Violet and I went in. There was a small entryway, two doors leading to rooms I would explore later, and a small shoe rack. I took mine off and put them up. Violet watched me and took hers off as well.

“Audrey told me I should put one in here,” I was learning that Violet enjoyed meaningless small talk. “Glad I did. Don’t think Christian took his shoes off, though.”

I shrugged, “No biggie. I was going to clean up around here anyway.”

The house opened up to my right and I was happy with the space. I had a fully functional kitchen and enough space for my coffee cabinet along the wall. The living room would be able to fit a small loveseat, television, and coffee table. It was white and plain, but I was very happy with the floors. Whoever picked out the dark vinyl flooring must have had me in mind. I would go crazy if this place was as sterile as the Andersons’.

“I put your stuff in your room.”

Turning I grinned at Jimin. It was sweet of him to help me out. I was going to pick up my car tomorrow morning and he had volunteered to drive me. We would be starting our training next week so I could have some time to settle in. All of my furniture was arriving either tomorrow or the day after and my hands would be full. I was counting on Jimin and his friends to help me unpack. His manager was going to make himself known as well, but would not be staying for long. Apparently, according to Jimin, Sejin was not one to get his hands dirty.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll let you get settled in,” Violet was already scratching to leave, and I wondered why. She had been very hospitable over the phone. “You’re welcome to join us for dinner. Calvin is going to bring the air mattress out here tonight, so you have someplace to sleep.”

With a kiss on Jimin’s cheek, Violet slipped on her flats and left. Alone with Jimin again, I found it hard to speak. We were much better over text. Looking just as lost as I was, Jimin scratched the back of his neck and looked down.

“My, uh, my mom offered you her couch if you want it,” He stuttered, his face turning red. “Or, uh, um, you can take the spare room at my place,” He let out a huge gust of wind. “It’s a bit of a drive but I do have the space.”

Flustered, I quickly declined, “Thanks but I’ll be fine here.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jimin shook his head, the redness spreading down his neck. “For sure. Totally.”

The air was awkward now and I could not figure out how to fix it. Jimin was the one always breaking the ice between us, and now that he was acting like this I was stranded at sea. Even when he warned me he was more reserved in person I had not expected this. He was so quiet and skittish. How was I supposed to work with him if I could not get the courage to speak?

“Thanks for the offer,” I cleared my throat. “Are you staying for dinner?”

He shook his head, “I promised Jungkook we’d go out tonight. Any other time I’d say yes.”

I asked my disappointment. The thought of spending time with Violet and Calvin alone made me deeply uncomfortable. Their house felt like a hospital room and her weird behavior was unsettling. I could only hope Calvin was nicer but from what Jimin said he was a ticking time bomb. It would be nice to have someone act as a buffer.

“Why was she acting so strangely?” I asked, hoping Jimin had picked up on it as well. “It was like a totally different person.”

He frowned, “I think she’s just on edge since Calvin went to the doctor’s today. Their daughter took him, and she hasn’t heard anything. She’s a sweet woman, don’t worry.”

Now I felt like an asshole.

“That’s understandable,” I murmured. “Do you think she’ll be upset if I order food for all of us? If she’s stressed out, I don’t want her feeling like she has to cook for me.”

Jimin smiled, “She would appreciate it. I’ll go talk to her, how does that sound?”

I nodded, grateful. “That would be nice. The house gives me the creeps.”

That made him laugh, “What? Why?”

I shrugged, giggling with him.

“Feels like a funeral home or something. I hate the minimalist aesthetic.”

Jimin bit his lip, “You’d probably hate my place, too, then.”

I chuckled. It was easy to imagine Jimin inside of a huge modern house, dark wood and barely anything in it. He was a single man, busy, and spent so much time at his parent’s house it did not matter what he had inside of his own place. Not wanting to make him self conscious, I bit my tongue.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He cocked his head to the side, and I laughed.

“Fine,” I conceded. “I would probably dislike it, but I don’t think it looks like a white padded cell.”

I may have been exaggerating a bit, but it was not that far off from how the Anderson home looked to me. I hoped by asking me to help fix up a few things, Violet meant giving the house a much-needed makeover. If I was lucky, I might be able to convince her to get a few throw pillows to break up the monotony.

“Jeez,” Jimin laughed. “Harsh critic.”

“Well, is it?” I joked, glad to have found our footing again.

“No,” He shook his head in thought. “It’s mostly gray and black, but still just as empty. Probably emptier, honestly. I don’t have as many pictures as Violet does.”

Smirking, he snapped his fingers, “My trophy room is pretty colorful. I have a lot of pictures and shit in there.”

That made me smile. I was not bringing any of my memorabilia here, but it was nice to hear him sound so proud of himself. I kept most of my competition stuff in my basement, a large China cabinet displaying all of my awards. My favorite had to be the small, cheaply made trophy sat at the very top. It was beside my Olympic medals, worn and dull beside the beautiful necklaces, but I loved it all the same.

It was the first trophy I ever won. I was seven and my dad convinced me to sign up for a swimming competition my swim class was hosting. He promised to come. I practiced a lot preparing for it and made use of the new above ground pool my dad had bought. I won the race. My own joy and happiness made me forget that he never showed up until it was time to go home. I had to wait with my coach for two hours, and by the end of it she felt so bad for me she took me out for ice cream. Dad never apologized, I don’t even think he acknowledged that I won at all, and I never tried to bring it up again. Still, I loved that stupid thing. It was the reason I wanted to compete. That little pocket of happiness between winning and realizing that no one cared was precious to me and I held onto it.

“I need to get going,” Jimin sighed, reaching into his back pocket and snapping me out of my thoughts. “Jungkook’s blowing up my phone. Just got broken up with and needs a drinking buddy.”

I sucked in air through my teeth, “Well, your services are needed. Don’t let me hold you up.”

Jimin smiled at me, “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

I nodded, “See you.”

He lingered in the entryway for a moment more before shaking out of whatever trance he had been in. Slipping his converse back on, Jimin waved at me before walking outside. His face was buried in his phone, so he never saw me wave back. He shut the door, the sound echoing in the empty house, and I was once again left alone.

Violet came out a few minutes later to discuss take out until we finally landed on pizza. She never said thank you, but her offer to give the tip since I was paying was more than enough. Then later when a few of my boxes came in early she happily carried them to me. She even helped me put everything away. When Calvin came home, she led me back inside and said with so much affection it made my heart melt.

"Calvin, this is Y/N. Sweetest woman I ever did meet. Bought us dinner."

Calvin reminded me of Namjoon in a way. His soft eyes and gentle voice. He took my hand when I introduced myself, his hands cold and soft. Wrinkles and sunspots went up the length of his arms.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," He said.

"Likewise," I replied.

We ate in silence, the three of us watching Jeopardy on the sofa. Even though I had been nervous about eating inside, Calvin's presence warmed the place up. Once a prison now felt like a poorly decorated home. A home filled with love.

As I watched them together, Calvin reaching out for Violet's hand and her giving it to him without question, I felt myself getting choked up. There had been a time I had that. Joon would be on the floor, book in his lap, while my hands were in his hair as I studied my training tapes.

I left early that night. I blew up the mattress, the house quiet, before sending out a few texts to my friends to let them know I was getting on alright. After that, I put on nature sounds to help me drift off to sleep. I had not felt this lonely in a very long time.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio

350 notes · View notes

echo-and-dust · 1 month

Text

now that my brain has somewhat unscrambled itself i have gotten most of my thoughts in order about season 3.

and the first thing i will say is: i loved it.

while it was gutwrenching and polarizing in some ways and i feel that i am entitled to financial compensation for what its done to my mental health, i loved this season for pretty much almost everything it did.

i cannot fault people for having issues with much of the characterization and plot choices made—that’s been the trend during the entire run of the show after all, and imo it’s a testament to the phenomenal way it generates nuance—but i wanted to share my feelings on the recurring opinions i’ve seen about some of these things.

first, i do not blame simon at all for the things he said in the final scene. he’s a child who has been receiving endless verbal and physical harassment on top of all the trauma he is still trying to heal from. he just watched his boyfriend lash out in anger and hurt—while not at him, but it must’ve been a close resemblance of how he might’ve seen micke act. at least, that's what i thought, though i've seen others say otherwise.

and yes, wille is not micke, but just because wille’s source of outbursts is different from micke’s doesn’t mean simon is wrong in drawing similarities. at least he's finally getting a true glimpse into what wille has had to deal with. i've honestly grown to like that they didn't have simon immediately comfort him though; wille's mental illness is not his fault, but it is his responsibility, and instead of pushing a message of unhealthy co-dependence, the show has simon be honest: "but i see that everything hurts you and that hurts me too." and to me, that's so important.

plus, it doesn't make their love any less genuine. wille is a victim of the circumstances; he is not evil, and he is not undeserving of simon. he just has a lot of growing and healing to do, a lot of unlearning and exposure therapy because he's still blinded by privilege even when he tries not to be.

speaking of, i have so many thoughts about wille that i feel like i need to save for its own separate post, but to sum them up: i'll still defend him with my life, and he needs to get the fuck away from that institution.

also, the fact that the responsibility of controlling simon's media decisions was placed solely on wille confused me at first like—why wouldn't they get a professional to give him proper media training?

then i realized, this could be the royal court's way of sabotaging their relationship. they knew that making wille the one to tell simon what he can and cannot say or post would create distance and animosity between them. despite the ramifications of simon's behavior on social media, it seems they still thought it best to have his boyfriend be the one to try to mold him into the system. because they knew that's how they could get rid of him. in conclusion, fuck the royal court (we been knew but still).

one of the standouts this season was their transparency regarding the show's politics. it not only works well with the show's arc (wilmon is public, everything's out in the open now and there's nothing to hide), but also it felt necessary at a time where censorship has been rapidly gaining momentum. it felt so refreshing for these characters to talk so openly about racial discrimination and queerphobia and class disparities, forcing both character and viewer to acknowledge that they exist and you should feel uncomfortable about it.

i don't think i can add much more to what was already said about it—most of the fandom is more eloquent and observant than i am anyway—i just wanted to reinforce how important this season is to myself and the story even with how controversial it is to fans right now. a lot of people may disagree with me and that's fine.

#young royals #wilmon #simon eriksson #prince wilhelm #yr spoilers #yr s3 spoilers #ad speaks #i don't know how they're going to tie everything together in under an hour but so far this season is strong enough for me to like it despit #what ending we receive #and i know i'm in the minority in that sense but i've been spending most of the hiatus trying to keep myself from setting expecations #so i haven't really been let down too much #i really don't want to let this show go though :'(#forever my heart #yr season 3 #young royals season 3

162 notes · View notes

dromaeocore · 10 months

Text

For those of you who like the idea of peer respites, I just want to say these are not the only alternatives to the mainstream psych system :] Here's a big ol' list, and many/most of them are peer-run. I live in America, so a lot of this is US-based, but I've tried to make it as internationally accessible as possible!

I'll start with the live-in options. So ya'll already know about peer respites, if you read my latest post about it. There's a few more similar things out there.

Soteria Houses - More long-term (months+) community homes for folks with lived experience of psychosis/similar extreme states, with peer support, that focus on a humane and person-centered approach. Much more freedom & agency than your traditional group home.

Hurdalsjøen Recovery Center - a "medication-free" (aka medication-optional) psychiatric hospital in Norway. Allows patients to choose whether to stay on or taper/remain off psychiatric drugs. Focused on healthy eating, exercise, and recreational therapy options.

