#for reasons youll know if youve known me long enough lol
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chiimeramanticore · 3 months ago
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Part of the Band - Chapter 17 - The Junkyard
Chapter summary: Beach Bear gets his car back. Fatz does some sick negotiating. Dook finds a sign. A/N:
can you believe we're almost at 20 chapters. can you believe I've almost been writing this fic a full year. horrible /lh
Chapter word count: 1,260 <- Chapter 16 - Chapter 18 -> Read it on AO3!
"Y'know we don't have to do this," Dook says.
"We have to," Beach Bear says.
Dook stands behind Beach Bear's chair, just outside a junkyard. This is apparently the place they've been keeping Beach Bear's car. Fatz was nice enough to drive them here after band practice. Beach Bear himself seems pretty determined about getting his car back, but... Dook isn't sure he likes it here. Still, they enter.
The ground is all dirt, and the scenery consists of piles of trash and other, larger, broken appliances strewn about the area. If there's an organization system, Dook can't figure it out.
"Tell me if you see the car," Beach Bear says.
"I'm lookin' for a management office or somethin'," Dook says. "We can't just nab it outta the lot, right?"
"I dunno," Beach Bear mutters. Dook scans the area, admittedly on the lookout for both. Finally, at the far end of the lot, he spots a small building. That must be the office.
"Wait– There it is!" Beach Bear says. Dook assumes he's talking about the office at first, before Beach Bear points off to their left. There it is. His faded blue convertible, with broken windows and dented severely on the right side. Dook connects this with the fact that Beach Bear's injuries are largely on his right...
"Take me closer, Dook," Beach Bear urges, before Dook's imagination can take him any further. "I wanna see her."
"I feel like we should get to the office first," Dook says. "I don't wanna–"
"Hey!" A voice sounds out. A man approaches them from the direction of the office. He's a mastiff, large and imposing, but his gruff voice seems relatively friendly. "Sorry I missed 'ya comin' in. I'm the manager here– how can I help you two gentlemen?"
"That's my car," Beach Bear says, gesturing toward the convertible. "I wrecked it recently, and it got sent here."
"Given your state, I don't doubt that!" The manager says, and laughs.
"Right, well, we're here to take it back," Beach Bear says.
"Well, I assume y'all have gone through your insurance, first, of course..." the manager starts. "But that car right there, I've not received any sorta notification about it getting claimed again. I've got it ready to go to auction soon."
"Auction?" Beach Bear and Dook say at the same time.
"That's– you can't do that," Beach Bear insists. "That's my car! You can't just sell it off!"
"Your insurance already sold it off to me," the manager tells them. "And that thing's a wreck, I'll tell 'ya that." He shoves his hands into his pockets. "Can't even imagine it'll go for too much, might have to crush it."
"No, you can't!" Beach Bear says.
"I certainly can," the manager says. "Way I see it, you'd have to pay me, probably, twice whatever your settlement was just to have that thing trashed, let alone taken off anywhere. Good thousand, at least. Besides, all the forms've been filled out already, everything's in motion, y'know? Probably be off at auction in a week, maybe less." He glances at the car again. "Probably less. So, 'less you got that kinda money up front, right now, you're outta luck, kid." He leans down, meeting Beach Bear at eye level in his wheelchair. "Or, y'know. Could always try your hand at the auction." He chuckles, and Beach Bear near growls at him.
The guy's talking circles around them. For Dook, at least, he barely understands a word of it. But he understands at the very least they're going to need a lot of money to take the car home, money they don't have. It seems pretty open-and-shut, but he's not sure Beach Bear is going to be that easy to convince to let the car go.
"Now, hold on a second," someone says from behind them.
Dook turns to see. "Fatz," he calls.
"I thought you were gonna wait in the car?" Beach Bear says, craning his neck to look at him.
"I figured you all might need help with negotiations," Fatz replies. "Now listen here, mister manager, you and I both know that ain't how this works.
The mastiff crosses his arms. "Really now? And what do you know about how this works?"
"I know that the owner of the car's entitled to takin' it back at any point before the auction," Fatz says. "I know that Beach Bear here's the owner of that car, and I know he can prove it. But you didn't doubt that, didja?"
