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jamies-rambles · 2 months

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The Writer's Departure

Author's note: this is by far the most personal shit I've put on here, but I doubt anyone will read it. This is for me. A proper end to the series, different than I imagined, but an ending nonetheless. Turned out very different from what I planned for this story even, I just wrote it in one go pretty much and there might def be many typos in it, but who cares. If you don't know me, I doubt this will interest you. If you do know me, you might still not want to read it, perhaps even more so. Felt good to write.

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Tidal Wave

Jamie was feeling conflicted. This was nothing new, philosophy was not for the weak minded, and Jamie was not new to emotional doubt and struggles either. They had felt the pit of dread in their stomach before, often while dealing with matters of identity and dysphoria. The pit had gone away with time, after he'd allowed himself to let go of the labels, the boxes he thought he was supposed to fit in.The pit was back now.

Binero was a tough guy to be friends with. he was often rude or harsh, but Jamie had patience and always tried to see the best in him regardless. This time, it felt different.

His outburst after hearing of Ryan's death was hurtful, but Jamie understood he was just acting out. No, it was bigger than one moment. Bigger than Jamie himself even, as he had witnessed the way Bin treated others. The way he threw them aside as soon as they disagreed with him. How easily he spread rumors, started by an oversimplification that would turn into an outright lie. His black and white thinking, speaking in absolutes, ignoring every nuance. So eager to point out other people's wrongs, yet somehow always in the right himself. His insistence than anybody who dared to go against him was only looking for a fight. Jamie saw how he intimidated people, even those who you'd think would have earned his respect by now.

Jamie thought of his brother, stubborn and disrespectful to a fault, always believing he knew better. They recalled how, as a child, they had learned to be very careful when speaking, knowing that even one wrong word could lead to another argument. The tension this had created, how long it took before he was able to stand up for himself without fear.

Jamie sighed, the insomnia getting to him. Maybe he was overreacting. He didn't want to make false accusations, or be the kind of person to talk shit behind someone's back. But he needed to speak with someone who knew Bin as well as he did, maybe even better, just to see if they had experienced similar frustration. They decided to go for a walk, to clear their head and try to shake the feeling that they were being watched.

Plastic Island

Moving away from Coastle had been rough. Even tho he had thought himself ready, once the time came, Jamie felt himself missing his little mushroom, the gay writing corner, even the dumb Ikea balloons. The new island, still unnamed, felt soulless. Binton, to Jamie at least, was the embodiment of this lifelessness. A huge, mostly empty building, made with the intention of taking up as much space as possible and lacking any real character.

Jamie's tower was tall, yes, but it had life, shape and color. Although their heart was truly in their second home, built to look after grandma's old house.

Annie Langedijk-Mens was not just any old lady. She was spirited until the very end, had a positivity that seemed almost endless and great care for others. Her house was much more than just that, it was an open door, a warm cup of tea and a listening ear. A place where everyone was welcome, and you could always be yourself as long as you respected others too. Jamie had always loved coming over to talk, do some puzzles, do crafts together. Mom always said they got their creativity from grandma, which must have been true, seeing all the beatiful things she had created. Next to the house was the garden, much bigger in real life, where grandpa Q had always been strutting about, farming potatoes, cucumbers, beetroots, carrots and many more things for the entire neighborhood. Always for free, they didn't need the money, and a kind gesture would pay itself back in time.

Lost in thought, Jamie barely noticed a voice speaking behind them. "Are you the author?" a low voice with a thick British accent asked. Startled, Jamie turned around to see a strange man with long, slightly curly hair. He was not very tall, shorter than Jamie even, but still imposing. His skin was slightly tanned, his clothes ragged, and his eyes stared directly into Jamie's. It was not a pleasant stare. Jamie felt a shiver, the sharp gaze unwavering, the strange man still waiting for his answer. "And who are you?" Jamie asked, trying to hide their discomfort. The man stepped forward, his eyes even closer. "Call me the Archivist," he said, reaching out a hand. It took Jamie much longer than it should to realize he was going for a handshake. With some hesitation, he shook the stranger's hand, a strange fear creeping up their back. "You're the author, right? You write about the things that happen around here?" Jamie nodded, his voice stuck, unsure of what this man wanted from them.