Bethel House - Similar to Soteria Houses, a homelike environment in Japan for people with schizophrenia, etc. that focuses on social reintegration.

Organizations, clubs, groups, etc:

Students With Psychosis - A peer support community with programming for students with psychosis

International Map of Hearing Voices/Intervoice networks - Non=pathological support groups for people who hear voices, see visions, etc. US directory, UK directory.

Clubhouse International - Gives people with mental illness opportunities for friendship, employment, housing, educational, and medical services all in one place. Founded by a group of friends who survived a psychiatric hospital together.

Project LETS - A radical approach to peer support and healing that has a disability justice centered approach, giving people with lived experience a voice and focusing on mutual aid. They provide peer mental health advocates, self-harm prevention, and more.

The Mad Society of Canada: A grassroots community of practice that brings together folks who want to provide non-coercive, ethical, survivor-informed mental health services/policy.

Power to the Plurals: Resources and events for people who identify as plural/multiple/systems.

The Wildflower Alliance: Grassroots peer support, training, and advocacy community based in Massachusetts.

Alternatives To Suicide (Alt2Su): Peer support groups that allow people to talk about suicidal thoughts without fear of being committed to the hospital, etc

Trainings:

Intentional Peer Support = Trauma-informed peer support training

Emotional CPR - Trauma-informed mental health support training program for the layperson

Hearing Voices Curriculum: Targeted towards mental health professionals to better understand the experience of hearing voices. Warning: It's expensive!

Cities that have a particularly awesome way of dealing with folks in crisis/with mental illness/etc:

Geel - a farming community where residents welcome people suffering with severe mental illness/distress into their homes and live with them, share work, etc (Edit: apparently Geel is a small city with like 40,000 people and not a farming community lol, I was misinformed. Thanks to @roxbot for the correction!)

Trieste - a city with a community centered system of care that integrates housing and peer support

Warmlines (generally run by peers) and Crisis Lines that don't call the cops: (Most of these are taken from this post by trans-axolotl on Crisis Lines)

Trans Lifeline: 877-565-8860, 24/7

BlackLine: 1 (800) 604-5841, has texting options

The Plural Warmline (No number, check the site)

THRIVE: text message line at 313-662-8209, 24/7

Promise Resource Network: (833) 390-7728, 24/7

Project Return Peer Support Network: (888) 448-9777 English or (888) 448-4055 Spanish, hours are Monday through Friday 2:30 PM to 10:00 PM PST and Saturday and Sunday 10:00 AM to 6:00 PM PST

Wildflower Alliance Peer Support Line: 888-407-4515, hours are 7pm to 9pm EST Monday through Thursday and 7pm-10pm EST Friday through Sunday

Key Consumer Organization: 800-933-5397, hours are 8am - 4:30pm EST, Monday - Friday.

MBRLC Peer Support Line: 877-733-7563, hours are 4 pm-7:45 pm EST every day.

US Warmline Directory (unlikely to call cops, but check with the individual line first)

Misc:

CommonGround software - A software developed by Dr. Pat Deegan (an individual who was diagnosed with schizophrenia) that allows clients to communicate their needs to their doctors more efficiently to support shared-decision making with medication.

Open Dialogue- An psychosocial approach to psychiatric services that focuses shared decision-making and dialogue between client, providers, and family (if the client wants family involved), and often more minimal use of medication.

Integrative Psychiatry - A holistic form of psychiatry that focuses on nutrition, exercise, therapy, and psychosocial factors, where medication is just an aspect of treatment. US database of integrative psychiatrists here.

I will also give a somewhat honorable mention to Mobile Crisis Teams. They are a fairly new alternative to the usual "call the cops on your local mentally ill person". They are composed of nurses, therapists, social workers, occasionally peer support workers, etc. They hook the individual up with support/resources - which can often mean forced hospitalization/forced treatment FYI - but it is a step up from being killed by cops. Look up "[city] Mobile Crisis Team" to find out if there is one in your city.

A note: Something being on this list =/= it is perfect, just that it is an alternative to what we've got. So don't come at me, lmao. Feel free to add on if you know of anything else!

#long post #VERY long post lol #mental health #psychiatry #psych critical #psychiatry critical #psych wards #mental illness #neurodivergency #police brutality #antipsych #antipsychiatry #anti psychiatry #peer support #oh i'm gonna write a book on all this stuff btw uwu #WHAT ELSE CAN I TAG THIS WITH SO IT SHOWS UP FOR PPL???

698 notes · View notes

onlyhereforthestories · 1 year

Text

Some Days Are Just Harder Than Others (Mapi Leon x Reader)

This contains some details of mental health issues and insecurities so if that might trigger you or cause you harm please don't read this fic. That being said I really did enjoy writing this and Mapi!

You woke up alone this morning which was unusual these days. Although you and Mapi hadn’t officially moved in together you spent most nights at her place, you had also almost taken over half her wardrobe by this point and the new sofas decorating the living space was a joint choice of the both of you together. But last night after training you had been feeling a little down and decided that you wanted to be alone so made up an excuse to Mapi about an early appointment and not wanting to wake her up that early.

You didn’t like the fact that you felt like you lied to the older woman but you knew that of you told her you weren’t feeling your best mentally she wouldn’t feel right leaving you on your own. She knows you incredibly well at this point and that meant that she knows that when you get into your head you aren’t very nice to yourself. And she isn’t wrong because that’s what is happening now.

Your first thought when you woke up was Mapi, it always is but this time the nice thought of your lover was tainted by the insecurities that your mind brought up. Your aren’t worthy of her, she’s too good for you and there’s someone better for her out there were swirling round your head before you could even make it out of bed.

You tried to ignore it as you hopped into the shower but it wasn’t going so well and when you got out you checked your phone to see a message from the one person you wanted to talk to but was the central point of your current insecurities. Good morning, I’ve gone to get coffee with Ingrid and Frida this morning so I will see you at training. This was a very normal text from Mapi but you couldn’t help but overthink it. Your normal nickname was missing and she hadn’t said anything about your not actually real meeting.

You really hated the way your mind worked on days like this, it was your worst enemy because it made you think such stupid and wrong things that weren’t fair on others. Mapi is wonderful she is kind and sweet and cares so much. So your current thought process about maybe she doesn’t love you wasn’t fair or right, it was winding you up and making your head worst because you were starting to hate yourself even more.

After sitting in your towel for way too long, you got up to get your training gear on. You pulled on your sports bra and made sure to keep your back to the mirror, that wasn’t something else you needed on your mind today. Next were your knickers and shorts before your top and that’s when you turned to face the full length mirror on your wall. It turned out it didn’t matter that you didn’t look before you pulled the top over your torso because as soon as you looked at yourself you felt uncomfortable. You hated the way you looked, your stomach wasn’t as flat as it could have been, your arms were small and weak and your legs were skinny. It didn’t matter that you were a professional athlete or that you were at peak physical fitness no, to you, your body was ugly and not right.

Deciding that you needed a little bit of extra padding today you pulled out an older larger ¼ zip and pulled that over your head, as well as putting joggers on instead of the shorts you first wore, so you could not think about your horrible legs. Deciding that today wasn’t the day for breakfast you grabbed a banana on your way out the door.

You arrived at training early, so early that you were the only one in the changing room. This was exactly what you wanted, this meant you could get your cleats on and be out of the changing room without the girls questioning your choice of clothing on this warm spring day. Avoiding the bathroom mirrors after going for your pretraining wee, you passed back through the training rooms and were shocked to see Alexia there getting ready.

Your captain was one of your closest friends and you knew that other than Mapi, she was the only person that would see through your current shield something you really weren’t ready to face yet. You said a quick hi and then made your way outside confusing the woman you left behind. Deciding that she knew you well enough and that if you didn’t stay and chat with her like you normally would that you needed some space, she mentally stored it to mention to your girlfriend when she arrived.

You had been kicking a ball around for the 30 minutes before training started, you could feel the slight sweat already starting to drip down your back. You had thought about taking your jumper off multiple times but the demons in your head just pop back up and stop you from carrying the task out. You drank a load of water as the rest of the team joined you for the warm up, as you were drinking you felt the pressure of a hand on your back which caused you to jump a little and move away.

You turned to see Mapi’s slightly hurt expression which made you feel even worse about yourself, you didn’t want to hurt her. Trying to make it up you stepped into her space and pressed a kiss you her cheek in greeting. “Hola hermosa, how was coffee?” You interlocked your fingers with hers and looked up at her waiting to hear about her morning.

“It was good bebe, but why have you got layers on. It’s really warm out you are going to give yourself heat stroke.” As she spoke she used her free hand to tug at the bottom of your jumper. You didn’t know what to say and open and closed your mouth a few times, luckily for you the trainers called you all for warm ups so you ran off after a squeeze to the dyed blondes hand.

Training was exhausting, you could feel the heat coursing through your body and you wanted nothing more than to take all your clothes off and jump in a cold shower. The only problem with that was taking your clothes off right now still wasn’t something you really wanted to do. You stayed out on the pitch as the rest of the girls headed for the changing rooms, you really didn’t know how you were going to explain not showering and changing out of your many layers.

You decided that free kick practice would give you enough time to allow for them all to get done in the shower and head out. What you didn’t think about in your mental planning of avoiding the team was your very loving girlfriend who noticed your missing presence immediately. She made eye contact with Alexia as the captain entered the room last giving her a questioning look about your missing whereabouts, and got a shake of her head in the direction of the field indicating your location.

Mapi was quick to make her way back to find you, she was starting to understand what was going on here. The layers, the stand offish behaviour, the avoidance of the changing room pre and post training, it all lead to the same thing. You were not feeling good about yourself and she’s kicking herself a little that she hasn’t been there to help even though she knows you would hate it if you stopped her everyday life.

Taking a moment to watch you score free kick after free kick and think about how she was going to approach you about this today. You had different ways of thinking in times like these and it was sometimes hard for her to know what to do. She took note of your incessant tugging at your sleeves and your neckline of your ¼ zip, you were uncomfortable and she needed to get you away from here.

With a plan in mind she headed back into the changing room quickly to grab both of your stuff and let Alexia know that she was going to get you out of there without coming in. Grabbing your bag, her own and the car keys she said goodbye to everyone and went to sweep you away.

She approached slowly and cautiously, she didn’t want to scare you being as you were now just sat on a ball at the halfway line. She placed a hand on your shoulder which broke you out of your current thought process and caused you to look up at her. She smiled down at you which you quickly returned before she held out her hand for you to take. Without hesitation you took it but when she pulled you up and started a route to the side exit of the training facilities you gave her a questioning look.

“Trust me cariño, let’s go home.” You just nodded and followed, you would always follow her.

By the time you got home you were incredibly uncomfortable, the heat in the car from the sun outside and your raised body temperature causing you to overheat even more. Mapi had been blasting the air conditioning but it wasn’t really helping you currently, but you did take notice and squeeze her leg in a silent thank you.

After pulling up Mapi was out quick enough to open your door for you after grabbing your bags from the back of the car. She took your hand once again providing you with that small comfort you really needed right now even though you hadn’t told her, she just knew. She dragged you through the door and straight to your room, putting your stuff down before pulling you through to the bathroom.

“I think I know what has happened today and so I know right now you aren’t feeling great about yourself. What I want to make sure you know is that you are amazing, im so proud of you for getting through the day in the way you needed for yourself. But I don’t want you to think poorly of yourself if we can stop that, you are so incredibly pretty, everything about you is right and good because it’s you. I love every part of you.” She had her hand under your chin to make sure you were looking at her and listening. You could see the sincerity in her gaze and it made the voices in your head quieten a little bit, enough to try and take in what she was telling you.

