#the sobbing was both from burnout but also had a fight this morning and it wasnt that big of a fight but im just so emotionally exhausted

[bunnyb34r]

Having severe burnout is so fun bc I can be like SOBBING for an hour straight, want to die so bad, and then suddenly stop, feel better emotionally, and want a nap

The nap won't help as much as the sobbing for an hour straight, but I'll take what I can get I guess

[winter-soldier-vibes]

Burnout (Bucky x reader)

“Burnout”

Bucky x reader

Warnings: burnout, overworked, mental breakdown/panic attack

Word count: 3377

A/N: Take care of yourself, burnout is real and you CAN get sick. Trust me. I’m always here if you wanna talk to someone about anything or want another friend. Stay strong <3

Includes: Lyrics from the song “Weight of the World” by Citizen Soldier

Tags: @buckys2thicc @thatfangirl42 @thundering-barnes @abitgryffindorky @ladyfallonavenger

---------

These nights were becoming more common. And that wasn’t a good thing.

You sat at your desk surrounded by papers, empty cans of energy drinks, and a bright laptop screen. You held your head in your hands and you tried to keep your eyes awake, turning the screen brightness higher. 

1:46 AM

You sighed and rubbed your eyes, trying to rub the sleep out of them. You took your hands away and looked back at the screen briefly before covering your face again. 

You lived with the Avengers and were a huge asset to the team. Not only were you enhanced with powers, but you were incredibly intelligent. That being the case, you worked with Tony and Bruce in the lab either developing new ideas or fixing suits after missions. As well as being on the mission yourself. Therefore you trained early every morning with Steve and Bucky. You also did most of the mission reports, switching off with Steve once and a while.

Most nights you could be found either working through paperwork, down in the lab working into the morning with Tony, or researching for new projects in said lab. You never meant to stay up as late as you did, but no matter how hard you worked, more work kept appearing. Every 10 PM soon turned into 2 AM, and you could never quite catch a break. You had turned to caffeine not long ago, quickly using it as a crutch to supplement sleep. 

You had just gotten back from a long mission with the team, and were incredibly sore. Steve hadn’t gone on this mission, leaving you to finish the report. Add to that, Tony wanted to make a better suit for Peter, and Sam’s wings were busted. Tony was working on Peter’s suit, wanting to make it perfect, leaving you with fixing the wings for Sam. 

You decided to work on Sam’s Falcon suit first, seeing that you lived on Planet Earth and he could be scheduled for another mission at any time. What seemed to be superficial damage turned out to be extensive, and required much more repairing that you had anticipated. What you had planned to be a 2 hour process had turned into just over a day of work in the lab. 

Not wanting to lose your place and needing a distraction from the soreness, you had worked for hours straight, only breaking to relieve yourself every so often. You were exhausted and ready to fall asleep when you laid back in your bed. Only to check your notifications and see an email from Fury requesting the mission report immediately.

Sent hours ago.

Which led you to where you were now. You hadn’t slept in almost 48 hours, sore from the mission, with a tedious mission report to fill out. Taking a deep breath, you removed your hands from your face.

 2:07 AM.

You groaned, but brought your hands back to the keyboard and began typing. The words were blurring together and you shook your head a few times trying to stay awake. Somehow, you finished the report and sent it off and looked at the time again.

3:13 AM

You rubbed your temples before climbing back into your bed, sighing out as your eyes filled with tears. It wasn’t uncommon for you to go to bed this late/early. Lately Tony had been coming up with more ideas and would ask you to help. Since Tony works through most of the night, you had learned to do the same. You don’t remember the last time you had more than 3 or 4 hours of sleep. 

You were off the hook for training for a few days, due to having just gotten back from a mission. And while you had been hesitant at first, you were grateful now that you had a bit more time to sleep. Despite the caffeine you had consumed to stay awake, you were absolutely exhausted. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes but you tried to breathe through it. You just wanted a break but couldn’t seem to catch one. 

You curled into yourself as your stomach began to growl. ‘When was the last time I ate?’ you thought. Not that it mattered, there was nothing that could bring you out of your bed at that moment. You drifted off to sleep.

-----

You woke up to your phone chiming and groaned, picking it up to see what was so important. Your eyes find the top message, informing you that the mission report you had submitted was incomplete. You jolted out of bed and over to your desk to begin working on the report again, biting back tears of embarrassment at such a ridiculous error on your part. How could you have been so tired that you missed an entire section of a report?

You cracked open another energy drink that you kept in your room and began guzzling it. You were still in the same clothes as the day before and you hadn’t taken your hair down from it’s bun in days. Your stomach grumbled but you answered it with more of the energy drink. You would deal with hunger later. This was much more important. 

Your head was pounding and you could barely sit up straight. You had barely gotten a few hours of sleep and somehow felt more tired than you had before it. Your sight became more blurry as it became harder to suppress the tears. You were angry at yourself, why couldn’t you just get this one fucking thing done?