The manager says nothing, scowling at him.
"I also know that any car is worth at least a hundred bucks, in any condition," Fatz continues. "Anything can be used for parts, at the worst." He gestures toward the car. "Mirrors and headlights look pretty good. Seating can get reused. Most of the seatbelts look fine too. You and I both know you ain't gonna destroy that car. And it certainly don't cost you money to do it."
The manager ponders the car again, frowning the whole time. Then, finally, "Hmph. Seems like you know somethin', yeah. Tell you what. Hundred-fifty bucks, it's yours. I don't care if it's worth more than that, you ain't worth the trouble."
"Done," Fatz says.
"Fatz–" Beach Bear says, then lowers his voice. Fatz leans in to hear. "Fatz, I don't know if we can cover that. Don't sound so sure."
"Don't worry about it," Fatz whispers back. "I can take care of it."
"F... Fatz, no," Beach Bear says. "I– I can't let you do that."
"And I can't stand to see you lose that car. I know how much you love it."
"I- I..." Beach Bear wants to argue, but shuts his mouth.
"Now," Fatz says, turning his attention back to the manager. "You need anything else from us, or are we done here?"
The mastiff grumbles. "I gotta get some signatures from y'all," he mutters. He nods at Fatz. "You're the one buyin, yeah? C'mon."
The two walk off toward the office, leaving Beach Bear and Dook alone together.
"...Well–" Dook starts, but Beach Bear pulls away from him and moves towards the car.
"Oh, my baby," he says to it. "You poor thing... I'm so sorry."
Dook watches him touch the dents in the passenger door gingerly, running his palms over the ripples. He'd approach, but this feels... oddly intimate for Beach Bear. Maybe he'll leave him be for now. Instead, he turns toward the nearest pile of junk.
"People really dump whatever here, huh...?" he murmurs, pulling out a sheet of metal. A tire, a hubcap, a windshield wiper... You could build a while new car like this. Dook pulls out another piece of scrap metal on it, with an emblem painted on it. A black circle with a red "D" on it, and a lightning bolt going through it.
"Hey, 'D' for Dook," Beach Bear says from behind him. "Neat find."
"Yeah," Dook says. "Maybe I'll use it. Lotta weird stuff here."
"Heh, yeah," Beach Bear replies. He pulls on a short length of rope sticking out from the pile, only to keep pulling more and more, finding it comically long. "You could probably build some neat stuff with all this."
"Like a spaceship," Dook says quietly.
"Yeah, like a spaceship!" Beach Bear says, and Dook senses genuine excitement in his voice. He smiles.
"Maybe one day, we can build a spaceship together," Dook says.
"Yeah," Beach Bear replies. "Run off to the stars together."
"...Yeah," Dook concurs, turning back to the pile of junk. "Together."
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petewentzisblack1312 · 3 years ago
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Hi… I wanted to ask this on anon so I didn’t ask on your personal, idk if this is too personal or anything to ask but
Do you have a problem with people saying they have a mental disorder if they don’t have a diagnosis? Like for me so… I have been diagnosed with anxiety but I am like 99% sure I have bipolar disorder. And like I know you can’t diagnose me so I’m not going to go into depth with my symptoms but ever since I was like, 11, I used to get very depressed to the point where I contemplated ending it but then i would snap out of it and I think for me my manic phase are hypomanic bc ive never experienced like the full range of those symptoms but my depressive phases get very rough esp if I have external stressors but it will go through what I assume to be these phases like sometimes within the day esp if I have a stressor.