“You need to get out of these layers, you are overheating and I am a little worried about your physical health too right now. It’s up to you if you want me to stay or go but I would like you to have a cool shower.” You took a moment to think about what you wanted right now, although the voices had quietened they were still there and you could hear them telling you that if you let Mapi stay she would be disgusted.

The both of you stood there for a little bit as you decided what you wanted, Mapi kept your hands in her and rubbed soothing circles on the tops of them with her thumb, giving you the thinking time. As she watched you process, she decided to try slowly encouraging you, she did this by letting go of one of your hands and sliding your 1/4 zip down and see your reaction.

When you didn’t pull away she slid her hand down to your hip and settled it just under the jumper, she waited there for a moment while your eyes closed and you fought the bad thoughts that made themselves louder. When you opened your eyes again and made eye contact with her she could see the determination in your eyes so she slowly grasped the bottom of the pull over and brought it up. She took her time and studied your face to make sure that she could stop at the first sign of panic or discomfort, but that never came.

She placed a small delicate kiss on the end of your nose just before your head disappeared into the fabric. Once the jumper was off she was quick to discard it and grab your hands again to keep you grounded, something that made your heart swell and you provide another squeeze of her fingers.

Next she tugged the drawstrings of your joggers to loosen the waist and once again slid her hands between the fabric of your clothes and this time your skin. She paused when she heard your sharp intake of breath in the quiet of the room, taking a moment to just rub her thumb over your hip where it was resting. “Take your time pretty lady, I’m right here. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

You took a few steadying breaths as you held onto her arms and waited for the way of negative emotions to pass slightly, when they did you nodded at the woman holding you to continue. You closed your eyes again as Mapi pulled down the item of clothing and knelt in front of you to help your socked covered feet out before taking those off too. When she righted herself to your height she cupped your cheek and brushed her thumb under your eyes until you opened them once more.

“You ready cariño?” You knew this was the hardest step for you and she did too. Your top coming off exposed your torso, a torso that right now you hated with everything in you.

“Please don’t let me go or leave.” Your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper but in the quiet of the house you shared Mapi heard every heart breaking syllable. She made sure to not let her sadness over what you just said show just in case it could be read the wrong way by your mind and instead pulled you into her body. You head tucked itself straight into your favourite spot her neck and your arms hung round her waist as she held you together.

“I am never leaving, I promise you those thoughts right now are just that. I’m right here.” She held you close and continued to whisper those sweet words into your ear until you squeezed her hips and pulled back slightly.

“I’m ready.” The determination in your voice pleased not only Mapi but yourself, it made you feel stronger and more capable of getting through this. You knew that without Mapi you wouldn’t have gotten to this point so quickly but you were pretty sure you would have eventually. Life however is so much better when she’s in it and is there to make these bad days easier to handle.

Mapi made quick work of your top and held your hands when she noticed them going to cross over your front. She placed kiss after kiss along your arms, over your shoulder, down your collarbone and over the other side ending on the opposite hand. There was nothing intimate to these kisses, they were just there to show you how loved your body was by her. Without saying a word, she pressed a kiss to your head and then your chest right over your heart, her way of telling you she loved your mind, body and soul. When she looked back at your eyes she was happy to find some of the troubles and fears she saw swirling in them earlier had gone. Staring back at her was her girl, not that you ever weren’t but now the look you gave her was more content.

“Will you shower with me?” Mapi was a little taken back by this, you normally needed a bit of thinking space after an episode like this but she wasn’t going to turn down a shared shower with you any day.

“Of course, you know I can’t resist a joint shower session.” The wink she sent you as she stripped off her training gear wasn’t suggestive, now wasn’t the time for that and you both knew it. It was a wink that brought the desired reaction from you, a small cute giggle that expressed that you were in fact feeling better and Mapi couldn’t be happier about that.

“Thank you. You always know how to make me feel better.” As you said this you pulled the love of your life closer to you and Mapi melted into your touch. The first bit of contact you’d initiated since being home, and so she soaked up the softness of your skin against hers. You pulled back just enough to press a kiss to her lips that you hoped conveyed how grateful you were.

The two of you stood in your bathroom both in your sports bras and knickers, lips locked in a passionate exchange that could only be described as two people showing one another just how much they loved each other no matter what they faced in the day.

#mapi leon x reader #mapi leon imagine #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso x reader

461 notes · View notes

twig-tea · 2 months

Text

TsukuTabe S2 Is Perfection

I’ve been waffling about what to write about Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna s2, which completed last week (and which we have access to at all thanks to the hard work of @furritsubs). I have had to just give up on getting across how much this show means to me; there's no way I'll be able to communicate these feelings with words. Season 1 was excellent but Season 2 was everything I wanted and more that I didn't know I needed. This is going to be more disjointed than usual because I don't know how to be coherent about this show (and because tumblr ate my first two attempts).

At its core, Tsukuritai Onna to Tabtetai Onna asks what if we were all just a little bit more conscientious and kind to one another? What if women were given space to be themselves and to make the choices that were best for them? This is the world of TsukuTabe, and I'm so grateful to have had the chance to inhabit it over these last four weeks.

I have so much love for the way Nomoto and Kasuga develop their relationship in conjunction with their relationships with the other women in their lives. Nagumo, Sayama, and Yako are integral to the success of Nomoto and Kasuga’s relationship, and they're also important relationships for the happiness of Nomoto and Kasuga in their own right. The found family vibes are immaculate.

The conflict between Kasuga and Nomoto this season was so perfectly them; the way they struggled with the transition from friends to lovers and being two people who are kind and giving in a relationship together and how that requires honesty and trust were both familiar conflicts that hit me hard in the feels.

Kasuga's conflict with her family also hit me really hard. I once did the wrong thing and showed up to support my family in caring for someone who abused me, and it was a horrible experience that was ruinous to my mental health and took years to get over (and in the end they had to find a different solution anyway, which they could have done in the first place). Watching Kasuga refuse to make a similar decision, standing strong in the face of the social pressures of her parents and her aunt was so healing for me. And then to have her decision affirmed by someone of her parent's age? I sobbed in those scenes.

I also loved the way this season handled Nagumo’s anxiety issues and how she was given space to decide to get professional help on her own time and terms. The way her parents tried to help was also very familiar to me and realistic, and it was just a little heartbreaking how they tried and didn't understand how their attempts at helping added pressure in a way that wasn't helpful.

The way this show covers this important beats in a person's life through these small, everyday moments, and in such a gentle way, is what I love so much about it. The show itself makes a safe space so that these subjects can come up and not feel overwhelming.

And it's also really important to me that all of the characters get to have these moments. Sakae not only reflects on her insensitivity and the unfairness of Japan not having marriage equality, but she also reflects on the pressures on her to marry and whether she actually wants that for herself. Fujita not only helps Kasuga gain proxy acceptance for her choices but gets the same back for herself around her decision to divorce. All of these women live in ways that invoke social stigma, and the way this show gives explicit permission to these women to live their best lives is both cathartic and critical.

I can't end this disjointed ramble without talking about the character I most identified with this season, Yako. Yako is an older, self-actualized asexual lesbian who makes friends with Nomoto on the Internet, recommends lesbian films to her, and mostly listens and affirms as Nomoto goes through her own process of discovering herself. I ran a GSA and have been on the Internet a long time, I've been in Yako’s position a lot (though I can only aspire to be as kind and wise). She is so patient and so genuinely happy for Nomoto when she and Kasuga get together, and she seems so quietly thrilled to have more wonderful people in her life willing to indulge her random party ideas. Her sharing a connection to a LGBTQ+-friendly real estate agency while being angry on their behalf that she even has to was perfection.

It's so important that these characters say the things they say aloud. I want to inscribe every sentence of this show into everyone's brains. This show is perfect, and lovely, and a warm bath, and a hug, and a cup of your favourite warm beverage perfectly fixed to your liking all in one. If you haven't done yourself the favour of watching yet, I highly recommend that you do so immediately.

[not an ID: Real footage of the entire audience's satisfaction and catharsis after watching TsukuTabe S2. Actual ID in alt text].

#tsukuritai onna to tabetai onna #she loves to cook and she loves to eat #tsukutabe #gl meta #sapphic media #typed so that I can stop thinking it

109 notes · View notes

calliecat93 · 7 months

Text

Balance of Terror is probably, up to that point, Kirk in his most perilous situation. It is full battle mode where if he makes so much as one wrong move, he risks death. Not too mention potential war against an enemy that he knows little to nothing about. Thus, for the vast majority of the episode, we have Kirk in Full On Captain Mode... except for one scene.

It's been hours now since the battle against the Romulans has started. At this moment, the Enterprise is a sitting duck and all that they can do is wait. Which gives Kirk plenty of time with his thoughts and in turn, his doubts. Doubts that he cannot let anyone see under any circumstances. Even when Rand, his personal Yeoman who has seen him at his best and worst, comes to see if he needs anything, the mask stays put. There's no point in bombarding her with what he's feeling internally and freak her out. That's not a luxury that he's allowed.

Well... save for one person.

As soon as McCoy walks in and Rand leaves? Kirk is noticeably more at ease. You can even see Rand realize it and leave, allowing McCoy to help the Captain when she clearly isn't going to get anywhere.

It's only then that Kirk feels comfortable talking and letting his doubts be visible. It's the one vulnerable moment that he lets show in the episode, feeling the pressure as his men to look at him and the fear of what happens if he's wrong. If you think back to The Corbomite Manuver we had a similar moment where McCoy tried to talk to Kirk, but while Kirk was at more ease, he didn't want to hear it nor did he let himself really open up. He doesn't even use Bones then, which sure it's probably because they hadn't thought of the nickname yet, but in-show you can interpret it as Kirk remaining in professional mode even to the guy who has it in his job description to see to his mental health.

Not that McCoy is there just because it's his job, of course.

From what we can tell, McCoy went to Kirk on his own volition. He wasn't called or anything, he went to go make sure that Kirk was doing okay. He's been in Sickbay for the majority of the episode and hasn't exactly been able to make time to go check on the Bridge Crew, especially not Jim. Now that he can, he's just there to let Kirk air out whatever he's been bubbling in for so many hours , as he always does.

But Kirk doesn't need McCoy, his Chief Medical Officer and essentially therapist, right now. And he clearly needs more than a soundboard to vent his feelings to. What Jim needs is Bones, his best friend and confidant. You even have McCoy, once Kirk's done talking, start to go 'Captain I-" before he's cut off, still somewhat in that professional mode (maybe even remembering the last time he spoke out of line in a tense situation ala The Corbomite Manuever). That's not what's needed. Kirk didn't expect an answer, but McCoy stops him. He outright says that he normally doesn't talk to 'a customer' like he is now, which goes to show how much he views Jim as far more than a patient or as the captain of the ship. Kirk is, first and foremost, his friend, and he needs some kind of reassurance right then and there.

And that's exactly what he gives.

MCCOY: But I've got one. Something I seldom say to a customer, Jim. In this galaxy, there's a mathematical probability of three million Earth-type planets. And in all of the universe, three million million galaxies like this. And in all of that, and perhaps more, only one of each of us. Don't destroy the one named Kirk.

Just that bit of assurance and Kirk is good to go. And I think he needed it from Bones specifically. Bones, the one person that Kirk can really be himself around. The one person who he's allowed to be vulnerable around. The one person who has always been there to ease him and help him process his feelings, as we've seen already in episodes like The Enemy Within. And even with McCoy worried himself, even having voiced concern about the gamble that Jim is taking earlier in the episode, he still trusts him and has faith in him. And unlike The Corobomite Manuever where he provoked an argument and had his priorities skewed, McCoy knows what Kirk does and doesn't need right now, and he delivers.