The Archivist smiled. "We have been watching you for a while, Jamie. l personally am a big fan of your work. I wonder, how does the story end? Does the butler come back from hell? Does the god realize his loneliness, does he stop pushing everyone away?"

Jamie wanted to tell the man to leave him alone, that he wasn't going to write any more, that it was over, but he felt himself starting to speak without wanting to, his voice dragged out by some invisible force. "The butler meets his dad again in hell, who is a demon," they started. "With his help, he works his way up until he becomes the butler of the Devil himself, Jeremy. I was thinking Bin should realize his mistakes and apologize, after which he might get a new love interest. But now I think that is too out of character, and he is much more likely to end up alone instead."

The Archivist nodded, his gaze still not leaving Jamie's. "Your stories, they are based on your friends?" he asked. "Well, I don't know if I would consider all of them friends, or even most of them at this point. I just observe, and sometimes I make up fun stories based on the interactions between them." Jamie surprised himself with their honesty, having no idea why they were telling this to a complete stranger. But something about the man's eyes made them feel like he would find out anyway, that he had his way of knowing about things.

"So this Binero, he has gotten on your nerves? You no longer want him to live happily ever after?" "Well, I honestly don't think he deserves it," Jamie started, the words being pulled from their chest. "Or maybe he doesn't even really want it. Relationships take effort, and if he doesn't want to make that effort and would rather push everyone away, doesn't it make more sense for him to be alone?"

Jamie fumbled with their hands, anxiously waiting for the man to leave, hoping this answer was enough for him. The archivist let out a deep sigh, and held a tape recorder up to his face. "Statement ends," he spoke, before clicking the button. Jamie hadn't even noticed he had been recording. And a tape recorder? Those things were ancient, why would anybody still use those? "You like him, don't you?" the Archivist asked. Before Jamie could deny this, he continued: "Don't bother denying it, you should know we see all. You should talk to him. I know you don't want to, and I understand why, but you'll never be able to let it go if you don't talk it out. I see you. I know you." Jamie wanted to object, say that there would be no point in talking, but their voice had left them again, and so had the strange man. He seemed to have gone just as suddenly as he appeared.

Atomic Man

Jamie found himself standing in front of Binero's house, the Archivist's words lingering in his mind. They dreaded this, but there was truth in what the stranger had said. With a heavy heart, they rang the doorbell. And waited. Silence, nothing, maybe he wasn't even home. Maybe this was all stupid, they should just forget Bin ever existed and move on, he clearly didn't care anyway and - "Jamie?" They looked up to see Binero standing in the doorway.

"Hey," Jamie said sheepishly. Binero looked at them, more than a bit surprised. "Why are you here?" he asked. Jamie wasn't sure what to say. How was he supposed to just explain it all? Would he even want to hear it? "I need to ask you something," they said. "I need to know where I stand." The surprise and confusion didn't fade from Bin's face. "What do you mean? Can you be more concrete?" With all the courage he had built up, which wasn't much, Jamie blurted out: "I want to know how you see me." Binero raised an eyebrow. "Jamie, I am incredibly busy, I would have to think on that. I will answer you later." Jamie nodded, trying to hide their disappointment. "Take your time," they mumbled, walking away as fast as they could. Through the window, he could see his screen, a driving simulator game on pause.

The answer came, hours later, and Jamie was once again at Bin's door. They sat down in his living room, if you could even call it that. They sat there, miles apart, and Binero started talking. "I don't know why you are here, or what you want from me. You have been super negative recently, hating on my house. Did you know Sidget designed it? You're bullying him, really, and he's already such an insecure kid. You said this place was toxic, I can't even take that seriously. A lot of negativity has left with you, so I honestly don't know why you came back. Shame it got this far, but hey. I am not sorry for anything."

Jamie swallowed. The dread was strong, they felt the frustration coming back, hitting them like a rock. But they came here to talk, and so they would. "I guess I'll just go bit by bit then," he said, trying his best to hide his anger. "I have talked to Sidget personally, he knows I don't hate his designs and that I appreciate him. It's a lot more nuanced than you are making it seem. And as to why I am here, I feel the need to explain why I left in the first place. I don't regret leaving, but I know how painful it can be when someone just breaks contact without any clear reason, and I don't want to feel like there are things left unsaid."