You worked through the section quickly, or at least, you tried to. You kept having to reread sections, not comprehending what the words were saying anymore. You rubbed your eyes aggressively and shook your head, trying to concentrate. You reached to grab the energy drink again, but instead accidentally spilled it all over yourself. Letting out a “Fuck!” as you stood up, something inside you snapped. 

You threw the can across the room, not caring how much was left inside of it. You flipped your chair and crumbled the miscellaneous papers on your desk. You let out a scream of frustration, and threw a picture frame across the room. After which, you bent over and placed your hands on your knees, small sobs beginning to wrack your body. You were just so tired, you had work to do, but you couldn’t do it no matter how simple it was. 

You walked around the mess and into your bathroom, closing the door. You turned on the shower and got in, not even bothering to take off your clothes or wait for it to warm up. You didn’t care. You couldn’t. You sank to the floor, tears streaming down your face as the shower began to warm. You couldn’t bring yourself together, every time you tried to calm down a new wave of frustration and exhaustion would hit you and you would start crying all over again. You held your hand to your chest, trying to catch your breath a little, not having much success. You were gasping for air, it felt like you were breathing fire. Unable to fight it anymore, you started choking out lyrics to one of your go-to sad songs.

Feel the weight of the world over me tonight.

If I break, if I break down this time

You took a shaky breath and choked out the next line

Hope you know I tried…

Meanwhile, Bucky had been thinking about you. The two of you were very close, you had been ever since Steve had introduced you to him. He was in awe of how you could both rival Tony in the lab and himself in the training room. That and how much you did for others. You had helped him a lot when Bucky had first come to the compound. And he was very grateful.

He knew you had gotten back from a mission a few days ago, and were probably exhausted. From what he had heard it had been a brutal mission. However, in the past, you had usually gotten back into the routine of daily life pretty quickly. He hasn’t so much as seen you since you got back. 

He couldn’t help but worry.

He decided to go to your room to check on you, seeing as it was later in the morning and you had had a chance to sleep. Little did he know, you hadn’t. When he got to your door he knocked and waited for a response. He was met with nothing. However, with his enhanced hearing, he heard muffled singing from inside. He couldn’t hear the words, but you sounded in pain. 

My mind’s such a mess, I can’t handle it, I’m at the end of my rope.

Worried, he let himself in and took in the state of the room. It was completely trashed, shattered glass, overturned furniture, crumbled papers. He heard the shower running and could hear your cries through the lyrics

My neck is breaking body shaking

Sometimes it’s so hard to breathe

But no one sees it follows me i always end up underneath

The weight of the world…

You began coughing, still gasping for air and holding your chest. Bucky came over to the bathroom door and opened it, concerned you were in pain. You were sitting on the floor, drenched and shaking. Steam filled the room, fogging up the mirrors. He came over to you, trying to get your attention but you couldn’t hear him. Worried, he stepped into the shower as well, swearing as it burned his skin. He crouched down in front of you and took your face in his hands, trying to guide your face to his.

“Y/n, y/n can you hear me? Can you look at me?” he said. 

Coming back to your senses slightly, you tried to figure out who was in front of you. You grabbed one of his forearms and focused your eyes, still struggling to breathe. You found Bucky’s blue eyes looking back at you.

Bucky, knowing you were now aware of his presence, reached to turn off the water while still maintaining eye contact. You were coughing, choking on each breath, still shaking and crying. Bucky had never seen you like this. You tried looking around again, forgetting briefly where you were and what had happened, breath picking up again in confusion.  “Hey, hey, y/n? I need you to keep your eyes on me okay?”

“It...hurts..” you gasped out, feeling like fire filled your lungs. Your arms had gone numb and in the absence of the warm water your wet body was now shivering from both the cold and anxiety. 

Bucky quickly looked you up and down. “What hurts, y/n?” he said calmly but firmly even though he was freaking out internally.

Fresh tears spilled out of your eyes. You tried to talk but couldn’t speak through your panic. You rubbed your chest, willing your heart to slow down but it wouldn’t. 

Bucky, still keeping his eyes locked on yours, said “Listen, y/n, I need you to try and breathe with me slowly, okay? Like this,” he breathed in deeply and let it out slowly. You tried to copy him and after a few breaths lost your pace. You shook your head. “I can’t…. I...I…”

. “It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re safe y/n. Try again, I’m right here okay? Look at me.” he said, still breathing deeply. Eventually, you were able to find a rhythm and catch your breath, becoming aware of the situation and everything that had happened. Now able to breathe, you felt new tears of shame rush to your eyes. There were a few moments of silence

“What happened?” Bucky asked, concern etched on his face. 