IDK, I just love these two so much and I need to voice it for the world cause dang it, someone has to!

#star trek #star trek tos #mckirk

174 notes · View notes

pineappleciders · 1 year

Note

heyy first of all its me the fucked up dream anon (now going by dream anon how original) second of all ive decided im going to learn about south park purely through your work so can i get some tweek (ive latched onto that boy) and whoever else you want (probably the main boys) with a reader (all platonic ofc) who's got that #anxiety? thanks even if you dont do it <33

🌌🌟/dream anon

main 4 + tweek with a reader who has anxiety; platonic headcanons

A/N: haii :3 i apologize if this like, distorts your vision of the characters or something. i am so glad you are being converted to the religion of tweek!!!!!!

TRIGGER WARNING: anxiety disorders, light mental health topics, paranoia, panic/anxiety attacks, death mention on kennys part

stan marsh

i think stan has a normal amount of anxiety. like he's so regular. he's your average joe

like he gets anxious over tests, and giving speeches, and over wendy. other than that he doesn't experience it to the extent of a disorder

so it might be a little difficult for him to imagine getting anxious over simple things like ordering food and stuff like that

he'll try his best to listen though, although he'll probably try to kinda reason with you, esp if you're feeling paranoid or something

"dude, i checked twice, it's locked. relax, man."

he'll try to distract you, by playing games and watching stuff, and just generally kinda trying to be funny to take your mind off of things

if you're having a panic/anxiety attack, he kinda panics too at first, before quickly pulling you away and asking what's wrong. he is sweating very hard

if you're unresponsive, he tries to stay calm but is honestly considering calling an ambulance. like he thinks you're having a stroke

"shit, a panic attack? uh, okay, errr.... take deep breaths, okay? in.. and out. in.. and out. okay, that's good.."

he looks up grounding techniques on his phone and relays them to you until you calm down and catch your breath. he like sends you images off of google of the 5 senses technique randomly and says he figured you'd need it someday

he tries to keep your anxiety in mind, and might slip up sometimes, but for the most part he tries to be careful with his words and actions as to not worry you. he shows his care in subtle ways!!

kyle broflovski

he tries to kinda. logic it out a bit. like if you're feeling insecure he tells you how unrealistic it is for someone to think about one random passerby's appearance forever

he does feel bad though. he doesn't completely understand, but whenever he's feeling insecure he tends to get really anxious about people at school

he usually gets anxious whenever he's doing something wrong or sneaking out. like he's actually sweating and shitting his pants thinking about what his mom will do to him if she finds out

he'll encourage you to order food for yourself, to get yourself out there more, and if you succeed he'll pat your shoulder and smile a lil

if you don't want to, he might dramatically sigh but he'll do it anyways. cuz he knows how hard it is

i do think he'd get a little anxious about asking workers for help and stuff, but he'll be the bigger person... he supposes... smh my head...

when you have an panic attack for the first time, he's like really confused and gets super concerned that you're having a heart attack, and pulls his phone out to dial your parents or 911

"i'm here for you dude! listen- hey, listen to me. it's okay. can- can you-"

he tries to talk to you to de-escalate it, but he gives up and has his hand on your back, while looking up what the fuck to do

'friend havign panjc atgack what to do'

if you're okay with it, he probably talks to your parents about it. he doesn't really trust himself to be able to always calm you down, so he encourages getting outside/professional help

he does try though, and he'll always be there for you in different ways!! like when you need help with something or just need company to distract you, he's at ur door with his xbox 360

eric cartman

you can tell that eric gets a little uncomfortable if you're freaking out or feeling anxious. whether it's because he actually feels bad or just doesn't know how to handle your emotions, you'll never know

but either way, he'll probably just like. sit next to you like "dude, what's up with you?" or in other cases he'll sneakily slip out of the room unseen

he does try to be kinda logical about it, but that's solely because he physically can't speak words of comfort.

"i mean, dude, be seriously. nobody cares about you that much to notice." you speak such kind words eric!!

he doesn't really like it when things get serious, so he'll generally try to transition the situation into something more casual. like he'll try to ease your (his) mood by getting snacks and playing games together, or even begging his mom to take you both to KFC

if you have a panic attack, all of his alarms are blaring and his brain is screaming flight!!!!! flight!!!! run the fuck away!!!!

and he probably tries to, but when you notice him and call his name he physically deflates

he awkwardly turns around and slowly strolls over. "Y/N... heeeeeeey... what's up... duuude..." you can hear the strain in his voice

if it gets to be too much, as in you won't stop hyperventilating or can't breathe, he'll probably alert an adult or take you to the nurse or something. he tells himself it's because he doesn't want to be a suspect of your death

if ur having trouble ordering food he'll gladly take ur place and make a scene to get all eyes on him. "erm excuthe me they athed for no pickleth🤓"

other than when you're voicing your anxiety, he probably treats you the same. i don't really think he'd take advantage of your anxiety unless you were like. butters or heidi or something and he was really trying to get you to do something for him or just trying to. stick himself in your mind. because he's a narcissist and he loves that!!

kenny mccormick

he doesn't relate necessarily, but he definitely understands.

he lives a lot of his life in fear of his next death, and is constantly praying it be quick and painless

kenny is more of a reserved fella, but not really shy or anxious. so if you're having trouble speaking up or ordering something he'll step up and do it gladly!!

i think he'd be pretty decent at comforting. like he'll pat his hand on your back and speak assuring, muffled words

"mm, mmph mmph mmmph! mmph mph mph mmmfmf mmf mph mph mmph!" (aww, it'll be okay. i'll walk you every step of the way, buddy!)

he tries to take your emotions into consideration more, and grabs your hand and squeezes it sometimes if you need a boost of confidence. sometimes he forgets your anxiety and says something rude and feels really bad about it

when you're having a panic attack, he's honestly really scared and expects you to start foaming at the mouth or something

he'll hesitate, but he'll pat your back and try to help you with grounding techniques. the 5-4-3-2-1 in particular is his favorite, and he'll tell you how to do it in like a rlly sweet and calming voice

he's still spooked though, and gets you a water bottle and like a washcloth. he's incredibly thankful you aren't dying or anything

kenny is very good at comforting! sometimes all it takes is a simple moment of eye contact and seeing his eyes crinkle that gives you a surge of calmness you didn't know you needed

tweek tweak

tweek is no outsider to anxiety and stress. he's literally a living beehive with all that damn vibrating

to anyone else, it would seem like tweek had a severe anxiety disorder, or even ADHD. but it turns out it's just a result of his crippling meth addiction and caffiene overdoses

he tries to think about what craigs taught him, about grounding techniques and how to handle a panic attack, and tries to apply those for you

he's shakily take your hand and wrap you in a blanket, making you hot cocoa and helping you slowly come back to your senses

"okay, okay, what are 5 things you can touch? or- no- AGH! was it 5 things you see- hear? no, ACK! i can't remember!"

most of the time if you're feeling on-edge about something, his main goal will be to just listen to you talk and validate your feelings. he doesn't really make it a point to give you advice or try to be logical, unless you directly ask for it

he's great at listening!!! he also doesn't trust his own advice enough to say it to someone else.

he really tries to think hard about what comforts him when he's anxious, and so he tries to use the tactics for you. for instance, he tries to help you get into a hobby like painting to have a bit more control over yourself

hc that tweek loves to draw with crayons so he'll make little drawings of you and him as stick figures being all happy and give them to you. as a treat

overall he is very attentive, and cares a lot. he tries his very best to be there for you, and a lot of the time that results in you two just hanging out or gaming together, so you can both get your mind off of things for a while. it makes him happy to be able to be there for someone else like craig was for him

497 notes · View notes

ztarduzted · 26 days

Text

So like the Illymation drama????

vile take I support illy like fully I don’t get the people who don’t rn

So like ok ok don’t get me wrong, illy isn’t like perfect 100% by any means but who is??? That one carrot and chocolate thing she said in her video could have been worded better but cmon, it’s really not that big of a deal, for the most part you out understand what she was saying. The video that TBYS posted wasn’t “criticism” the way that people are trying to say it was. People are trying to play it off as just a normal constructive criticism video, but if your “constructive criticism” includes like two whole minutes of making fun of someone’s appearance for no reason, I’m concerned. Illy’s response was a bit immature, but I understand where she’s coming from. She said not to send hate and to just take down that one video, not his whole platform, because it was damaging her reputation and mental health because TBYS never even tried to make a statement telling people not to harass illy and she got sent hate for it. People are blowing it way out of proportion saying she was trying to “deplatform him” when she just wanted one video taken down because it was causing her to be deplatformed, and she never even talked about it to her actual YouTube audience, just the small community on tumblr, then TBYS made two more hate filled videos and people just kept dog piling on her. If your gonna get mad at someone for “deplatforming” a known homophobe and transphobe, maybe practice what you preach. And alongside that, I know that some sources were shown in TBYS’s original videos, but there were no links in the descriptions, and absolutely nothing in any of the response videos I’ve seen. There was one video I saw just speculating that all of her doctors were dumb and lied to her, and TBYS also said that most doctors that specialize and make money from being good at nutrition were just wrong. Also, that one response video I mentioned tried to claim gym bros were better at health than licensed professionals???????? It just feels like this is all a massive, overblown hate campaign to a creator because of mistakes. There’s a difference between constructive criticism and just making fun of someone, and while some things that TBYS said were understandable, he made a point to straight up make fun of illy in the middle of his video, not even attempt to stop his fans from harassing illy, then when she replied (and barley received any backlash mind you), he blew up making more videos sending more and more hate and trying to ruin illy’s career. I know illy could have clarified that one point in her video and acted more maturely about the situation, but people are entirely overlooking the fact that TBYS was no where near “perfect” in this situation. (Also, final note, yes, you can absolutely be fat and healthy, saying otherwise is just wrong and makes no sense. Do your research before making half hour long videos making fun of someone)

I assume this drama will just die eventually and people will move on, but either way, I’m going to continue watching and supporting Illy no matter what. She’s a fantastic content creator, and when that video first came out (and there wasn’t some dude bro on the internet telling me it was bad) I absolutely loved at and had a great time watching it. It made me feel really good about myself (since I’ve been exercising daily and been working on myself a lot, but I’ve seen little to no weight loss despite eating healthy and going on a calorie deficit and working hard. It turns out I have something up with my thyroid, and along with that, part of it is just genetics.) I’d started feeling really bad and was trying to eat the bare minimum and it was making it harder to work out and I was feeling sick all the time. One day I was staying home because I felt sick, and I watched illy’s video. It’s not like one video is going to fix my relationship with food, but it has helped. I’m still not losing weight, but I’m getting stronger, feeling better, and eating healthier. Despite all this drama, illy’s videos have helped me feel more comfortable being myself and I will continue supporting her. And Illy, if you’re (somehow) seeing this, just know that there are some people that want to see you fail, but there are so so many more people that love you and your content.

#illymation #drama #youtube drama #rant #tw fatphobia

78 notes · View notes

softichill · 8 months

Text

The Sounds of Nightmares unofficial transcript

Chapter 1 - The Workers in the Walls

------------

[Click]

[Shifting, Otto clears his throat]

Otto: Yesterday evening marked my first true session with the girl. Signs of significant disorder are greater than I initially thought. Her imagination is… vast. But one phrase in particular has become an earworm of sorts.

