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neutron-stars-collision · 4 years ago

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 12 - A Little Death

Masterlist; Chapter 11

Summary: You have to help Neil get back onto his feet after the tragic news. The lack of control and overwhelming grief lead to a few revelations...

Warnings: This is quite angsty still despite mentions of comfort; excessive drinking; self-harm (only implied); swearing

Author’s Notes: Okay so the length of this is beyond me and I’m sorry. This takes place just before Neil’s departure to Mumbai, film-wise. I really hope you’ll enjoy and please let me know what you think!

P.S. The referenced song is ‘A Little Death’ by The Neighbourhood

You did not check how long you were sat like that on the floor, cradling Neil and letting him cry and shake as though those were the only things he was capable of. Later you realised it was probably close to two hours as by the time you got up, it was nearly evening. But for those two hours, you just let him take his time. He did not speak, and you only occasionally whispered words of reassurance into his ear. You kept on drawing soothing circles into the skin of his back. After the first half-hour, you found a much-needed package of tissues and placed them in his lap. Despite his silence, you knew that your presence meant everything. And so you stayed, ignoring the rumbling in your stomach and tiredness. For the most part, you also ignored your own tears, fully aware that this was not about you, nor it should be.

Neil’s heart-wrenching sobs stopped after those two hours and were replaced with small gasps as though he was struggling for air. That is when you knew that the breakdown was past its culmination point. Slowly, you shifted so that you could look at him and gently tipped his chin. His eyes were puffy and red. The heart-breaking look he gave you was enough to nearly tip you off the edge. But you had to be strong. So you just took a deep breath and broke the silence:

“Don’t say you’re sorry for this because that’s the least I could have done for you” he nodded hesitantly upon seeing your determined gaze “I’m here for you, and I won’t make you talk about anything but sometimes it helps” you kissed him on the forehead.

When you met his gaze afterwards, you were struck by the admiration you saw there. He smiled at you slightly as though trying to convey something difficult to be expressed otherwise. You smiled back and took his hand in yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. After another beat, you got up and filled a glass of water for him. You knew well enough how something so simple is needed after crying for so long. You watched as he emptied the whole glass, placed it on the side, and took a deep breath. Then he spoke for the first time in two hours.

“I… I know that this isn’t what you’re used to from me” he shrugged helplessly.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re still someone I care about deeply” for a second you wondered why you felt like you wanted to say more.

But now was definitely not the time. So, instead, you added:

“Tell me what happened? If you’re ready, of course” you took his hand back and smiled when he entwined your fingers on reflex.

“When we arrived, he…” Neil swallowed hard “TP called us to his office and started explaining the next steps in the operation. He mentioned the bloody Mumbai and how I’m needed there tomorrow” he clenched his jaw, and you felt the tension rise.

You placed your free hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. Then you let your hand linger on the side of his neck. He sighed at your touch before resuming the story:

“Then he asked Ives to leave, and we talked a bit about everything… It was like the old days, you know” his brow furrowed “He mentioned how I’m probably his greatest friend in the whole world… How I helped him make Tenet into what it is now and how that wouldn’t be possible without my contribution” he exhaled shakily “We even talked about you” he glanced up and met your surprised look “Just about how it was seemingly fate that brought us together and how you fit in so well here, just taking everything in your stride” you smiled at the words shyly.

Even though it hurt you to know that he was not allowed the truth about your hiring. But maybe that was for the better, you mused.

“We talked like that for over an hour before he started acting strange… The things he said…” he seemed to gather words “It didn’t make much sense, but now I think I should’ve realised that he was…” he shuddered slightly “That it was supposed to be a goodbye” you saw the tears in his eyes again and shifted so that he could rest his forehead on your shoulder.

“Don’t blame yourself for not predicting what will happen. There’s no point in that” you leaned against the foot of the bed behind to be more comfortable.

“Maybe… But I felt something was wrong, so an hour after I left his quarters, I went back in” you tightened the hold on his hand, feeling the moment approach “The door was unlocked and he… he was just sat there” Neil brought his head up to look at you with teary eyes “I thought that he was fine but then… there was no pulse, and he wasn’t breathing” you felt him become breathless and gently urged him to slow down.

When he stopped hyperventilating, you let him lean on your shoulder again.

“He died alone… and I couldn’t do anything about it” you were not sure if you preferred the dejected tone or the former sobs “I was supposed to be his best friend, his partner”

“I think that he didn’t want to hurt you even more by making you watch it happen” you suggested, trying to make sense of the situation.

After the earlier text and what Neil told you begun to understand that TP intended to do it. To end his life. You just had to find a reason why.

“But I don’t understand why he did it” Neil’s voice broke through your contemplation “There was no reason to… He said himself that the plan is going well” you could hear anger creeping into his voice.

“I know… But maybe there was a reason…” you trailed off.

Neil watched you sharply, and you felt like if you said something wrong, you could risk losing him again. You had to tread softly.

“You once said that he never did things without reasons” you stumbled over the tense and frowned “And that’s the same feeling I got when I talked with him… Maybe he had to do that to avoid clashing with his former self in any way” you glanced at Neil to gauge his expression.

He was staring ahead into space with a serious look in his eyes, considering what you said.

“Is like… they mentioned during training that it would be bad if we ever came in contact with our other selves, inverted and so on” you kept on rambling, hoping it was helping somehow “So maybe he was afraid that his existence now would coincide with his younger self out there”

“There must have been better ways of dealing with that” you could tell that he was angry.

At himself. At TP. At the universe. And there was nothing you could do.

“Maybe that was all that he could think of”

You watched helplessly as he turned away from you, suddenly overcome with the emotions. You urged yourself to calm down. Maybe now was a good moment to mention the text…?

“I… I got a text message from him actually… as I was getting here in the cab” you took out your phone and gingerly offered it to him.

Neil took it without question and read over the recent message. Then you saw his eyes dart to other text conversations. But you did not mind. There was nothing to hide. He handed you back the phone without a further word. Then he got up and wandered over to one of the side cabinets.

Now that was concerning.

“Neil?” you scrambled after him and watched in horror as he hastily threw the cabinet contents onto the floor.

Finally, he found a whisky bottle hidden in the back and took a triumphant swing out of it. That sight made you shake off any paralysis you fell into. You crossed the room and snatched the bottle from him. The dark look he gave you was somewhat terrifying. He took a step closer as you took one back. Then he met your gaze challengingly as though doubting your ability to deny him anything. But this time, you were not going to give in. You shook your head and extended the gap.

“It helps with the pain” Neil shrugged helplessly.

“I know, but I think you’ve had enough for today” you gestured towards the empty bottles on the floor.

Thinking fast, you decided to act. You took out your phone and summoned Ives, asking him to come by Neil’s room in a moment. He responded instantly, evidently waiting on the news. Once that was dealt with, you went on to pick up the reminders of Neil’s state. When he saw you do that, you heard him speak:

“If you’re going to take away all the alcohol, then at least leave me the empty bottles” you turned to see an unfamiliar cynical smile “The glass might come handy” the emptiness in his eyes made the delivery worse.

You could only stare, processing the words. Suddenly everything felt too overwhelming.

“Neil…”

You stared at him pleadingly, hoping that maybe the look of panic in your eyes will help him realise what he said. You did not dare breathe until he somehow denied your worst anxieties about the situation. You watched as his face fell, then he covered it with his hands and breathed out a long exhale.

“Fuck. I’m sorry…” he stared at the floor “I didn’t mean it” he looked up at you remorsefully “I don’t know why I said that…”

“It’s okay. Just don’t ever scare me like that again” you gave him a weary smile.

Before you could say anything more, a knock on the door interrupted you. At Neil’s quizzical stare, you answered:

“Ives. I’ve asked him to come” you moved to the door, clutching all the bottles in your arms “Give me a second. And please don’t do anything stupid” you gave him a final warning look before you exited into the corridor.

Ives waited there with a worried expression on his face that seemed fixed at this point.

“Is he alright?” he asked, glancing at the door you closed.

You shuddered, thinking about the situation you just dealt with. But he need not know all that.

“He will be. For now, though…” you placed all the bottles of alcohol in his arms “Take these please and maybe get us a little something to eat from the kitchen… and tea” you tried to gather your thoughts.

“Okay” he nodded “If you need anything else, let me know”

“Thanks” you sighed, feeling the tiredness slowly descent upon your whole body.

But there was no time for that. Not yet.

“I’ll stay with him tonight” for once, Ives did not tease you about it, and you were grateful.

“His plane is at 3 pm tomorrow. Do you think that’s manageable?” he looked sceptical.

“It has to be” you smiled as Ives squeezed your shoulder reassuringly “I better go back to him. Just leave the food outside and knock on the door, please. Think it’s best if he doesn’t see anyone else tonight”

“Of course”

Without further word, you entered the room again and locked the door behind you. Neil was sat on the bed, anxiously picking at the skin around his fingernails. His hair was falling in his eyes, and he was staring at his lap, looking incredibly lost. It hurt you to see him like this. Ignoring the growing ache in your chest, you approached him slowly.

“I asked Ives to get us some food and tea because I think we both could do with that” you attempted a smile when he looked up “But before it arrives, you could shower and get changed… that could help a little”

You stood near enough to reach out and brush your fingers over his cheek tenderly. He seemed to consider your words for a moment before he leaned into your palm.

“Okay, I’ll try” you saw him hesitate before adding, “Thank you for putting up with this”

“Of course, that’s what friends are for” for some reason, the word felt wrong. And he noticed that too as you saw a small frown appear before he smiled at you and left for the bathroom.

When you heard him put the shower on, you started cleaning the room. You put away the pages that landed on the floor and made the bed. While you were smoothing the covers, your brain came up with a rather intrusive thought about how there you were, alone with Neil in his room. Again. And how that really did not fit in with the friendship story you desperately clung to. Because it was rather obvious that you would end up sharing the bed again. That was not something friends did this frequently. You did your best to shut that voice, but you could not deny the facts. So you just sighed and waited patiently for Neil to remerge.

Food arrived before he showed up, so you just set the coffee table. Once you were done, you heard the bathroom door creak. You turned to look at him and were taken aback by the casualness of his get-up. For the first time since you have met, he was not wearing suit trousers and a shirt, and instead had loose joggers and a t-shirt on. Despite the reality of the situation you found yourself in, you could not help but stare. He caught your look with a rather sheepish expression that you did not expect.

Interesting… But there was no time to dwell on it, so you just invited him to the table and encouraged him to have something from the selection Ives got you. Sometimes you would anxiously glance at him to see whether his mood has not changed for worse again. But he seemed fine; quiet and sombre but there with you, physically and mentally. And that was what mattered for the moment. So after you ate, you suggested settling in bed to rest. Neil agreed to that without any objections, giving you hope that maybe he was past his worst point.

After the initial awkwardness of the situation wore off, and you both relaxed onto the pillows, you asked:

“Should we put the tv on? Just have some music on or something…” you searched his eyes, trying not to get too conscious of the moment.

While this was certainly not the first time for you to casually share a bed, this time it somehow felt different. But you blamed that on the rollercoaster of emotions you both went through in the recent days.

“Yeah sure” Neil nodded and sent you a small smile.

This silent version of him was strange to get used to. It felt like he was holding back from you, and you were not sure whether you liked that. But there was nothing you could do apart from giving him unlimited space and time for expression should he need it. So, to provide a distraction, you put on the tv and quickly found a suitable music channel that was not blasting annoying pop songs. Silence fell on you again, as you let the music help you relax. You were not even paying attention to the exact songs played.

‘Make me feel like I am breathing Feel like I am human’

That is until you felt Neil shift, and you glanced in his direction only to meet his intense stare. The blue eyes were fixed on you with a hazy tint on the pupils. Before you could ask him anything, he moved closer. You were struck by the look of intoxication on his face. Somehow you knew that it was not due to alcohol. You felt slightly paralysed by the multitude of feelings that came then. Neil ended his scrutiny of your face to ask:

“Can I kiss you?” his voice was huskier than usual.

‘Touch me, yeah I want you to touch me there’

“Neil...” his name usually came quite handy in those speechless moments.

There were millions of reasons why you should not let him, but the look on his face and what he said next started breaking down the resolve.

“I know” he was looking at you with something close to pleading “I know this won’t fix anything, but if for at least a few seconds I can forget about this mess... then please give me that”

‘She sought death on a queen-sized bed And he had said, "Darling, your looks can kill, So now you're dead.’

He was close now. So close that all you had to do was lean in and kiss him softly. He sighed at the contact, and you brushed away the damp hair from his eyes. Then he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer with his hands on your waist. You were too lost in the moment to stop him when he urged you to lie down on the covers. Feeling your heart pound in your chest, you continued the kiss as he hovered over your body. His hands wandered until you felt him slide them underneath the fabric of your shirt. The warm, sudden touch on your bare skin acted as a warning. You gasped and broke the kiss, but not before he managed to bite on your lower lip, drawing blood. The desperate whine he let out made you open your eyes in a flash. The darkness of his eyes made you realise how close it got to the point of no return. That was enough to help you shake off the daze.

“Please, not like this” you pushed him away gently.

Your cheeks were burning as you came to realise what nearly happened. But once you met Neil’s gaze again, you could tell that he was still not quite aware of the reality. The passionate look in his eyes was replaced with something akin to begging.

“I just want to get lost in you” he murmured, still keeping his hands on the bare skin of your waist.

He ran his fingers along your sides, and you shivered. Inhaling slowly, you tried to calm down. Normally his words would have made you throw caution to the wind. But something like that could be disastrous right now.

“I don’t want it to happen like that” you pushed him off you completely and sat up, suddenly unable to look him in the eye.

“But you want it?” the hopeful tone made your insides flutter with thousands of anxious butterflies.

Fuck… Of course, he wouldn’t let it go easily.

“Ask me again when we’re both better” you hoped that you sounded surer than you felt.

You touched the split lip and wiped away the blood droplet with your thumb. That moment must have awakened something in Neil, as suddenly you heard him inhale sharply before he blurted:

“God, I’m so sorry” you looked up to see him staring at you in terror “I don’t know what overcame me… It’s not that I didn’t want to…” he was clearly struggling with whatever he wanted to say.

“It’s okay. I won’t hold you accountable for whatever happened… or almost happened” you gave him your most convincing smile despite feeling more confused than ever.

“But I… I want you to know I didn’t do that only because I’ve lost control” that was enough for you.

“Neil, it’s fine” you interrupted him “You don’t have to explain. It doesn’t matter” you forced another smile onto your face, praying he will drop the topic.

You could not even explain why it hurt so much. Maybe because you worried it was just him losing control? And that if there was someone else with him in your place, it would have happened anyway? But it felt selfish to have those thoughts after everything that happened, so you just tried to rake your brain for some other distraction. Somehow, this moment felt right to breach a topic that has been on your mind for the past few hours. Slowly, you turned to face Neil, who was evidently still pondering the situation while staring at the tv screen unseeingly.

“Neil…” he turned to you the instant you said his name “Before I came here, Ives told me about Alex…”

The moment you mentioned the name, you could see a plethora of emotions flash in Neil’s eyes. There was shock, sadness, and worry, among others. He visibly tensed and tried to school his features before responding.

“I- I would’ve told you” he was desperately searching for the right words “There just wasn’t a good moment, and I didn’t know if you…”

“No, no. Stop right there” you interrupted him, worried by the rambling “I didn’t mention that because I want an explanation or because it hurt me in any way” you met his gaze steadily “I only wanted you to know that I’ve been told. And that if you ever wanted to talk about it, I’m here” you tried your best to convey the support and love (?) into the long look you gave him.

“But… is-is this okay? Are you okay with that?” the doubt and genuine worry in his eyes made your heart clench painfully.

You wanted to hurt whoever made him question things like that.

“Of course it’s okay. You loved and lost him, and that’s the only thing I care about” tentatively, you reached out to take his hand again “It’s a vital part of your story, and I want to know you better” you smiled, seeing him relax slightly.

“Thank you… I’ll tell you one day, I promise” he brushed his thumb along your knuckles “But I think he’d like you”

You were not expecting that.

“Yeah?” you blushed slightly, suddenly flustered.

“He used to call me out on my bullshit too… and never fell for my charm too easily” he smiled fondly.

You liked the way pleasant memories seemed to light up his whole face.

“I can see some similarities then” you grinned shyly “To be fair, you need someone to keep you from getting too cocky” experimentally, you reached out to ruffle his hair.

If his blissful smile and the way he leaned into your touch were anything to go by, he did enjoy the gesture.

“I’m not sure I deserve you” he opened his eyes and looked at you with some kind of new emotion.

But before you could find any ways of answering that, he yawned. Once, then twice. The tiredness was finally catching up with him.

“Think you should try to get some sleep” upon his silent question, you added, “I’ll stay in case you need me”

For a second you wanted to offer that you will take the sofa, but somehow you knew that was not what he would have wanted. And neither did you if you were to be honest with yourself. So you just watched as he hesitantly started shifting on the bed, trying to find the most comfortable position. You switched off the forgotten tv and the lights and slowly laid down on the pillow. In the quiet, you could hear his shallow breaths. One look in his direction was enough to help you decide. You moved closer, closing the safety gap, and carefully placed your arm on his waist. After a beat, you curled up around him, with your head resting on his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” you asked, following the tense silence.

“Yeah… It’s just that I really don’t think I deserve any of this” you could hear the apprehension creeping back into his voice.

“You deserve much more” you pressed a small kiss to his neck “But let’s start with this. Good night, Neil”

“Good night…” he hesitated but then just exhaled, letting you hug him closer to your body.

*** The peace lasted only for the first two hours. After that, you were awoken by Neil tossing nervously. Before you could properly come to your senses, he let out a few soft whimpers. Shit. You shifted so that you were hovering over him and took a long look. His brow was furrowed, jaw clenched, and he was incredibly tense. Whatever nightmare he was having, it was escalating quickly. The next thing you knew, tears were falling down his cheeks, and he was mumbling something, sounding distressed. That was enough. You cupped his cheek, as softly as you could, and leaned in close:

“It’s just a dream” you kissed him on the forehead “Wake up love” you were not sure where the endearment came from.

You leaned back to see his eyes open in a blink. His gaze was unfocused, evidently still lost in the nightmarish world. Using the hand that was cupping his face, you brushed the stray hair away from his eyes. His breaths were fast yet shallow. Knowing the experience well, you immediately kicked into action.

“Neil, listen to me” you waited until his eyes locked with yours “It was just a dream. It’s all okay now” you placed your hand on his chest over the heart “You need to calm down”

“I can’t breathe” he choked out and sat up suddenly, nearly knocking you in the head.

“You’re panicking” you shifted so you could be sat in front of him.

The fact that you nearly climbed into his lap in the process had to be ignored for the time being. You took his hand in yours and placed it in the middle of your chest so he could feel the rising and falling with every breath you took. With your other hand, you tilted his chin so that he was forced to meet your gaze. His pupils were darkened by panic and adrenaline.

“Follow my breath” you made him match your breathing for a few cycles.

Once you heard his inhales and exhales elongate and level off, you let go of the hand you kept pressed to your chest. He kept it there for a moment longer, as though making sure you were really in front of him.

“I’m sorry” the heartbroken and tired look he gave you was enough to make your heart ache “You really shouldn’t have to deal with this mess”

“It was my conscious choice, and I would never leave you alone after something like this” you leaned in closer and pressed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth “Now, let’s try going back to sleep, shall we?”

This time he was holding on to you as though you were the only constant thing. With his arms around you and the warmth of his body, you could almost forget about the mess you both had to face in the morning. Before drifting off to sleep, you pondered his words again. More and more, you were sure that he got it the wrong way around. It was you who did not deserve someone like him. And you were afraid he would soon realise as much once the initial crush (or whatever it was) passed. But for now, you allowed yourself peace as you relaxed into his embrace and buried your face in his chest. If by some accident, the universe decided to be on your side, you would not complain.

*** In the morning, you were both awakened by Ives calling to make sure both of you were alive and awake. You had to blame the awkwardness that followed it on that very phone call. You only managed to shake it off when you sat down to the breakfast you brought from the canteen. You passed Neil coffee in silence, cursing your inability to hold a conversation after everything. But this time, he had some solutions. As your fingers brushed, he set down the coffee cup on the table and turned to you:

“I’m sorry about everything that I did and said yesterday” he glanced at your split lip “I wasn’t in control... and I don’t want you to be scared. I’d never do anything like that normally” he shifted nervously.

You knew an apology was coming, especially after seeing the way he looked at you ever since waking up. And while, admittedly, his behaviour worried you, you did not dare to think about how your ‘almost’ made you feel.

“I know, and I won’t judge you on how you acted last night” you put on your best smile, hoping to end the topic as quickly as possible.

But it was not meant to be as he clearly thought hard on what to say next. All you could do was wait and listen.

“I know that I crossed some lines” finally, he found the right words “And while I can’t deny that I was acting on my genuine desires…” he searched your eyes to make sure you understood “I won’t do that again because I respect your wishes to keep this strictly friendly”

Was this your imagination, or did he sound like he did not want to say that? If you were honest with yourself, that was not something you wanted to hear either. But now was most definitely not the time, so you just reached out to squeeze his knee reassuringly.

“Thank you, and don’t worry about it. We’re all good” he covered your hand with his and mirrored your smile.

Maybe all this confusion was worth it? After a short beat, you took your hand away and went back to breakfast. The silence was still there, but at least it was less awkward now. When you noticed him frown at the headache that was undoubtedly bothering him, you passed a painkiller. He smiled gratefully.

“So… when is my plane?” he asked after you both cleared the plates.

You could tell that he was dreading the trip. And it hurt to know that there was no way for you to help him.

“3 o’clock” you glanced at the watch “Which gives us about five hours to get you ready” you took in his sombre expression.

“I really don’t want to go” he met your gaze with emotionless eyes “It’s so fucking cruel to have me assist whoever the fuck that guy is when my best friend just killed himself. And I don’t even know why” the anger and hurt in his voice were somehow worse today.

Maybe it was because you could not blame it on his intoxication anymore.

“I know… And wish I had any answers, but I don’t know more than you do” you could only give him an apologetic half-smile “But I know that you have to be there to help… him”

Calling the younger version TP seemed somehow wrong. And you could only imagine how it must feel for Neil, on the eve of meeting that different version of his partner.

“He won’t even know who I am” there was a broken edge to his voice “How am I supposed to meet him and act as though he’s a stranger?”