I am in nursing school and I work at a psych hospital so like this isn’t coming out of nowhere, I am very familiar with all mental disorders and it was actually during my psych nursing class and learning about bipolar disorder that I was like… hm… why does this feel like a mirror right now. I am aware I should get to a therapist and get an actual diagnosis (if I had money I would lol) but like idk. Idk if it’s worth going to my doctor at my physical and being like “hey I think I have this” I am lucky enough now that I am in a good place and can manage my symptoms but I am terrified I will go through a stressor again and lose it so idk. I mean I feel like I already know the answer but I wanted to ask anyway to see your take :/
Anyway idk as a future medical professional I think self diagnosis got a bad rep and it’s like idk I think for mental disorders esp you can tell if you have anxiety and it’s a persistent problem. You can tell if you have depression. I know bipolar disorder is harder to diagnose but idk I think since I’m in the field it’s easier? Idk I felt like a sense of relief with learning about it and finding similarities and being like “well maybe that’s why I’m like that”. But idk now I’m feeling uneasy bc I don’t have a diagnosis and I don’t want to be like, stepping over people who were diagnosed. Thank you in advance if you read all this and yeah I’m sorry I know it’s a lot and this is controversial
ok this is a long post so im putting it under a cut but tldr, no i dont have a problem with it. it doesnt matter if you actually have an illness, it matters if you find a solution to your problem. if treating yourself like you have a certain condition makes it easier to go through life, then keep doing what works for you, you are doing nothing wrong. this all goes for physical and mental illnesses.
im a firm proponent of self diagnosis. i wouldnt be here if i didnt have the confidence to research mental illnesses and advocate for myself. as someone who is extremely familiar with the medical profession on account of being the daughter of a doctor and a nurse and spending my childhood running around a hospital, im extremely privileged to even have the knowledge and ability to do so, and i try to bear in mind the understandable hesitancy of people without this advantage. i know that you are well within your right to refuse medication that makes you sick, i know that you can complain about a doctor that isnt listening to you, i know that you are allowed and encouraged to be adamant about things you are told dont matter, and in addition to that, i have a VERY well known doctor and a nurse in my corner, and i am STILL treated as though i do not understand my own experiences enough to have any authority more often than i am not.
the reason self diagnosis gets a bad rep imo is because people have constructed this boogeyman of the worst case scenario, people collecting mental illnesses they dont have for attention as opposed to what it is, people doing research into their experiences and making theories on what they have so they can manage it. youll often see the take of "i dont hate self dxd i just hate people who do it for attention" and i think thats very irresponsible considering a symptom of many mental illnesses is thinking youre faking it and doing it for attention, nevermind the fact that attention seeking behaviour is literally a symptom of many mental illnesses people often dont want to empathize with. gatekeeping whos illness is real just keeps people who need help out. i could go into an anarchist screed about democratizing health, but basically, as someone whos life has been saved by my insistence on self diagnosis, and whos life has been made significantly easier by treating myself as though i have the conditions that i theorize i have, self diagnosis saves lives, and i, as an advocate for disabled people of all kinds on my island, will never put any conditionals on self diagnosis. it doesnt matter if you find the right name for your problem, it matters if you find a solution that works. i have yet to meet any of these fabled people who never try to receive a professional opinion, only people who literally cant.
as for feeling guilty, ill repeat how i opened this answer: it does not matter what exactly your problem is, it matters that you find a solution that works. in medicine generally, there will be a wide spectrum of problems with overlapping treatments, things which are similar but distinct, things which look identical but are completely different and at different levels of concern. it doesnt really matter which grab bag of bullshit your brain is reaching from, it matters that you know how to deal with what it throws at you, whatever that may be. dont worry about getting it right, worry about getting it working. okay?
for advice on how to deal with doctors, its helpful to pose it as a hypothetical as opposed to an absolute. when i bring up things im dealing with that i have a theory about i say "i think i have x" or "i think i might have x" or "i have a lot of symptoms of x". doctors are often egotistical and are easily challenged so it helps to pose it at a problem they can solve as opposed to one youve solved for them otherwise they get spooked. in my experience posing it this way leads them to actually interrogate this line of symptoms, and theyll ask you why you think that, and you can bring up symptoms that led you to that conclusion, and ones that give you trouble especially. for example, ive said "i think i may have autism or adhd? or both" to several doctors, and they either agree with me (i believe its been put in my file as a possibility now although i cant get an official test done due to financial and resource restrictions) or they ask why i think so, and i detail what i believe is due to my autism. its small, but this reframing helps a lot.
i think this covers all you said but my head is empty as hell.
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