[Click, this time of a tape being inserted]

Recording of Noone: “He was right in front of me breathing hard… That’s what I remember most. The awful smell, like when sausage goes bad.”

[Click, the tape stops]

Otto: Scent while dreaming is a rarity. An indication of sensory transcendence. She may be a fine candidate for a neurological study… but her health must come first. [Sigh] There are undoubtedly other details I missed in her recount.

Otto: [Deep breath] From the top, then. [The tape begins to rewind] Sleep be damned tonight.

[Intro plays]

[Click]

Otto: This is the Counselor. Herein are my preliminary case notes for tape #54, session #1, patient #1220… [mumbling] referring to children by numbers… [deep breath, normal] Our relationship goes beyond mere ethics, so I can leave that practice to the heartless quacks on the upper floors. But to remain professional, I’ll use a moniker the girl has given herself… Noone. (A/N: pronounced like noon)

[quiet tapping as a drink is poured]

Otto: Noone has been in CPI care for a fortnight. Given her rather remarkable medical history, her mental state seems relatively unremarkable. [stirring his drink] She finds herself in my ward due to worsening, though not recurring, nightly afflictions. Parasomnia isn’t uncommon among patients; not to imply she’s unworthy of treatment, only that there are others worse off.

[Otto shifts in his seat and sips his drink before setting it down]

Otto: Noone also displays signs of mild trauma. As such, Nightmare Disorder is possible. Given her diffidence, the focus for this session is to build rapport. I’m hopeful Noone will open up and we’ll learn what lies inside that little head.

[Ceramic clicking, Otto says “Oh!” at the sound of papers being knocked over. More ceramic, the audio cuts]

[A door closes]

Otto: Take the big chair, Noone. Sit, lie, saddle it like a horse, whatever you please.

[Otto pulls out paper as Noone sits down. The chair creaks]

[quiet jazz starts to play]

Otto: How’s that?

Noone: …fine I guess.

Otto: [Walking to his chair] That look on your face says there’s more on your mind.

Noone: It’s… it’s like the music I used to hear through the walls. In our old apartment. Before we moved into the fancy house.

Otto: Would you like to talk about that? Your old apartment?

Noone: No, counselor.

Otto: Alright. An easier question to start. How are you feeling today?

Noone: …Bit sad.

Otto: For any reason in particular?

Noone: …Um… the red flower… mum and dad left. It went all wrinkled. I tried lifting a petal and… it broke off. But, then I saw why- little crawlies, everywhere underneath the dirt.

Otto: Aphids? How unpleasant. [shift] Must be hard, here all alone. That wasn’t just a flower to you, was it?

Noone: No, counselor.

Otto: Y-Your parents only want you to feel like you again. And we’ll see to that! One day at a time.

[Otto writes something]

Otto: Have you been sleeping?

Noone: Yes, counselor.

Otto: Call me Otto. Sleeping well?

Noone: …Yes.

Otto: Noone? This is a place of honesty. The truth, please.

Noone: …Fine. Middle of the night, I keep waking.

Otto: And are you perspiring?

Noone: …um…

Otto: Sweating?

Noone: Oh. Uh, yes. And, my heart beats like there’s a- pecking bird in my chest.

Otto: Did these nightmares coincide with the onset of your sickness?

Noone: No. O-only after.

Otto: And, do you remember your nightmares or do they disappear come morning?

Noone: I remember. Everything.

Otto: [pause, shifting] …Would you be alright to tell me about them? Now, or, later?

Noone: Yes. Um… The one I had last night, it’s still here. The feeling. But, may I have some juice? My head’s light, and mum says it helps.

Otto: (amused) I’m not sure that’s true. Regardless, you may.

[audio cuts]

[audio resumes. Noone is sipping a juice box.]

Otto: I see you eyeing my painting. I’ve had it since I was a boy. “The Zahir’s Gaze”, it’s titled.

Noone: Why is it so- blurry?

Otto: It’s a hidden image. The trick is to unfocus your eyes. Try it!

[short pause]

Otto: There! Can you make it out now?

Noone: …no.

Otto: I’ve got an idea. Keep your eyes on the painting- let your mind wander. Meanwhile, you can tell me your dream! If you’ve finished your juice.

Noone: [sipping] I have.

Otto: From the beginning, then.

[pause]

Noone: …It started when I woke up. Somewhere I didn’t belong.

Otto: Describe this place, please.

Noone: Everything was white. Only slowly I realized snow was falling on a field. The view was peaceful looking out from so high up. Like I was… one. With the cold.

Otto: You felt this cold?

Noone: Not like the counties in winter, but, more like watching someone who is chilled. Around me, but not… in me.

[the music quietly stops. Ambience for the dream begins]

Noone: I turned away from the window, which was only a hole in the stone wall of the curved passageway, that stretched on a long ways. This- odd feeling, told me to get up. But I couldn’t stand because the ceiling was so low. I crawled ahead and… if not for the tiniest bit of light I would have fallen. Another passageway appeared on the floor. Its edges throbbing in the dark. Suddenly I- I heard a clinking from below.

Noone: That same feeling told me I was lost inside a giant. A huge one made out of stone, and the only way out was to keep going through its veins. I climbed into the pitch dark,

[Dream!Noone gasps, the sound of sliding plays]

Noone: And immediately began sliding down the icy wetness, going and going, faster and faster. I thought the slide would never end and just- and-

[Dream!Noone grunts as she hits the ground. The sliding stops]

Noone: It shot me out.

Otto: …Did it hurt?

Noone: …Not like when you fall for real.

[footsteps]

Noone: I can see what it is now! The painting! A-a tiger, and two moons.

Otto: That’s not quite right.

[Noone walks back]

Noone: (with interest) I’ve never seen a tiger before.

Otto: Keep trying! Remember to unfocus. Continue, as you wish.

[pause]

Noone: An orange glowing came from a candle. But the light didn’t reach the room’s corners. A tiny hole had been cut out of the stone beside me. “The snow,” I thought. “How nice it would be to watch fall again.” I look through, but there was no snow. [ambience picks up] Only a room, brimming with glass jars. Light danced through them, coming from a doorway on the opposite side. Until… a figure stepped through it.

Noone: This HUGE man. Wore a long coat and fishing hat. His face kind of… dripped as he watched me. Then he was gone. W- He was an.... I-I can’t remember. It’s the only thing I can’t remember.

Otto: Could it have been someone you know, your father perhaps?

Noone: (immediately) No. This man doesn’t belong to our world.

Otto: I don’t quite follow.

Noone: That’s just the feeling he gave.

Otto: You keep mentioning this “feeling”. Can you try to explain?

Noone: You can’t understand! Not unless you were there- you just can’t!

Otto: It’s alright, Noone. We don’t have to talk about him. Relax. Breathe.

[Noone takes 3 exaggerated, slow breaths]

[ambience gets slightly louder. It’s faint, clicking machinery]

Noone: Turning from the hole, I spotted an exit on the far wall. That’s where the clinking was the loudest. I started towards it, when a shadow ran out from the corner, that of a child. I shouted “Hey!”

[Dream!Noone: Hey! Where are we?]

Noone: “Where are we?” But, quiet as a mouse, he climbed through the pulsing exit. And carelessly I followed.

[Dream!Noone grunts as she hops through the exit]

[Machinery gets louder]

Noone: The room over was bigger. And the child was gone. All over the walls and floors, were more pulsing passages. Like living ant tunnels. All kinds of springs laid about, and little oil cans and strange tools.

[Dream!Noone gasps]

Noone: Suddenly, footsteps. Approaching, matching the rhythm of the clinking. [sound of a wooden crate] Knowing I didn’t belong I hid behind a wooden box.

[a hoard of small footsteps alongside the machinery]

Noone: Peeking up, I saw other small shadows entering the room. They step by each other silently. Most passed into different doors, but two stayed behind, searching for the springs. They were not children. Not at all. Even in dim light they remain shadows. Things not quite there, as if forgotten, not wanting to be seen.

[Things clicking, cracking, and moving around]

Noone: They held nasty tools and… their empty faces showed they weren’t very bright. Both stood, looked down a passageway… and jumped.

[Dream!Noone gets up and follows them]

Noone: With nowhere to go I did the same, climbing to the platform below.

[Dream!Noone lands. The machinery is even louder now]

Noone: I finally saw what was making all that noise. Golden, spinning wheels. Fat ones, small ones, skinny ones, and they went down so deep I couldn’t see the end! I didn’t know what they were until that faraway feeling came back and told me.

Noone: They were gears. With- teeth which locked perfectly into one another, clicking on and on in a song that never stopped. There were a hundred-hundred of the dull little shadows, working to keep the mechanisms going. Felt… without their doing, the gears would surely stop. And the giant would break apart stone-by-stone... But as I leaned over the edge, distracted, my foot must’ve knocked a wrench.

[a quick clink. Dream!Noone gasps]

[the wrench falls a long way down]

Noone: All the shadows stared up. And a few begin climbing my way. They move separately, but… as one. [Dream!Noone breathing quickly] I panicked and tucked between a set of levers, in the tight space my dress got caught [Dream!Noone grunts] on the tooth of a massive gear, pulled me up and around until my dress tore [tearing fabric, Dream!Noone yelping] shooting me onto a pipe below, where I lost my grip only to hit another platform.

[Dream!Noone lands, breathing heavily]

Noone: The shadows stopped chasing me, working again as… the yank* took the piece of my dress, now stuck between two gears, causing all the others to slow.

Noone: While they were bothered, I took the chance to escape.

[Dream!Noone running, machinery fades out]

Noone: The wall in front of me went… went down and around, f-forever and ever. Along with the mechanisms. I grabbed onto a rod, sliding on, when a big creak [metal groan] groaned above, and the gears went right back to singing their song.

[machinery starts again]

Noone: The ripped fabric floated down before me, passing by a tiny crack in the stone. Painful cries came through it. [faint echoey scream] I shouldn’t have wanted to know what was on the other side, but… I did.

[more screaming]

Noone: A small room with chains covering the floor. And 3 identical nun-like dresses, freshly pressed, hanging by a bed. Then, the chains jangled [Chains jingling, man gasping], and my heart stopped. [Man groans] A frail body slumped against the wall, a chain around his neck. He was right in front of me breathing hard… That’s what I remember most. The awful smell, like when sausage goes bad.

Otto: Hold on a minute, Noone. [Noone gasps. Ambience suddenly stops] You distinctly smelt his breath?

Noone: Not his breath. Him. So rotten, it still stings my nose now.

Otto: How certain are you?

Noone: You told me to tell the truth, no? I am.

[Otto quickly writing]

Noone: Do you still want to hear the rest of my nightmare?

[Otto still writing]

Noone: Otto?

Otto: Hm? O-oh. Apologies. My mind was divided, and that’s not fair to you.

Noone: [quiet sigh] Anyways.

Noone: Looking through that crack, I realized something. (whisper) I was inside the walls. Like a rat. On the other side was an entire world. (normal) And everything got… w-worse from there.

[very quiet ticking]

Noone: Lower and lower I climbed until I had gone- down so deep, that there was nothing but steam and darkness. And louder ticking, back, and forth. Back, and forth. Wanting to give up I sat listening.

[ticking is more noticeable]

Noone: I’d nearly fallen asleep, when suddenly a small shape crawled out from inside the wall below. “Another Worker came for me,” I thought. But… when they looked up… I saw their eyes. A child. For certain, this time. And… their hair was covered in goo, which made it hard to tell if they were a boy or a girl. Still, I climbed down, full of energy.