“Alright, walk me through what you’ve been told, and I’ll try to help as best as I can”

“Sure you wouldn’t rather go back to sleep?” he eyed you sceptically “You must be tired, and it’s all my fault”

“Neil, stop” you have had enough of the self-depreciation “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’m here for you” you took his hand in yours “And I wouldn’t rest anyway without knowing you’re well. So let’s go through the plan and then I’ll help you pack”

He only gaped at you with a dazed expression on his face. You wondered how someone so incredible could ever doubt their importance so much.

*** Surprisingly you managed to get Neil ready in time for the taxi departure. Together you planned the mission, made sure he had all the necessary information and contacts and was as mentally well as he could be after everything. When the time was near, Ives knocked on his door. This time, Neil let him in. You watched as the two men embraced tightly, sharing the trauma and sadness. Ives then took a step back and eyed Neil coolly.

“You did a good job” he flashed you a smile “He looks much better than I expected”

“Would you mind?” Neil looked at you nervously, and you laughed at the brief moment of lightness.

“Must say it wasn’t easy, but I did my best” to prove a point, you wandered over to Neil and smoothed his suit jacket.

After disagreeing over the wardrobe choices you managed to convince him to take a few linen suits and shirts for the warm weather in India. Now you were proud you succeeded. To be fair he looked good in anything, but there was something more intimate in the fact that you chose his outfits. But once again, you were brought to the present moment by Ives clearing his throat:

“The taxi is leaving in half-hour. I’ll leave you two now” he gave you a knowing smile and exited the room before you could roll your eyes at him.

Realising you still had your hand on Neil’s shoulder, you took a step back. He was watching you attentively with a small smile on his face. That probably explained Ives’ allusions…

“I won’t ask if you’re ready but… are you okay?” you met his gaze.

“As much as I can be, I suppose” he shrugged dejectedly “I really wish I could stay with you instead”

You saw his hand twitch at his side and decided to choose for him by taking it into yours, naturally entwining your fingers.

“Unfortunately, this time we can’t decide for ourselves. But remember that you can call me if you need help or just to talk. Don’t worry about the time zones, I’ll always pick up” you tried your best to show how you felt through the expression in your eyes.

But that was a dangerous game as soon enough you got lost in the blue of his eyes. As always.

“Thank you” he breathed out, looking at you with such tenderness that almost made you feel faint “Still don’t think I deserve you though” he grinned shyly.

“Oh you do, and I’ll keep on saying that till you believe it” you raised your joined hands to your lips and kissed his knuckles “While I enjoy this slightly subdued version of you…”

“What?” his affronted face made you laugh.

“You know very well what I meant” you smirked and let go of his hand, only to pull him in for an embrace.

It took him only a second to hug you back, with his arms wound tightly around your waist.

“You said we should hug more often so” you whispered into his ear and enjoyed the laugh it prompted “Hope this is good enough for you” you ran a hand down his back.

Then, upon a sudden thought, you pushed your hands underneath his suit jacket and splayed them on his back, relishing the feel of his skin through the shirt fabric. The only indication that he felt the difference was a sharp gasp he let out as he drew you even closer.

“More than that” he kissed the top of your head.

After at least two minutes more, you took a step back but still kept your hands on his waist.

“Please be safe out there. Don’t do anything stupid. And…” you shut his mouth with a hand upon seeing him protest “And don’t get too drunk before the meeting. I know that it will be hard, but that could only make you more likely to fuck up”

Before you could take your palm away, he placed a peck on your wrist, near the pulse point. The voice in the back of your head kept screaming about how this definitely was not something friends do. But you told it to kindly fuck off. At least for now.

“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try” he flashed you a signature smile as though you could ever forget it “After all, I’m not the one to behave” proving the point, he brushed the pad of his thumb along your lower lip.

You inhaled sharply at the sensation. Looking questioningly into his eyes, you wondered whether he remembered about the earlier promise. But there was no time to find that out as sharp knocks interrupted you. It was time.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

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teamfreewill2pointo · 4 years ago

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Sam’s Emotional Arc 1/3

I hated the finale immediately, but I’ve spent some time with it and talked to friends who loved it. I can see now what it was about, and I’ve come to appreciate the story they were trying to tell, even if I think it didn’t land right.

I’ve been told that my meta on this has helped other people come to terms with the finale, so I thought I’d compile it in one place from across various discord channels and twitter posts. If you are struggling with the finale, I hope it helps you.

Part of this actually started with a shit post. I was making a joke about Sam being psychic since he was scared of clowns when Dean died by one. I realized that may have been deliberate. I dug into the story more and now I’m convinced it was. Then I came across some excellent meta that fit with the themes I was finding and opened up the series even more for me.

Happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in just being. It’s in just saying it.

Cas said it. Dean accepted it. Sam lived it. First, Sam’s journey.

Clowns pop up in s15 before the barn scene. In 15.01, which was written by Dabb, Sam is injured by a clown. Castiel is able to save Sam and heal his injury. The clown keeps coming after Sam, with Sam having fight scenes with the clown, while others attack the other ghosts. The clown is kicking the shit out of Sam again, and Castiel saves him once more. Sam is unable to fight off the clown on his own both times.

They run until they are able to escape outside a magical barrier. Sam turns to the clown and says, “shut up”.

This is literally Sam running from his fears. On top of that, this isn’t just any clown, but the ghost of John Wayne Gacy, from an episode also written by Dabb.

Dean: A serial killer clown. I mean, this is, like, the best/worst thing that’s ever happened to you, you know, ‘cause you love serial killers, but – but you hate clowns.

Sam gets nervous and struggles with the lighter before he’s able to get rid of the clown, for now.

I believe this is a metaphor for hunting in general: it’s both the best of Sam’s life and also the worst. The clowns symbolize his relationship with Dean.

Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie was co-written by Dabb (see the pattern?). Sam’s fear of clowns was known since season 2. In season 7, Dabb explored where this fear came from.

On the surface, Sam’s fear is just because he found them creepy, but the episode explains that they actually come from Sam’s fear of being left behind by Dean.

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This episode comes directly after an episode where Sam worried that Dean would get himself killed

Sam: Look... Dean, the thing is, tonight... It almost got you killed. Now, I don't care how you deal. I really, really don't. But just don't – don't get killed. Dean: I'll do what I can. Sam: Well, what's that supposed to mean? Dean: It means I'll do what I can. All right? You can shut up about it.

Sam is dealing with Hallucifer at this moment, but Hallucifer doesn’t really scare him. Losing Dean does.

Sam has a conversation with an employee about greatest fears.

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Recognize the actress? She came back for s15 in 15.06. I don’t believe this was a coincidence. 15.06 featured Castiel helping a parent find their lost child in a season that features Castiel worried about losing Jack. Through his experience with her, Castiel confronts his fears and doubts and then returns to join in the fight against God. [I’ll touch on Castiel’s journey more in his chapter]

Sam’s greatest fear is losing Dean. There’s a lot in the series about how Sam felt lonely and abandoned for much of his childhood. A whole episode, Just My Imagination, centers around this. Sam hated when Dean went off on hunts without him.

source In The Chitters, Sam tells Dean how his fear of losing his family paralyzed him as child. It’s a story where an older brother dies and the younger brother never recovers from it until he’s able to lay him to rest (sound familiar???)

Sam: You know, whenever you and Dad used to leave me to go hunting, and I-and I wouldn’t hear from y’all for a while, I, um, I was always sure that some vamp or rugaru, or take your pick, I always figured one of them finally got ya. I tried to think what to do, you know, the next step to take. I was just lost. Dean: We came back, though, every time.

You might naturally think, “Wait a minute! Sam left Dean multiple times!” Honestly, this was something I had a huge issue with when watching through the show the first time. I didn’t understand Sam and hated him leaving Dean in s8. I was completely on Dean’s side at first. But, on multiple rewatches and talking to others, I’ve realized that when Sam left Dean, he was running from his fear. In this TV Guide interview, Jared perfectly sums up why Sam left in season 1; he couldn’t stand to see his family die. Dabb wrote Dark Side of the Moon along with a comic that explains why Sam left in detail. While the comic isn’t official canon, it shows Dabb’s thought process. In it, Sam sees his family as running towards a horrible end and can’t handle dealing with that.

Dean: So what are you gonna do? You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it? Sam: No. Not normal. Safe.

There are many more points in the series where we learn about Sam’s fear of Dean dying. This would be 3948573945 pages long if I wrote them all out, so I’m going to focus on the key moments that loop back to this ending, but there’s so much more there.

If you are struggling with this and need more, please let me know and I can do a deeper dive into that subject. We first see Sam’s inability to let Dean go in season 1 when Sam refuses to let Dean die in Faith.

Dean: You're not gonna let me die in peace, are you? Sam: I'm not gonna let you die, period. We're going.

Sam’s whole arc in s3 is him being unable to handle Dean dying. He wants to save Dean, but Dean won’t let himself be saved. This was what Gabriel was trying to teach him in Mystery Spot.

Trickster: This obsession to save Dean? The way you two keep sacrificing yourselves for each other? Nothing good comes out of it. Just blood and pain. Dean's your weakness. And the bad guys know it, too. It's gonna be the death of you, Sam. Sometimes you just gotta let people go.

This is how Ruby gets under Sam’s skin and what gets him to start working with her. Everything Sam did was to save Dean. In s4, Sam’s arc is about him sacrificing himself in order to save Dean. He’s gutted from being unable to save Dean. In 4.12, Sam decides to drink demon blood in order to save Dean

Dean: [says that they will die early] Sam: Maybe we'll be different, Dean. Dean: What kind of Kool-Aid you drinking, man? Sammy, it ends bloody or sad. That's just the life. Sam: What if we could win?Dean: "Win"?Sam: If there was a way we could just...put an end to all of it.

When Sam breaks out of the panic room, he’s suicidal. He’s determined to save Dean with his life as the cost he’s willing to pay. He didn’t think he would survive killing Lilith. He was committing suicide in that moment. The reason why Sam is so willing to sacrifice himself in s5 is because he has low self esteem. He blames himself for everything that goes wrong. In Sam, Interrupted 5.11, also by Dabb, Sam has a breakdown under the weight of his guilt. He hates himself and he feels his rage is out of control. In season 6, we see soulless Sam and, unlike souled Sam, he has no rage. Yes, he’ll kill when necessary, but he’s not angry. It was Sam’s fear driving his rage. He felt out of control of his life and let it lead him down a dark path. In season 7, he sees Dean heading down a dark path and he feels helpless to stop it. He worries about dragging Dean down and tells Dean to let him go. But, at the same time, he’s developing coping techniques. He’s starting to face his fears.

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And then Dean disappears and Sam completely falls apart. Sam didn’t have a healthy relationship with Amelia. They were two broken people clinging to each other. Sam and Dean struggle to reconnect after their time apart. There’s a lot of text addressing the horror of a partner dying and people trying to escape from it.

Mrs Holmes: He could see the end of my days were at hand, and... He had lived centuries all alone, but I don't think he could bear the thought of life without me. That's why he drove off that bridge. You must think I'm a monster.

In Hunteri Heroica written by GUESS WHO!?!? Sam finally acknowledges that he was living in a dream world with Amelia. He was running from his past. We see a flash back with Sam pressing on his scar, which he did to help himself distinguish fantasy from reality.

The episode is about a man refusing to engage in reality and harming those around him. Sam has a big confrontation with him

Sam: Look, it can be nice living in a dream world. It can be great. I know that. And you can hide, and you can pretend... all the crap out there doesn't exist, but you can't do it forever because... eventually, whatever it is you're running from – it'll find you. [CASTIEL appears to be taking Sam’s words to heart.] It'll come along, and it'll punch you in the gut. And then... then you got to wake up, because if you don't, then trying to keep that dream alive will destroy you! It'll destroy everything!

Likewise, when Sam was with Jessica, he wasn’t honest about himself. He was hiding from his family and his past. Running to avoid pain. Sam is avoidant in general. Not just in his relationship with Dean. When he talks with Rowena in 13.12 Various & Sundry Villains about his fears of Lucifer, he admits that he could talk about it with Dean, but he can’t bring himself to.

Sam: I’ve seen it too. What he really looks like behind – behind whatever vessel. It… Yeah, still keeps me up at night. Rowena: How do you deal with it? Sam: I guess I don’t deal with it. Not really. I mean, I pushed it down and, um, the world kept almost ending, so I keep pushing it down, and I don’t know. [stammering] I really don’t talk about it, not even with Dean. I mean, I could. You know, he’d listen, but… That’s not something I really know how to share.

In 15.20, Sam’s past is front and center. Literally. I know a lot of people found the Winchester family portrait odd and upsetting, but it symbolizes something I’ll get to in a bit. Instead of trying to avoid his grief, Sam has moments where he lets it wash over him. He goes and sits in the car. He’s no longer avoidant. He’s no longer running away. He’s letting his grief move through him. He’s literally sitting with it.

Soulless Puppy pointed out that the characters emotional arcs is similar to DBT. Please look through their awesome meta here.

Personally, I see them as similar to the therapy I do called ACT. Both are forms of therapy where instead of fighting against them, you accept painful emotions and allow yourself to feel them. If you don’t do that work, then you can’t stop feeling them and your fears/ghosts will always haunt you. In Swan Song, Chuck tells us that “Dean didn't want Cas to save him. Every part of him, every fiber he's got, wants to die, or find a way to bring Sam back. But he isn't gonna do either. Because he made a promise.” In 15.20, Sam initially didn’t want to let Dean go. He’s been refusing to do this since season 1. When he’s separated from Dean he lives a fake life or destroys himself/the world trying to get Dean back. There’s a moment in 15.20 where Sam looks at Dean’s guns. He wants to commit suicide, but he makes the choice to live. For the time in Sam’s life, he let Dean go and lived with his pain. He no longer ran from it. After Swan Song, Dean was unable to let Sam go. He wanted him back. After Carry On, Sam is able to do what Dean couldn’t do. He lives a life outside of Dean. What’s more, Sam has reconciled himself with his past and his family. It’s clumsy and I wish it were better shown, but having the family portrait and their parents in heaven isn’t meant to excuse the way Sam and Dean were raised. In order to move past the trauma of his relationship with his parents, Sam fully integrates them into his life. In Lebanon, Sam was able to confront and forgive his father. In doing so, he can also forgive himself. Mary asks for forgiveness too, and he grants it to her. He doesn’t forget what happened, but he’s able to move forward and leave the intergenerational cycle of violence. He’s able to raise his son, Dean, the way his brother should have been raised.

Happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in just being. It’s in just saying it.

Cas said it. Dean accepted it. Sam lived it.

I can see why people see Sam’s life after Dean as unhappy. I hated it so much because I saw it as horrible and sad the first time through. I had to sit with myself and my emotions first. I think it’s because we’ve been told by society that we have to get rid of our grief in order to be happy. The finale was showing us that it’s possible to do the opposite. [Personally I think it would’ve been better had they showed more overtly happy memories, but many of my friends saw this straight away] When I began therapy, one of the first things I learned was that there aren’t “negative” emotions. When working with our kids, we call them Big emotions. In DBT/ACT, all emotions are treated as normal and natural. Grief, anger, sadness, etc, these are all normal parts of the human existence. We don’t need to run from them in order to have happiness. We can live with them. As interstitial said in our chats, “you can't change the past, you can only change your relationship to it. To accept that your past contained both love and heartache, to miss it, but also know you can do better; that's actual recovery, as good as it gets.” As Soulless-Puppy explained to me, Sam lived in duality. Dean was dead, but Sam lived. Sam was happy, but he grieved. Dean was with him in the watch and the car and his son, but Dean also waited for him in heaven. I hated the finale the first time I saw it, then next watched it with my boyfriend who loved it. As we were watching together and discussing it, I realized that Dean’s death scene wasn’t just about him, but about the show itself.

Dean promising Sam that he will be with Sam in Sam’s heart is also the show promising us that they will never leave it. That’s why Alex kept posting “The end has no end.” Just as Sam carried Dean with him in his heart, we will carry the show with us. I hope this helps. It’s a terrible thing to feel upset about an ending and thinking of the show this way, recognizing these patterns, is bringing me peace. I still have issues with how it was written, but now that I see what they were doing, I wish all the more that they had the chance to do it right. Please share your thoughts and experiences. I love hearing different opinions. Next up, Dean. Then Castiel.

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antiracistkaren · 4 years ago

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The Email I never sent.

From June 24th, 2020

Hi.

If you are getting this email, it’s because I feel the need to share this information with you. I don’t expect you to answer me, and frankly, I’m sending this to a pretty wide ranging group of folks, so if you don’t respond ever, I’m unlikely to remember or hold it against you. I’m telling you this up front so that when you open this email, you’re not on edge. I care about how you feel as you’re reading these words. I hope that you can hear my tone, a voice that you know well: one that cares a lot about you. This email isn’t carrying any anger at all, only information which, as you know I love.

You know what’s going on with my husband, and how turbulent things are right now. Well, imagine that, in the midst of that, not being able to function. Literally. Imagine breaking down in total tears in panic while on the phone with your husband’s brother (who you’re not at all sure likes you) because you’re so terrified of your own husband that you cannot speak through it, and trying to explain why you’re suddenly overcome. Then imagine trying to explain yourself, over and over, to people who keep asking, “I thought you were fine, and loving quarantine?”

Imagine discovering, the middle of your husband’s mental breakdown, that you seem to be having one of your own. How horrifying. When you’re in your room, you’re fine. In fact, it’s nice in here…

I can put on headphones and slowly organize my own room. In here, I’m safe. I can fold clothes. I can make my bed. I can bring order to the chaos inside of my room, but I cannot seem to bring order to the chaos of voices inside of my head. Usually I know exactly what my day will look like: I have it planned out from 8 AM until 8 PM. And then I get a structured hour of free time and after that I should really go to bed. (I don’t. I can’t fall asleep lately before midnight because my thoughts are clamoring in my head, and then a baby wakes up… you get it.)

Unfortunately, I cannot stay in my room. People need me outside--my husband can’t seem to handle the children on his own after he comes home from the mental institution. Mental Institution. I say those words a lot and giggle a little bit after those words every time, especially when I am alone. I never thought I would be saying those words out loud, much less out loud in a house that we somehow live in with kids I’ve somehow had with my own body and a husband who is in a mental institution.

But anyway, as I was saying--I do that, going off on little thought tangents all the time--my partner can’t seem to handle the kids without me. That’s odd to me because I’m not special, and I’ve somehow done it before and have lost that skill somewhere, but he needs me, so I put myself together (in the wrong order) and wear my Happy Mommy mask until bedtime, when I collapse into a gigantic ball of emotion.

I’m confused, my husband is confused, and all of the kids are scared. I can see how scared we all are, the whites around our eyes showing. Anthony is cut by me, my anger, my emotion, my white-hot truth-telling tongue seems to be cutting him all over. And then I see my kids cut him, and seeing Anthony get harmed by me, by my kids, it spirals me down all over again. I can’t even mention my partner, who seems to handle me like I’m just made up of sharp edges. I feel like a … butterfly knife or something. Something sharp and dangerous and very deadly in the hands of someone skilled with it.

Looking back, this Autism pattern fits neatly over my whole life. It’s so strange though… because...

Ah, here’s the best example: become aware that you’re breathing.

Please. Just do it. Think about the fact that you’re breathing. You do it all the time. You don’t think about it, right? Unless I tell you to.

What if I told you that I had to think about breathing in order to breathe? That my whole life, I thought everyone had to think about breathing. That we were all just together in a room, y’all breathing without thinking about it, and me--watching you breathe and imitating the breathing motion, thinking that I am required to operate that way in order to stay alive. No one told me that breathing is automatic, so why would I mention to other people how I’m breathing?

It has come to my attention that I am unique, which is weird, so here’s what it’s like:

Every single day I am aware of every word, facial expression, vocal tone, and hand gesture. I have spent my life carefully curating a personality based on imitating those around me that I love. That radio voice I use on the mic? Classic Ron--finding my lower register and leaning into the mic. The way I read Geeks rules? That’s Josh, who showed me that being quirky and having a big personality can be leveraged on stage in order to BE on stage. My mom taught me quick-witted insults to hurl back at kids who were mean to me. I built a personality based on other people that I thought would serve me best, and I think I’ve done fairly well considering I’m still alive and fairly happy. Or I was, until the quarantine.

You see, every single day, deep in the recesses of my mind, always running like a little motor in the background is the program “Fear of Being a Bad Person”. Every move I make is processed through this motor and filter in the back. Everything I say or text, emojis I use, all of this, is processed through a “I’m trying to be a Good Girl” filter.

When I was young, I didn’t think I was a Bad Person.

When I was in preschool, I was lauded. I had friends. I remember my friends Jason and Summer to this day. I remember feeling safe and cozy in my elementary school in Wetumpka, Alabama. I remember my mother ensuring that I was put into an advanced class in kindergarten. Teachers could tell that there was something different about me, but also, they couldn’t handle my fidgeting, my impatience with kids not being fast as I was to know the answer. I would roll my eyes, make faces at the other kids, get up--because I knew all this stuff anyway--and go away from circle time. That was Bad.

And then suddenly I spent most of my day with older kids. I got to do Tangrams, write plays, dress up and hang out with kids who seemed to accept that I was a bit smarter, a bit different. My mom fought for that for me, every time.

But then my mom got remarried. Moving mid-year in 2nd grade was difficult. I didn’t understand the new kids, the nuance at the school. I didn’t know who could be my friend. I didn’t understand the wealth gap. By the time middle school came around, I was regularly teased for the clothes I wore. I would cry to my mother about the teasing and she would throw up her hands, confused and furious because I had picked these clothes out. I would alternate between starving myself and eating furiously and crying when I got home from school. I would wear baggy clothes because boys would pop my bra strap, and make unwanted comments about my body. Suddenly my outspokenness made me a target. Boys started to touch me without me wanting them to, and I didn’t understand why. I also couldn’t seem to make it stop, no matter how baggy my clothes were.

Once I told my mother about a boy grabbing me on the bus, and I am talking about hand between my legs and squeezing at my vagina as I walked off the bus to my house, and she told the principal. I was forced to confront the boy and his mother in a locked room… his mother, who sat across from me and called me a slut and a liar. I have a very hard time being called a liar.

I don’t lie. I really don’t want to. If I am being forced to lie, it is because I believe social nuance demands it. I don’t really like your new haircut, but I’m required to lie about it because telling the truth is rude, in that situation. I’ve learned these boundaries by repeatedly being punished (through embarrassment in public and repetition).

