Support Group - March 2021

[tramitem]

Who: OPEN (Including to all the new characters who app throughout the month)
What: Bureau Run, Non-Mandatory Support Group
When: There are meetings at various times during the week, whatever works for your character between 8 am and 10 pm
Where: There are meetings at various locations around NYC, whatever works for your character
Rating/Warnings: We ask that players put appropriate warning labels in the subject lines of their threads as they become necessary


There’s a generic spread of food on a table off to one side of the room: donuts, muffins, bagels, and cookies; coffee, lemonade, water, and because one of the Different asked for it, hot chocolate. Maybe you’re hungry enough to try it—it’s free after all.

Or maybe you can’t stomach anything, given the event you’re attending.

The space is a local rec center. The beige-painted cinder block walls and the fluorescent lighting are a terrible combination. Maybe they are reminiscent of the public school you attended in your youth?

Why are you here? Curiosity? Maybe the Bureau official will say something that will help you make sense of things? The meeting was interesting—who knew there were so many people like you, receiving memories of a past life? The group was led by someone from The Bureau—the Department of Medical Services. Some people are staying in their chairs and chatting—they must know each other from previous meetings. Some of them are gravitating towards the food.

How do you feel about tonight? Has it helped you come to terms with the dream of memories you’re having? Maybe it’s time to talk to others, get an understanding of their experience.

Comments

CW: violence depicted in memory link

[not_as_i_do]

Martin's sitting in the folding chair, listening to the usual Bureau liason drone on about the importance of sharing their memories, when the world tilts just ever so slightly.

He's still sitting in a folding chair. Still wearing the sweater that showed up neatly folded on the foot of his bed back in November with no preamble. But the scrubs underneath are not his jeans and cotton shirt, and those are crocs, not winter boots on his feet. Even so, the stillness in the room is the same.

When he comes back up out of the memory, he starts laughing, pulling his hands up and back through his hair.

"Dr. Whitly?" The Bureau therapist squints at him, trying her best not to look absolutely offended at his sudden outburst and interruption. "What are you laughing at?"

"Oh, dear." He pulls himself together and presses his fingertips to his mouth until the urge to grin fades, and he dulls the rush of endorphins to a slight shimmer of a smile. "My apologies. I've never been hit by a memory at Group before, and I must say ... you might find it a bit of a relief."

She's not impressed. "How so?"

"Well, you see ... I've been in a group like this before. And it seems my previous therapist was even worse than you are at this." He turns in his chair and raises a hand. "Show of hands? People here who've had better therapists?"

Re: CW: violence depicted in memory link

[darkforcerising]

Anakin was there on a whim. He was always at these meetings on a whim, when he remembered he was looking out for Different who were just a shade different from the rank and file that seem to eat up whatever was offered in the Bureau's tight-fisted hand.

He'd noticed that Martin was there tonight too, but stayed clear of his friend because of Anakin's purpose - to look out for new people.

But tonight something else happened.

He felt something odd through the Force and only later, after Anakin had time to think back on it, would he realize it was the sudden rush of many different emotions all at once. It was the number and suddenness.

And then of course Martin started laughing. Anakin knew then that he was the source of it.

But a weird feeling in the Force didn't prepare Anakin for Martin talking back to the facilitator, or when Martin started asking others to get involved.

The first thing Anakin tried was to get Martin's attention with a look. A look that said a mix of 'What the hell?' and 'Are you okay?' though whether or not Anakin was successful or not was not readily apparent.

[not_as_i_do]

Martin didn't really think much of saying anything - it seemed a valid enough concern, after all, now that he really understood how useless these sessions were for him.

He caught Anakin's expression, but took it in stride, smiling. "Do I have donut crumbs in my beard again, dear boy?"

[phdmotherfucker]

Harleen tried to cover her laugh with a cough, but she couldn't keep her shoulders from shaking. She bit her lip and pressed her mouth against her hand but it sputtered out in one great cackle.