[Dream!Noone climbing down]

Noone: Nearly the amount I used to have.

Noone: We stood in silence, a moment. Stuck in their hair was… black liquid moving like smoke.

Noone: “What’s in your-” [Dream!Noone at the same time] I started, [child shushing] but they put a hand over my mouth. Not until they pointed at the wall, did I understand why. Its another crack, led to yet another chamber.

[Dream!Noone and child walking over. Metallic hammering starts up]

Noone: It was a hideous workshop. All around were… half-made… projects? Built from wood and metal, with all kinds of straps and cranks. Their shapes made my chest tighten. A collection of… masks was- on the shelves with screws and spikes on them, positioned to fit perfectly into a mouth!

Noone: A tall woman bent over a new project, [faint humming] wearing a familiar dress. Long heavy chains coming out under its tail. [Chains scraping, more humming] She moaned, enjoying herself. I could feel she’d been at it for hours. Her presence alone told that she was the keeper of this stone giant. Of the world beyond the walls.

Noone: Turning to a pile of scraps… I saw her face. Equally… old and young, and her s-skin stretched back so tight that… only her eyes seemed human. I wanted so badly to know what she was building, and to scream all the same…

Noone: But before I could do either my new friend pulled me away. They pointed up.

Noone: From between the planks, a shadow studied us. The child pulled my arm but it was already too late. The Worker leapt down besides me, inspecting my body like a tool, reaching out with its wrench. The child pushed me away, [the sound of burning] letting a sliver of light shine out from the workshop to hit the shadow. Faster than fast, it tucked back into darkness, [sound stops] desperate to keep hidden.

[pause]

Otto: Noone, why have you stopped?

Noone: I’m thinking. …The next bit is hard to describe. The nightmare- it shifted.

[ambience picks up, earlier sound of machinery]

Noone: Steam reached around us. And we came to a place at the bottom of the gears. Between the walls.

[whoosh, tick]

[whoosh, tock]

[whoosh, tick]

Noone: In front of us, a long pendulum whooshed back and forth.

[whoosh, tick]

[whoosh, tock]

Noone: My friend grabbed hold as it swung by. I let it go past one, [tick], two, [tock], three times before finding the courage to do the same. We climbed as the pendulum rocked left and right, making my head dizzy. “Just a little more,” I repeated to myself, until my friend reached out a hand to pull me up.

[Both Dream!Noone and child grunt as she’s pulled up]

Noone: We’d made it. Finally, the center of the clock. The room was round with a spiral staircase, and a machine made of little metallic fingers, tapping a violent rhythm.

Noone: The ceiling was a white- clock face, but… all the numbers were wrong.

Noone: We immediately ran up the stairs [footsteps] and at the top, we stepped out into a courtyard.

[Dream!Noone and child breathing, stepping on grass. Machinery and ticking fades out]

Noone: My body began shaking as I heard them. [Faint screaming] Shouts and shrieks of pain. All I could do was stare up at the circular walls, which I had just been inside. This was the true building. There were a million rooms like the second one I peered into, all the way up, with- hands and limbs reaching out from between the bars that kept them locked in. My heart pounded like one of them. A Prisoner, trying to get free.

[Screaming and shrieking continues]

Noone: I shouted “Wait, please!”

[Dream!Noone: Wait! Please!]

Noone: But my friend was across the courtyard. Then, a jingling. The tall woman jumped down from above [jingling, thump] and with thumping steps, she went after my friend. A chain leapt out beneath her dress, like a snake. It caught their leg and the woman dragged the child through the snow, kicking and yelling.

[child struggling]

Noone: My friend scared to tears [child: Help!] yelled for help, and the woman spotted me. She began plodding my way and fear froze my feet. Getting closer and closer and all I could think was “Who brought me here, and why was I made to know these secrets?!” [chains jangling]

Noone: With skin so tight her mouth opened only a sliver with blackened teeth inside, hungry for something! …Something that swelled inside me.

[all ambience cuts off]

Noone: …Then I woke up.

Otto: …That’s… awful, Noone. I’m sorry. The woman in particular sounds… disturbing.

Noone: Yes. But, she didn’t scare me most. Not after I woke up. It was the Workers.

Otto: Hm… because they were mindless?

Noone: No. Because they were hidden. Nobody knew they existed… that’s how I feel sometimes. Since getting the water sickness, (increasing distress) as if things are in my body but instead of making me tick they’re killing me, like the bugs in the flower pot- Ugh, I can feel them in my head!!!

Otto: Noone. Listen to me. I’ll do everything within the limits of my command to help you, but there’s nothing bad inside you. Nothing.

Noone: …um…alright.

Otto: [pause] I have… one more question, and I think it’s enough for your first day, okay?

Noone: Okay.

Otto: Noone, have you ever heard of mutual dreaming?

Noone: Mutual dreaming?

Otto: Sharing the… experience with another person.

Noone: How could what’s in my head be in someone else’s head? And who would I share it with?

Otto: Questions that have hounded my outer colleagues for years. Your perception of temperature and smell while dreaming is sometimes thought to be an indicator of this transpersonal phenomenon. While I’m not convinced of its ontological validity, I’ve longed to study a case like yours. Unfortunately- I’ve only known one other person to exhibit this faculty, years ago-

Noone: Who? Were they like me?

Otto: …My… (quietly) beloved Cici**... uh- not quite. In any case, my ambitions fell off, I… I lost sight, of… many things. But you’ve stimulated a part of me nearly forgotten.

Noone: Oh. I think I see it now, Otto.

Otto: Yes! That’s right! We’re in this together.

Noone: No. The painting.

Otto: Oh.

Noone: It’s a map. Of stars and two circles around it.

Otto: Yes! Good! An astrolabe, in fact.

Noone: Astrolabe?

Otto: An ancient instrument, used to locate positions in time and space. Now, surely, you’re exhausted-

Noone: I don’t want to go to my room. To sleep. Will… will you walk me back?

Otto: Of course! And we can’t forget your nightly confectionary. [the sound of wrappers] Here now, take your pick.

[Wrapper crinkling]

Otto: Sweets for my sweet.

[ceramic clinking]

[click]

[Outro plays]

------------

*It's a little hard to tell what word she says here

**I have no idea if this is how it's spelled

#little nightmares #the sounds of nightmares #tson #ln podcast #transcript #ln otto #ln noone #otto #noone #GAH there's so many things in this episode alone #Noone choosing the name here herself and clearly being No one.....#The warden/torturer lady wearing a ''familiar'' dress #Whatever the Ferryman was up to #AAAA there's so much to see here!!!!!!!!#Anywho hopefully this transcript helps people know what happens in the episode!!!#the sounds of nightmares transcript

177 notes · View notes

piecesofreeses · 13 days

Text

We've Got You

Nick ignores his mental health in favor of staying on top of work. When his involuntary age regression catches up with him, Matt and Chris are there.

Told in 3rd person limited (like most of my stories) where the reader has access to Nick’s thoughts, but not Matt or Chris’s.

DISCLAIMER:

This is an age regression fanfic! Age regression is a completely nonsexual coping skill and it is represented appropriately and correctly as it relates to my life. Regression can be positive in many circumstances, but not all. If you are struggling with your mental health or involuntary age regression, talking to a professional is always the best choice.

Hate will not be tolerated, nor will it be entertained. I will not give you my attention; your comment will just be deleted! Please don’t waste your time, just take your bullshit somewhere else!

One more note:

This is NOT incestual, nor is it sexual in any manner. The comfort Nick receives during and after his panic attack is purely loving, familial support. Yes! They cuddle! Yes! They hold Nick and rub his back! Yes! They share a bed for the night! No! None of that makes this “weird!”

TWs: Panic attack, descriptions of the physical sensation of a panic attack, avoiding regression, swearing, lighthearted arguing, guilt for enjoying a pacifier

Okay on to the story!

Nick always tries to be the quick witted, loud, strong oldest brother. With the triplets spending so much time in LA just the three of them, more now than ever they have to keep each other in line. And yes, that means Nick has to take care of his brothers even when he doesn’t want to.

Matt may be their transportation as the only brother with a license, but Nick still feels like he’s mothering them half of the time. He’s constantly sticking a hand between his brother's faces both literally and metaphorically. While Nick probably couldn’t love Matt and Chris any more than he does, they’re brothers; it’s impossible for them not to get on his nerves sometimes.

Currently, the triplets are sitting in a parking lot about ten minutes from their house filming a car video. Nick is tired and has been a bit quieter than usual, leaving his quips and comebacks to a minimum, just listening to Matt and Chris rant.

Suddenly, of-fucking-course, the two are arguing again. It’s something stupid about the song that’s playing in the background— no wait— it’s about Matt’s phone? Nick isn’t really sure, he’s just exhausted. It’s not the other boys fault; they can disagree and get at each other throats all they want in the car videos. Nick knows the fans love it, but in that moment he’s just so goddamn overwhelmed.

Nick tries to open his mouth to tell his brothers to shut the fuck up, but no sound comes out. He feels a bit like he’s sinking into the backseat, totally isolated from the argument in the front. Nick knows he’s fine, so why does he want to cry? Why can’t he get his words to come out?

A tear escapes and slips down his cheek. He tries to wipe it away but his arm feels so heavy and his fingers feel so clunky and they’re not moving the way he needs them to. Why is everything so hard?

Without even meaning to, Nick lets a little whine slip past his lips. Even though he hates asking for help, he’s sure he needs Matt and Chris. If nothing else, they need to turn off the camera, but apparently the fighting in the front seat is too loud, because the boys give no indication of hearing him.

Oh no, Nick realizes as his mind gets even fuzzier, I’m slipping.

Nick knows he regresses if stress gets to him too much– his brothers know too, but God, it hasn’t happened in months.

He’s usually pretty good about preventing it by being gentle with himself, but it’s just been so fucking stressful this month. The end of the podcast just ended up being a lot of work and he didn’t have time to cater to his mental health the way he has to to make sure he never slips.

This is the result, I guess, Nick thinks. Because he refused to show himself some goddamn love when he was big, his brain was forcing him to regress. And he didn’t get to pick when.

“Matt?” The oldest choked out.

Still no response. Nick felt like he was sinking into his brain as everything started to feel eerily quiet, like his brother’s voices were coming from underwater.

Maybe I’m the one underwater, he thinks as the whole world begins to appear muted in color. My sensory processing just conked out, didn’t it.

“Chris? Help,” Nick tried again, but it came out even quieter than the previous attempt. Despite his every effort, Nick felt his eyes well up.

Why won’t they stop arguing? I need help! I need help and I don’t know how to get it! Someone please help me. Matt? Chris? Please help me.

It’s all far too much, so he closes his eyes and fights against his heavy limbs, eventually able to pick up his hands to cover his ears. He feels himself shaking gently and the first of his tears begin to flow down his cheeks. Apparently, Nick hasn’t breathed in a while, because suddenly he feels himself gasp involuntary. Fighting the sudden rush of air, his throat catches on nothing and he coughs out, forcing more tears to spill.

Nick’s forearms are covering his cheeks from the way he's trying to protect his ears, and he feels them wet from how hard he's begun to cry. He convulses in a sob and finally, a loud enough sound comes out.

“Nick?!” He hears Matt yell. “Something’s wrong, Chris! Turn that shit off!”

They’re coming. They’re gonna help. Please hurry, though.

“Okay, okay I am. Go get in the back with him!” Chris’s response comes, quieter.

He doesn't even hear the door open, but suddenly Matt’s arms are around him. He’s wracked by sobs as his body relaxes into Matt’s chest.