So you can see how it might be tough for me to hold a job when I make off-the-cuff comments in meetings like “If we care about diversity so much, how come we don’t have any students of color or low-income students in our most expensive residence hall?”

And, “Are you kidding?! Tornadoes just ravaged Tuscaloosa. If I had extra money to give, and I don’t, I’m not going to give money to the this scholarship fund.” (This was after the deadly tornadoes ripped through my home town--because Tuscaloosa was my home, and I couldn’t believe that I was being asked to donate to the scholarships of rich, mostly white, kids when the Black community in Tuscaloosa was in literal rubble.)

Is it any wonder that I couldn’t seem to stop making mistakes in detail work, which I’m not interested in? Doesn’t it make sense that you’ve seen me not be able to sit when I’m playing board games that I’m excited about? That I get so nervous if there’s a scoring error during quiz, I drop my papers? That although I love public speaking, my hands shake uncontrollably?

A repeated phrase through my life has been “I know you’re a smart girl, why can’t you get this?”

If I am a Smart Girl… why can’t I seem to understand people? I guess I can’t really be a Smart Girl. So I guess I should stay home with my kids since I can’t seem to hack it out in the “real world.”

Imagine my relief when my psychiatrist spotted me immediately. I think my brain is completely broken. I am telling everyone I run into that my brain is broken because I don’t know who can help me. I can’t get it together because the person I’ve hyper focused on for the past 7 years isn’t around--and even though he is home now, he is different and I am different and together we aren’t the same.

Imagine my relief when my psychiatrist lets me in on a secret that other people are just breathing naturally, that it’s not my fault that I have to work so hard. Imagine figuring out that all of those times that I was touched without consent, made to feel stupid, made to feel less than, screamed at, rejected, and put on performance plans and forced to fight for your right to have a job and speak the truth… that it wasn’t because I was deficient… it’s just because I am different.

I had piled on mountains of guilt for hurting people’s feelings. Those moments of embarrassment and shame in my life are vivid memories, and they read in my brain like well-worn books. I take them out and remember them, literally read about them, (I write a lot about these moments in my journals) so that I can make sense out of them. I’ve gotten smarter over the years because I’ve allowed myself to learn how to type as fast as I think. And then I can pour out all of these thoughts on paper, edit them and use them to communicate.

I used to spend hours as a kid in my room, writing, coping with how difficult my life was by getting outside of myself and drawing conclusions, writing poetry, acting, performing music. I’ve lost all the time to do any of those things, and that is why I am completely breaking down.

I am Autistic. I’ve always been autistic. If you have met me in the past 4 years, this is a shock. You’ve only known me as a surprising stay at home mom in your life. Yeah, I’m a little weird, but I’m Fun! Right? That’s on-brand for a stay at home mom, I’ve learned.

So if you’re getting this and you’ve met me since 2016, I have to say you don’t know me very well. The people who have made it the long haul, the folks I’ve known since Alabama, they’re seeing a return to the norm for me. This is normal ol’ weird Sam and, yeah, she’s intense but we love her. I’ve told many of my Alabama people first, and you know what they say? “Oh yeah, I can see that… but I mean, you’re still YOU. You’ve always been this way!”

It seems like it’s, well, my newer whiter wealthier friends who are struggling with this. I think it is because Autism has been presented to us [human beings] as a deficiency, and sure, yes, I am deficient in some ways. But to me, it’s like being free. I am free to be honest about not understanding, and you are free to believe me. You’re free to not be scared to say, “Sam, you’re going on about this social justice thing…” because I understand now that I monologue.

I am certain this is me. I am finally seen and understood, and I can see and understand. I’m sharing this with you because I want you to see and understand me. If I have hurt you in the past, I promise you, it was blindly and unintentional. I feel love very intensely, and if I’ve sent this to you, it is because I love you and I consider you safe.

Through all of my life, my faith has been an underpinning of my making sense of this world too, and it will continue to do that for me. I was wonderfully and fearfully made, and I am loved by my creator, and I am an autistic woman. I hope that you can accept that diagnosis with me.

#autism #actuallyautistic #autisticadult #autisticpride #mentalhealth #socialjustice

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stratsandwhiskeywritestuff · 5 years ago

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Q+A With Strats and Whiskey!

We held a brief Q+A over on our Twitter, and had some awesome questions come in! We’ll post em here too for everyone to see. Have questions for us too? Hit us up on Twitter or in our ask box :D we’d love to hear from you!

Questions include asking us about the collaborative process, about writing kink together, the trust that takes, what characters we love writing most and our thoughts on writing in general!

PaleGlimmer: I asked about collab writing because I have no idea how you make it work.

WHISKEY: I’ve been collaborating on stories since I got into Hannibal. For me, it started as an offshoot of online RP. If you go back far enough you can see that, because the writing is stilted and jumpy, and you can tell that two people are writing. I’ve had three major collab partners in my fandom life and after a time our “voices” and styles start to gel and it becomes more seamless. That, for me, means that’s the right partner to write with, because you start taking on their mannerisms and descriptions, and they take on yours, and people can’t tell (or can tell very vaguely) that two people wrote a story.

As for technicalities, we just “tag” each other with part of the story for the other to continue it. Sometimes it’s short tags, dialogue, or brief descriptions, other times we get carried away (in the best way possible) and end up writing 6k a day. With Strats and I, we started with preferential characters and usually tagged for just them, but now we cover everything and everyone in our tags.

STRATS: Whiskey covered this pretty well. With Whiskey, We share characters pretty evenly now, and just write about 200-300 word chunks back and forth, but there are definitely characters we each feel more comfortable with. And scenarios we both excel at! Even if I haven’t written much, I’ll tag Whiskey in if we are coming up on something Whiskey is better at, and vice versa. (For example, Whiskey is much better at pretentious Hannibal speeches than I am, and I have a particular fondness for writing emotional breakdowns. This doesn’t mean we are the only person to write those, of course, just that we tag each other in more often.)

If I’m writing with anyone else, I usually write the same way. There’s only one person I’ll still do RP-style writing with. Usually I try to match my partner’s style, so for example, when I wrote with YAMD I focused a lot more on detailed descriptions than I usually do. I can’t really describe it, I just try to align with how my partner writes.

I’M NOT VERY HELPFUL, SORRY :D

Cuttlefishcatfish:

1. What do you love about writing?

STRATS: When you finally get to that moment, that scene you’ve been thinking about for AGES, the one you have entirely plotted for weeks.

Also, writing emotional breakdowns. Give me a sobbing panic attack any day.

WHISKEY: The moment you hit the flow point and everything just makes sense; either an idea just CLICKS or you finally get over that plot point you were worried about and you are racing through.

2. What do you hate about writing?

STRATS: god why haven’t we yet invented a way for me to think words onto the page? I’M SO TIRED.

WHISKEY: That meme? The one that goes like “I need this very specific fic and I need it immediately… which means I need to write it… but I just wanna read it, not write it”. That.

3. One writing tip that you could give to other writers.

STRATS: When I was a teenager I came across some writing advice from an author I loved (I want to say Steven King, but it’s been years). The advice was “sit down and actually write.” And I was PISSED. As a teenager struggling with motivation, I hated that advice.

Now I’m almost 27 and I can safely say that the best writing advice I can give you is JUST FUCKING WRITE THE THING. Even on days I feel like my writing is garbage, I force out a bit of garbage. Force your way through the shitty parts so you can get to the fun parts. You can always go back and edit the shitty parts later (and often it turns out they weren’t as shitty as you thought they were).

WHISKEY: Practice. I’m sorry, I’m trite and boring but honestly that’s the only way you will get better, get into a habit of writing all the time, and start to find your own voice. Practice even just 100 words a day, coz that’s 100 words more than you had yesterday.

4. One overused word in fanfics?

WHISKEY: Oh god our beta actually points these out now haha! I’m terrible for teeth/tongue/lip action (he tongued the corner of his mouth, flashed his teeth, bit his lip)

STRATS: any time someone’s smile “quirks up at the corners” or you read the words “fluttering/thrumming pulse,” that’s me. It’s always me. I have been called out on the hummingbird pulse before.

5. Have you guys disagreed on a story direction? If yes, how do you resolve that?

WHISKEY: I don’t think we have *disagreed* really, once in a while we find that a story doesn’t flow how it should, and we start over, or a character we had planned in our head ends up written differently on a tag. In that case we usually just ping the other and explain what we were after (we have a chat always open alongside writing) and figure out what works best for the story. I can think of a couple times that’s happened and it’s always a super chill and fair affair; both of us have “won” those kinds of things before.

STRATS: We gel really well together, and often our stories are at least loosely planned out from the beginning, so it doesn’t come up much. Every once in a while one of us says “so I don’t think this is working” and we usually do our best to find a way to change it around. It’s not really “fun” to write together if you’re making your partner write something they aren’t happy with, so we try to take each other’s opinions into account.

6. How did you guys manage to let the other into your thought process? Writing is intimate. With a writing partner, that person knows what your kinks, opinions about things, etc. are. Was it scary to let that person in and see you being vulnerable with your works? This is assuming that you let your personality bleed through your stories.

So, this is an awesome question actually, thanks for asking it, and the answer might sound a bit weird so bear with us! We both get a bit of a (major) crush on our writing partners when we write, and after. Not in a way that would be considered cheating or manipulative but in a way that is… intimate. You said it right that it’s intimate. Neither of us want to date the other (besides, Strats is married) but we love each other and spend a lot of time together with our writing.

There is a lot of trust there, and opening up is a process. I think with Strats and I, we started talking about a kink we shared (human furniture) and it sort of bled out from there. “Oh, I also like bondage! And I’m a huge fan of cock and ball torture, you into that?” and it grew from there.

There were some kinks that we came across that we’d both agree were not our jam and we’d just put them away, and there were some kinks that at one point were not one of our kinks but now we share them. These are interesting ones because it happened absolutely organically; neither of us ever push the other into kinks we know make the other uncomfortable, but we do offer the chance, if one of us is so inclined.

For Whiskey this was ABO and feminization, for Strats it’s underage. Once in a while we’ll push a little to see how we feel about those things, but there’s always a carte blanche to back out if anything makes us uncomfortable. It’s honestly such a safe place to explore these things that we really love it. Also both of us are super kinky and very open about it so there’s usually VERY little (if any) filter when we talk sex/kink.

Blue Posey: Where do you get the ideas from? Your stories are so varied.

WHISKEY: We shamelessly pluck ideas from the Hannigram Kinkmeme on Discord, we have about 150 saved in a spreadsheet that we random number generate from when we want a new idea. Sometimes it’s AUs of movies or other shows that we like, sometimes it’s just an idea that we’ve had that we put out into the void and one of us will freak out and connect it to something.

STRATS: we also both keep track of twitter and tumblr and will send each other prompts based on those. We are following quite a few non-fandom porn accounts…

and of course, sometimes I wake up at four am and text whiskey absolute gibberish and in the morning we write a fic.

Christina Shinn: I always like knowing about what gets writers really excited about their own fics. How writers overcome their writer's block. What motivates writers. What are some pet peeves of writers. YAY! Love your fics!

WHISKEY: 1. I get excited about fics I know people are excited about. If Strats pings me with a story idea and she’s stoked about it, I’ll catch that fever and be entirely into exploring that story. Likewise if someone commissions us or requests a story that really digs its heels in.

STRATS: 1) I’ve gotten a LITTLE less vain now that I do commissions and gifts for other people, but generally, every single thing I have written is something I’ve wanted to read, and so I love rereading it. Sometimes I’ll cringe at a typo or a mistake or an awkward line, but overall, I love everything I write. I have spent hours retreading my own fics before. Write the kind of story you want to read!

WHISKEY: 2. Writer’s block is an asshole and honestly I have no actual “fix it” for you; collab writing definitely helps because you have someone to soundboard off of, but even then sometimes we find ourselves just stuck. That’s when we start yet another original story XD

STRATS: 2) Writer's block occasionally eats me alive. If it’s REALLY hitting you, take a day off. It’s okay. Take a break. Do something fun.

But once that day is over WRITE THE THING. Write something terrible. Just do it. You can always fix it later

WHISKEY: 3. Collab writing is hugely motivating for me, it’s an immediate and awesome feedback loop of love. You tag, you send it off, and someone FINDS THAT IDEA COOL ENOUGH TO CONTINUE and ping you back, and you have new material to work with that didn’t come out of your head and… it’s great, it really is. Also feedback from readers. Even if it’s critique (note: not “I hated this” but “this could have been done differently imo”) it’s a great way to keep growing and moving as a writer.

STRATS: 3) collab writing is really motivating for me because I am a Guilt Monster and other people are relying on me. For my own stuff, I’m motivated because I’m writing something I like. Something I want to reread later.

If a story isn’t working for you (and it isn’t required for some sort of work or whatever), stop writing it. Go write something you like. It’s okay to say “actually, I don’t want to write this one anymore.”

WHISKEY: 4. I think every writer has a pet peeve regarding their own headcanons. Some people hate endearments with a pairing, but have their own pet names that work for them in their personal headcanon. In others’ work? There are certain things that irk me, but they’re also entirely personal. If I feel that a character has been written really OOC in a fic that is marked as canon for instance, it grinds my gears. THAT SAID that’s also the writer’s own prerogative.

STRATS: 4) I have too many pet peeves to mention because I am a snob, but I still have relatively low standards for what I’ll read, so I’ve read a vast variety of things.

Besides what Whiskey said about characterization, I have a few aspects of life that I’m somewhat knowledgeable about, and I can’t stand when people get it WRONG. Special mention goes to people writing children badly, which is the entire reason Family of Choice exists. If you don’t have children or know children, PLEASE do some research into child development before you write them. It drives me up the wall when kids are doing things they shouldn’t be at that age. NEWBORNS. DON’T. GIGGLE.

#stratsandwhiskeywritestuff #stratumgermanitivum #collab writing #hannigram #spacedogs #hannibal #will graham #nbchannibal #nbc hannibal #Q+A #twitter

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here-i-acquit-myself · 5 years ago

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Longest, rambling post of my life. But I have hope that if I write it all down, I can somehow move past it, and then maybe my art, writing, friendships, and relationships won’t suffer anymore.

Some things you should know before I even start:

- I have ALWAYS been poly. I have been in poly relationships since I was 19 (I am almost 27). It hasn’t been easy, I’ve learned a lot and made a lot of mistakes, but I’ve never hidden it from anyone. At this time in my life, two years or so ago, I had two live-in partners and we were a triad. I had been with one partner for seven years, I had been with the other about three. When the subject of this narrative (Louis) and I got together, they were ALSO dating someone else. They had a girlfriend. I had met their girlfriend, I knew they were together and I was fine with it (of course).

- Louis and I are multiple, which some of you probably know what that means without me having to explain it and some of you are probably like ????? the fuck. It’s something I don’t really want to talk about because I don’t feel like defending my head, but if I can boil it down to bare bones for the sake of the narrative, just know that it means both of us come with handfuls of extra people and they have relationships with each other as well.

- Obligatory - there are two sides to every story, this is just mine. I handled a lot of things badly in this situation, but I still need to let these feelings out. I need to feel heard because one thing about Louis is our mutuals will never, ever see some of these things about them. Everyone loves them and thinks they’re a bright spot of sunshine. Which is fine. But it would be nice to be believed after so much public suffering and humiliation.

The Narrative:

I met Louis three (almost four) years ago because we worked the same job. We were friends. I thought they were so cool and just really wanted them to like me. I also had a crush on another coworker (Armand), and the three of us were friends.

About two years ago, Louis invited Armand and I over for dinner and a movie. Louis’ house is very small and only has a bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom. So we were sitting in the bedroom, on the bed, watching movies. I was extremely nervous because I had such a crush on both of them. (To my knowledge, at the time, Louis was in a monogamous relationship and I respected that, I never made a move). It was getting really late, and after what felt like hours of my working up the nerve, I finally summoned enough courage to hold Armand’s hand. It got better - he WANTED to hold my hand. I was overjoyed, even more so when he leaned over to give me a kiss. Louis was absolutely livid. He got up and left the room, left the house. I wasn’t quite sure why he was upset (maybe he didn’t want us kissing in his room?) Armand went out to talk to him but he wasn’t feeling incredibly communicative. We all ended up sleeping in the same bed anyway, hoping in the morning he would tell us what was wrong. We all had work the next day.

We were all VERY close at this point, so it was unusual for us not to speak at work. Louis did not say a WORD. He did not speak to us at all. He looked like he was going to cry the entire time. Armand and I could not get him to say a word to either of us.

I know this is a whole lot of set-up, but it really sets the tone for the entire relationship.

It comes out at the end of the day that Louis was upset because HE had a crush on ME. And when I kissed Armand it felt like the ultimate betrayal. We all talked about it and it eventually boiled down to, why does it have to be this way? Why don’t I date both of them? I really liked both of them. Armand had very strong feelings for Louis. Louis had strong feelings for me. Armand and I had already expressed our feelings for each other. It seemed like a seamless transition.

And we were all happy! For like, I don’t know, two weeks? Louis started asserting his boundaries. He did not want Armand and I to hold hands while we were all out in public together. He wanted us to keep PDA to a minimum altogether. It started involving the headspace (where X from his headspace did not want X from my headspace to be in a relationship with anyone Armand had). (And, as an extra note, my headspace is full of poly people as well. I have NEVER taken kindly to anyone trying to enforce monogamy on them). Armand and I tried to work around everything, but just a couple months into the relationship it was all too much. With Louis breaking down almost every time I visited him, saying it hurt too much, he could not stand my relationship with Armand, etc. I ended up breaking down and breaking up with Armand, I could not take the pressure, and Louis’ struggles with the relationship and his rules and his breakdowns were haunting me even in bed. It absolutely sucked the joy out of dates and overnights. And in hindsight, I fucked up pretty badly with this one.

After Armand and I broke up, my relationship with Louis drastically changed, and I mean, everything was good for a while. My relationship with my now-husband got back on the rails and started greatly improving (we had been on the rocks for a while), although my relationship with my then-wife was starting to decline (it’s oversimplifying a lot but I’m trying to stay focused on the key points). Louis and my husband (James) started dating each other as well. I was like, this is perfect! The three of us had an intense relationship, and it got very domestic very quickly. We even started talking about everyone moving in together. Even though things were far from perfect, they were just perfect enough that the weird rules and limitations that were still in place seemed like reasonable limits that I was just overreacting to.

This is all glossing over a very important undercurrent: the idea that his mental health was more important than anyone else’s. HIS needs were special, HE needed more consideration, HE deserved special treatment because he has BPD. (Note: he talks about his BPD like I have never known another goddamn person in this world with BPD. I have known several people, including my mother, and none of them act like he does). So in his mind, sure there were rules but there were always to be exceptions at his discretion, because he HAD to be the exception, goddamn it.

And then it just all went hideously South. I am not privy to all of the details of what went wrong (or if I’ve been told the details I have absolutely lost them in the vacuum of my “HIDE ALL OF THAT BAD THINGS” brain), but Louis and James broke up. It was a big time, messy breakup. Now I’m torn between the two houses. I’m spending almost every other night with Louis.

And the breakdowns just get more and more frequent. He can’t STAND that I’m still with James. He doesn’t understand how I could be with someone who hurt him so much (and James doesn’t understand how I could be with someone who hurt him so much, either). He’s cutting again, threatening suicide again. There are countless times when I’m called to his house in the middle of the night, breaking through his door and into his bathroom because he has swallowed a bunch of pills, or because he is trying to cut himself open in his bathtub. There were numerous times where I was calming him down, bandaging him up, taking him to bed. This became like, a weekly occurrence.

And things became bad at work, too. He was ALWAYS blowing up at me at work I work retail, so I would be on the register and he would be blowing up my phone. He would get mad at me if I did not read and reply to his messages, and usually when I did that, I just got so upset that I would cry. I cried in front of customers. I had to excuse myself from the register to go cry behind the building. Sometimes, I would start my shift with him saying “I’m done. It’s over. (RE: We are breaking up)” so I would go through my whole shift with this “we are broken up” argument, although he would still be texting me, berating me, and then by the end of my shift he doesn’t want to break up with me, he needs me, he’s having a panic attack, he’s going to hurt himself. And there were a few times I got fed up and tried to end it myself, but I ALWAYS caved because I thought he was going to hurt himself.

I was just never, never enough. I spent so much time trying to be a good partner and give everyone my attention like 100% of the time I neglected my art, my writing - he was jealous of people I made art or wrote for that I wasn’t even with. I had made a lot of strides with my own mental health but I was having immense breakdowns because I could not take it.

He did not want James and I to get married. He said he would break up with me if we did, even though it made financial / practical sense. (He acknowledged that it did, too, he just did not want it to happen).

(SIDE STORY: James and I are (legally) married. We have not had a ceremony yet because of -gestures to entire narrative-. My then-wife (Claire) and I had a wedding ceremony years ago but never made it legal. During THAT ceremony, our at the time mutual girlfriend attended the wedding and was very supportive of us and our special day. With Louis, I never asked for that kind of involvement, I never asked him to do anything that made him uncomfortable as far as even acknowledging my marriage to James - in the past Louis and I had even talked about having a ceremony of our own, because I believe in celebrating love and flaunting my partners and parties, of course. I did not really even ask for his support or blessing, it’s just I had had such a positive experience with multiple partners supporting each other in the past that this just like - blew my mind out of the water).

I think the last straw was one night, Louis broke a special mug to use the glass to cut himself. He wanted to kill himself. I went to his house in the middle of the night, I don’t drive so James had to wake up our son and drive me there. James drove home, I calmed Louis down, put him to bed, confiscated the glass so he could not hurt himself again and put it all in a bowl. So I’m standing on the porch, in the cold, shivering and barely verbal with a bowl full of broken, bloody glass - taking an Uber home in the middle of the night.

It was like that for a while, stuck in a loop of “we are breaking up - now things are okay - no, things are bad again, we are breaking up - things are back to being okay”. I think the last straw was when he broke up with me on New Year’s Eve. I told him “if you break up with me, that’s it, we are broken up. I’m not doing this anymore”. And it was over. For a little while.

But we still worked together, and feelings were still very raw. I still felt responsible for his mental health. He spent a while avoiding me, he would not talk to me, when he did start talking to me again it was evident that we still had feelings for each other, but maybe he knew I still felt responsible. He would still tell me when he was cutting, when he felt like killing himself. Work was hell for a little while and I felt even more isolated than before. All of my coworkers think he’s great and I knew none of them would believe me if I tried to confide in even one of them what he was putting me through.