You let out a small sob and covered your face, and Bucky’s heart shattered. He had never seen anyone this upset, nevermind you. You had always been so strong, energetic, joyful. And here you were, soaking wet and shaking on the shower floor. What the hell had happened to you? 

He stood up and got out of the shower, also soaked, but he didn’t care about that right now. He leaned down and put one arm behind your back and the other looped under your knees and he picked you up. He placed you down on the vanity and stood in front of you. He carefully took your wrists and pulled them away from your face, you looking at him through bloodshot eyes. 

“You - you’re soaked,” you said, both out of shock and in an attempt to deflect the attention from you.

“Wh- I mean, yeah, so are you,” Bucky said. “Y/n, can you tell me what happened?”

You looked down at your hands and swallowed thickly, embarrassed. “I, uh…” you cleared your throat. What had happened? You closed your eyes and rubbed your head. 

The shower

The song

Your room

The report

The energy drink

Oh fuck

You sighed out “Shit, I just…” again, shame began to overtake you. “It’s stupid, forget about it,” you said, trying to stand up. 

Bucky stopped you, confused. “Y/n, whatever just happened, that…  That’s not caused by something stupid. I’ve never seen you so upset before. Hell I’ve never seen anyone so upset before. But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Really, Buck, I’m fine,” you said.

“Then why are you trying not to cry?”

You sighed. There was no other way out of this. You looked at him and said, “I was just done.” You looked back down at your hands, and continued trying to keep the waiver out of your voice. “I just, um...After the mission I had to fix Sam’s wings, and it took me longer than I expected. And then I still had the mission report which took me all of last night and then I found out that I had missed an entire section. And I got mad that I couldn’t focus or stay awake and I just kind of...broke.”

As you looked back at him, face not as red, he could see how tired you seemed. “Are you sleeping?”

“I mean, a little bit it’s not like I’ve been awake this whole time but -”

“Y/n.”

You looked at him. “A couple of hours a night at most,” you said quietly. 

Bucky nodded sadly. “Anything else?”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times. “I mean it’s not a big deal -”

“What I just saw was a big deal,” Bucky said gently.

“I haven’t really made time to eat either,” you tried to laugh it off a little. “Just kind of chugged energy drinks. But then I spilled it all over myself, so...bad idea I guess.”

Bucky wasn’t laughing. But he wasn’t angry either. He was, but not at you, never at you.

“I’m sorry,” you said. 

“Why didn’t you say anything? The days off after missions are there for rest.”

You shrugged. “I had important shit to do.” 

“Well you’re pretty important shit too,” he said a little more firmly, but still not angrily. He sighed. “But really, if you’re not okay then nothing gets done. You’re going to get sick if you keep doing this to yourself. When was the last time you had more than a few hours of sleep?”

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. 

He sighed once again. “I’m sorry,” you said, fearful that he was angry with you.

“No, it’s not your fault I just…” he looked away for a second before looking back at you. “I don’t like seeing you like this. I don’t want you pushing yourself so hard and getting hurt.”

You sighed sadly and rubbed your eyes. “Every day I tell myself it’s the last day I’ll stay up so late. I always tell myself I’ll eat after my project is done. But no matter how hard I work there’s just more and more work that needs to get done. And I can’t keep up. I feel like I’m drowning. But no matter how much I hate it I...I always come last,” you said. 

“You shouldn’t have to,” Bucky said.

After a few moments of silence, Bucky pulled you in for a hug, you still sitting on the counter. You closed your eyes against his chest and sighed out, feeling good finally getting all of that off of your chest. 

“You’re taking the next few days off.” he said. 

You pulled back and looked at him. “But the report -”

“Is mostly done and Steve can get the rest of the information from Sam.” Bucky finished for you.

“But -”

“Nope. There is not a single thing you could say right now that is going to prevent me from making sure you take care of yourself for a few days.” he said, and you knew he was right. Nodding, he pulled you back in for a hug. 

“We should get out of these clothes.” you said softly, shivering a little. 

Bucky laughed a little. “Yeah, we really should.” 

You moved to stand up from the counter, still a little weak as you leaned on Bucky a little. You walked slowly out to your room and were met with the mess you created earlier. “Shit,” you said, taking in the broken glass and furniture.

Bucky turned you around and said “Do you want to come to my room? We can deal with this some other time.”

You simply nodded, stepping around the broken shards of glass and to the hallway. Bucky’s room wasn’t far from yours, and luckily no one was in the hallways to comment on how both of you were in wet clothes. Once in his room, he closed the door after you and went to his dresser. He pulled out a pair of sweats and one of his T-shirts and handed them to you. “They might be a little big but -”

“Thank you,” you said, taking the clothes and heading to his bathroom. You closed the door and peeled your current outfit off of you. You found a spare towel and dried off the rest of you, and pulled on Bucky’s clothes. They were huge on you, but you didn’t mind. You took your hair down and redid your bun before splashing some cold water on your face. Deeming you looked more presentable, you came back out and saw that Bucky had also changed. Smiling warmly, he pointed to the bed. 