"Oh god. I'm sorry. But he's right? I'm so sorry."

[not_as_i_do]

"Ha!" He beams at her, absolutely pleased as punch that of all people, it's dear Harleen who agrees with him. She'd mentioned PTSD, after all, which meant that her own memories were nothing pleasant.

"Seriously, though, group therapy? In a situation like this? The only commonality is that we're assimilating memories. In a real group, you look for people with a common trauma or a shared behavior in need of correction. Alcoholics. Sex criminals. Abuse survivors!" He raises his eyebrows a little at Harleen, since he knows she works with the latter.

"What we all have in common is something that has so much variety within the definition that a group modality is absolutely useless. It's like having a group session about food allergies. You can talk to us all about avoiding peanuts, but that guy over there might only be allergic to strawberries. Or she can't eat gluten. You see?"

okay, this time on the *right* log!

[tobodlygo]

Jim is...

Well, he's loaded himself up on Coffee and as many bagels as possible, because he's nervous and frankly, the caffeines making him even more jittery already and maybe the carbs will help him calm down a bit.

Maybe.

He's not holding out hope.

He'd been listening intently to what the other people here had to say, and taking special notice of how the Beaureau member had been reacting to all of this. He's got his notebook open on his knee, jotting down notes in a very hasty shorthand scrawl, a bagel he's holding in his mouth but too focused on his writing to do anything more than that.

He only looks up if someone catches his attention, or touches him, at which point he looks up, startled out of his writing.

"Haffmm?"

...

He stops dead still for a second, dying inside from embarrassment. Did he really just try to talk to someone with a Bagel in his mouth? Yes. Goddamit. He closes his eyes slowly and removes the forgotten snack from his mouth, clearing his throat.

"I am... so sorry about that."

[darkforcerising]

Anakin who'd quite literally dropped into the seat next to Jim, his backpack hitting the ground with a soft thump, gave a shrug.

"Why?" he asked casually, but in a low voice. He was not offended, but he didn't want to disrupt the other meeting attendees who were engaging with the Bureau facilitator.

Anakin didn't come to the meetings to share his experiences unguarded to a bunch of strangers.

But he was here looking for the type of stranger who viewed the Bureau with a healthy dose of skepticism.

"I'm Anakin," and he offered his right hand - which was currently the only hand that had a glove on, and for good reasons. The reason being his hand was prosthetic, and he didn't like announcing that by visuals alone. But anyone who shook his hand would know instantly. Metal didn't feel a thing like flesh and bone.

[tobodlygo]

"I'm usually, like, way more polite than to try talking to someone through a bagel," he says, a read blush of embarrassment rising up his neck.

Jim takes Anakin's hand, eye's going wide with surprise as he feels the very clearly prosthetic hand- though he recovers quickly and gives the same, strong, shake he would give anyone else.

"Jim," he replies, trying to recover himself with a smile. "Is it always like this?" He asks, mostly gesturing to the Bureau rep.

[scotch_egg]

He shrugs and sits down in a nearby chair, looking disheveled usual with a Starbucks coffee cup in his hand that's sadly full of tea. Wasn't his choice.

"It's fine. Welcome to hell." He sips his tea. :What are you writing?"

[tobodlygo]

"To- Hell?" That's enough to shake him out of his momentary embarassment. Oh god, just what is going on?

"Ah, Notes. I was taking notes on the sesssion," he says, showing the notebook to the gentleman; though unless Alec's familiar with Teeline Shorthand, only the date and the words "Meeting Mins" are legible.

[traceofeffort]

Lisa will turn out to be in agreement on carbs and caffeine getting her through stuffy support groups; in her case it's the large Styrofoam cup of take-out sweet tea she nurses while listening to the usual activities. She does stand up and offer a new memory of her own: helping a friend who hasn't made Valentine's chocolate herself before work through her first batch. "It was kind of surreal, though - the me in the memory was a lot more free with the recipe. It almost felt like she was comfortable enough to not really think about it? I might have to pay more attention, maybe I'll learn something I can turn out cookies with," she quips with a light laugh and a grin. "I feel like she had half an aisle of Williams-Sonoma in her kitchen drawer though."