I kept trying to distance myself from him and from the things he was doing and saying. One day he called out of work and said he was going to stay home and kill himself instead. I ended up neglecting my shift to call the police and have them show up at his house to do a wellness check. (NOTE: I do not trust police and was very conflicted about calling them at all, but there wasn’t a lot I could do and he said he had swallowed a whole bottle of pills). After they left he was mad at me.

Glossing over a lot - but we did not stay broken up long. We got back together only a few months ago. It was an even more difficult, strained relationship this time around (although I’m not saying that no part of it was good, I mean, we genuinely had some good times and some wonderful aspects of the relationship. It just, as always, gets buried underneath the shit. I really LOVE this man, okay, we have something special, but he rakes my mental health over the coals again and again). Because of his (now non-existent) relationship with James, everything that had been bad before was getting amplified. At this point in my life, Claire and I had ended our relationship and become just friends. James and I were together, and I had another long-distance partner (William) who I had dated in the past and recently we had come back together.

Well, okay, Louis does not really like either William or James. He also does not like it when I casually flirt or send nudes to other people (which I have done my whole life, and have made clear I do, no one comes into a relationship with me ignorant of the fact that I am still in my ho phase and I enjoy recreational flirting and nude exchanges). He wants my nudes to be special for him, he says that knowing other people have seen my boobs makes him sad.

At this point, it does not matter if we are having a bad night or a good one. We could be cuddling and watching a show and he will just turn to me and tell me that he will be sad when we break up, but we are going to have to break up, because he can’t live like this. I would ask him why we are still together if he wants to break up, and he’s like, he doesn’t WANT to, he just knows we will. (That fucks with me? Understandably, I feel). He becomes more and more insistent that James and I break up. Louis wants to be my one special partner and wants everyone else to be a casual side piece. (Even though, EVEN THOUGH, he has cried to me many times about feeling insignificant, about feeling like a side piece, about feeling like a mistress - which I have absolutely paid attention to and tried to remedy at eVERY TURN by giving him way more than I think was fair to my other partners).

Our relationship recently came to a head (again). I have been given the opportunity to move to my hometown (a few hours away) for Cosmetology school. In the beginning, I was not sure of where i was going to be, if I was going alone, or what was going to happen. Louis said he did not think our relationship would survive if I brought James with me. Because my experience talking to him about things as they develop has always been bad (and because our state is in lockdown, I have not been able to see him) I didn’t communicate my plans very well as they developed, and when he heard that James, the baby, and I were all moving together that was kind of it. He asked me “What are you going to do to prevent a breakup?” and I just kind of lost my shit. I was done, so completely done, and exhausted. So I broke it off and haven’t really been texting him. Because if I text him, I get nauseous, and I haven’t been able to sleep in weeks. I’m like, running on four hours of sleep at best most days. His boys will reach out to mine, because he knows my boys are weak and brokenhearted and they will talk even if I won’t. And then he has the audacity to text me, “X is upset at being neglected, but I’ve stopped caring tbh”. And I just feel so fucking godawful all the time. He won’t hesitate to tell me he is cutting, he is going to kill himself, he is drinking all of the time and he won’t stay sober.

I have told him, multiple times, that I need an equal partner. I need a partner who will support me as much as he expects to be supported. He has told me flat out “I can’t do that”.

I am ready to leave this city. There is a lot I did not even talk about, but these are, I guess, the major points I replay over and over in my head when I can’t sleep at night. Maybe I am my own worst enemy for perpetuating the cycle. I know there are a lot of points in the past where I could have brought my foot down and maybe stopped it from getting worse, but I’ve felt stuck, I still feel stuck. And I’m always going to feel responsible. Of course, this is all the bad stuff, it doesn’t really talk about all of the GOOD stuff we have. There is lots of good stuff. But I don’t think the good stuff can hold up against all of the messy, toxic shit. I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong?

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she-is-tim · 6 years ago

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Neighbours AU part 6 Self control

Lucas is a young, exhausted musician who just tries to relax, while Eliott is the overexcited, dubstep loving artist who lives next door.

Aka Lucas confronts his annoying neighbour who turns out to be gorgeous

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Saturday 17:46

Eliott was resting on the couch, smoking cigarette, not weed this time, since just accross him were sitting Lucille in the armchair. She came to check on him since he didn’t texted her after the party at all. Eliott was feeling better than ever in his life, he was dating with Lucas since a few days only, but it was just so perfect. They spent Thrusday night and Friday morning together, but then his sweet pianist had to work, so they separated.

Now Lucas was at a concert, he was preparing for it all morning, playing soft melodies while Eliott sat on the couch in Lucas’ apartment, doodling in his sketchbook. It was such a perfect moment, Eliott wanted to stay like that forever.

Now he was in his own apartment, far away from his lovely partner. Of course Lucas invited him, but he told him that he has a new project coming up, so he needs to work on that today to have more free time on sunday. It was a lie, obviously. He couldn’t go to crowded places like cinema, theatres, concerts, other events. It made his anxiety worse.

“What’s up with you? You look like a kid that lost his favorite toy.” Lucille said, slowly taking a sip of her beer. She looked pretty like always, wearing a white shirt with black flowers on it, tight, dark jeans, her hair was curly and shiny, her nails painted light pink.

“Nothing.” Eliott mumbled, blowing out a big cloud of smoke. “I’m okay.”

“Eliott, I know you more than anyone. I can tell when something is bothering you.” she said seriously and put the bottle on the coffee table between them, crossing her legs and arms. Eliott sighed, putting his cigarette in the ashtray, sitting up.

“I’m dating someone. Are you happy now?” he said annoyed, he hated how Lucille was acting around him, but he really needed this sometimes. A caring friend making sure that Eliott is not suffering alone.

“Someone... Please tell me it’s not the guy from next door.” she said on a worrying tone, making a weird face when Eliott frowned. “For god’s sake, Eliott. Don’t you remember what happened last time you liked a guy?” her tone was a bit angry now, which made the boy angry too, he sat up, staring into his friend’s face.

“I am not your boyfriend, nor your child, Lucille.” he said seriously, his eyes were shooting sparks. “This is MY fucking life, If I wanna mess it up again, then so be it.” he said a bit louder than he wanted, but he had to make sure Lucille gets the message.

“Yeah, sure.” she said on an arrogant voice. “I’m pretty positive that he knows about your illness, your insecurities. I bet he knows well how to handle you on the bad days.” her words were like venom, crawling under Eliott’s skin, poisoning his blood. He didn’t say anything, just lit another cigarette, inhaling the hot smoke, then letting it out, closing his eyes in the process.

“I’ll tell him, I just need time.” he said it after long minutes of silence. Lucille rolled her eyes, grabbing the beer again to drink. “What would you expect me to do?” he asked angrily. “Start the first meeting with ‘Hey, I’m Eliott, I am an illustrator, I like dubstep and oh, sometimes I have so bad anxiety attacks that I end up in hospital’?” his voice was harsh both because of his anger and the cigarette he was smoking.

“Maybe that would be the best.” she mumbled.

“No, Lucille. I don’t want anyone to see me as a sick person and pity me for that shit! I want Lucas to like me because of me. To see the person behind the illness.” he explained, tears forming in his eyes now. He hated to be like this, having such bad anxiety, mixed with some panic attacks. He wanted to be normal, or at least just feel normal. He couldn’t have that with Lucille, that’s why they broke up, but maybe it can work with Lucas.

“I’m sorry.” Lucille said softly, putting down the empty beer bottle, grabbing Eliott’s hand softly. “I’m sure he will like you a lot. I mean you are annoying as hell, but if he stayed after hearing that terrible music you listen to every day, I’m sure nothing will scare him away.” she said softly, kissing Eliott’s cheek. The boy smiled softly, leaning his head on Lucille’s shoulder. He couldn’t wish for a better friend.

Sunday 10:34

Lucas had to crawl out of his warm bed, making sure he gets ready before his beautiful partner comes over. They were planning to have lunch together, Lucas insisted on cooking himself before Eliott could offer the same. He never ever wanted to eat anything that was made by him. He might have been a real angel, a talented artist, but he was a terrible cook.

He grabbed his phone to check on messages before going to the bathroom. He had to take a shower, brush his teeth, style his hair a little. He wanted to look perfect, since his date was basically a demigod. He only got a few messages, mostly from the boys, congratulating to the successful concert last night. They weren’t big fans of classical music, but they were there on every concert of Lucas if they could.

From Yann: So, how are things going with you and Eliott? You gonna introduce him to us? It’s time to wake up, Lulu.

He laughed at the stupid messages from his best friend, but he had to check the other messages too, before answering. He got a message from a member of the orchestra, he ignored that, but he jumped a little when he saw the message from his mother. She rarely texted him, due to her mental state. She was taken care by a professional, but it always made Lucas feel guilty that he couldn’t take care of her on his own. She was really problematic, her delusions and breakdowns made Lucas’ teenage life harder than it should be. Now he just tried to live his life, forgetting the problem of his family.

From Mom: In my dreams I saw a creature with horns, taking you into the depths. Never follow the path of the darkness, light can’t wander off, or it will be lost forever.

Lucas sighed, he didn’t reply to that one, his mom often sent him nonsense messages like this, especially when he was younger and she didn’t get proper medications. He shook his head, focusing himself on reading the last message he got while sleeping. It was from Eliott, he sent it at 3:45. Lucas rolled his eyes, knowing that his partner were not much of a sleeper during night time.

From Eliott: I’m looking forward to our date today. Should I bring some alcohol? Maybe a joint?

Lucas couldn’t help but smile like an idiot, seeing Eliott’s silly and basically useless messages. They made no sense, but they showed to Lucas how much Eliott was excited and eager to meet up. It was less than 24 hours since they last met, but it felt like a lifetime to both of them.

To Eliott: You could bring some champagne, no smoking today. I wanna enjoy this date without getting high

From Eliott: You woke up? Good morning!

Lucas chuckled and put down his phone now. Eliott was such a dork sometimes, but he loved that. He walked to the bathroom, taking a shower, brushing his teeth, fixing his hair. He was almost done, when he heard music, coming from the living room. He dressed up, walked there, but it was actually coming from the other side of the wall. Eliott was listening to Skrillex, at 10:50. Lucas laughed and walked to the kitchen, preparing to cook. He kinda liked this silly music now, it was fast, weird and chaotic, just like Eliott.

He was making food to whatever music Eliott was listening to. It felt like the wall between their apartments was gone and they just stood there, in front of each other, dancing to the music like they are carefree teenagers again. Lucas had such a wide smirk on his face, it was hurting, but he couldn’t stop himself. This was the very first time he felt so free and happy, all thanks to this goofball next door.

He finished cooking a little after 12:17. He tried to make a healthy, but tasy meal. Unlike Eliott, he was trying not to poison his crush. He put the steamed vegetables in a bowl, the roasted chicken on a plate, the well-cooked rice was already on the table, looking delicious. He put two plates and cutlery, making sure it looked perfect like in those cooking shows. He also put wine glasses next to the plates, fighting back the urge to look for a fancy candle. That would be too much and also would make no sense, since it’s the middle of the day.

He looked at the table victoriously, enjoying the perfection of his hard work, before looking for his phone to text Eliott. He asked him before if he had any type of food allergies, so at least he didn’t had to worry about that part when cooking.

To Eliott: You can come in 5 minutes, door is open

Lucas smiled and put his phone on the kitchen counter, making sure it’s on mute. He didn’t wanted to be interrupted by his friends this time. He walked to his bedroom, changing his casual clothes to a bit more fancy ones. He put on tight, navy blue jeans and a white t-shirt. He was holding a black suit for a few minutes, thinking if he should put it on or not, but he rejected the idea. They were home, he didn’t had to look so fancy.

He was so distracted by dressing up that he was still fixing his stupid shirt when the front door opened. His heart was racing as he basically ran out of the bedroom to the living room, facing with the most beautiful person on this earth. His hair seemed to be shorter, maybe he cut it himself, but it still looked perfectly chaotic. He was wearing grey jeans like always, a blue t-shirt with a raccoon on it and an opened denim shirt on top, just to make himself look like a full 3 course meal. Lucas stopped breathing for a second when Eliott smiled at him.

“You look beautiful.” he said with a soft smile. Lucas just noticed the champagne bottle in his hand as he raised it. “I got us some drink.” he said proudly.

“Yeah, cool.” Lucas mumbled, licking his lips, still staring at Eliott.

“You like what you see?” he asked with a triumphant smile. He obviously enjoyed how speechless Lucas was. The boy tried to collect his tought and imaginary slapped his face a few times for making himself look like a complete idiot in front of Eliott.

“Anyways, let’s go to the kitchen.” he said, ignoring Eliott’s question and grabbed his arm gently, leading him to the kitchen where the food was waiting for them.

Eliott smiled brightly when he saw all the deliciousness Lucas made just for them. It made him extremely happy that someone cared for him this much. He obviously had dinner dates before, but no one’s ever done anything like this for him. He smiled at Lucas and without hesitation, planted a soft kiss on his lips.

“You are incredible.” he whispered as he pulled back from the kiss.

“I wanted to impress you.” Lucas mumbled, his cheeks turning a bit red because of the flattering words.

“Mission complete.” Eliott smirked. “I’m gonna open this.” he said, still holding into the champagne bottle, looking for a bottle opener in the drawers.

Lucas couldn’t believe how confidently Eliott was moving around in his apartment, like he was living here too. He liked to see him look around, then happily opening the bottle with a loud popping sound. He smirked at Lucas, walking to the table to pour champagne in the glasses.

“You know, I should be the one serving you, not the other way around.” Lucas said with a soft smile, he didn’t mean to complain, he actually enjoyed Eliott’s enthusiasm.

“I can’t just sit around and watch you do everything. You worked so hard to make this amazing food for me. I gotta thank you somehow.” he said seriously, putting down the bottle in the middle of the table.

“I think that kiss was more than enough for me.” he said smiling, walking to Eliott and stroking his face. “I never had the chance to do this for anyone actually. I’m happy that you like it.”

Eliott looked into his eyes, all kinds of emotion running through his body at the same time. He cupped Lucas’ face gently, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs, taking in all the beauty this boy had. He wanted to enjoy this moments, every single moment he got to spend with Lucas before all goes to shit, because it happens every single time. It’s just the way it is. He wasn’t normal, he was ill, problematic, not worth the effort. But right now in this blessed moment he could be normal, he could be a man in love without being afraid of what happens the next moment.

He leant down, pressing his lips on Lucas’, starting a gentle kiss, still holding his face in his hands. Lucas slowly wrapped his arms around Eliott’s waist, pulling him closer, opening his mouth to let that curious tongue inside. Then all went wild, in the next moment, Lucas was sitting on the kitchen counter, with opened legs, Eliott standing inbetween them, kissing him deeply, while his hands were in Lucas’ hair. He had no idea when his partner put him up there, but he couldn’t care less. His fingers slowly slipped under Eliott’s shirt, touching his abs. His skin was warm and soft, his hand wandered upper, stroking Eliott’s chest now.

The taller boy had to break the kiss to take a breath before going in for another wild, wet kiss. Their tongue were dancing uncontrollably in their joint mouth. Eliott were holding onto Lucas’ waist now, slowly pulling up his shirt to reveal his beautiful body. He couldn’t get enough of it, the nerves on his fingertips were screaming for more.

After long minutes of making out in the kitchen, Lucas pulled back, leaning his head on the cupboard behind him, wheezing like he just ran a marathon. His heart was threatening to burst out of his chest, his hair was a mess, his cheeks were bright red, just like his swollen lips. He looked at Eliott, who basically were the same, though, his hair was always that messy. He looked even more hot with those red, wet lips.

“Fuck...” Lucas mumbled, placing a hand on his chest, like it could calm his fast heartbeats. “I wasn’t expecting this to be honest.” he said which made Eliott to laugh. He loved to see him smile and laugh, he looked genuinely happy.

“Honestly, I was surprised we got to the kitchen. I was actually planning to do this on the couch.” he said smirking, playing with Lucas’ already messy hair, while he was drawing circles on Lucas’ stomach with the other hand.

“You really have no self controll, huh?”

“Around you? Not anymore.” he said smirking, placing a kiss on Lucas’ neck now. “I was holding myself back when you first came to my apartment. It was the hardest thing i’ve ever done in my life.” he whispered as he kept kissing his neck. Lucas shivered and grabbed Eliott’s shirt, letting out a little moan.

“Eliott...”

“You were there... on my couch... defenceless, looking so fucking gorgeous. I needed some serious control to not jump on you, making you mine right then and there.” he kept whispering on such an erotic tone that made Lucas shiver. He had goosebumps all over his body, his nerves were screaming for more. He wanted Eliott so badly.

“I would have nothing against that...” he mumbled in response to Eliott’s seducing speech. The other one smirked, biting a mark on his neck happily, while his hands were sliding up and down on Lucas’ body under his shirt.

“I don’t wanna sounds rude, but right now I found you much more delicious than the food on that table.” he said, licking the skin on Lucas’ neck. The boy gasped, holding Eliott’s arm stronger and crossing his ankles behind Eliott to keep him close. There was no escape, not this time.

“Enjoy your meal then.” that was all he could say, but it seemed to fire up Eliott. He pulled back just to take off Lucas’ shirt, throwing it away. His lips attacked the bare skin without warning, making Lucas moan uncontrollably. He never had such pleasure in his life before, like Eliott knew exactly where to touch and kiss him to make his body a hot, screaming mess.

He slid his fingers into Eliott’s fluffy hair, pulling it a little as the pleasure were running through his body. His mind went blank, everything around him ceased to exist, it was only him and Eliott left on this world, holding onto each other, kissing, touching, licking. It didn’t take much time to get all of their clothes off, throwing them away in the kitchen without caring where it lands.

Sunday 13:48

Lucas sighed, looked at the boy laying next to him. They didn’t actually remember when or how they made it to the bedroom, but now they were here, legs intertwined with each other, bodies sweaty and hot, hair messy, lips red, swollen and their eyes filled with so much emotions as they looked at each other. Lucas wrapped a hand around Eliott, placing his head on his chest softly, listening to the heartbeat that was just as fast as his own.

“I’m pretty sure the meal got cold.” Eliott mumbled into the silence of the room, which made Lucas release a little laugh.

“Yeah, We gotta reheat it later.” he said, stroking Eliott’s stomach lazily.

“I don’t wanna leave this bed.” Eliott said, fingers wandering into Lucas’ hair to play with his soft locks.

“We can’t stay here forever... not even if we want to.” Lucas mumbled, kissing his chest softly. “But we will have a lot of opportunities to lay here like this again.” he said on a soft voice, looking up at Eliott, who seemed to be really excited now.

“Oh yeah?”

“Don’t you think so?” Lucas raised his eyebrows which made Eliott giggle.

“Of course I do. I just still can’t believe that this is real.” he explained, still giggling. Lucas loved this sound, he could listen to it forever.

“People often do naked cuddling in bed after sex with their boyfriend, you know?” he said confidently without realizing what he just said. Eliott raised his head a little, looking into his eyes.

“Am I your boyfriend?” he asked intrigued to get an answer. Lucas blushed and looked away.

“I just thought that... you know... after this...” he mumbled a bit unsure, avoiding eyecontact. Eliott smirked, cupping his face gently now, placing a kiss on Lucas’ lips to make him shut up.

“Of course we are boyfriends.” he said happily which made the other boy to release a sigh of relief.

“Okay, good.” he mumbled, placing his head back down on Eliott’s chest. “We are boyfriends...” he whispered to himself, closing his eyes with a happy smile on his face.

#Elu Neighbours AU #Skam France #Eliott Demaury #Lucas Lallemant #Eliott x Lucas #Elu

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beccarue · 6 years ago

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I had a miscarriage Monday.

I’m sure some of you remember our first baby was through IVF--I’m pretty familiar with things being painful and not easy...so when we recently conceived two and a half years after our IVF baby was born—naturally and ‘accidentally’ (without even trying) I was in disbelief. I couldn’t get past how easy it actually was/should be for couples to get pregnant. It was too good (and free!) to be true. But it happened to us, which was just so absolutely bizarre feeling, but like in a good way. After an appointment at the doctor to confirm it, we began to tell family and a few close friends and coworkers. It was around 8 weeks at that point. Seemed like a safe time to slowly let the cat out of the bag. Other than the whole IVF part, our first pregnancy was pretty flawless (until the end when my blood pressure was off the charts), so I wasn’t too worried about complications. This time around I was having nausea, but I never got sick which was a huge improvement over our first time. Before, I was constantly sick. This time it all just seemed so easy. I was so much less sick this time, there were mornings I briefly forgot I was pregnant. But then my new voracious appetite reminded me. I had to eat every hour and a half or two hours before it felt like my stomach was imploding. I’d get so hungry I’d start to have anxiety and panic. My snack drawer at work looked like the snack aisle in the grocery store. I was a few days shy of 11 weeks when I had to go in and do routine blood-work (since I was a geriatric pregnancy this also included a test to see what the sex was). It was last Friday and actually it was my birthday. Nothing was amiss. After work we went to a baseball game with my sister and her partner. I was still slightly nauseous and absolutely famished feeling all the time. After a bucket of nachos and ice cream I felt pretty good. When we got home that night, I noticed a slightly jarring amount of blood when I used the restroom. It somewhat freaked me out, but at the same time I spotted on and off during my first pregnancy and nothing had changed on that part for this new pregnancy. The next day, Saturday, the bleeding was less so, and I wasn’t too concerned. I still felt nauseous and had the appetite of a gremlin after midnight. Sunday morning came and I was still spotting more than usual but I just still was not that concerned. I did start googling miscarriage symptoms and people expressed cramping and severe pain and blood clots. I was having none of those things. Plus, my pregnancy app told me the baby was a size of a lime so if I passed it due to a miscarriage, I’d surely know it. Sunday early evening came, and I’ll admit here and now that my hackles were somewhat raised then that perhaps my body was rejecting this pregnancy. I wasn’t hungry. I wasn’t nauseous feeling. It was almost 630pm and I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and I just wasn’t hungry whatsoever. That was not normal. The next day, I woke up around 330 in the morning to some cramping. I used the restroom and was alarmed at the amount of blood I saw. I burst into tears. This was it. I knew it. I tossed and turned and could not fall back asleep. I got up and got ready for work earlier than usual. I showered, dressed, put on a little makeup. All while cramping harder and harder. I called the after hours line for the obgyn group at the hospital and got a person right away. I explained I thought I was having a miscarriage and why I thought that and said I didn’t know what to do. The woman who answered was kind and told me to call and leave a message with the doctor on call and they would promptly call me back with advice. I hung up the phone and went into the living room to turn on the local news for background noise. As I was standing there listening to the day’s weather forecast I felt what I knew was the baby passing through me. I carefully walked back to the restroom and it horrifyingly was the the baby in some kind of sack. I was 11 weeks and 1 day along. I cried out “You stupid little thing, why did you come out!” And started shaking. I stripped down and was completely in shock at the amount of blood. Once I was able to slightly stabilize, I left a message for the on call doctor who did immediately call me back. She advised if the bleeding wasn’t under control to go to the emergency room but if I was comfortable with the amount to wait and come in during office hours. It was bad, but not unmanageable. With me wearing a depends. If I didn’t have any leftover from my first pregnancy (for after delivery purposes) I don’t know how I would have managed to leave the house. My husband came home from work right away and we left for the doctor. The office hours were technically 8am but I suspected the doors opened at 730 and I was right. I explained to the front desk worker what had happened and she began to figure out when they could see me. She was able to get me slated for a 930 ultrasound to confirm there was no heartbeat with an appointment immediately following with the doctor. What we feared was true: I had had a miscarriage. It seemed so unbelievable. I felt so good this round and we were so close to the 2nd trimester. I just could not believe it. The doctor was concerned with the amount of blood I’d lost and examined me and said he wanted me to have a procedure called a D and C (to clear out the remaining blood and tissue) right away. I didn’t even know what this procedure was. I had to be hooked up to an IV and put under on an operating table for it. The whole experience was so surreal and I’m honestly going to to be processing it for a very long time. The OR nurse was absolutely exceptional and compassionate. Before we left, she wrote down her personal cell phone number for me to call or text if anything came up. I was floored. I keep constantly forgetting there isn’t going to be a ‘new’ baby. They have the results of the sex, I so badly want to call and find out but then like, obviously what would the point be. I was a wreck emotionally earlier in the week and just when I feel stronger (I usually never cry) I just completely breakdown. I do blame this morning’s breakdown on an episode of ‘Queer Eye’ though. I hate being cynical, but I just knew this ‘easy’ pregnancy was too good to be true.

