#the kicker is I can’t take my anti anxiety med

[evilwriter37]

I hate that the brain and body can be panicky and sleepy at the same fucking time. Pick one!

[greatgoregalore]

John comes out!

Listen! The stories I throw on this blog aren’t happy stories. A lot of these are meant to make your blood boil in frustration. Especially the Blaze ones. You’ll probably bounce between ‘hug the poor boy plz’ and ‘can I punch him’ a lot. Well if you’re anything like me that is.

They tend to deal with a lot of heavier issues, such as discrimination, the different types of abuse, stuff like that.  

This particular story includes anti-lgbt, pro-lgbt, sexist comments,  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blaze flops back on the couch in a huff, opposite side of the room from John. John tosses him the remote for the tv and gets back to his self-assigned homework of touching up on his Portuguese. Blaze catches the remote and fumbles for a second, nearly dropping it. When he turns on the tv, the first thing that pops up is the news, and the headline is “Rising generation of entitled children”. The newscaster says something about a child throwing a tantrum after the parents wouldn’t buy her a 5th horse. Blaze snorts and changes the channel. “Hmm?” John looks up.

“It’s bloody ridiculous what they put on the news nowadays. It’s all just small problems that shouldn’t be problems at all. A child throwing a fuckin’ tantrum isn’t a news story. News stories should be reserved as a call for action, and using it for bloody little pointless things like that just makes it… I dunno. Lose it’s oomph. And then when it is used as a call for action, it just doesn’t bloody work anymore.”

“Charged about this, huh?”

“A little bit, yeah. But I just don’t fuckin’ get it. What about the things we do? We broke up a bloody sex trafficking ring a while ago, and that story got aired. One bloody time. But then you’ll see every day, day after day, stupid fuckin’ things. Like women fighting for the right to have a hard life? I’d trade almost anything for the privilege of staying home all day, make dinner, have a doting spouse to take care of everything stressful. It sounds amazing. I’d give almost anything for a life like that. Or like those fuckin’ ‘transgender’ folk who hurt themselves and change who they are over feelings, or just want an excuse to peek at little girls in the bathroom. It’s stupider than getting plastic surgery to make yourself prettier, and it doesn’t even really change anything. But you see that all over the place, all the time. And it’s bloody ridiculous and doesn’t make sense. They’re all stupid problems that shouldn’t be problems at all.” Blaze says, while flipping through a few more channels to try and find something interesting. 

Johns expression goes flat during Blaze’s tirade. When he’s done, John takes a deep breath, sets down his Portuguese stuff, and walks out of the room. John getting up and leaving catches Blaze’s attention and he gets concerned. He sits there for a moment, trying to figure out whether or not to go after him. After a moment he turns off the tv and gets up. 

“John?” Blaze says, going through the door that John did. 

John doesn’t answer. He’s sitting back on a chair with his eyes closed and taking deep breaths. 

“What’s wrong?”

“You. Okay, sorry, that was blunt. Didn’t mean it to sound that harsh. It’s not you, per say, just what you say sometimes. Sorry. This is just the last thing I need today. Normally, I can tolerate it, and handle things rationally, but just. Not right now. Can you just. Leave me alone until I cool off please? I’ll come back in in a bit.”

Blaze looks lost and confused. “I-” he starts, and then notices something, which makes him even more confused. “I smell blood. John, what happened?” 

The whites of John’s eyes darken in color a bit to a grey-ish tone, which is usually a sign of panic or intense anxiety starting to set in. He sits up and sighs, looking at the wall behind Blaze. “You know what? Fuck it.”

John cussing. That is a really bad sign. 

John stops for a second, looking like he’s trying to figure out what to say and how to say it. “Let’s start with how ridiculous y- no, that’s a bit too harsh still. Sorry, struggling a bit. I-” John takes a deep breath and his eyes shift to a dark grey. “It’s just. Extremely hard. Here. Let me put it this way. Let’s saaaay, you had a group of friends. They all knew that you’re a vampire except for this one kid, and yet somehow you become best friends with him - let’s call him um. Grell.” 

“Despite all blatant clues and jokes, he misses them all. Now, Grell is this super awesome person in many ways, but there’s this little kicker. Grell doesn’t like vampires, doesn’t really know much about them either - makes stupid comments about ‘why can’t they just eat normal human food’ or some other bull like that. It doesn’t happen all that often - he normally keeps his opinions to himself and respectful about it, but it’s still there. And when it does come up, it’s aggravating. But you just deal with it and move on, choosing to focus more on the wonderful qualities he does have instead of just that one opinion that really bugs you. And you don’t really wanna risk ruining things with this awesome person by saying that you are a vamp and starting a ‘I’m right, you’re wrong’ argument over it. Just rather not open that can of worms at all. You can get that, right? Does that make sense at all?” John says, continuing to stare at his point on the wall right behind Blaze instead of at Blaze himself to put up the appearance of making eye contact.

Blaze looks really confused and lost still. “I-yeah? I guess? But what does this have to do with the fact you smell like blood?”

“Let’s switch things around. Instead of you, it’s me, and instead of vampire it’s trans, and you’re Grell.” 

“I- what?” 

“I’m trans, female to male. The. Blood. It’s just. My first period in years. And it doesn’t bring up pleasant memories. Now do you get it? By your logic, I should be a stay-at-home mom working in the kitchen and raising kids, instead of being one of the top spellworkers in the world and part of a hero squad. And it’s like saying that everything I’ve worked so hard to become was all pointless cause I should’ve been doing the exact opposite but I know that you had no way of possibly intending it that way and it’s just my own imagination and I just.” John says, draws his knees up to his chest, and looks off to the side. “I hate cramps.”

The concept seems to fry Blaze’s brain. You can practically see the gears turning. Blaze walks out of the room. John takes a few shuddering breaths to get himself under control. Seeing Blaze just. Leave like that without a word spikes anxiety, but he’s also relieved that Blaze didn’t yell at him or argue back, but he’s afraid he’s about to lose his best friend, but it’s a relief to finally have it out in the open, but it’s painful dragging up old memories, but it’s - 

Blaze comes back a few minutes later and tosses a heat pack and pain meds to John. “Gryphon said those help with cramps,” he says. He pauses for a moment. “Calm down John. I’m not -it’s not - I just - it’s fine. I’ll be. Back later,” he says, and leaves the room again.