“So you are going to lie down, and I am going to go make you some food. I’ll be right back.”

You started shaking your head. “No, it’s okay, you don’t have -”

He raised his eyebrows, still pointing to the bed. Swallowing a laugh, you nodded and sat down on the bed. Bucky then left the room and returned a few minutes later with a sandwich. After you had eaten it, you laid back in the bed, melting into the softness of the mattress. You faced away from Bucky, who was sitting next to you on his phone. He was (slowly)  texting Steve to finish your report, which took very little convincing. 

After a few minutes, you asked “Can you lay down with me?”

Bucky smiled a little to himself. “Sure, doll,” he said, and he moved to lie down next to you. Unsure of what exactly you wanted, he gave you space. Not soon after, you turned over and scooted closer to his side. After a moment of shock from Bucky, you asked “Is this okay?” Readjusting a little, he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer. “Yeah, is this okay?” he asked in return.  You merely hummed in approval, already feeling safer in his warm embrace. He let out a small laugh. “Try to get some rest, y/n. I’ll be here whenever you wake up.”

It was the most peaceful sleep you had ever had.

[ramblings-of-a-cavill-lover]

Of Bites And Tough Times

Summary: Henry and his wife discuss what is to be done about their daughter’s behavior at school, but bring up topics that lay buried for too long.

Warnings: Depression/ language/ burnout/ couple’s argument/ (blink and you’ll miss) talk of divorce/ very little fluff/ loads of angst. If you notice anything that should be included in the warnings, please let me know.

Word count: 3k+

A/N: This was requested by my dear @constip8merm8 who wanted a story closer to the real world, that couldn’t be fluffy or smutty. I wasn’t pretty faithful to the theme (the daughter biting other children at school and they discuss how to deal with it) but she told me it was good, so here it is.

Gif by @henricavyll​

Rose was the light of his life.

The day she arrived he was there.

Every rough night, when she was colicky, he insisted on holding her for as long as she needed the comfort.

He was there for the first tooth and the crying that came with it.

He was there for the times when she’d mumble “mama”, just to insist she said “papa”.

He managed to capture on film the first time she stood up, using a chubby fistful of Kal’s fur for support.

He dedicated the first eighteen months of her life to be there for her and his wife.

But time is a luxury in his job. If he spent much longer away from photo shoots and auditions, the spotlight would shift to a younger, better looking actor, and he wasn’t ready to give up acting just yet.

The following four months were full of airports, makeup artists, hair stylists, clicks from famous photographers and paparazzi alike.

He had grown too fond of the silence from that side of his life and the few phone calls they’d get from family and friends every week. Having to reacquaint himself with the constant chiming of his notifications wasn’t easy, and he found himself struggling with the change.

He didn’t commit to anything long term at first, but the idea was certainly on his mind warring with the delight of returning to the giggling toothy grin and bouncing curls with some frequency.

It had been three days since he returned from his most recent commitment abroad and Rose was still clingy - not that he’d ever complain.

Taking her to nursery school had become his job, per her decree, and on that Friday he decided to linger a bit after dropping her to chat with other parents.

The shrill scream pierced Henry’s ears but faded into wailing before his eyes could register where it had come from.

It had happened once before and his fears were confirmed when his daughter’s teary, bicolored eyes, already regretful, met his own.

Relief and gratitude for being there at that moment washed over him along with anger and dismay in the split second it took him to understand the situation.

Her teacher was leading her away from the other child by her upper arm, when he reached them.

It had been a topic of conversation with his wife, unfortunately leading to an argument.

“If I hadn’t been there, watching… She was about to bite the other kid. And when the teacher showed me a picture of the incident… I was mortified Henry. I wanted to dig a hole and hide.” The tears welling in her eyes as she recounted what had happened earlier only fueled an anger he tried to mitigate and keep out of his words.

“How bad was it?”

“It’s not a matter of how bad! It’s a matter of her repeating that behavior and dealing with adults trying to correct her in a way we wouldn’t. It’s also a matter of her not doing it anymore! Why is this happening? So many children adapt so well, why not her?”

Breathing deeply through his nostrils, he concentrated on biting back the opinion she disagreed with. This didn’t have to become a fight.

Going to the living room to pick up a tissue box, he focused on controlling his anger before bringing it back to the kitchen.

“Why don’t you say something?” she hissed. “Why don’t you throw the much anticipated ‘I told you so!’ in my face, huh?”

She managed to keep her voice down, so she wouldn’t wake the sleeping culprit, but it only added to the tension between them.

“You want me to? Cause you know I’m thinking it.” he replied quietly.