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chaos-tj · 6 years ago

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Hugs don't fix everything

Before I get into this I need to explain some things.

With my depression/anxiety/anger issues I get really irritable. Talking and human contact isn't my thing as is, however, when I'm irritated I don't like it at all except from my 2 best friends. They are the only ones ever able to touch me without triggering whatever irritation is going on. I don't know why that's just how it is.

So when I tell you that I don't want human contact when I'm in these moods unless I specifically say I need a hug then don't think that any time I'm depressed/anxious/angry that it can just be fixed by a simple hug.

I remember one day back in highschool being really depressed and then everything just went wrong and triggered my anger issues. I told everyone please don't touch me today I'm not in a very stable mood to be at school as is.

I had told my partner previously if I ever raise my voice a little if you try to touch me that's just a warning don't take it personally it's just a quick panic DON'T TOUCH ME usually. However, today they were coming up to me faster than I could think of a polite way to say it and it was obvious I was in a bad mood. I had gotten tired of them thinking they could hug away every little mental issue I had and my anger came forward. So I quickly let out a DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME and they got really pissed and wouldn't even talk to me for the rest of the week.

They got even more pissed off when my best friend came running over threw there arms around me and walked me to an empty classroom. We were friends with the teacher and she shot her a texts saying that I needed to sit out of class and I would be chilling in her room until my mom came to get me.

Side note my mom didn't want to pick me up because she didn't think me having a severe mental break down ro the point I was ready to punch a teacher in the face was an issue. I just told her either she'd pick me up or I'm ditching the rest of my classes anyway.(I'm a good student and have never done something like this before if that says how bad this breakdown was) My best friend ended up texting her and convincing her and eventually I did end up going home early.

#lawliet tj #chaos tj #my post #mental disorder #mental illness #mental health #important #this needed to be said #chaos rants #depreasion #anger issues #anxiety

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axiumin · 7 years ago

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Partners | Sehun x Reader

anonymous said: Can you do a Sehun College Au please???

This semester was going great until you got assigned a group project.

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Genre: Fluff, AU

Words: 2.3k+

“At the beginning of the semester, I told you all that we’d have an exam as a final for this class. After some consideration, I’ve decided to have you do a group project instead.”

Your professor went on to explain the project, but you couldn’t hear her over the rush of blood through your ears. A group project? If you had to describe your initial emotional response was to this, it felt like you were being launched somewhere in the realm of abject panic.

This was far from the first time you’d been assigned a group project, so you weren’t naive enough to hope that work would be distributed evenly and everyone would work hard to do what needed to get done. Time and time again, you’d been left to shoulder the workload in many a group project gone south. It was truly a circle of hell in itself, and you already knew that the best possible outcome would be getting a partner who didn’t care if you took over.

Fortunately, it seemed as if you would have some small mercy this time around. When your professor announced the groups, you found out that you’d only have one partner: Sehun. Honestly, you’d never even heard Sehun’s voice before. All you knew was that he sat in the back of the class, wielded an impressive resting bitch face, and never participated in a single discussion throughout the semester as far as you could tell. If there was anyone who would easily let you take helm of this sinking ship, you were sure it would be him.

As soon as class was dismissed, you gathered your belongings and marched to the back of the classroom, where Sehun was still packing his notebook. You stopped right in front of him, and he looked up at you with wide eyes.

“I’m Y/N, your partner,” you said in a clipped, business-like tone. You handed him a piece of paper with your phone number and email scrawled on it. “Here’s my contact information. I was thinking we should meet up soon to decide the breakdown of the project. Have you been to that coffee shop in the business school? It’s out of the way a bit, but that just means it’s quiet. How do you feel about meeting there at eleven o’clock tomorrow?”

Sehun blinked, looking kind of dazed by your monologue of an introduction.

“Uh, sure.”

You nodded.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

You arrived back to your dorm, feeling the weight of of your final grade for that class resting on your shoulders. The final project was rather straightforward: you’d be required to propose a lesson plan for teaching language skills to a group of preschool-aged students. That part would be easy enough. The trickier part came when you had to explicitly identify different theories of behavioral and cognitive science and explain how and why your lesson plan utilized these theories. Then, once everything was said and done, you’d have to present this lesson plan in front of the class. This is where you supposed having a competent partner would help.

As it was, you spent the rest of your afternoon drafting a lesson plan, complete with an efficient time-table and plenty of hands-on activities for the kiddos. It wasn’t a perfect lesson plan, but it was only the first draft, and you figured that as long as this was done for now, you could work on the theory-based portion of your project later. Maybe if you were lucky, Sehun would actually have an idea or two.

The next morning, you were squinting at your lesson plan again, trying to figure out what was missing, when Sehun shuffled into your peripheral vision. You looked up and saw him standing awkwardly next to your table, face unreadable.

“Oh, good morning!” you greeted, hoping you didn’t sound as off-balance as you felt. You scooted your notebook and laptop closer to you, freeing up space at the table. “Come, sit down.”

He sat and stared at your set-up.

“I didn’t expect to see you working on it already,” he said, rifling through his backpack to produce his own laptop and notes. You hummed, watching as he got ready.

“Oh, yeah.” You shrugged awkwardly. “I try to stay on top of things, so I just decided to start drafting a lesson plan. I hope you don’t mind.”

It was Sehun’s turn to shrug.

“That’s fine. Can I see it?”

The next few minutes were silent as you both stared at your respective laptops. You guessed Sehun was probably familiarizing himself with the lesson plan while you were scrutinizing it, trying to figure out how you could make it better. It was a collaborative document, so you saw the moment Sehun’s cursor settled on the line of text you were reading. You watched in real time as he started making small revisions to the document, changing up your wording.

You looked up at him, but he was just focused on his laptop. Your eyebrow twitched in frustration. It’s not that they were bad edits, per se, but it was the principle of the matter: this was your draft, and he hadn’t even said anything before he went and started making it his draft, too! What happened to this guy just sitting back and letting you take control of this project?

It was another few, tense minutes of staring at him before he finally leaned back away from his laptop and looked up at you, blinking in surprise when he found you already watching.

“What do you think?” you asked, trying your damnedest not to sound as bitter as you were feeling. You weren’t sure how successful you were from the way Sehun cleared his throat and fidgeted.

"I was looking at your timeframe for the activities, and I think we need to adjust it. You keep a very strict schedule, but if this is a hypothetical lesson plan for four-year-olds, we need to take into account the time it'll take to transition from activities and get them to settle down."

The frustration that had been simmering began to settle, replaced by thoughtfulness. Sehun actually had a point there. You’d been bothered, feeling like there was something off about your lesson plan. Was that it?

"I hadn't thought of that," you conceded. "But if we allow more time for transitions, we won't have time for all of the activities. Do you think we should take one of them out altogether then?"

“Well, two of the activities are kind of similar. Maybe we could change one so that the learning goals from the other are already integrated in it?” Sehun suggested. The two of you sat and discussed the merits of each activity, eventually deciding on which one to remove and how to adjust the others to still meet the requirements of your behaviorist approach.

Before you knew it, a couple of hours had passed, it was nearing time for your next lecture to begin, and the lesson plan had been polished up to something truly impressive. Sehun sat back in his chair and stretched a bit, his shirt riding up the tiniest bit to show a sliver of his tummy. You busied yourself by packing up your notebook just so you wouldn’t stare.

“I think we did great work today, Sehun,” you said, carefully saving said work on your laptop before beginning to pack that up, too. Sehun took the cue from you and started gathering his belongings as well.

“Yeah, we got a lot done. All we really have to do now is finish our theory write-up and get ready for the presentation.”

“Hmm, yeah. That shouldn’t take us more than a couple more days, if we’re as productive next time as we were today. Do you want to meet up here same time Thursday?”

Sehun nodded. “Sounds good to me. I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Y/N.”

With a wave, Sehun turned to leave, and you hesitated for only a moment before calling his name. “Sehun!” He stopped and turned to face you again, and you bit your lip. The past couple of hours had been really good, and you were honestly relieved to realize that you wouldn’t have to do all the work for this group project after all. You knew that you had been a bit rude with Sehun at first, so you wanted to apologize to him. "I’m sorry. I really underestimated you, Sehun,” you admitted.

Sehun shrugged, but he was smiling now, if shyly.

"Yeah, I figured. To be fair, it's not like I did a lot to let you know that I actually care about this class in the first place."

"Still, I know I won't be making this mistake again... partner." For a moment, you considered offering a handshake, but you thought that might take it too far. Sehun was already wrinkling his nose.

"That’s kind of cheesy, Y/N,” he teased. But he was still smiling, so you counted that as a win. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, he turned to leave again, and you let him, still smiling as you watched him go. You were somehow looking forward to class more than usual.

The next morning, you were just settling into your usual seat in class when Sehun claimed the chair right next to you. You looked at him in surprise; up until this day, he’d always sat in the back of the room. Sehun just greeted you with a nod and a quiet ‘good morning’ before taking out his notebook.

Sehun didn’t speak at all through the lecture, same as usual. But now that you were this close to him, you could see the neat rows of notes he took, a combination of the lecture’s main points and his own ideas. Before, you had assumed he didn’t care about the class just because he sat in the back and didn’t speak. Now, however, you were beginning to realize that just because a fellow student didn’t seem as engaged as you didn’t mean that they weren’t still actively learning. Somehow, you felt a bit embarrassed to have taken so long to realize that even though you studied education. You felt even more chagrined when you thought about how dismissive you’d been of Sehun.

For his part, Sehun seemed rather unbothered by your crisis, even though you knew you’d never been good at hiding your emotions. He just worked diligently on his notes during class and left with a small smile and a quick “See you tomorrow, Y/N” while you were still trying to figure out why you were so hung up on your realization that Sehun was actually hardworking.

When his smile made your heart skip a beat, you had to wonder if maybe you would have cared less about this if he hadn’t been so handsome.

You left class that day pondering your strange fixation on what you’d dubbed ‘The Sehun Problem’, and you were still pondering this the next day when you met Sehun in the coffee shop again.

This time, he was already sitting at a table by the time you got there, and you had to check your watch to make sure you hadn’t somehow gotten there late. You hadn’t; he was just early. When he saw you approaching the table, he perked up, pulling his headphones out of his ears and offering another shy smile.

“Hey, partner,” he greeted. Somehow, as shy as he looked, you got the feeling he was teasing you about your comment from the other day. You let it pass without remark, though, just settling in across from him and pulling out your laptop so you could get to work.

The two of you settled into an easy rhythm together, each tackling different parts of the theory write-up before trading off to double check each other’s work. It was steadying, being able to work with someone who you could trust to do their best. Instead of the stress of working on a big project by yourself, you were able to actually enjoy the comfortable back-and-forth.

By the looks of it, Sehun was enjoying himself, too. It apparently didn’t take much to dispel whatever shyness Sehun had felt. Quiet conversation soon turned into energetic chatter, and somehow the coffee shop around you seemed alive with your laughter on this otherwise quiet Thursday.

With no small amount of reluctance, you had to admit that your work on this project was coming to a close. You and Sehun had done some great work with the lesson plan and theory write-up, and there were only so many times a person could proofread their work before they had to give it up. All that was left was for you and Sehun to present your lesson plan to the class on Monday, but considering how well both of you understood your work, you couldn’t imagine there would be any difficulty with that. The project was essentially done, and you had just run out of reasons to spend time with Sehun like this.

“Well, this is it,” you announced finally, unable to drag it out any longer. “We did it.”

“We sure did. I think we’re going to get an A for sure,” Sehun said.

For a long moment, neither of you made any move to pack up. You just stared at Sehun, trying to soak in the moment, and Sehun just stared right back at you with a considering look. At length, he broke the silence.

“So, do you want to meet here on Tuesday? Same time?” Sehun asked. You frowned in confusion.

“But we’re presenting on Monday. We don’t have anything to work on anymore.”

“I know.” Sehun shrugged. “We don’t have to work on anything to spend time together. I think we both know now that we work pretty well together, so why not see how we work together in other ways?”

Your confusion was beginning to lift, and a smile was slowly growing on your lips. Sehun noticed this and was bolstered.

“So what do you say?” he offered, smile turning a bit cheeky. “Partners?” He held out a hand.

You looked between his face— sweet and smiling— and his hand before putting your hand in his. Instead of shaking it, he pulled your hand up to brush his lips against your knuckles.

“Yeah,” you replied, your smile mirroring his own. “Partners.”

#exo #exo imagines #exo scenarios #exo one shots #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop one shots #sehun #oh sehun #sehun one shot #sehun fluff #exo fluff #college au #my writing

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justanotherdadblog-blog · 6 years ago

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Hi... My name is Stu and I have Depression... and Anxiety... and OCD.

Pretty sure that's all I have, god I hope that's all I have, its enough to deal with.

I'll tell you a little about myself before I get launched into the reason for starting a blog, but before I do you need to understand that above all other things on this earth, I love my daughters and I would do anything for them and to have them in my life.

I'm 37 years and 6 months on this planet, I have until 2 months ago lived a relatively happy and what most would class as normal life. I have three wonderful daughters, and I've been married twice. Like I said, a normal life.

I'm currently a single father and my 2 youngest daughters (6 & 7) live with me 3-4 nights a week, whilst my older Daughter (13) lives with me when she feels like it, which is usually at the weekend. Sometimes I don't see her for weeks, but we chat by text every day.

Like all good depression stories, mines starts with a girl and a guy.

Flash back to May 2017, I met a girl through a good friend, this good friend also owned the shop that I worked in at the time. (you can already see where this is going)

This girl and I got on like you dream about, we were into the same things, she allowed me to be myself, which was something that had previously been denied to me in other relationships, she made me cups of tea when I would go over to hers after work. She did all the little things that I had craved in both my marriages.

She was phenomenal with my Daughters, had so much time for them, couldn't do enough to entertain and provide for them. She also had a son of her own, she was the model mother, he is such an amazing little boy who will one day smash the patriarchy with his feministic views.

I honestly couldn't see it ever being anything other than absolutely amazing, and I knew I would do anything to make this relationship work.

Fast forward 11 months, this amazing girl who I now lived with had asked me several times if I paid child support for my daughters, to which I had repeatedly answered no, which wasn't strictly a lie, but also not entirely the truth. What I did pay was £200 a month towards her rent, which was the reason for not paying child support. I had kept this a secret, because I don't know why. Was I scared of how she would react? Sure I was, I was terrified it would end everything, and so I kept my secret and continued to pay.

Then one day, in a conversation about my ex wife, I was asked, why does she still have my surname? Truth is I don't know, I guess since our kids have my surname she decided just to keep it, and to be honest it didn't bother me greatly, so I didn't bother to rock the boat. This amazing girl didn't agree, she asked me if I would ask her to change it back to her maiden name, and me being the doting man who didn't want to upset or lose this amazing girl did just that.

It felt wrong before I had even started typing the text, I knew right away this was going to blow up, this needless act was going to cause me some sort of mental anguish, and I was so right... still did it though.

The backlash from ex wife was not surprisingly aggressive and cold, she didn't want to have a different surname to her children, she didn't want to go back to her maiden name because she hated her family and didn't want associate with them, and she didn't want to go through the hassle of changing all of her details with the bank, passport, licence etc.

During this tirade at me, I was being directed by amazing girl with how to respond, we would pay all costs, we would cover anything that needed covered, anything that would get this surname changed, and make all well with the world... little did I know this was only the beginning.

I guess since ex wife was all riled, she decided to drop a bombshell on me, she was moving away, and she was taking my children with her. Her new house would be 2 hours drive away, so I was suddenly going to go from having my children 3-4 nights a week, to seeing them every other weekend. I wasn't getting a say in it, that was it.

Looking back now, I think that this was the point my 'Mental Health Crisis' started, it's what they call a nervous breakdown nowadays apparently.

Ex wife revealed that my £200 a month to cover rent wasn't enough anymore and she needed to moved to a bigger house because she was expecting another child with her new partner.

KABOOM!

Amazing girl was reading all responses with me as they were coming in, and there it was in full text, confirmation that I was paying £200 a month towards my children and that she was expecting another child. Amazing girl would have loved nothing more than to have more children, but due to my vasectomy that wasn't going to happen for us with out surgery of some kind.

I had a full emotional breakdown, on one hand I had lied to this amazing girl who was the world to me, and on the other hand my life was being ripped away from me by my ex wife who was going to take my children away. My life was literally being torn in two and there wasn't anything I could do to stop it.

I fled, I went to my parents, in floods of tears, I was totally broken, not one part of my body didn't hurt, my heart felt like it was being torn from my chest, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't speak. My mum held me for a long time, I remember thinking, this is why I'm such a good parent, because my Mum has given me these skills that she still bestows on me today.

Over the next couple weeks my relationship with amazing girl broke down because I had betrayed and lied to her and because emotionally I was destroyed and didn't have the words to say anything to her to make it better, my work suffered, and that's not good when you're self employed. My relationship with my friend who owned the studio I worked in suffered, I think now for two reasons, 1. because I had hurt his friend, and 2. because I wasn't making money for his studio. In the end he let me go. That was the triple whammy right there, the kidney punch on top of the heart ripping. No Partner, No Kids and No Job.

That was the lowest I have ever felt, I don't even know now, today, if I could ever feel lower than that, I don't think I'd ever want to.

That weekend I had a text from my ex friend who owned the studio, he laid it out for me and his reasoning for letting me go, he explained that my behaviour had been erratic and I had lost sight of my business and in that he had lost his trust and faith in me. It actually made me feel a little better, it was the first thing I didn't have to over think, here was an explanation I could understand. I responded that I was grateful for his text and his explanation, I was sorry things had gotten to where the had and I had no hard feeling towards him or the shop studio. He asked me if I would train a new member of staff to do my old job, and he would pay me to do it, honestly I thought that was pretty cheeky, but I had no job and bills coming up so I was considering it, but didn't respond to it just yet.

Within an hour of those texts I had a message from another Studio, who had caught wind that I no longer worked in my old studio, he asked me if I'd come see him for a chat. Understand that I had not even considered what I was going to do for work yet, I hadn't even put the feelers out. Long story short he offered me a position at his studio on the same deal I had already been on, and I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. This studio had always outsourced their clients to me anyway, so now I would just be working in house.

Did I mention the new studio is literally across the road from my old studio? I mean, literally across the road, they can see each other from the front doors.

Cue ex friend catching wind of my new career prospects, I still don't know how he found out, as I only told two people, but I suspect perhaps some in-house chatter between the two studios, it doesn't really matter. I received a text from ex friend 'under no circumstance, am I to work at [this new studio]' I ignored this text, another text arrived not even 10 minutes later calling me a baby for not responding (how ironic).

So I responded that I had been made an offer that I was considering and that he had let me go, so he didn't really have any day in the matter. I got another text stating 'I've just messaged [the new studio], and it looks like that door will be closed to you now haha'. My first ever panic attack happened there and then, what had he done? What had he said, what did he mean? I couldn't breathe again, my mind was in overdrive.

A message arrived from the new studio owner, it was a screenshot of the message he had been sent by my ex friend. He went into a full account of how I had been sacked for stealing money from the studio and the other businesses within the studio. My heart sunk, what had I done to deserve this? I messaged my ex friend and asked for an explanation, at first I think he was shocked that I had been sent this screenshot, I don't think he anticipated that it would come out, he had hoped I think that the work would continue to be outsourced to his studio and his new employee and that I would be on my merry way jobless once again.

Thankfully, the new studio saw through the idiocy of his plan, and coupled with the texts I had been receiving just hours earlier still gave me the position.

To this day, I don't know what I did, other than take an offered position, to offend him. It makes me sad that we're not friends anymore, he continues to maintain my guilt, he has taken all my clients, but I still don't hate him. He has verbally and physically assaulted me, and I still don't hate him. He is a very bitter man, who is perhaps struggling with some mental issues of his own. I feel sorry for him in a strange way.