It’s all okay. I’m okay. They’ll make it okay.

Matt’s arms are rubbing Nick’s back as he shakes and he can feel how his tears have wet the shoulder of his t-shirt. A moment later, he feels the seat underneath them move like another body has sat down, and then he hears Chris’s voice.

“It’s okay, Nick. We’ve got you,” Chris says gently. As Matt keeps touching him comfortingly, Chris keeps talking.

“The camera is off and we can delete all the footage later. I’m so sorry we didn’t notice what was happening earlier. Matt and I are gonna help, okay? You’re gonna be fine.”

“Chris,” Matt whispers, “Take him? I want to get us home.”

“‘Course,” Chris says. Nick whines and holds onto Matt, clearly comfortable where he is, but the boys are still able to switch who he’s sitting onto fairly easily. He's stopped crying and looks up at Chris as he pulls him into his lap. Chris is sitting properly in the left seat with Nick on his lap, back leaned against the door and head on Chris’s shoulder. It's probably illegal, but with the boy no longer crying, they won’t be taking any risks.

As Matt gets out of the back and back into the driver’s seat, Chris haphazardly wraps the seatbelt over the two of them. Nick pulls his knees up and burrows his head into his brother's shoulder. Quietly, he pulls a thumb into his mouth before looking up at Chris as if waiting to be told off. He waits, half expecting to be called gross, even though he knows his brothers don't find his regression gross.

“Oh, you’re small, Nicky. How old are you?” Chris asks with nothing but love in his voice. Nick doesn't respond, just closing his eyes and sinking into the comfort.

“He’s small?” Matt asks from the front. “How old did he say?”

“Didn’t respond. I’d guess one by the thumb and how he was crying earlier,” Chris responds, petting Nick's hair and trying to make sure he doesn't slip out of his lap on the drive home.

Matt sighs, “Okay, we’re only a minute away from home. What do you think we do when we get there? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him regress.”

“Well first get his pacifier, I don’t want his fingers in his mouth and longer than they have to be, but I’m pretty sure he’ll cry if I try to take them out without a replacement. Next… uhh… I don’t think he’s going to be chill with me letting go of him unless I'm literally putting him into your arms, but he seems exhausted. I’d say we all get in your bed and try to get him to go to bed? It’s late for all of us, especially for the baby,” Chris says, looking down at Nick and laughing quietly as they pull into the driveway.

“Alright, I’m going to come and help you stand up with him so you can carry him in. He’s not going to walk himself, is he?” Matt replies, looking back at the little boy curled into Chris with his thumb in his mouth.

“No way.” Chris says, reaching to unbuckle them. Matt steps out of the car and opens the door for Nick and Chris.

Sounding confused, Matt asks, “How are we going to make this work?”

“You just take him? I don't think I can stand up with him in my lap even with your help,” Chris suggests. Matt slots his arms under Nick’s knees and picks him up bridal style. Luckily, there is minimal protest from the little, just a whine and some still watery eyes. With Nick out of his lap, Chris climbs out of the car, shuts the door, locks it and runs up ahead of his brothers to unlock and open their door.

Now that they are standing, Matt carries Nick with ease. Up the steps of their porch and into the house, the lack of strain on Matt’s face makes it appear as if Nick really is a baby. Chris smiles with the thought as he follows the two inside and closes the door behind them.

“I’ll find his paci. Get in bed?” Chris calls out as he tosses the car keys on the kitchen table.

“Got it,” comes Matt’s reply. Chris has no idea where the little’s paci might be, but it’s pretty important that he finds it, so he starts by tearing out the couch cushions to see if it's tucked underneath one of them. With no luck, he heads up to Nick’s room and strips his bed, checking if it might be in there. Unfortunately, the stupid blue thing is still nowhere to be found.

Nick can hear Chris tearing his room apart looking for his pacifier as Matt carries him upstairs.

He’s never gonna find it.

Too small to tell Matt where it is, he just tugs on his sleeve and looks down the hall to his room.

Fortunately, Matt gets the message. “Want to go help Chrissy?” Matt says and turns toward the sound of the rummaging. As they walk into the room, Chris looks at the boys defeated.

“I can’t find it,” he sighs.

“Losat,” comes Nick’s small voice.

Oh no, are they going to think that means I lost it? No no, that’s supposed to be “closet.”

“In the closet?” Matt and Chris respond in unison, walking into the closet and digging through the junk on his closet floor.

Oh thank God.

Matt sets Nick down, leaning his back against the closet wall so he can move his shoes. Underneath, he finds a small shoebox covered in stickers. How promising. Opening it up, Matt discovers the pacifier and a couple small toys.

“Bingo, Chris! It's right here,” Matt exclaims.

“Why’d you hide it away like this, sweet pea?” Chris asks the little boy, scooping him up like a koala. Nick doesn't respond other than a whine and rests his chin on Chris’s shoulder, facing the opposite direction.

The boys walk out of the closet, Matt with a pacifier in hand and Chris with a Nick in… arms.

“I need to wash this off,” Matt says and walks into the bathroom.

“Okay, bring it to us when you're done,” Chris says and hikes Nick up so his legs can wrap around his waist. Nick has one arm wrapped around Chris’s shoulder and neck and the other bent so his thumb can slip back into his mouth. “You ready for bed, honey?” Chris whispers into his ear as he leans over the bed, working to gently disconnect Nick from him. Eventually, he separates them, laying Nick down on his back in Matt’s bed. Chris pulls Nick's shoes off, brushes the little’s hair out of his face, kicks off his own Crocs and crawls into bed with Nick. He drags the covers up over them and pulls Nick closer to make space for Matt to lay on the other side of the boy.

“Okay bub, I’ve got your paci,” comes Matt’s voice. Carefully, he pulls Nick’s hand away from his mouth and replaces it with the blue pacifier, slotting it between his lips.

That helps. That helps so much. Why am I like this? Why does that help?!

Matt slips under the covers and wraps his arms around the boy. “Nick, honey, I can see you freaking out. It’s okay that you like that. It's not gross, it’s not bad, and Chrissy and I don't mind. We love you bubba.”

“Luv yous too.”

#age regression #age dreaming #matt sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #fluff #comfort #sturniolo fanfic #age regressor #sfw #sfw littlespace

24 notes · View notes

mostlymaudlin · 1 year

Text

An Attempted Explanation of Andrew’s “Manic Pills”

One of the things that bothers me about AFTG is Andrew’s medicine. The way most of the characters talk about court-mandated psychiatry and sobriety and mania is a questionable and often harmful representation of what it’s like to experience mania/hypomania — which like, it’s fiction, that’s fine, but it’s also something that I take a lil personally. So I’ve decided to try to legitimize the whole thing for myself, just because I can!

Necessary to note: I’m not a medical professional, a lawyer, etc. I’m usually a pretty good fact-checker, but I could definitely be wrong abt stuff, and I’d love for you to tell me if I am. I ran a lot of this by the lovely @the-greater-grief, who does have a medical background and also inspired me with this analysis they did on Andrew’s mental health. They were really helpful in explaining a lot of the more technical drug information, so they’re largely responsible for most of the theory that makes sense lol. But, they are also not responsible for me saying things that are wrong, lol! Alsooooo, I’ve been in the fandom for less than a year so it’s possible I’m saying stuff people have said before. Idc. I’m having fun reinventing the wheel lmfao. Okay, onwards!

The post has two parts:

Lovingly dismantling a lot of the bullshit Neil tells us in the books

Setting up a more realistic version of Andrew’s mental health situation

Apologies in advance, this got long-winded. Let’s do this!

Dismissing Neil’s framing

AFTG is told from Neil’s perspective, so we as readers are limited to the things he knows and understands. We know that Neil is often unreliable, and as perceptive as he can be, he makes a lot of questionable assumptions that he internalizes as fact.

This is what he tells us, rather crudely:

Andrew tried to kill some guys, because he might be a psychopath/sociopath.

Rather than being sent to prison, he was court-mandated to take drugs that make him “manic”/less likely to kill other people.

The manic pills make him crazy and also make him sick, to the point where the characters refer to him as “sober” when he is unmedicated.

The withdrawal is severe enough that his psych wants him to be hospitalized to come off them.

We learn all this about Andrew’s treatment from three sources: Information Neil read before he even joined the Foxes, Nicky’s exposition dumps, and Andrew’s actual behavior. The bullshit mostly comes from the first two items on this list, because Andrew never cares to explain much of his situation to Neil. And we can actually brush all of it off pretty easily.

Neil builds most of his perception of Andrew’s treatment on top of information from articles he read about Kevin’s transfer to Palmetto State. These articles were unkind — the Exy world was upset that Kevin was leaving the Ravens, and Andrew was painted in a cruel and probably inaccurate way. Neil mentions an article headlined “The Prince & the Pauper”... I personally would not take anything from that article seriously.

Some of this bullshit is corroborated by Nicky, a 20-something year old jock majoring in marketing. When Andrew was sentenced, we can guess that Nicky (still basically a teenager himself) was very scared that his cousin, who he is responsible for, was going to get sent to prison. Based on the way he talks about mental health in general, I wouldn’t consider him to be an expert on the nitty-gritty of psychiatry. He just saw the outcome of the trial, which was not prison, yay! and instead involved some kind of pills that made Andrew way more social. Also, as much as I think Nicky tries, he doesn’t really get Andrew — he thought Andrew was straight, and then he thought he was hate-fucking Neil. He’s not a reliable source when it comes to judging how Andrew’s brain works/how he is affected by his treatment.

This leaves Andrew’s behavior, because he never talks about his mental health except to say that he’s “crazy” and that he is not a sociopath. When he’s on the medicine, his behavior includes an elevated mood, a short attention span, and trouble curbing his impulses. When he doesn’t take his medicine on time, he experiences withdrawal (nausea, fatigue, etc), and feeling ill seems to curb some of his mood elevation enough to let him think with more clarity. When he’s off it, he is able to shut down his emotional reactions to things, though he still exhibits flashes of the rage, depression, and zingy one-liners from his behavior in the first two books.

Also, the only people who actually seem to understand Andrew’s mental health treatment are Andrew himself, Bee, and probably Wymack. Aaron might also have a better handle on it all because he’s pre-med, and also he understands Andrew enough to clock that he is gaga for Neil lol.

Okay. Bullshit? Gone.

A proposed alternate story

Once upon a time, some homophobes started beating up Andrew’s cousin and the only legal guardian that didn’t treat him like utter shit, so he went feral on them.

He gets arrested, and somewhere along the line the courts determine that his violence stems from mental illness. Rather than being sentenced to prison, he gets some kind of probation that mandates he engage in mental health treatment. The psychiatrist he sees at the time determines that he has depression — which, like, they’ve definitely seen his self-harm scars, so this is a fair assumption — and he is prescribed an antidepressant.

Now’s a good time to mention that no one would ever intentionally prescribe something to induce mania in a patient. Mania is a supremely dangerous state. People get hospitalized to get out of a manic episode. Whenever I even inch toward it, my therapist and psych are like, “CALL ME!!!!” It also would do nothing to curb violence — the opposite, actually, if the manic person often has a hard time holding themselves back from hurting themselves and others. If you look at Andrew’s behavior in the first two books, I don’t think it would even qualify as full-blown mania. He sleeps, he fulfills his responsibilities, he doesn’t seem to have any delusions of grandeur. His symptoms align better with hypomania, which is less severe and accounts for the things we noted before (mood elevation, short attention span, irritability, impulsiveness). I also think a lot of the stuff Andrew does that is attributed to his medicine is probably just Andrew being Andrew — because as Aaron once said, “it wasn’t the drugs that made him crazy.” (I wrote more about this once in an Andrew character study I did.)