Binero shook his head. "Seems to me you're just looking for a fight. You're trying to manipulate me into feeling bad again, but I am not playing this game."

"I am not playing any games, I don't want anything other than some sort of mutual understanding," Jamie tried. "I have tried to explain so many times how the way you act affects me negatively, and all I ask is for you to try to place yourself in my shoes just once. It seems to me you have a lot of difficulty doing this, to the point where you don't even try."

Jamie noticed they had started shaking. He hated that Bin had this effect on him, but he wanted to try. To hope he could somehow get through, if he could only find the right words. If he could just get through to him, even a little bit.

Binero just stared at them, no discernible emotion on his face. "Oke?" he said. Jamie wondered for a second if Bin had even heard him. What kind of response was that? Did he truly care so little? Why were they even still trying? The Archivist's words echoed in his head. He swallowed again.

"I guess understanding is not a value that matters to you," they said bitterly. "You know, I mostly left because I just can't be neutral towards you. I wouldn't even try if I didn't care so much. I could go on and on about hoe much you annoy me, but that was true from the start, and still..." Jamie stopped, unsure if he should even say it. There probably wasn't a point to it. Their relationship was too far gone, and he really just wanted to be able to get over it, but something just didn't let him. The reason they used to stay up all night just to talk to him. The reason they want to hope, despite all reason, that Bin was capable of change.

Binero inhaled, ready to start another argument, but Jamie interrupts him. "I loved you," he said. He looked at Bin, trying to read him, but his face kept the same expression. His eyes said that same toneless "oke" again.

A noise behind Jamie broke the deafening silence. He knew what it meant. Tentacles wrapped around his ankles, arms and torso, squeezing and making them unable to move. Jamie wanted to scream, but the emptiness silenced him, dragging him down.

When The War Ends

The silence was deafening. Jamie could hear his own heart beating loudly, so loudly. Things were turning, even though there was nothing. Spinning until it made him dizzy. They wanted it to slow down, but it was hopeless. They tried. Grandma would be proud that he tried. You don't just drop someone you care about. In this case, there seemed to be no point anymore. Jamie sighed, realizing just how tired he was. The spinning slowed. They tried to get up, despite the darkness, trying to ignore the headache.

His entire body hurt, but he knew he'd be alright. They got out. Not the way they had hoped, but maybe this was for the best. It was time to stop hoping for Bin to change. Jamie allowed himself a minute to feel sorry for him. Sorry that Bin would likely never know real personal growth, or healthy relationships. That he would keep pushing everyone who once cared for him away, until he ended up alone with a bunch of people who didn't challenge him in any way. Then the moment ended. And Jamie left.

#Old #Not really old #but still related to that #Fic

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giantkillerjack · 1 year

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Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

#hlep #original #mental health #my sympathies and empathies to anyone who has to rely on this kind of hlep to get what they need.#the people in my life who most need to see this post are my family but even if they did I sincerely doubt they would internalize it #i've tried to break thru to them so many times it makes my head hurt. so i am focusing on boundaries and on finding other forms of support #and this thing i learned today helps me validate those boundaries. the example with the milk was from my therapist.#the example with the towing company was a real thing that happened with my parents a few months ago while I was age 28. 28!#a full adult age! it is so infantilizing as a disabled adult to seek assistance and support from ableist parents.#they were real mad i was mad tho. and the spoons i spent trying to explain it were only the latest in a long line of #huge family-related spoon expenditures. distance and the ability to enforce boundaries helps. haven't talked to sisters for literally the #longest period of my whole life. people really believe that if they love you and try to help you they can do no wrong.#and those people are NOT great allies to the chronically sick folks in their lives.#you can adore someone and still fuck up and hurt them so bad. will your pride refuse to accept what you've done and lash out instead?#or will you have courage and be kind? will you learn and grow? all of us have prejudices and practices we are not yet aware of.#no one is pure. but will you be kind? will you be a good friend? will you grow? i hope i grow. i hope i always make the choice to grow.#i hope with every year i age i get better and better at making people feel the opposite of how my family's ableism has made me feel #i will see them seen and hear them heard and smile at their smiles. make them feel smart and held and strong.#just like i do now but even better! i am always learning better ways to be kind so i don't see why i would stop

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