Every day now, I wake up and I'm riddled with Anxiety about what people think of me, what if I meet him in the street, what if I'm not good enough for this new studio. The texts from him have stopped, I received one randomly from his wife, and I receive text from my ex amazing girl now and then. I have yet to respond to a single one of them. I think that I need this chapter of my life to end, this new job is the start of the next chapter, it's a new start, but the old one is still being tied up. This anxiety brings on bouts of depression, especially when my kids are not around, I find myself sleeping in the afternoon when I'm off work, or visiting my family a lot more just so I'm not alone, I think about everything, constantly, the thoughts come very suddenly and my brain just screams BOOM, FUCKING HAVE THAT TO DEAL WITH!!

Oh yeah, about my kids, I still see them 3-4 days a week, my ex wife hasn't mentioned moving away again, and I'm not bringing the subject up again.

So there you have it, how I got to today. My hope is that I can write here, just a little every day or every other day, little snippets and updates of daily life with me, my dog and my kids. To record the good times and the hard times and hopefully notice just how strong I am and continue to become every day.

Thank you for reading.

Stu

#depression #anxiety #dad #fatherhood #parenting #daughters

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philsdrill · 7 years ago

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Chapter 28: Recovery

Fic Summary: “Everyone had a link with their soulmates, some could hear some of their partners thoughts, some had a tattoo that would appear with their partners name; for me, I knew when they got sick.” For a while Phil has thought that his soulmate might have an eating disorder and doesn’t expect to meet him in the restaurant where he works.

Genre: a lot of fluff, recovery, really fucking domestic, waiter!Phil

Warnings: eating disorders, anorexia, bulimia, hospitals, panic attacks, references to past abuse, mentions of suicide, mentions of self-harm, a lot of awkwardness, small amounts of smut. This is potentially triggering so for your own sake, please think twice about reading if anything this might affect you.

Disclaimer: I don’t have personal experience with eating disorders, but have done some research. If I have anything about them wrong, feel free to send me an ask and I’ll sort it out.

Word Count (for this part): 8.6k

[Uploads will be hopefully every couple of weeks! (follow @philsdrill-updates to hear when I post)]

A/N: Fun fact, I finished this chapter outside, sitting on a bench, with a view over a river and a sea breeze. Uni has these amazingly long lunchtimes which are great even though I have no friends to hang out with.

MASTERPOST

<= Previous Chapter

Dan’s POV:

Phil and I woke up to our alarms, everyone needing to get up early because Ethan had his doctor’s appointment at nine. Part of me wanted to let Phil sleep in after his traumatic experience last night, but I didn’t want him dwelling on his thoughts alone if I went out without him.

Waking up Adam and Ethan was something I never failed to find adorable. Although Ethan was the older of the two and generally looked it, he was curled up with his face snuggled into Adam’s chest. Adam had an arm around him protectively, and the duvet was down about their waists.

I opened the curtains, gave them each a gentle shake and started to talk a little to wake them up. Adam started to respond to me after a minute or two, but Ethan just yawned sleepily and nuzzled his face further into Adam.

“Did you guys sleep okay?” I asked, noting Ethan’s sleepiness.

“-Ish,” Adam said hesitantly, “Ethan woke me up about three am feeling like he was about to throw up.”

“Did he?” I asked, now concerned.

“Yeah, I told him just to head to the bathroom and I'd be right behind him,” Adam explained, “He made it to the toilet in time, thankfully.”

Ethan was looking a bit pale now I thought of it, looking over him again. He was a bit off-colour and being sick explained his tiredness.

“How are you feeling this morning?” I asked softly.

“Still feel a bit off, but not too bad,” Ethan explained, mumbling a little.

“Any idea what made you sick?” I asked, trying to get an idea if he was ill or if it was just something he’d eaten.

“Kept having bad thoughts and confusing dreams; made me feel nauseous. Maybe didn’t help I had a hot chocolate sloshing around in there, but I’m not blaming that; I think it was what was going on in my head,” Ethan explained.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how are things in your head this morning?” I asked, cautiously in case he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Still not the best, to be honest,” Ethan said, “I don’t think my brain ever went to sleep and I just feel exhausted and I’d stay in bed all day if I could, but I know it’s important to get up, but I don’t want to, but I know I should. My brain’s fighting with itself and my head feels all stuffy, like it’s going to explode and…”

Ethan trailed off, a broken sounding sob emitting from his throat and his whole body shaking violently as he hid his face in Adam. Adam quickly had his arms around him and I could see he was doing his best, but there wasn’t much he could really do to make Ethan feel better. I could see from the expression on Adam’s face that he had no idea what to do, in fact, he almost looked scared.

I waited a minute for Ethan to get the worst of his sobs over with, then I intervened, seeing that Adam wasn’t sure how to help. I perched on the side of the bed and told Ethan to take a couple of deep breaths. That helped him to get a little more focused, then I was able to do one of my breathing exercises with him. Okay, I used them for panic attacks, but Ethan’s breakdown had a number of similarities and could probably be classed as one.

Adam slowly started to help a little, by rubbing Ethan’s back comfortingly in time with his breathing. It was a few minutes before his outburst had been calmed to just some slight tears, but we got there. Okay, he was still shaking a lot too, but we could work with that.

“You guys should come and get some breakfast,” I said softly, not wanting it to sound too forceful as Ethan was a bit fragile, “Ethan, if you don't want much that's okay, but you should try and have something.”

I grabbed a blanket that was sat at the end of their bed and passed this to Ethan as he sat up, “Wrap yourself up in this to keep cosy.”

Phil was already at the table and had set up all the breakfast stuff. He looked tired, but already had a mug of coffee in his hands and I knew things would improve after that. I sat down next to him and slipped my hand onto his thigh.

“Ethan’s not feeling that well this morning, so go easy on him,” I told Phil, “He had troubled thoughts and dreams and was up during the night being sick.”

“Mmm,” Phil responded, nodding.

“You’ve got a lot on your mind, haven’t you?” I said to Phil, pulling him into a hug.

“Yeah, I didn’t sleep well. ‘Cause what happened last night is still unresolved and I know I should text my boss but I’m not ready yet.”

“When we’re back from Ethan’s appointment, I’ll make sure I get some time alone with you and I’ll help you figure out what to say, okay,” I said to Phil, a little sad that he was feeling stressed again, “It’ll be best to get the conversation over and done with.”

“Thanks,” Phil mumbled, shaking me off as he reached out again for his coffee.

Adam and Ethan arrived just moments after mine and Phil’s little exchange. Ethan had the blanket wrapped tightly around him and Adam’s arm around his waist too. The pair of them sat down opposite us, Adam reaching out for food and Ethan keeping his hands hidden inside the blanket.

I knew it would take a little encouragement for Ethan to eat something. Everyone needed a little push in the right direction after being sick. I got up to fill him a glass of water as a start. As I laid it down at his place, I asked if he wanted to have anything to eat.

“Not really,” was his response.

“How about I make you a slice of toast and you have a couple of bites, see how you feel,” I suggested, “And it’s no problem if you don’t want to finish it after that; just give it a shot, okay.”

“Allllright,” Ethan agreed, drawing out his response to show his lack of enthusiasm.

I put the toast on for Ethan, then delivered it to him once it was ready. Adam encouraged him into picking out something to spread on it, and once Ethan had decided on butter, Adam took the knife, did the buttering for him and cut it into four pieces. It was a drawn out process, but it seemed that eventually he managed to finish it.

I watched on as Adam noted this with a big smile and leaned over to give Ethan a little kiss on the cheek. “Proud of you,” he mumbled, “How’re you feeling?”

“Maybe a little better?” Ethan murmured back, still clearly unsure.

When the breakfast stuff was tidied away back to the kitchen and everyone else had gone to start getting ready, I overheard an argument taking place between Adam and Ethan. I moved closer to their room so I could hear what was happening and intervene if I needed to.

“Adam, can I not have five fucking minutes to myself to take a shit?” Ethan said angrily, his voice raised.

“But the doctor said you're not to be by yourself… even in the bathroom,” Adam retorted.

“I don’t care what the doctor said; I won't be able to shit with you watching me,” Ethan said, starting to back out of the doorway.

“Well I guess that's too bad, no shitting for you,” Adam said rudely.

At this point, I knew I should break this up and try and help them come to an agreement. I took the last few steps towards their room as Ethan replied to Adam again.

“Adam, I'll be having stomach cramps and nausea by mid morning if I don't go,” he explained, “In fact, I’ll probably shit myself.”

“Guys,” I said, standing behind Ethan in the doorway, “Let’s stop the fighting and come to a dignified decision.”

I looked between them; Adam looked a bit embarrassed and Ethan looked incredibly uncomfortable, one hand resting on his lower stomach.

“Right, Ethan, go to the bathroom, but maybe just don’t lock the door?” I suggested.

“Thank fuck,” Ethan said, pushing past me and rushing down the hallway to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. There was no follow up noise of the lock clicking, only that of the toilet seat being put down in a bit of a hurry.

“Adam,” I said firmly, making my way into the room properly, “I know you’re really worried about having him alone, but that’s no way to treat him. Talking it through calmly would’ve been much more effective and less stressful for both of you.”

“Sorry,” Adam said, meekly, “I just panicked a bit and I got a bit argumentative. I just… I couldn’t get it out of my mind, all the things he could harm himself with in there. He could drown himself, drink toilet cleaner or something?”

“Adam,” I said, more softly, hearing the concern in his voice, “I think he’ll be okay; I think the only thing on his mind was going to the toilet. There’s no toilet cleaner in there anyway. It’s away in mine and Phil’s bathroom. Try not to worry too much, but if he’s taking too long, I can walk past and ask if he’s okay.”

“Okay,” Adam nodded, still looking worried, but sitting down on the bed and taking a couple of deep breaths to try and calm himself down.

“And I want you to apologise to him when he’s back,” I told Adam, still wanting to make sure he understood he’d done something wrong.

“Yeah, I know,” Adam nodded sullenly.

“Get yourself dressed and I’ll go and do the same,” I said to him, “I’ll be back in five minutes and we’ll see what’s happening

I headed along to mine and Phil’s room, where Phil was tightening his belt and pulling his shirt down over it.

“Hey,” I greeted him, “Don’t know if you heard, but Adam and Ethan were fighting. Ethan needed to poop and didn’t want Adam there with him, and Adam wasn’t having him being alone.”

“What’s happening then?” Phil asked, quirking an eyebrow in puzzlement.

“I told Ethan just to go and not lock the door. Adam’s getting ready now, but I’ve talked to him about how he was treating Ethan. I know he’s really anxious and worried about everything, but it still wasn’t right,” I explained.

“Ahh,” Phil nodded, “I can see why he’s having a hard time.”

I got dressed while Phil loitered around the room, making the bed and tidying up the odd thing. Phil wasn’t in the best state of mind either this morning, and for once it was me that was holding everyone together. Once I had my clothes on and my pyjamas away, I approached Phil as he stared absent-mindedly out of the window, and put my arms around him from behind. I pressed a few kisses to his neck and the side of his face, nuzzling my face into his neck.

“Love you Phil,” I told him, “We don’t have much time just now, but we’ll talk through things later.”

“Yeah, thanks Dan,” Phil yawned, “Love you too.”

There was a knock on our bedroom door and I called out a come in. Adam peered his head around the door and looked over at me.

“Dan, could you… uhh… see if Ethan’s okay? J-just he’s still in there and I know I’m being paranoid but I need to know and I don’t know if he’ll want to speak to me,” Ethan whispered, in case Ethan could hear him next door.

“Sure thing,” I said, disentangling myself from Phil and giving him a pat on the shoulder as I headed for the door.

Adam and I took the few steps along the hallway to the bathroom door and stopped outside.

“Ethan, bud’, you doing okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, sorry for just pushing past you and running in here; it’s just I was about to shit my pants. Like it might’ve been okay having Adam in here if I hadn’t been so desperate, but it just came outta me like a torrent and I wouldn’t want him to witness that,” Ethan replied.

“It’s okay,” I said, “I completely get why you don’t want Adam in there. I had to shit in front of Phil the third time I saw him and it wasn’t pretty. I was mortified; it was that bad.”

“I'll leave you to it,” I added, not wanting to be weird and talk to him while he was pooping for too long, “Remember, the appointment’s at nine, just shout if you need anything and let us know if you don't think you're going to make it in time.”

“It's fine, I'm nearly done,” Ethan said, “I'm just a little all over the place at the moment, my digestive system included, so I don't think there's much that would help.”

“I'll look out a bottle of juice for you that you can drink on the way there,” I told him, finally walking away, “Maybe lucozade or something.”

“So sounds like he's got a slight case of the runs and just needed some privacy,” I said to Adam, pausing at his and Ethan’s bedroom door, “You finish getting ready; go and use mine and Phil's bathroom if you need to.”

I left Adam to get himself ready and found Ethan some Lucozade from one of our kitchen cupboards. It was in no way guaranteed to make everything better, but it would stop him from being too dehydrated and maybe give him some energy to get through the morning. I put the drink on the bench near the door, then moved Ethan's shoes over next to that. I looked out a coat for him to borrow as we hadn’t had a chance to get him one yet, then headed back into mine and Phil’s room to finish getting ready.

Adam did come in to use our bathroom, but Ethan was done in the other one only a couple of minutes later. We all congregated in the hallway by the door once he was ready. He was dressed, well almost, as he was still in the t-shirt he wore to bed, and he clearly hadn’t put much effort into sorting his hair other than running his fingers through it.

“Have you got everything you need?” Phil asked him, as I reached out to open the door.

“I think so,” Ethan nodded, taking the bottle of juice in one hand and Adam’s hand in the other.

“Good,” Phil nodded, hanging back to let the two of them go through the door first.

Phil locked up and the four of us headed down the stairs. Okay, maybe having three people accompany Ethan to the doctor’s was a bit extreme, but Phil and I would wait in the waiting room, out of the way. I was guessing Adam would go in with him as moral support.

Phil drove there; although I was on the insurance now and could drive it whenever I needed to, it was still Phil’s car and that was what came naturally to us. In the back, Adam was sitting in the middle, one arm around the waist of Ethan, who was resting his head against the car window. I could see that Ethan was taking half-hearted sips of his drink as Adam gently encouraged him.

The doctor took Ethan within five minutes of us sitting down in the waiting room. With being so early in the day, things hadn’t had a chance to start running late yet. Adam got up with Ethan and I could see him introducing himself to Ethan’s doctor as they headed for his room.

Phil let out a small sigh once they were out of sight, tiredly resting his head on my shoulder. I turned a little to face into him and brought my arms around him loosely, not saying anything, but knowing how he was feeling and wanting to show some subtle understanding without having to talk about what was happening.

I was still hugging Phil when a voice broke through our little bubble, “Dan… Phil… Neither of you are here to see me as far as I know, so what’s happening?”

Moving out of my embrace with Phil and looking up to see my doctor, I replied, “We’re here with my brother’s soulmate. He has depression and hasn’t taken his medication in three days, as things have happened with his parents and he doesn’t have it. I got him to phone in yesterday and he got an appointment with his doctor for this morning. Hopefully he’ll get a new prescription… that’s how it works, right?”

“Probably. His doctor will talk to him and make sure that’s still the best solution. This sounds like a bit of stress on you two; how are things going?” my doctor asked, fairly quickly changing the conversation to Phil and I, because that was what he knew about.

“My anxiety isn’t too bad at the moment and Phil’s feeling a lot better now that he’s not drinking any milk. Things are a bit… uhh… stressful at the moment, but we’ll get through it,” I explained.

“I’m glad you’re both doing okay,” he nodded, “And Dan, if you need to, remember you can talk to your therapist about other things that are bothering you. How often are you seeing her at the moment?”

“Weekly. I’ve got an appointment later in the week, so I’ll see how things are then,” I explained, not knowing how Phil would feel about me sharing that it was more him who was feeling stressed.

My doctor was called over by the receptionist, so that put an end to the conversation, but it was probably heading out anyway. I’d kind of lost track of how long they’d been away, but it wasn’t long after this that Ethan and Adam appeared back, chaperoned by Ethan’s doctor.

In one hand Ethan held a prescription and his other hand was joined with Adam’s; no surprise there. Ethan still looked immensely tired, but he looked just the tiniest bit happier.

“Okay, Ethan's got a new prescription there so pop by the pharmacy on the way home and pick that up. He should start it just when he would normally take it, whether that's this evening or tomorrow morning,” the doctor explained to Phil and I, “Side effects include drowsiness, headaches, nausea, insomnia and diarrhoea, with headaches and nausea being the most likely. Still keep an eye on him at all times until you're satisfied his mental state has improved. I’d like to see him again next week for a check up.”

“Okay,” I nodded, taking in what the doctor had said, “I’m on the same medication so I understand the side effects to an extent.”

Ethan’s doctor looked thoughtful for a moment, then concerned, “You’re not required to tell me why you’re taking them, but do you feel you’re mentally stable enough to be looking after Ethan?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine. I’m taking them for anxiety. I have PTSD as a result of abuse, but depressive thoughts aren’t really something that bother me much,” I explained, not having realised that my little comment could have raised concerns.

“Right,” the doctor nodded, “That’s okay then.”

We got Ethan’s next appointment organised, then headed off home, via the pharmacy. It was just after ten when we got in, still way before the time I would choose to get out of bed. Ethan decided that he would just start his pills there and then, this being more like his usual breakfast time.

I knew things were far from good, but for the rest of the day Ethan seemed okay. He spent most of the time sleeping, or alternatively cuddling with Adam. I could see that for both of them it was a relief to have Ethan back on his medication; even if it wasn’t necessarily taking effect yet, it was a step in the right direction.

Phil made soup again for lunch. Ethan was asleep when the rest of us were eating it at the table, but Phil and Adam took some through to him in a mug afterwards. Adam gently woke him up and when he was ready, Phil handed over the soup, along with a bit of bread to dunk. I lingered in the doorway, not wanting to crowd Ethan, but wanting to make sure that things were going okay.

“Thanks,” Ethan said, as he tucked into the soup, “I’m still not feeling fantastic so soup is just the right thing.”

Phil and I left after that, heading to our own room for a bit of alone time. Adam and Ethan knew that they could still come in if they needed anything, but Phil and I had a few things we needed to discuss and resolve.

We sat down on our bed together and after a minute or two of just enjoying the silence, I brought up last night and how Phil was feeling, “How are you feeling this morning about what happened yesterday?”

“Embarrassed,” Phil stated, turning a bit red, “I tripped and then I made such a scene… and my hip and my shoulder still hurt.”

“Have you bruised?” I asked, not having seen Phil naked enough today yet to tell.

“I don’t know,” Phil admitted, “I didn’t really check when I got dressed.”

“Can I have a look?” I asked, fingers toying with the hem of his t-shirt.

Nodding, Phil let me lift his shirt off over his head. I noticed he looked in pain as he lifted his arm, but there was no bruise in sight. He lowered his arm slowly back down to in front of his chest, lifting up his other hand to lightly rub his shoulder. I couldn’t be sure, as it was his dominant arm, but I wondered if his shoulder was slightly swollen.

“That’s bothering you,” I acknowledged, “Put your shirt back on, let me see your hip too, then we’ll go and find you something for it. Have you taken any ibuprofen today?”

“No,” Phil said, wincing as he pulled his shirt back on, “Didn’t quite get around to it earlier.”

Shirt returned to its rightful place, Phil started to shimmy his jeans down his thighs, then pulled his boxers down at the side, still exposing a bit more than I needed to see, but it wasn’t a problem. A big purpling bruise had formed on his side, around and just below the level of his waistband.

“Phil,” I said, gently putting his boxers back into place, “Maybe change into your pj bottoms or something less tight on that?”

“Mmm yeah, that’s an idea,” Phil nodded, taking his jeans off and replacing them with his pyjama trousers.

“Let’s go to the kitchen and get you some ibuprofen,” I said, once Phil was redressed, “And do you think some ice would help your shoulder? I’m not quite sure with it having been so long, but it might give you some relief?”

“I’ll try it,” Phil nodded, opening our door and starting to head along the hallway towards the kitchen.

I got the ice out while Phil took the medicine and we regrouped on the sofa, where I held the ice to his shoulder as we got back into our discussion. I could tell it was making him cold, so I gave Phil little breaks from the ice every so often so he didn’t get too uncomfortable.

“How do you feel about just texting your boss now and getting it over and done with?” I suggested, knowing that this was the next step now that we’d talked about how Phil was feeling.

“I don’t know,” Phil said, suddenly looking really anxious.

Seeing how he reacted, I paused the conversation and moved to hold him, “Hey, you’re okay. What is it that’s bothering you about it?”

“I can’t… don’t know to say… what to say,” Phil said, his words coming out in a jumble.

“Phil,” I mumbled softly, “It’s okay, I’ll help you figure it out. Let’s try and calm down a little first, okay? Big slow breaths, just like you tell me.”

I gave Phil a minute or two to focus on calming himself down, thinking myself about what he should say to his boss.

“He said to text when you’re feeling up to it. I think that’s just when you’re feeling up to texting him, not necessarily being ready to work yet,” I started, not wanting Phil to be overwhelmed, “I think you should briefly apologise and explain that you’re recovering from what the lady said to you, but you’ve got a couple of injuries from your fall.”

“Yeah,” Phil said, slowly pulling his phone out from where it had got wedged under his leg, “Can you help me word it?”

“Sure,” I said, moving to an angle where I could see his phone too and starting to think.

Phil and I took the next ten minutes to slowly piece together the text between us, Phil being very particular about his wording, wanting to get exactly the right message across. I did my best to help, but at the end of the day, it said what Phil wanted it to say, I’d just helped him figure out what that was.

Eventually, Phil hit the send button, locked his phone and dropped it onto the couch. He curled into me, again seeming anxious, probably now for the reply.

“Phil, as much as I’m enjoying your snuggling, I don’t think sitting around and waiting is really the best solution,” I said to him, “I think you should go to the kitchen and make yourself some tea, that’ll be doing something to get your mind off it, then the tea should help calm your nerves a little bit.”

Phil wasn’t really that enthusiastic about me sending him to make himself some tea, but he did it anyway. I watched him from the living room and I could see that he was distracted, but hopefully the tea-making was distracting him from his thoughts, in turn. I had Phil’s phone, to stop him from checking it every few seconds, but I knew I would feel it vibrate when there was a reply.

Phil was settled back on the couch, drinking his tea, when the message arrived. I opened it up and had a quick read through first, so I could predetermine Phil’s reaction.