“I just want to get a bit of my life back Henry! I want to have a sense of self again! I want to have some time for myself!” tears she couldn’t hold anymore ran down her face as she spoke. “I feel like I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want my life anymore Henry.”

He offered her a tissue which she harshly took from his hand.

Her words broke him.

He was grateful that her head hung low in that moment, while blowing her nose. She didn’t see the battle he raged against the tears threatening to pour out of his eyes.

“We finally managed to get her to sleep in her bed. And you’re not here to deal with this every single day. You have the luxury of being with adults, dealing with adult things!” she continued. “I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation that didn’t revolve around nappies, toddler clothing stores or toy brands. I’m going crazy here!”

He could see her side of the issue. He understood how much she was hurting, but he couldn’t fully accept what she wanted.

“I talked to a friend of mine, a psychologist, earlier today.” he started.

She shook her head and waved her hands as if to say she didn’t understand where he was getting at and what that had to do with the subject being discussed at the moment.

He held his palm up towards her, asking her to let him finish, as he usually did when her patience was starting to run low during their arguments.

“He said children present this kind of behavior when they are put in situations or places where they don’t feel safe, or loved, or understood. Or when adults don’t have the patience to deal with them and expect them to behave and be quiet, like adults. That got me thinking…”

“What are you trying to say?” she asked quietly, narrowing her eyes.

He didn’t get to finish whatever he had in mind.

“It’s so easy for a psychologist, or even for you, to simply judge the situation from afar. It’s not like there are any other places nearer to our home, which would make it harder for me, and recapping in case you weren’t paying attention, that’s the opposite of the bloody goal!” she said through her teeth and started counting with her fingers. “It’s also not like we’re going to hire a nanny, because neither you or I want a stranger raising our child! And you’re asking me to put my life on hold for another three or four years.”

He nodded, hugging her when a sob stopped her from saying anything else.

“You’re not here, it’s just me and Rosie. I’m going crazy. I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t think I can do this. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t know myself anymore Henry!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” he whispered into her hair, trying to be strong for her despite the burning in his eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want you to feel stuck at home with her. I want you two to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He ran his hands up and down her back in a soothing manner and pulled away, enough to cup her face and wipe the tears with his thumbs. From the way her eyes swept over his face, he knew he probably didn’t do a good job at hiding how much the whole thing hurt him.

“Let’s go to bed. We’re both too tired. I’ll take care of her in the morning, okay?” he suggested and she nodded her agreement before he finished talking. “I’ll make sure we don’t wake you and I hope you’ll get to sleep in.”

“With my luck,” she replied and sniffled, “I’ll probably wake up as soon as the bed gets cold.”

She didn’t wake up.

That morning was spent with half of his brain mulling over everything said the night before. His mind was racing in search for a solution they could compromise on as he helped Rose add blueberries to her yogurt, while he tied her curls in two pigtails and while he took her to the playgroup on the stroller because she didn’t want to walk.

After the long conversation that demanded the presence of the teacher, the school’s counselor and a representative for the administration because of the reoccurrence, he walked out of there with Rose’s sleeping breath fanning his neck and her little fist crumpling the front of his shirt.

Sending his wife a text explaining what had happened, he decided to spend the day out and about with his daughter. He definitely did not want to fight, and after hearing the school’s opinion on the matter, he was even more convinced that she’d have to meet him halfway.

Despite his detailed text message, when he entered the house after five pm, she was mad all the same.

He walked past her without any words, taking Rose to bed, removing her shoes, loosening her hair out of the ties and kissing her forehead.

Leaving the door slightly ajar he drew in a deep breath and went back down the stairs.

“Do you want to go first? Because when I start I really don’t want you to interrupt me.” he said to his wife as he sat on the couch opposite her.

He didn’t like the whole situation. He didn’t like that it brought so much division between them. He even hated the coffee table between them.

“Fine. Go.” she said quietly and crossed her arms.

“Do you hate me for going back to work? Do you want me to take full custody of Rose?”

She blanched at the implications of his words.

“No! What the fuck does that mean? I love her! I love you! I’m just extremely exhausted and that does not help, Henry!”

He nodded, losing steam. Spilling all he wanted to say would only add to the burden she felt she had to carry. After a deep sigh she continued.

“I think it’s quite unfair of you to want me to stay with her 24/7.”

And just like that, his anger flared again.

“You did say, before we married, that you were okay with being a mum, that you understood that these first years would demand more of you. I was sure that it was fine with you being a stay-at-home mum.” he leaned on his elbows, towards her, and shook his head after speaking.

Her mouth went slack with the customary silent ‘oh’, testifying to her deep indignation.

“Is that what this whole argument is about?” she asked quietly.

“Fuck, this is coming out all wrong!” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and running a hand through his hair . “Listen, all I want is for you to be there for her, be it physically or emotionally, finding a place that’s more suitable. I really did not like the way the school handled it this morning, and I would very much like for Rose not to go back to a place where she feels unhappy enough to hurt other children!”