The time holding the crowd's attention helps her focus on the others, as it usually does; the one that catches her attention this time isn't even looking at her, and is... is he taking notes? This certainly isn't the place to be working on homework or something. Either he's a Bureau plant - unlikely, they already have one of those running the meeting - or he's seriously invested. She chooses to believe the latter, and makes a mental note once she sits back down, taking a longer pull from her tea. More of them, huh...

Once a few more minutes pass and she doesn't look quite so obvious, she stands up and walks over to the new guy. He seems a little twitchy, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. So she raises her free hand in greeting and starts with a gentle "hey," which prompts an apparently automatic response through a mouth full of bread. Lisa can't help herself: she giggles softly, before shaking her head, eyes dancing. "It's totally okay. You're taking this seriously enough I could distract you in the first place, yeah? It's a good sign, I think."

[tobodlygo]

Jim tries not to beat himself up too much about the whole bagel thing, but it feels like he still wants the ground to swallow him whole.

"I'm still sorry," he says, scratching the side of his face, just for something to do with his hands that wouldn't get him further into the pit than he already is. He laughs with her, though, and that eases his tension a little bit.

"Jim," he says, offering his hand for her to shake. "I was listening to you earlier! Chocolate, huh? That sounds like a pretty useful memory," he smiles. He's absolutely atrocious at cooking anything more complicated than 'Pasta and Sauce', 'Rice and Sauce, 'Potatoes and Sau'- you get the idea.

[vrepit_no]

Shiro's brow arches and the first real smile since he'd been sucked into this mess flickers across his lips. "Hey, I should have waited till you swallowed." Relief visibly eases some of the tension knotted up in the grad student's shoulders. "I just kinda wanted to make sure it was you. This is really bizarre, isn't it? You, ah. You had one of these visions? Too?" He fiddles with his 90% empty water cup in lieu of actually meeting the professor's eyes for that last question. He had passed on sharing his memory for Reasons.

[not_as_i_do]

"No, no, you're fine, dear boy." Martin gives him a reassuring smile. "I was just curious what sort of conclusions you're drawing from our little get-together."

[phdmotherfucker]

Harleen had been paying more attention to Jim than any of the speakers. His notes had sparked her curiosity and she had leaned closer and closer to read over his shoulder. She brushed against him on accident and flushed with embarrassment when he looked up.

"Oh god, no, I'm sorry. All my fault. I was peeking."

First timer ahoy!

[vrepit_no]

There comes a point where, as you walk in the room, alone, for the first time, that you suddenly ask yourself what the heck you're doing here. For some of us it's an agonizing 30 seconds that feels like days. For Shiro it's closer to ten seconds that feels like a minute. But even so, there is that moment of shuffling over to the doorjamb and scanning the room before settling on the food table. Oh thank everything. Even if he doesn't eat it, at least there's something to keep his hands busy. Oo! Double-chocolate cookies!

The meeting... is just as weird and surreal as the memory was, honestly. And his face probably shows it. "Does anybody else feel like they're dreaming?" he says, mostly to himself. It sounds so stupid coming out of his mouth, but he really as to say these things out loud sometimes. "Like, string theory is obvious, but are we really meant to believe that's what's happening here? Strings tangling? Why is it only a few of us? Why are other people getting pulled into it? Are there any solid answers? At all?"

[traceofeffort]

That brief moment of hesitation bordering on room-scanning doesn't escape Lisa's notice, though she doesn't pounce right away. Instead she makes a mental note and settles into a chair, idly sipping her tea as the crowd builds into what she's starting to recognize as some of the usual suspects. The meeting proceeds largely as usual; when there's a pull in participation she stands up and volunteers a memory again, talking about a night she got called away from band practice for an emergency shift at her convenience store job. She'd left Roselia to play on their own, and when she returned- "One of them was wrapped up in amplifier cable and couldn't move, one spilled milk everywhere and about took out the monitors, they couldn't get any cohesion to play, it was awful." She laughs softly. "But it's a pretty big sign they needed her. Kinda reassuring, y'know?"