No need to apologise, Phil. Your fall was an accident and it was that lady that caused a scene, not you. I had a strong word with her and informed her that you are a trusted employee of mine and will remain working for me, but she is not welcome back. I don’t know if what she said was enough to be reported to the police as some kind of abuse or harassment, but I’ll look into it for you if you want. We don’t have any means of stopping her coming into the restaurant again, but if you see her, let me know immediately and I’ll deal with the situation. As for your injuries, are you fit to work / when do you think you will be?

I handed Phil the phone and watched as he read through it. I could see the relief on his face as he read the last sentence. After rereading it and looking thoughtful, Phil started to type out a response. There was a bit of backspacing and rewriting that went on, but eventually Phil seemed happy enough with it, letting me read it through before he sent it.

I don’t think we really need to get the police involved unless you think there’s good reason to. I have a bruised hip, which will probably heal up in a day or two, and a sore shoulder which I’m hoping will go away, but it's a lot more painful than my hip so I should maybe see the doctor if it doesn’t ease up soon.

This time a reply back from his boss came almost instantly.

I’ll find cover for you for the next three days; keep me updated on how you’re doing in case I need to extend that.

Phil replied saying ‘thanks’ to put a tidy end to the conversation and thank his boss for being so understanding. After that, he locked his phone and dropped it down onto the sofa, snuggling up close to me again.

“You feeling better now?” I mumbled to him, noticing he now seemed a lot more relaxed.

“Yeah, that’s a lot of weight off my shoulders,” Phil nodded, “Still processing everything that happened, but it's a relief to know that I’ve still got my job.”

“You want to just cuddle for a bit now?” I suggested, adjusting my body to be in a slightly more comfortable position.

“Sounds perfect,” Phil smiled, nuzzling his face into my hoodie, “Just what I need.”

Phil and I just laid in each other’s arms for a while, talking occasionally when things sprung to mind, but feeling no need to fill the silence. It was only when we’d been silent for particularly long, that I noticed Phil had in fact fallen asleep.

I knew he hadn’t slept well last night, so I let him nap for a bit, despite me being unable to move without waking him up. I’d give him about twenty minutes, unless I needed the bathroom or he started cutting my circulation off before then.

I noticed that Phil was sleeping restlessly, but I left him to it, thinking he would calm down as he got drawn further into his sleep. I probably wasn’t the most comfortable thing to sleep on, but I suspected he just had too much on his mind and that was the problem.

I was starting to doze off myself, when Phil suddenly jerked in his sleep. Instantly awake, I kept an eye on him for a minute and noticed he was shaking. I was guessing he was having some kind of dream, but I couldn’t quite decide whether I should wake him up from it or not. I was contemplating, when I noticed that Phil had one eye cracked open.

“Dan,” he mumbled weakly, shivering then shaking a little more violently for a few seconds.

“Phil, what’s wrong?” I asked, seeing something was clearly not right.

“I just had some really confusing bad dreams about work and my head feels so confused and fuzzy and I don’t know why I’m shaking but…” Phil trailed off, a few tears rolling their way down his face.

“Let’s go to our room and get you warm and comfortable,” I said, seeing the goosebumps on Phil’s arms and the way he cracked his neck from lying funny.

“I feel sick,” Phil said, as he got to his feet.

Keeping ahold of him as he’d been lying down for a while, I started to walk us to our room.

“Do you feel like you’re going to throw up or...?” I asked, wanting to check how serious Phil’s complaint was.

“I don’t think so,” Phil mumbled, “I just feel a bit funny.”

I pulled back the duvet off Phil’s side of the bed, letting him climb up and sit down. I sat beside him, wrapping the duvet around his shoulders and pulling a blanket up around his legs.

“Let me know if you do feel any worse,” I said, sidling up right next to him and putting an arm around him inside the duvet, “Is this helping? Are you warming up a bit?”

“I think so,” Phil said, still a bit jittery.

I helped Phil to focus on his breathing for a bit to calm him down further. He was just a bit disorientated from his dream and I could tell he just needed to calm down and relax a little. It seemed to work, for five minutes later, Phil’s shivering and shaking had reduced to nothing and he looked comfortable and relaxed.

“I relived last night and a few other bad nights at work in my dream, but they kind of got blended together and jumbled up,” Phil explained to me, “My head’s a bit clearer now though.”

“I’m glad,” I said, nuzzling into the warmth of the duvet, “I think you fell asleep with too much on your mind. Let’s make sure we relax before bed tonight.”

“Yeah,” Phil nodded, looking thoughtful, “Dan… I think I want to go back to cooking school in September... and get myself a good qualification so I can become a chef. I’m a bit tired of waiting tables to be honest, like I’ll keep it up for the money at the moment, but as soon I get a different opportunity, I’ll be out of there.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed, smiling, happy that Phil was thinking about taking another step towards following his dreams.

Although he was still tired, Phil didn’t want to sleep again yet, so we ended up watching something on my laptop together. It was nice to cuddle in our bed while conscious for a change. I felt like in the last week or so, we’d only really cuddled while asleep.

We eventually left the cosy confines of our bed as it got towards dinner time. Phil put on a hoodie so he didn’t get cold again and we headed to the kitchen together to make dinner. I didn’t always help out, but I was staying by Phil today after the emotional trauma of last night. We made chicken with a little sauce and a selection of vegetables. Adam and Ethan came for their dinner fairly quickly when they were called, but only Adam tucked into his. Phil had served out a smaller portion for Ethan, with hope that he might feel up for eating something, but it was sitting in front of him, untouched.

“Are you not feeling up to eating that?” Phil asked Ethan.

“No, not really,” he admitted, “Can I maybe make myself some toast instead?”

“Sure,” Phil said, about to get to his feet when he realised Ethan had said he’d make it, “Yeah, go ahead. Just shout if there’s anything you can’t find.”

A few minutes later, Ethan came back from the kitchen with a slice of buttered toast and a glass of water. I’d moved his plate of chicken into the centre of the table while he’d been gone, making it available in case anyone wanted more. He sat down at his plate and tucked into his toast. At least he was eating something.

Ethan was sitting with his head in his hands by the time the rest of us had finished eating, looking tired and miserable. I was about to ask Ethan if he was okay, when Adam answered for me, “Can Ethan have some paracetamol?”

For a moment, I was confused by the request, until I remembered that whatever was hurting, Adam was probably feeling too. “Yeah, of course,” I said, getting up, “What’s wrong?”

“Headache mainly, but still a bit of chest pain too,” he explained, looking to Ethan for a nod of confirmation.

I took Ethan’s glass with me to the kitchen to get him a refill of water to go along with the paracetamol. His face was expressionless as he swallowed them, clearly so used to taking pills that it didn’t bother him anymore. He washed them down with some water and sat back in his seat.

“How is your chest?” I asked him, “D’you think it’s maybe starting to get better?”

“Still bruised,” Ethan told me, “Maybe a little bit, but I’m not really too sure.”

“If it’s still bad by next week, you could maybe get your doctor to take a look at the end of your appointment,” I suggested, “Or if you think you need it seen to, we can organise something?”

“I think I’ll give it a week and see,” Ethan said, “I’m coping.”

“Okay, well if you need anything to help, let Phil or I know. Ice, hot water bottles, painkillers, whatever; it’s not a problem,” I said, trying to make sure he wouldn’t suffer in silence.

“Thanks,” Ethan mumbled, resting his head on Adam’s shoulder.

“Now, can I take a look at your arm to see how it’s healing up?” I asked him, wanting to make sure everything had scabbed over and wasn’t looking infected.

“Yeah, okay,” Ethan said, not sounding too sure about it.

I got our first aid stuff and then sat down at the end of the table next to Ethan. I got him to put his arm up on the table and I carefully unwound the bandage and took off the dressing that I had put on it yesterday. There were a number of cuts, but they hadn’t been too deep and seemed to have scabbed over okay. The skin around them was slightly raised, which was probably them healing, but I smeared some antiseptic cream over them as a precaution. Ethan flinched away as I did this and I looked up at him to see tears in his eyes. Adam hadn’t noticed because Ethan was facing away from him, but I could tell he needed his support.

“Ethan, they’re healing up okay. I know this is a bit stingy, but things are on the mend. There’s nothing to worry about,” I told him.

My words brought it to Adam’s attention that Ethan could do with a little help and soon enough there were two arms wrapping around his waist and Adam pressed up close behind him. I started to rewrap Ethan’s arm in a clean bandage, seeing that having it out and about was affecting him.

“J-just seeing them makes me w-want to make more,” Ethan stuttered, in a slight state of panic, his breathing unsteady.

I taped up the join of the bandage and let go of Ethan’s arm, “Deep breaths, try and relax, they’re away again now.”

Ethan brought his arm up to his chest and looked at it uncomfortably, “It’s itchy.”

At this Adam moved to grab Ethan’s other hand which looked like it was threatening to head in for a scratch, “I know it’ll be hard, but you can’t itch it, love. Take some deep breaths like Dan said, c’mon; you need to relax a bit.”

I watched as Ethan took a couple of very forced deep breaths, while Adam intertwined their fingers slowly. The panic was slowly leaving him and I felt I could walk away now and everything would be okay. I turned my attention to Phil, who had been filling the dishwasher and stacking the pots next to the sink in the kitchen, but had now returned.

“Right Phil, Dan’s first aid clinic here; can I see your hands,” I joked, trying to make things a bit lighthearted despite the injuries involved.

Phil’s cuts from the plate the other night had been healing up okay, so it was just his cut from the broken glass last night that I needed to look at. In the end, Phil got the same treatment as Ethan: a smear of antiseptic cream and a new plaster.

I was glad everyone was on the mend. Okay, Phil could probably take care of his own injuries and Adam and Ethan could’ve managed between them, but it was nice to keep on top of everyone and have some control over the situation. I think they appreciated it too; Ethan wouldn’t have coped with the cuts by himself and Adam had a lot to deal with as it was. Phil had been having a rough week and in the grand scheme of things, I had the least problems at the moment, so it only felt right for me to help out.

I felt like I had been holding everyone together recently, but I could see things starting to improve. Ethan was back on his medication and that would help both him and Adam in turn. Phil now had a few days off to sort himself out and I’m sure it wouldn’t be long before he had his confidence back.

Wanting this evening to be as relaxing as possible for everyone, I suggested that we should all hang out in the living room together and watch a film. The four of us settled on one, paired up on our respective sofas, with plenty of snacks on the table for those who fancied them.

The film was good, or at least the atmosphere of our living room was good. Phil’s plants were the only living things in the room not cuddling. Phil and I were on one sofa and Adam and Ethan were on the other. I felt warm and content, happily snuggled up next to Phil. I think Ethan had got a bit too comfortable, for at some point during the film he had fallen asleep in Adam’s arms. Adam had continued to watch quietly, not moving too much or making too much noise so he could give his boyfriend the peace to sleep.

When the film ended, Adam then had to figure out what to do with the sleeping Ethan. He managed to slowly move out from underneath him and get to his feet, shaking the feeling back into his legs.

“I don’t really want to wake him,” Adam admitted to me and Phil.

“Are you planning on leaving him here?” Phil asked, “Or I can try and help you carry him back to your room?”

“That would be good,” Adam said, nodding at Phil, “Although I’m not really too sure how.”

Phil and Adam discussed a few methods and then eventually picked Ethan up between them, each of them acting like one arm of a forklift. It seemed to work okay as they managed to get Ethan along to the room and into bed without waking him up. I lent a hand by hurrying ahead to open the bedroom door and pulling back the covers so they could get Ethan into bed properly.

Phil and I left Adam to get ready for bed and join him, making our way into the hallway and shutting their door so we could discuss who was locking up and head to bed ourselves.

“D’you want to go and do the clearing up and locking up?” I asked Phil, “And I’m going to make our room nice and cosy so we can relax in bed for a bit before we go to sleep.”

“Sure thing,” Phil nodded, splitting away from me to head towards the living room.

As Phil did the locking up and made sure things were turned off or tidy, I worked on getting our room cosy. I hadn’t said to Phil exactly what I was planning, but having everything perfectly cosy was going to be a big part of it. I put our bedside lamps on and turned off the big ceiling light. I made sure our duvet was pulled to one side and that we had an array of fluffy blankets on hand.

I spread a towel out on the bed, as my plan was to give Phil a little massage and I didn’t want lotion to get everywhere. In no way was I an expert at massages, but we’d done this before and it helped Phil relax, which was something I’d been focusing on this evening.

I put on a little music, but kept the volume turned down very low so you wouldn’t be able to hear it outside of our room. I made sure I had Phil’s favourite moisturiser lotion and put it on the bedside table so it was handy. I stripped down to just my t-shirt and boxers, getting my jeans and hoodie out of the way.

When Phil walked in, it seemed he got the wrong idea. As unsexy as that is, we would sometimes have sex on top of a towel to stop the sheets getting messy. Phil immediately assumed that this was my plan, “Dan… umm, I’m not sure I’m really feeling up for it tonight.”

“Oh,” I laughed, immediately seeing Phil’s misunderstanding, “I was thinking of a massage, not sex.”

“Oh alright then,” Phil laughed, sounding unenthusiastic as a tease.

“Have more enthusiasm,” I joked, pulling Phil towards me a little.

Phil certainly put on more enthusiasm at that, nuzzling into me and rubbing his hoodie covered arms up against my slightly goose-bumped ones. I pulled him down onto the bed and sat pressed up next to him as I explained what I was going to do. Phil wasted no time when I finally explained that, presuming he was up for it, I would like him lying naked on the towel.

Phil’s clothes landed in varying places in the room, but he kept a hold of the hoodie to put under his head.

“Would you like me to keep my underwear or not?” I asked Phil, wanting to do whatever would make him feel most comfortable.

“Would you be naked for the intimacy of it?” Phil asked, looking up at me hopefully.

“Sure,” I said, nodding and continuing to get undressed, “That’s what I’d like, but I wanted to do whatever you were happiest with.”

Now that we were both appropriately naked, I straddled Phil and lightly rested some of my weight on his lower back. I would start on his shoulders and upper back, that being the place he always managed to build up the most tension. I took the chill off some of the lotion by rubbing it between my hands, then got to work, working with Phil to find the best spots.

Being naked in February, despite being inside, could be a little chilly. I was feeling the cold, but I was trying not to let it bother me as I was sitting on top of Phil and he was warm, but eventually I was struck by one of those shivers that goes all the way up your body and it came to Phil’s attention that I was cold. He’d had his head turned a little so he could see me and my shiver didn’t go unnoticed, neither did my arm hair, which had all taken to standing on end.

“Dan,” Phil said, stopping me from continuing his massage and thrusting his hoodie at me, “Put this on; you’re cold.”

“Thanks,” I said, taking the hoodie from him, but not commenting on my coldness.

I pulled the hoodie over my head and pulled it right down, tucking it under my bum, between me and Phil. The warmth was relieving and the fact it was Phil’s hoodie and smelt of him made me feel extra happy. Now that I was wearing something to stop me from shivering, Phil let me continue.

It took a while, but eventually I had worked my way all the way down his back and my hands now rested on the dip of his lower back. Phil was like a puddle beneath me, soft and pliant, as he had almost melted under my touch.

“How’re you feeling?” I asked softly, “You want me to do anywhere else? Your legs?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Phil mumbled, “Sleepy.”

“Well, I’ll let you sleep then,” I said, grabbing a blanket from next to me, “Here, I’ll wrap you up a little; are you comfortable?”

“Mmmm,” Phil mumbled, lazily reaching an arm out to pull the pillow a bit further under his head.

I wrapped the blanket around Phil and tucked it under him at the far side, knowing he felt exposed when he slept naked. I cuddled up next to Phil and pulled the duvet over us, again making sure it was covering Phil plenty at his far side. He wouldn’t mind me cuddled up next to his bare skin, but anything that was exposed to the room outside of the blankets would bother him.

I quickly followed Phil to the realms of sleep, and laying in each others arms we had a peaceful night.

Over the next few days, Phil recovered from his traumatic evening at work, the cuts on his hands healing up and fading back into his skin. The bruise on his hip was fading and although he still suffered the occasional twinge of pain from his shoulder, it had improved a lot. Ethan’s cuts were gradually healing too and his antidepressants were starting to kick in. I’d hoped that he wouldn’t be bothered by the side effects of them, but he seemed to be hit quite badly.

It was a battle with constant nausea, days of diahorrea and one or two occasions where he ended up knelt on the floor in front of the toilet, the contents of his stomach taking a u-turn. Everyone did their bit to help out; Phil went shopping to buy him energy drinks and rehydration stuff, I made sure he kept taking his medication and reassured him with the fact it did get better and Adam… Adam was always by his side to make him feel better, supplying endless hugs, and kisses where appropriate. Adam had been taking care of Ethan’s washing, which had increased in quantity a little, despite Phil and I insisting it wasn’t a problem. Adam had been providing the emotional support when he felt too ill to go on. Adam had been providing the physical support when he felt too weak to get back up from the bathroom floor.

However, despite feeling so physically shit, Ethan had been doing a job of holding himself together. He hadn’t had too many breakdowns and okay, he’d had one little self harming incident, but sometimes you just can’t help being triggered. There had been some blood on a crime investigation show on the TV and shortly after, Ethan excused himself to go to the bathroom. Adam could feel that he was triggered, but it wasn’t until the sharp pain in his forearm that we realised he still had access to something sharp. It turned out to have been nail scissors, which were promptly confiscated.

This was one of the occasions where Ethan threw up, the panic over what he’d done and the blood everywhere freaking him out, paired with the nausea that was already bothering him. Adam bandaged him up after this incident, surprising both me and Phil that he didn’t need help with everything going on.

We were a little concerned with Adam having all these side effects when he hadn't had them the first time around, but then Dan reminded me of how he'd suffered when he got his dose increased. We didn't have long to worry though, because Ethan started to feel better after a few days and was definitely back to normal by his one week check-up. He was able to inform the doctor of his side effects, but also that he was feeling a lot better now.

In general, things got a bit better from there on. It was clear Ethan was feeling a bit less depressed. He was smiling sometimes. Yes there were still breakdowns and tears, but the frequency and intensity decreased. With him being that bit more stable, we could now start to think about the next step, about getting him to go home with Adam and hopefully live a more enjoyable life in my hometown, away from the parents who had caused him so much pain.

Next Chapter =>

#phanfic #phanfiction #phan #phanfluff #phan fluff #tw #tw; ed #soulmates #soulmate au #soulmateau #au #fanfic #waiter!phil #ed #someday

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rumpelsnorcack · 8 years ago

Text

Fandoms and characters

First, I need to say that I know what I’m about to write is simplistic. It’s already so long (ugh, so many words, sorry) that it seems ridiculous to say that, but I know I’m leaving out a lot of depth and nuance. Second, I don’t mean to demonise any characters or fandoms in doing this. It’s just something I noticed and anything I say about other characters is just there to show the differences in how they’re treated by comparison to the three I’m examining. I have my opinions on them, sure, but those aren’t actually relevant to this. What’s relevant is the comparison in treatment. Third, if you haven’t watched or read these texts and don’t want spoilers for them, then … I wouldn’t read this (though I tried to keep spoilers to a minimum, there are inevitably some). Okay, having said that, let’s look at some characters and their fandoms shall we?

I have noticed, in and around my most recent fandoms, that fandoms seem to have a tendency to hold a particular set of characters to standards that seem far higher than those applied to other characters in the same texts. I’m at a point where it seems like it’s more than coincidental now. I doubt that people are doing this maliciously, or are even necessarily aware that’s what they’re doing, but in my last three fandoms I’ve noticed this happening to a specific subset of characters, namely (probably) bisexual mentally ill male characters who are involved (or become involved over the course of the text) with gay characters in canon relationships. I say ‘probably’ because two of them have never said they are bisexual but their canon relationships with more than one gender suggest that they are, and I do read them as such (though I’m aware that other people read them differently). In the context of these comments, it’s not important what their sexualities actually are -- what’s important is that fandom responds to them in a way that suggests they read them as bisexual. The specifics are slightly different for each one, but each has enough similarities that it’s interesting to look at. So I’m going to examine the characters individually and then look at them in a wider context, because I don’t think it’s at all a coincidence that this particular type of character is treated the way he is.

I’ll start with the oldest character in my timeline: Peter ‘Pedro’ Donaldson (Nothing Much To Do and Lovely Little Losers -- I’m henceforth calling them ‘season one’ and ‘season two’ because typing those titles out over and over is too time consuming). Unlike the other two characters, Peter wasn’t treated as badly by his fandom (heavy qualifier on the ‘as’ badly because he wasn’t treated well). I feel like this is a combination of two things - first, the fandom is/was very small so there was less scope for the type of reactions I’ve seen, and second because his fandom had a stand-in in-text and so there was less ‘need’ for the fandom to police him in the same way, though they still did. Both seasons Peter was in are based off other texts but one is a much looser translation than the other and it’s in the interpretation of that text that the issues arise.

In my opinion, Peter was explicitly made to be the the reason why a rigid set of rules was ‘needed’ in the second series (his actions are shown in so much detail and shown to be so disruptive that the flat feels the need to regulate itself; this is not true of the other characters in the same way). Peter ‘fucked up’ (his words) so badly in the first season that the text reveled in making him atone for his ‘sins’ through all of the second. One of his flatmates, Ben, is shown to be the ‘heart’ of the show in both seasons, and Ben is the one who makes judgements about Peter in both seasons. In season one, he’s absolutely correct to do so (and in fact the original text this one is based on makes this clear too) - he did screw up and he deserved to be called on it. However, the second season makes the assumption that because Ben was correct in the first season, he is automatically correct in the second, from knowing what Peter needs to be happy and reaching right down to knowing which name is best for Peter to use for himself. This is actually a deviation from the plot of the second text’s original, and so is much more glaring as an indicator of how Peter is viewed by his canon. Thus, Peter is shown to need protecting from himself; he needs the rules because he is incapable of regulating himself and is unhappy and in a depressive spiral because of this. Therefore, Ben is required to look after Peter via the rules. I won’t go into detail about the rules themselves, but it’s reasonably clear that many of them are biphobic and buy into harmful stereotypes of bisexuals (eg that they sleep around and are destructive to those around them as well as themselves). That the rules were aimed at Peter is made explicit in the text. One character says ‘Peter doesn’t need them anymore’ (and none of the other characters are referenced in the same way) which buys into Ben’s idea that Peter ‘needed’ them in the first place, and at the end Peter himself suggests that he’s happier now that his flatmates intervened with restrictive rules designed to make him conform. His text, therefore, confirms that Peter is the flatmate who most needed to be fixed, and he is the one who is shown to be engaging in stereotypically ‘destructive bisexual’ behaviour.