She fell silent. Her face screamed her desire to protest his words or something he’d said, but he was glad she didn’t add oil to the fire.

“I guess we’re all unhappy.” he finally said looking at the floor. “I think I’m going to take her and spend the weekend with my parents.”

“Without me?”

“Yes, without you. It will give you some time to rest, recharge. To do whatever you want or need to do without worrying about meals to prepare and nappies to change. Focus on things that make you happy, that would make this life more bearable for you.”

“Henry, look at me.”

He did, and the pain contorting her features prevented him from hiding his tears any longer.

“I just want what’s best for her.” he whispered around the lump in his throat.

“So do I. But I can’t guarantee that if I’m unhappy, Henry.” she replied between sobs. “Taking her away only makes me feel worse. Why don’t you just throw in my face that I’m a bad mum?”

There were so many words that he wished to say. So many words that he wanted to get off his chest.

He bit them back, crossing the living room and kneeling on the floor next to her on the armchair.

“You’re not a bad mum. You’re the best mum. You’re so caring, so patient, selfless and so, so strong. You go above and beyond for her. I see that. I see that you’re doing the best you can under so much strain. I love you so much!” her fingers were cold when he touched the hand lying on her knee, so he held both of her hands in his.

There was only sniffing and tears filling the quiet void that followed his words.

Warmer hands held his back when he decided to break that silence.

“Could you please make this sacrifice? For me? For us? All of us? I don’t want her to stop playing with other kids, she likes that. I just want you to make sure that the place where she’s playing is a place that nurtures her mentally.”

He paused examining her still tear-streaked face. It was probably a mirror of his own.

“I can get a driver to take her wherever you believe she’ll adapt best.” he pleaded.

He knew she’d hate the idea before her head started shaking minutely. But she said nothing against it.

“I believe it’s the closest we’ll come to an agreement.” she finally whispered after sniffling and wiping her eyes with the back of her hands. “I’ll start looking on Monday.”

“Thank you. And while you’re at it, maybe you could look into a place where she could go more than just a couple of days a week?” he said, getting up and planting a kiss on the crown of her head. “Have you eaten?”

“I think that’s an excellent idea.” she answered absentmindedly, and added,”I ate a granola bar, just before you arrived.”

“Want me to cook you something?” he asked, stopping halfway to the kitchen.

“Have you eaten?” she asked, her voice still far away.

“Yes. We had hamburgers.” he replied before adding with a halfhearted smile, “Well, she ate half of her hamburger, I ate mine and the other half. She inhaled the chips though.”

“Oh. Did she eat your chips too?”

“A fair amount. So, what do you feel like?”

“I’m not hungry.” she answered.

“Okay.” he said, sighing and making for the stairs once more. “If you need me, I’ll be packing her bag.”

The fifth step creaked under his feet before she spoke.

“Why can’t you?”

“‘Why can’t I’ what?” he asked, puzzlement clear in his tone.

“Why can’t you make that sacrifice?” she asked again, looking at nothing in particular.

“Are you asking me why I can’t stay at home?” the disbelief on his tone brought her eyes to his. She nodded.

“Why I can’t sacrifice my whole career, is that seriously what you want to know?” he continued, going back down the stairs and kneeling before her once more.

“Aren’t these first years of her development as important to you? Isn’t your presence just as necessary?” she asked quietly.

He was finally done with holding back tears. Letting his head hang low, he sobbed.

She let him cry, caressing his curls when he leaned his forehead on her knee.

“Of course it is.” he rasped between sobs. “But I don’t want to lose everything I worked so hard to achieve. Do you think I want to be away from her? From you both? Honestly? Do you think it is an ego thing?”

“Henry, I…” she started, but he interrupted her.

“I’m afraid. Is that what you want to hear? I’m fucking terrified there will be nothing for me if I go back to work years from now. And what terrifies me the most is the possibility of resenting you or Rosie.”

He shook his head and got up, wiping a hand over his face.

“Won’t you resent your career eventually for taking you away from her? From the both of us?” she asked, earnestly.

That gave him pause. He walked back to the couch on the other side of the room and let himself sink down on the leather.

She was right.

He was so focused on the life he could be missing out there, he hadn’t considered what would happen when he took on longer contracts.

Images of Rose’s first birthday flashed in his mind. It hurt imagining being on the other side of the world and missing her second, less than two months away.

The reality was harsh anyway.

“Why is what I do so different from other fathers who work eight or ten hours away, everyday? Or from those who work twelve-hour shifts? I just do that for fewer months.” he complained, reasoning more with himself than with her. “I could audition only for jobs that would keep me closer to home. Or work on only one big production per year.”

He paused, lifting his misty eyes to meet hers after almost boring a hole on the carpet.