So, the antidepressants would’ve been prescribed to treat the depression, which hypothetically could’ve made Andrew so hopeless and full of rage that he was constantly on the verge of flipping his shit on people. There are plenty of antidepressants that will make you sick/be less effective if you fuck with your dosing schedule, and all the alcohol he drinks probably doesn’t help either. Still, the medicine would just treat depression. HOWEVER! If Andrew actually has bipolar disorder (:D!!!), then some antidepressants do have a risk of inducing mania/hypomania!

It should’ve been obvious that Andrew’s antidepressant was not working as intended. But I doubt Nicky, Andrew, and Aaron had great health insurance before they enrolled at Palmetto, so Andrew’s court-mandated mental health provider was probably like, “cool, not trying to kill people anymore, we’re good.” A good provider like Bee would clock that Andrew had been misdiagnosed, and she’d want to adjust his medicine. But this leads to the final part of the theory — actually suggested by the brilliant Grimm — which also could explain how Andrew came to trust Bee.

If Bee diagnosed Andrew with bipolar, she would want to switch him over to lithium, which is the most common bipolar medicine. I’ve never actually been on lithium, and while I’ve heard it can be really effective, it definitely has a bad reputation — some people say it makes them feel like a “zombie.” Fatigue/dizziness/drowsiness are known potential side effects, especially when you’re adjusting to changed doses — and anyone who’s ever been on a psych med knows that it takes a while to get the dose right. I’m guessing (justified) control freak Andrew Minyard would not be down to risk feeling like a zombie.

(Sidenote: people with bipolar II also get put on lamotrigine, which specifically manages low moods, but from what I can tell it wouldn’t have been common in the mid-2000s. it was only approved for bipolar treatment in 2003.)

Maybe Bee made him a deal: He can stay on the antidepressant, which is not working but is also not the most dangerous thing, as long as he fully commits to their talk therapy sessions so that he can learn how to cope with his symptoms. This is similar to the deal Wymack struck with Andrew. He tends to trust the small handful of people who have given him agency.

Alright, that’s the theory! Andrew has bipolar disorder. He’s not on the right meds. The courts are not doing silly illegal things (well, not in this case anyway), and the jocks of PSU are the real stereotypes here.

Because at the end of the day, this is a tale as old as time: People with mental illness are easily made out to be the villain.

#aftg #my writing

227 notes · View notes

my-hyperfixation-hell · 1 year

Text

being yukio okumura must be a lonely nightmare

OK disclaimer to start: I've only watched the anime, not read the manga, so if this comes up in the manga forgive me for I do not know (also no spoilers please <3 I'm picking it up soon) HOWEVER

Yukio being so young and yet an exorcist must be the most gutwrenchingly lonely experience, like... going through his different positions with his three core social groups;

As an exorcist: He has his coworkers, but they're all adults. He's a 16 year old boy. As much as they include him, respect him, acknowledge his experience and skill, there's always going to be the part of them as grown ass adults that sees him as a 16 year old. That gap will always be there, and it'll probably also manifest itself Yukio being excluded from some general parts of adult life, and probably looked down upon, even subconsciously by those who do respect them. He'll always be the "little brother" friend. It's no wonder Yukio isn't very social. What is he going to do, watch all the adults slowly get drunk at a work party? Whoo. (Sure, Shura would probably give him a beer, and I'm sure the others would be willing to look the other way, but Yukio himself probably wouldn't take it.)

Not only that, but he doesn't have the same liberty as other teenagers his age to be dumb teenagers. If Rin or Shima or whoever else messes up- okay, impulsive, but they have the grace of being in training. Yukio, on the other hand, has to be professional. He has to act older than his age, or it's proof that he's not ready to be where he's at. It must be so frustrating whenever he works with a new exorcist- "Yes, I'm young for my position. No, that won't make me more difficult to work with. No, I don't need you to explain this concept to me, I already understand it, I graduated too-"

As a teacher: He has his students, all the same age as him. Hell, even if they have issues, Rin is his brother. But there's a power dynamic in the fact that he is their teacher and they are his students. There's also a duty Yukio has as the more experienced exorcist and their teacher to look after their safety, especially on field trips and the like. When they're fooling around in class, he has to be the killjoy who brings them back around on topic, and this isn't some math class they'll forget as soon as they graduate; he's teaching them information their lives are going to depend on.

It's also pretty hard to maintain a friendship with the same people you gave detention last week, or that you had to fail on a test.

As a student: Yukio also attends classes at True Cross that aren't at all related to exorcism, but I feel like even there he'd struggle connecting with his peers. Yukio's busy with teaching and exorcisms; that's a lot of time. Then his homework and classes- where exactly is he left to fit in a social life?

The anime suggests he's popular for girls to crush on. but being the crush of someone you barely know in high school isn't a friendship. Yukio seems like he'd be the typical introverted kid who goes mostly unnoticed. Even if he makes friends, what happens when he's had one too many last minute call ins for exorcisms, and has to ditch yet another hangout? How many medical leaves does he have to take in such an injury-prone job, not to mention mental health? It'd be easy to gain a reputation as a flaky and uninterested friend.

Then there's the issue of adjusting to a 'normal' life. How does one do that? How do you sit there and listen to your friends talk about homework and video games and whatever else they did last night, meanwhile what you did last night was risk your life slaying a demon, but if you even tried to tell them, you'd sound insane because most people in this world don't know demons are real at all. Not to mention he couldn't talk about his teaching job, either. Oh, also, "how was your vacation?" "My biological dad who is also Satan killed my adoptive dad who was an exorcist". To a teenager, it must feel impossible to find a way to relate regardless.

I think this has overall been a pretty sad post. I do think as Yukio grows up, he'll find his place. Once Rin and the others graduate, the wall of teacher-student between them will also be removed, though he'll still probably outrank them, at least for a while. As he grows up, too, the age gap between him and his peers will lessen, and he'll gain new coworkers who've only know him as an adult.

It will get better, just takes time.

#blue exorcist #ao no exorcist #yukio okumura #character analysis

76 notes · View notes

danses-with-dogmeat · 1 year

Note

Hey, hopefully I’m not too late for the 1.5k thing? If I’m not, can you do nickstalkers for Nick Valentine? Your choice on first or last name.

(If not feel free to just ignore this, I know you probably have a lot of asks to attend to)

Yes, absolutely! Ole Nicky always needs some lovin' (no matter what the canon game says), so here you are!

(And you weren't too late when you requested this, but this is one of the last ones I got, so we're getting closer to the end here, folks!) 😊

I hope you love it! <3

N) Nickname. What are the nicknames they have for their s/o? Do they like when their s/o uses nicknames?

Heh, nicknames lol.

ANYWAY

He lets his names for you slip out easily, even before the two of you are officially together. Calling you his 'partner,' and referring to you as 'doll' (gender neutral) are common before the romance really ramps up. After the two of you are official, he likes to use lots of the classic pet names for you, like darling and dear, his better half, dove, beautiful/handsome, honey, an occasional 'knockout' slips in there sometimes too; and he uses them often. No shame from the detective on this front, he uses pet names with you in public just as much as he does in private.

As for him, he really does just appreciate any term of endearment you have for him. (I happen to be partial to Nickerdoodle, myself). But a 'honey' and a 'dear' directed at him just feel so natural, so domestic that they almost transport him back in time to the old Nick's life, to the seemingly easy romance he shared with his Jenny. If you call him anything along the lines of 'handsome,' or 'dreamboat,' he'll be as close as a synth can get to blushing. Nick may not always believe it himself, but he's not going to argue with you on the subject of his attractiveness in your eyes. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," and all that, you know.

I) Insight. How easy is it for them to read their partner? (Mood, thoughts, etc.)

Well, he's a detective, and a damn good one at that. And he cares deeply about you and your state of mind, your health, both mental and physical after all of the horrible things you've been through. So... yeah, he's in a constant state of ensuring you're doing alright, paying close attention to your moods and reactions to certain events, sights, sounds and places. Nick is always the first to suggest you take a break or a breather, the one to remind you to eat and drink, to keep your strength up, even when that's not something he personally needs to worry about. And as far as responding to your changes in mood, the man's a professional. He does this for a living, essentially. When his clients have been through something awful, when their loved ones are on the edge of a breakdown, when they're worried beyond reason, when they haven't slept since their family member disappeared, Nick is there to comfort them, to ground them and make them feel heard. He does it with all the more passion when it comes to you. If you want your space, he's privy to it, but if you need him close, to talk or just to sit with you, he'll be there.

You'll be hard-pressed to find a partner more caring, more attentive, and a partner more skilled with healthy communication than Nick Valentine.

C) Cuddle. Do they like to cuddle and show affection? How?

If you don't initiate it, he tends to be reserved with his physical contact with you. It's not that he doesn't want it, in fact, that couldn't be further from the truth, but... Well, he's not made of the most huggable material on the planet now, is he?

Still though, he tries. With what he has, he does his best. His good hand is always the one to grasp with yours, and he's an avid "arm around your shoulders" kind of partner whenever the two of you re walking side-by-side or seated next to each other. But... the less, ahem, clothes that are involved, the more hesitant he is with you. Your skin is so soft, so easily scratched or bruised by his skeletal hand, by the ruined parts of his skin-like covering that are slowly rusting and peeling away, revealing the sharper bits underneath. Usually when the two of you settle in for the night, and you try curling into him, or wrapping your arms around him, he dresses himself in some softer clothes. Long pajama pants and long-sleeved shirts that are soft to the touch and keep his sharper points off of your skin, and keep the cool touch of his body off of your warmth. Those nights that it works though, when the two of you can be closer than he's ever been with another person, Nick still can't sleep, not really, but he can smile as you snore against him, he can close his eyes and feel more human than he ever dreamed he would.

K) Kiss. What are their kisses like? Who kissed who first?

He's careful with you... but his kisses become simply all-encompassing once they reach their peak. They always start out slow with the buildup, with Nick carefully placing his hands on you, and making sure your own exploring fingers don't get nicked by the exposed metal bits on his face, but soon after, he presses himself fully into you, to the point that it's hard to tell where his lips begin and yours end, if not for the difference in temperature. It's almost hard to breathe as well, given that he doesn't really have that problem, he sometimes fails to consider it as much as he probably should.

He was concerned from the start, and unsure, given that he hasn't had a whole lot of smooches in his synthetic existence, and he hoped like hell that he didn't taste all too bad, what with the metallic materials that made up his mouth. So you have to be the one to initiate the first one, if only because he wants to be absolutely positive that this is something that you really want. Later though, when it becomes more commonplace, when you both are used to it, Nick kisses you often and more openly than he ever thought he would. It's a greeting and a goodbye, an 'I love you' quick as a peck, an 'I missed you' with more gusto than simple words, and an expression of his affection that he becomes all too used to. The others in the Commonwealth may find it odd, this union between the two of you, but the synth couldn't care less; and even if his public kisses get you both to the center of some bigoted attentions, that's never stopped him from living his life before. And, well, he doesn't really see that changin'.

#1.5k event #1.5k celebration #fallout #fallout companions #fallout 4 #fallout 4 companions #fo4 #fo4 companions #nick valentine #fo4 nick valentine #fallout nick valentine #night stalker #relationship alphabet

77 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

honeydashi

✿tadahoney✿

vazetti

Vazetti

oldestsoul

music for the soul

just-trynabevalid

Fandoms and Funnies and Things

sofiasgirls

Sofia's girls