Of the three characters in these fandoms, Peter is the only explicitly bisexual character and he is also the only one whose show ties his sexuality to his ‘problems’ and tries to fix them for him while fairly explicitly ‘taming’ him into a monogamous relationship. Unlike the others, he isn’t explicitly mentally ill, but it is strongly suggested that he’s suffering from depression and possibly anxiety throughout much of season two. Fandom spent a lot of time explaining why the rules were okay and not just aimed at Peter, and/or why he actually did ‘need’ them, so fandom really bought into this idea that this specific character needed to be policed, and/or justified the presence of the rules and the actions of Ben, who was centered in the show as the one who knew what he was doing and had the right idea (at least with regard to Peter; he is shown not to be as in control of his own life). Most meta about Peter revolved around a) hoping he would not hurt his potential romantic partner (an assumption that he would because he was promiscuous was fairly endemic to the fandom) and b) policing his actions to justify why the show ‘had’ to be the way it was with regard to keeping him in line. Some meta was targeted at the other characters, but for the most part Peter was the one who was singled out for this attention.

Second is Jack Zimmermann (omgcheckplease). Jack is shown in his canon to have had a difficult life, putting a huge amount of pressure on himself and having had a breakdown when he was younger which came close to killing him. He is presumed bisexual, given that he talks about ex-girlfriends as well as ex-boyfriends (and in the same way) when he discusses his past with his current boyfriend, and he canonically has anxiety severe enough to give him panic attacks and leave him shaking when pushed into stressful situations. In contrast to Peter, Jack is treated very well by his text. He is shown to be a complex character who has had to work hard to overcome issues he’s had with connecting to people. He’s not shown to be an angel, but he is shown to be someone who learns from his mistakes and tries to do better, and has learned how to deal with his mental illness and live a happy and fulfilled life. Over the course of the three years so far, Jack has come from being a ‘hockey robot’ who is a little scary to his team mates, to being someone who is much more open and connected to people. All this is great, and he gets the boy and they live (so far) happily ever after.

The problem, then, isn’t in the text. There is a rich detail to his characterisation which makes him a fascinating character to read about and to discuss and explore. And fandom loves to explore him. This is great, as far as it goes. However, fandom also loves to try to hold him to arbitrary standards of behaviour which it doesn’t require of the other characters. Jack hurt Bitty at the start of year one? According to fandom, Jack must then be a terrible person who was, and possibly still is, abusive. However, a character who hurt Jack and is canonically ‘not good for’ him deserves ‘closure’ and understanding. Jack almost died when he was younger and backed away from associated people while he recovered? According to fandom, that makes Jack a terrible friend who cut off a romantic interest for no good reason. However, when that romantic interest returns years later and leaves Jack shaking with anxiety, he deserves understanding because of his (not canon as yet) terrible past. Jack is a hockey robot who finds it difficult to interact with people but learns and grows? According to fandom, Jack obviously should have been a better person right from the start and deserves no recognition that he has changed for the better (and in fact is often assumed to still be that person). However, other characters who do and say awful things and then learn from them are praised for their development and growth.

Is there meta which pushes back against this? Sure. But it’s worth noting that there is a need to push back. For a comic that’s a basically happy fairy story dealing with character at its heart, this has generated a lot of disapproval of arguably its second most important character. It’s frustrating that the (probably) bisexual, definitely mentally ill character is the one who is constantly pulled out for this attention. More attention is called to this phenomenon when we see a presumed-gay-by-fandom character given a troubled childhood and mental illness that are not (yet?) confirmed by canon, in order to excuse any and all of his canon misbehaviours. This character has yet to show growth and a journey, still being stuck in a situation which has stunted his growth and made him a toxic influence on the main characters’ lives, and yet this character is afforded more sympathy and understanding than the actually canonically mentally ill character who genuinely has learned and grown. This double standard calls attention to itself. Do I think the fandom is purposefully doing this to be dismissive and/or biphobic? No, not at all. But it’s there and it’s pretty glaring.

Finally there’s Even Bech Nӕsheim (Skam). This one is freshest in my mind, because this one hit very recently (but not for the first time; this has been an ongoing issue with this character). Even is a presumably bisexual, canonically bipolar character who is smothered in biphobic rhetoric by the fandom. Even has made mistakes in-text, many of them appearing to do with his feelings around his mental illness and how he thinks that will affect people’s reactions to him. He appears vulnerable and fearful when he deals with issues that arise around his illness. While the show has never been from his PoV, we have been able to decipher a lot of his motivations both from what he’s said and done and from seeing him through the main characters’ eyes. The text has never excused his actions; they have been shown to be hurtful to other characters and he has had to live with that and the repercussions of that. There is some mystery as yet about all his actions, but they are being addressed in the show as it goes on, and going by past experience it seems likely that whatever consequences they have had, he will be made to feel them. This has been true of all the characters of the show. They have all screwed up, hurt other people and been forced to recognise their fault and make recompense in one way or another. However, there’s only one character who is still held to impossible standards by fandom. Yep, you guessed it - the canonically mentally ill, presumably bisexual one.

Unlike those of the other characters, this fandom is fairly explicit about its disapproval of ‘using his mental illness to excuse his actions’ and how he’s a ‘cheater’ who will always be a cheater. The theory seems to be that explaining Even’s motivations through a prism of his illness means that all his actions are ‘justified’ (by the text and his supporters) and he’s given a ‘free pass’ when in fact, just like every other character on the show, his actions are shown to have impact and effect and he has to deal with the fallout from them (very painfully, as we are becoming aware of now). This is never a criticism thrown at any of the other characters (except one who is also held to an impossible standard despite apologising twice for his actions, but about whom the fandom as a whole is less aggressive). The fandom is also dismissive of Even’s illness as if it doesn’t have a huge bearing on who he is and why he acts the way he does (in some cases, headcanons and fanfiction literally erase it altogether because it’s ‘too hard’ to deal with).

One of the mistakes Even made was that he started a new relationship while still in another one. This is used, over and over again, as proof that he a) had affairs with multiple other people during that previous relationship and b) that he will cheat on his current partner. I hardly need to explain why this is biphobic, because it feeds into stereotypical ideas of bisexuals as incapable of being monogamous. However, Even breaks it off with his previous girlfriend the minute he leaves the side of his about-to-be-current boyfriend; he doesn’t hide it from her once it’s happened and he knows he’s not been exactly perfect. This is translated by fandom to an expectation that whatever happened in his past must involve infidelity, and that he isn’t to be trusted into the future. Other characters who are shown to be actual serial cheaters and/or womanisers who treat their sexual partners as trophies are actually lauded and loved by the fandom. They are given a pass and smiled at as if this behaviour is expected and innocent. The contrast is strong between how they are treated and how Even is. Expectations for his behaviour are much higher and he ‘fails’ these arbitrary expectations so much that he is considered ‘shady’ by a significant number of the meta posts about the series. I wasn’t around during the last season, but apparently the reaction was the same. Then, it was possibly more understandable as his motivations didn’t become clear until near the end of the series; however now, despite knowing where his insecurities come from, Even is expected by fandom to behave in a way that would be unrealistic given what we know of his characterisation, and he’s vilified whenever he fails to meet those standards. Like Jack, there is pushback against this, but again it has to be acknowledged that the push back is there because it’s needed, because a large part of the fandom has decided that Even is somehow terrible for acting the way he does.

This, then, is where I’m at: none of these characters is treated in exactly the same way by his text and/or fandom, and yet it’s always these characters who are chosen to bear the brunt of fandom expectations and double standards. Why? Biphobia is pretty endemic to our society, so it’s not that surprising that all these characters are, or can be read as, bisexual. The narratives around all of them draw heavily on biphobic stereotypes and these are used as ‘proof’ or justification for why the character is seen the way he is by fandom. Do I approve? Hell no, but it’s easy to see where this part is coming from. What is more worrying is the way their mental illnesses are folded into the narratives as well. Whether it’s used to revel in the character’s misfortunes and delight in his spiral while soaking in his tragic mental state, or used to vilify and condemn his actions, it’s alarming that these characters are not afforded much care or sympathy by their fandoms (or in some cases, texts). It’s more alarming when other characters are given non-canon mental illnesses by fandom in order to excuse their actions or make them more appealing, but the actual canon characters with mental illnesses are scorned and often reviled. Worse, in some cases this is spilling over into a disdain for real mentally ill people in the fandoms. Many criticisms of Even, for example, are applied to real people if they dare to question those criticisms.

Am I reaching with this? Yeah, I probably could be. For starters, all of these characters also have the misfortune to be paired with a fandom darling character and so is judged more harshly if they ‘hurt’ that darling. Poor Jack is paired up with two of these darlings (by different fandom factions), making his attacks even more sustained and aggressive. However, it’s interesting that all of these characters have others within their texts who behave at least as badly as they do, and yet always it’s these characters who are the ones who are judged harshly by their fandoms, and sometimes even their texts. It’s a little ... well, conveniently coincidental. The fact that all of them are treated the way they are for very different in-text reasons just makes it more obvious. It’s not their plots or storylines that are doing this; it’s something in the characters themselves. And what traits do they all share? They are all (probably) bisexual and mentally ill, and the attacks on them are always focused on at least one, and usually both, of the stereotypes around these things. I don’t have experience with other fandoms with similar characters, but at this point I’m not sure I want to. I feel almost certain that they would be treated similarly, and then I’d need to adopt even more characters to protect. They tend to be what attracts me to these texts, and I’m always saddened by the way they are treated. They, and the people who see themselves represented by them, deserve better than this

#my ramblings #fandoms and characters #bisexual mentally ill characters

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Time Fracture: ‘It’s a Love Letter to All of Doctor Who, From William Hartnell to Jodie Whittaker’

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Doctor Who has spun off into so many different mediums you’d almost need a 500-year-diary to contend with it all. There are books, graphic novels, stage shows, annuals, computer games, board games, and full-cast audio adventures, to name but a smattering. Unbound from the strictures of television, this multiverse of shared pocket universes offers experiences and crossovers the likes of which those first children to huddle behind their sofas in fear of a black-and-white Dalek could only dream. The only thing a Doctor Who fan can’t do is physically inhabit the Who-niverse and feel a little of the excitement, intrigue and danger of what it is to be the Doctor or one of their companions.

Until now.

Doctor Who: Time Fracture, newly opened in London’s Bond Street, is an immersive theatre experience that pits its participants against a smorgasbord of baddies across space and time, giving them the chance to team up with, or become, their greatest heroes in a race to save the very universe. But what exactly is it; how does it work? What can people expect? And how did it come to be? Den of Geek spoke to the show’s writer Daniel Dingsdale to find out.

A Different Show For Every Visitor

Our Zoom chat begins somewhere deep within the bowels of Time Fracture’s sprawling facility, but the signal keeps cutting out and rendering us in pixelated slow-motion – probably the Cybermen running interference – so Daniel swiftly whisks my avatar out onto the London streets. There’s a UNIT sign on one of the exit doors, the first of many Easter eggs in the Time Fracture tool-kit.

The background cacophony of cars and people serves as a stark reminder that life is slowly returning to normal here, a far-cry from the locked-down dystopia that saw Time Fracture’s original premiere date scuppered in 2020. Some things, though, are worth the wait.

“The entire show is a love letter to Doctor Who,” he begins, “and that’s not just the modern iteration from 2005: it’s a love letter to all of Doctor Who, from William Hartnell in the 1960s right through to Jodie Whittaker right now. That being said, we’ve also designed this to be a show that you can walk in off the street having never watched an episode of Doctor Who and still have yourself a really cool, fun romp through space and time. David Bradley said it very well: if you’re not a Doctor Who fan when you come in, I’m pretty sure you will be when you leave, and I agree with David.” David Bradley – Whodom’s latest First Doctor – is just one of a raft of Doctors to have been confirmed as appearing in the show.

Gleaning precise details about Time Fracture proves difficult. Not because Daniel is reticent to provide them. Far from it. He speaks quickly and excitedly, full of fervour for the show and its army of exceptional creatives. But because… well, it would spoil the surprise.

“Obviously we want to tantalise people and let them know that what they’re going to see is going to be worth their time and worth their money, and be exciting and engaging, but we really do want to keep as much back as possible, because you only get that joy – that surprise, that emotive response – once. Exploration is so key to this experience. We want you to explore, we want you to engage with the characters.”

This is what differentiates the show from regular theatre – with its rows of seats or proscenium arch – and makes it truly immersive: the expectation that the audience members will be “complicitly involved in the action that’s unfolding around them”. In this case, that means roaming through a vast studio landscape that’s populated with 42 different characters, spread across 17 fully-realised worlds, moving through a story that’s both rigorously planned and gloriously open-ended.

“The narrative has a defined beginning, middle and end, and an over-arching plot that will always happen,” explains Daniel. “However, how that happens is very much down to the audience and how they engage with that narrative – which characters they talk to, who they follow, who they choose to ally with – and as a result the show will be different for each and every audience member.”

An Adventure in Space and Time

The logistics of the experience have altered due to social distancing requirements, but, nevertheless, 300 people will arrive at each performance of the show, heading into the fray in staggered waves of 90. Each group will then explore a cluster of worlds and their mysterious inhabitants for 45 minutes at a time, before heading on to the next piece of the puzzle to make way for the plucky adventurers at their backs, and so on to the end, over a total performance-time of two hours and 15 minutes.

It must be both exhilarating and exhausting for the actors, to put it rather mildly. Daniel agrees. “When we’re in the second act of the play, there’s about 18 different narratives running concurrently next to each other, all locked together in different ways. Our 42 actors are not only delivering narrative in text and script, but are also improvising with the audience, because all of their lines are basically a massive monologue – the other part of the scene isn’t there yet. It’s a really big job, but they’re doing amazing work in the show.”

I put it to Daniel that Time Fracture director, Tom Mallen, must teeter daily on the cusp of a nervous breakdown. Daniel smiles. “Tom’s a brilliant immersive director. He’s wonderful at working with actors and shaping these kinds of stories. He’s got a great knowledge of the medium and a wonderful way of rallying the team, steering the ship.”

Tom and Daniel are veterans of the medium, having worked together on a great many projects, including an immersive production of The Great Gatsby in which Daniel – acting rather than writing this time – was directed by Tom.

Graduating to writing duties on such a vast project as this, and with a plot as rich and as complex as Doctor Who by its very nature demands, undoubtedly presented a great challenge to Daniel. How did he approach it? What was the creative process, from start to finish?

A Brief History of Time Fracture

“It started off with a huge, deep dive into everything Who: watching hundreds of hours, right through from the 1960s to today, to find and to pull out the things and go, ‘Well, that’s definitely got to be in; that’s definitely got to be referenced in there’. I mean, we’re going from the idea that this is only happening once – this is the one, this is THE Doctor Who immersive show – so what would fans be disappointed if they didn’t see? And then, from there, coming up with an over-arching, big, broad narrative for the entire thing; all of the locations and characters, and how that all ties together, which eventually became the eponymous time fracture; this rift in space and time, which helps us link all of this stuff together.”

“And then it starts to break down into smaller and smaller bits: so the cast, on their first day, were presented with this huge document which we call the Beat Sheet, which has all the beats for each individual character in very, very great detail, and how they all slot together and spiderweb. And from there we start working with the cast, making those beats, creating those scenes, which then becomes set text.”

Doctor Who: the Historical Places the Show Has Never Visited (But Should)

By Chris Farnell

Doctor Who: Time Fracture Immersive Experience Coming to London

By Louisa Mellor

A mammoth undertaking. It’s easy to imagine some suit sitting in a dimly-lit office somewhere, nursing a bottle of whiskey, flicking through the script and occasionally stopping to spray out their drink in an apoplexy of panic. ‘HOW many different bloody planets has he written into this? FORTY-TWO alien costumes!! Why did I ever say no to producing that one-man play, ‘THE VOID’??’

Did Daniel have to beg, steal or borrow in order to realise his artistic vision?

“The producers, Immersive Everywhere, were amazingly supportive of the creative process. Almost nothing was said no to. We also had a lot of conversations with our creative partners over at the BBC. There was a lot of back and forth over, ‘These are the worlds we want to use; these are the characters we want to include’. Some of those are incredibly precious to them.”

But a session in Cardiff, on the set of the TARDIS itself, with the BBC’s Jeff Parker, during which Daniel outlined the show from start to finish, was met with enthusiastic approval.

“And from that day we haven’t had to make any changes. So everybody’s been really generous, both the BBC and our producers, in terms of helping realise this thing, and it’s all the better for it.”

A Long Line of Doctors

So what about Daniel’s Doctor Who credentials? Did he grow up cowering behind the upholstery too?

“I grew up in the Wilderness Years, just after Sylvester McCoy had gone off of the TV, but I still had the annuals. You still played it in the playground. I still had a favourite Doctor.” And that was? “Jon Pertwee. He had the frilly shirt and the cloak, and I thought he just looked really cool, and I liked his white hair. You know, I was seven, he just looked the best.”

Daniel enjoyed the Paul McGann movie, but it wasn’t until New Who that he started really paying attention. “I caught ‘The End of Time Part 2’ on New Years’ Day. It was when David Tennant regenerated into Matt Smith, and it was the last line that got me: ‘I don’t want to go’. I found myself crying. I had no real relationship with this character, but I was so moved, and I thought, ‘I’ve got to keep watching this’. And so I started from that. By the time Jodie was the Doctor, I already knew I was doing this, and I was right back at the beginning, right back in the 1960s, working my way through.”

What about his favourite Doctors now, both classic and contemporary?

“It’s potentially a cliché, but it’s a cliché for good reason, so I have to say my favourite classic Doctor is Tom Baker. I love the cosmic hobo nature of it; the smartest person in the room who is – what’s the quote – yes, ‘What’s the point of being an adult if you can’t be a little childish sometimes?’ Tom encapsulates a lot of what is quintessentially Doctor-y. Although a very close second is Patrick Troughton.”

For his contemporary choice, Daniel leans towards a spikier breed of Doctor. “Peter Capaldi is my Doctor. I was incredibly excited when he was announced, because I thought, ‘That’s a very different energy’. And he didn’t disappoint. He’s also in my favourite episode, ‘Heaven Sent’, which is just a beautiful soliloquy. One actor, one character, just talking their thoughts out loud for 45 minutes, and having it be so engaging and emotional.”

Daniel assures us that every Doctor will be represented in Time Fracture, in some form or another. Even the living ones who weren’t available to contribute. “Some of the Doctors everyone will see. Some of them you would have to be part of a certain story, talk to a certain person, to discover these things that are hidden around in parts of other stories. The performers who are no longer with us have been realised in a different way, but all of the doctors are present – either in video or vocally – because, again, this is a love letter to all of Who, and it was really important we got all of those voices together.”

Daniel issues a wry smile when de-ageing is suggested. “So, there are obviously people within the show who don’t look like their characters anymore, so they’re realised, perhaps vocally, or with something else you’ll be able to see when you’re there.” You won’t ever be stuck for Doctors when you attend the show. Not as long as there are hard-core fans out there with wardrobes stacked to bursting point with trench coats, bow-ties and multi-coloured dream coats.

“We’ve had several David Tennants. A couple of Patrick Troughtons. We’ve had some Peter Davidsons in. We’ve had a lot of Tom Baker scarves, but we haven’t had a full Tom yet. People are making an amazing effort; they’ve put on all of this stuff, got on the Tube dressed as a Doctor, travelled across London – probably getting some side eyes on the train – but when they come here, it’s a wonderful signifier to our performers that they’re ready to play. Really, if you want to come to Time Fracture and be the Doctor: we’re gonna see that you feel like the Doctor.”

You might even be lucky enough to share your evening with a bona fide star of the TV show. Several of the Doctors who filmed contributions for Time Fracture declined the offer of a tour, signalling instead that they’d prefer to come along themselves – some with their children or grandchildren – and participate as a punter: albeit an incredibly famous and potentially-storyline-altering one.

Losing John Barrowman

Next, we come to John Barrowman. The Captain Jack actor had previously publicly apologised for his backstage behaviour on the set of Doctor Who, but when allegations of sexual harassment were made against former co-star Noel Clarke, Barrowman again fell under the media spotlight. The renewed fallout saw him removed from both ongoing Big Finish productions and Time Fracture (he had already filmed a segment as Captain Jack). How did Daniel feel about this? How did the team adapt to losing Barrowman’s contribution?

“I’m here as a writer of the script, telling those stories, and, you know, it’s not a decision that I make nor am involved with. That being said, when that decision was made there were changes made within the story to fill that – that section – and there’s something very exciting that’s happening – that is indeed at this moment happening. We’ve got some more filming to do, which I think people will be very excited about.”

So anyone peeved at the exclusion of a long-standing fan favourite – whether their ire is justified or not – can at least take heart from the fact that something special and unexpected looks to be rising from the ashes.

The Future, and a Legacy

At present, the booking period for Time Fracture stretches into 2022, and London is its one and only hub. But there exists a scintilla of a chance that the show might tour. “We adore it, and we would love to be transferring it,” says Daniel. “I mean, Doctor Who‘s got fans all across the world, but it’s early days. We’ll get London bedded in first and then we’ll start conversations about Doctor Who somewhere else.”

London might seem as distant as Gallifrey to those living further afield in the UK, but this potentially once-in-a-lifetime chance to enter the Doctor’s world seems a shoo-in for anyone, anywhere, who has even a smidgeon of Who in their hearts. As Daniel explains:

“Every costume, every prop, every evocative light or piece of original score or sound design, it’s all been put together by a hive mind of extraordinary creatives. A lot of love has gone into creating the show, and we really hope that love is translated into the audiences’ experiences. It’s also important to say that this is a family show. We’ve already had children coming through the show having a whale of a time. You’ll find children who are 8 years old, standing next to someone who is 58 years old, and they’re both getting something out of it.”

This inclusive, multi-generational aspect of Doctor Who has always been one of its core strengths, but its core message, too, resonates strongly with Daniel.

“I think the whole thing about Who is decency, and kindness. To be a hero what you need to do is think, and talk. You need to be a good person. You don’t run around with a gun; you don’t fight your way out of something: you reason your way out of something, you think your way out of problems. And you make the best choice…You make the right choice.”

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Tickets for Doctor Who: Time Fracture are available to book here.

The post Time Fracture: ‘It’s a Love Letter to All of Doctor Who, From William Hartnell to Jodie Whittaker’ appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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