“But if you already feel overwhelmed with my short trips, I can’t see how you wouldn’t hate me if I had to be on set for any longer periods of time.”

Taking a tissue from the box she had thankfully brought back from the kitchen, he blew his nose.

“I just need to feel like an adult again. Like I can be more than just a ‘mum’, confined to the limits of these walls and the walk to the nursery or the supermarket.” she paused. “I’m just so tired. So done. Why is that so hard for you to accept?”

“It isn’t.” She rolled her eyes in disbelief, but he insisted. “It really isn’t. I get it. Or, at least, I’m trying to.”

Nodding, she got up and sat next to him on the couch.

“We need help. I don’t want you to feel like this anymore.” he whispered, bringing her closer to his chest and wrapping her in his arms.

“Without bringing a stranger to our home?” she asked, her words muffled into his shirt. “I don’t see how.”

Henry sighed after several minutes in silence, expelling all the negative energy from his body, as he lay his cheek on the crown of her head.

“I will think about this some more during these days we’re away. I’ll talk to my parents as well if that’s okay with you.”

She nodded, humming her approval.

“I’ll do the same from here. I’ll text you if I come up with any good ideas.” she said.

“I’d prefer you to just relax and not worry, but that’s not going to happen, is it?” he asked, smiling.

“Nope.”

He could feel her smile and some of the tension leaving her.

“You know me better than that.” she added.

“I do.” he replied, chuckling, and after a moment added, “Will you talk to me before it gets this bad next time, after we find a solution and if you ever feel like that again, please?”

She pulled away from him slightly, enough to look him in the eyes, and nodded.

He kissed her forehead.

“I already walked Kal.” she said.

“That’s why he’s so quiet.” he replied. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat anything?”

“If I feel hungry, I’ll make a sandwich. Don’t worry.” she answered and let out a heavy sigh. “I just hope that all of this is going to be worth our while and that she’ll stop biting other children.”

“If she doesn’t, at least I know a psychologist.” he remarked.

He felt her soft laughter, and with a soft click of his tongue, he continued.

“You know what? You should start your relaxing right now. Forget the problems and go find yourself again. Just keep in mind that we love you. I love you very much and I’ll do my best to make things better from now on.”

“Thank you. I’m gonna take you up on that offer.” she said and planted a kiss on his lips. “If I fall asleep and don’t see you off, tell Rosie I love her. Be safe. I love you, too.”

🍔🍟🍔🍟🍔🍟🍔🍟🍔🍟🍔🍟🍔🍟🍔🍟

[jewish-privilege]

I had a crying breakdown several days after the Poway synagogue shooting. I was trying to push down my anger, sadness, and fear at another deadly pogrom in order to focus on figuring out grad school financial aid, apartment hunting, and last minute logistics around a protest where police were threatening to arrest activists. My best efforts to “keep it together” failed.

Several days later, I found myself comforting a friend of mine as they sobbed on my bathroom floor because they were terrified that they’d be run over by a car on their walk to synagogue.

I have three months of mail I’ve never opened and a host of voicemails I’ve never listened to. I hit the snooze button at least five times every morning, am exhausted all day, and use both good coping mechanisms (medication, therapy, a strong support network of family and friends) and bad ones (eating my feelings, drinking, impulse shopping) to deal with the unending onslaught of, well, everything.

Anne Helen Peterson recently wrote about “millennial burnout” for Buzzfeed, describing how a system designed to optimize every aspect of daily life and demand nonstop low-paying work causes young people to have difficulty with basic tasks and errands.

I hate most of the “Boomer vs. Millennial” discourse, but it is true that millennials are feeling the crunch from a sociopolitical and economic system designed to be as cruel as possible. I’ve worked crappy jobs in retail, food service, and the nonprofit industrial complex for years, but I’ve come to realize my burnout is caused by anti-Semitism more than anything else.

Anti-Semitism is the background hum of my daily life. It presents itself as nagging questions and gruesome hypotheticals, and the nonstop exhausting work of trying to convince gentiles to care about it. I am constantly frustrated by the fact that no one seems to care about Jewish people or anti-Semitism unless Jewish people remind them repeatedly that we exist. I’ve had to explain to a local LGBT organization that they can’t just have a panel of all Christians for a “faith and sexuality” discussion. I’ve had repeated discussions with the socialist group I’m in that yes, Jeremy Corbyn really is anti-Semitic. And I’ve had to repeatedly work with a man who made anti-Semitic comments to my face while doing immigration advocacy work. A local candidate for public office praised Hitler on her social media (seriously), and the county Democratic Party’s response was to say they didn’t financially support her campaign. What’s even worse is that this didn’t even register as a worthy news story for local media.

The day after the Poway shooting, another organizer was confused and taken aback when I responded “pretty terrible” when they asked me how I was doing. The idea that a deadly attack on Jews would take a toll on my mental health didn’t register.