When things calmed down a bit later into the meeting, she lets out a breath, catching herself starting to hum Sunkissed Rhodonite again and chuckling before heading over to the new guy she's been keeping an eye on. She can't miss some of the things he's musing to himself; she frowns briefly, then steps forward with a small smile, carrying a foam cup of take out sweet tea. "It did back then," she admits quietly. "It's a little different now, though. Answers are hard to come by, but we're doing the best we can."

[not_as_i_do]

"It does feel like that sometimes," Martin agrees as he bellies up to the table for a refill of coffee. "And it's extremely surreal. I wouldn't say you get used to it so much as you ... slowly start to find your own ways to cope."

He offers his free hand. "Dr. Martin Whitly. Nice to meet you."

[phdmotherfucker]

"If anybody does have the answers, they aren't sharing with the class." Harleen tucked her hair back and folded a napkin around a stale cookie. She regarded the new guy with a dry smile, remembering being in his shoes just a month before. It felt like so much longer. Maybe that was part of getting memories from another life, that time felt doubled up somehow.

"I know what you mean, though. The only way I know I'm not dreaming is that I haven't really slept for the last month."

[no_applause]

Padme looks up from her notes as someone to her right speaks. He looks as bewildered as she feels. Maybe he's new, as well.

She gives him a small smile, nodding. "I've felt that way, too. This is all very surreal. I have so many questions. None of this makes any sense."

[no_applause]

Padme arrived late to her first support group meeting. Her planning meeting had run late, but that was unavoidable. She slipped in and found an empty seat near the back of the room, gently setting her bag and coat on the chair next to her so she wouldn't interrupt anyone. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she listened to the official speak. The more she heard, the more questions she had. But by the time he was done speaking, there was one thing pressing on her mind.

Raising her hand, she stood and cleared her throat quietly. "Excuse me, I have a question. Please pardon my ignorance, because this is my first time attending one of these meetings. How is any of this happening? Is anything being done to find a cause or solution? This sort of aid is appreciated, but it will only go so far if the underlying problem isn't addressed."

[not_as_i_do]

Martin turned at the sound of a new voice. The Different were really appearing in droves this month - he couldn't help but think that Mr. Martin must be popping some serious antacids right about now.

"They're pretty close-lipped about details at the Bureau," he said with a wry smile. "The most any of us have ever gotten is a variation on 'we're working on it', but maybe we're just not asking the right questions. They've been 'working on it' for a couple of years now, from what I've heard."

[darkforcerising]

Anakin had noticed Padme right away, though he tried his best not to think of her as Padme- she just looked, and he later realized when she spoke up that she sounded like the queen from his memories. He shouldn't assume, sometimes people just looked and sounded very similar.

He waited until the meeting was over to screw up his courage - to just see - and change seats. He took the on another Different had emptied.

The facilitator's back was turned and he was talking to another attendee.

"They don't give good answers, do they?" he said. The answer the facilitator had given was as generic as the one Mr. Martin gives when you first get hit with your memory.

[phdmotherfucker]

Harleen was impressed at the woman who boldly stood and asked every question that she had bit her own tongue on for the last month. The appointed facilitator deflected with practiced ease, offering vague assurances that the Bureau was aware of concerns and working to make improvements, before changing the topic entirely.

She made a point of seeking the woman out after the main meeting was finished and everyone mingled around coffee and stale baked goods.

"You'll find answers a bit thin on the ground, I'm afraid." She smiled and offered her hand. "Harleen Quinzel. Nice to meet you."

[tobodlygo]

James waits until the woman has been summarily deflected and dismissed by the session leader, watching her intently.

"I'm sorry that didn't work," he says, sitting down next to her. "Fab execution, though."