...[T]he local “young adult” programming seems more focused on attracting young Jewish people to participate in activities than checking in with us and making sure we’re thriving. When I told a congregant that I was writing an essay on burnout, he asked, “But you’re so young, how could you be dealing with burnout?”

When I taught at the local Sunday school, the administration sent out multiple letters to families with details about security upgrades, but my bosses never once asked us if we were doing okay. I had to make a rule not to read Israeli media before teaching, because there was no way I could teach children to love being Jewish with the images of people murdered in terrorist attacks stuck in my head. My bosses wanted me to avoid teaching “unhappy” subjects, which is a bit impossible when the Passover haggadah reads “in every generation they rise up to wipe us out.” Maybe if we helped children process difficult topics starting at a young age, my friend wouldn’t have broken down crying on my bathroom floor.

In the end, I don’t know how this vicious cycle can end. It would require non-Jews actively taking a role in fighting anti-Semitism and putting in the work to ensure that Jewish people have a seat at the table in social movements. It would also require Jewish institutions recognizing how a hostile economic system and a constant deluge of anti-Semitic acts are taking a real toll on young Jews. And honestly? That’s just not realistic.

All I can do is to be boldly Jewish in ways some would find difficult and inconvenient. I get to be the killjoy asking if the food at the anarchocommunist potluck is kosher. I’ll be the one reminding other organizers that I can’t attend events on Shabbat and other holidays. And I’ll continue to hold people accountable for anti-Semitism when I see it. But I have to be honest: It’s wearing me down. I can only hope my burning desire for a more just world doesn’t get extinguished by absolute exhaustion at the indifference of those around me.

[princessromania13]

Coffee, Words and Fists

Characters: Roman, Virgil, Janus, Patton, Logan, Remus

Trigger warnings: a fair amount of abuse, toxic relationship, negligent parenting, some incredibly low self esteem, forced starvation 

Ships: toxic Prinxiety, not romantic Princeit 

Summary: Roman loves his chemically imbalanced Romance, but does Virgil love him back? Also Janus is a pretty important character. 

AO3 Link

Roman was sitting alone in his room. He was practically praying that Virgil wouldn't come into his room tonight. Of course, when the two began, all was well. They still argued but that was just par for the course for the embodiments of Anxiety and Creativity, but hey, they usually made up afterwards. Usually. But as Virgil became more and more part of the group, Roman found himself being pushed further out. This did nothing to help his already low self-esteem, but he held a brave face. The others didn't need to deal with his issues on top of everything else. Virgil, however, grew more confident as the weeks turned to months. He shared his thoughts more and the others would stand up for him if Roman dared call him any sort of nickname. So it seemed Virgil had noticed, though it was hard not to, and began giving Roman the exact same treatment the creative side gave him pre-accepting anxiety. The nicknames, the lot. It started off small enough, nothing Roman couldn't handle, but things never stay small when this was the way things were headed with the sides. Roman still loved the anxious side, his little smirk when he heard a pun, the way he blushed when Roman flirted with him, all those little things. So of course he could handle it, right? Right. He was a prince, after all. Princes handled far worse than a few nicknames. He thought over this as he cuddled his stuffed Simba plushie close to his chest. Then he heard the dreaded sound of the door opening. He quickly put the toy onto his pillow as he made eye contact with the smirking side who now stood in his room. 

"Really, Ro? A toy? Woulda thought you're too old for that shit." Virgil chuckled, closing the door behind him. "I-Simba's special, Virge. He was a birthday gift from Patton, you know that." the prince replied, almost stumbling over his words. His heart was pounding. "Yeah, I know. Just teasing, geeze, Princey." that nickname again. Princey. Why was it always Princey, and in such a mocking tone? Roman chuckled, though there was no joy to the sound. "I guess. So, uh, what brings you to- to my room, of all places?" he asked. Virgil flopped onto the large four-poster bed. "Aren't I allowed to say hi to you? You're such a jerk." he said in a tone that he couldn't tell if it was serious or joking. "Of course, love, I'm sorry. I would have gone to see you tonight, honest, I'm just in a bit of a state. You know, after that whole ordeal with Janus. It has me in a bit of a certain way, you understand?" he explained, reaching for his Simba once more. "You'd better not be interested in him, Roman." Virgil said, his tone soft and menacing. "No, I would never. You're the only one I could ever want." he replied, hoping that was what he wanted to hear. Virgil was silent for a moment. "I should think so." he said. Before Roman could object, the man snatched his Simba out of his arms. "If I see anything that suggests you might be second-guessing us, you're not gonna see this again, you hear?" he said, the lion held in a firm grip. That 'toy' was one of his most prized posessions. He gulped. "Y-yes, love." he said, his voice shaking noticeably. "Good. Sweet dreams, Princey." Virgil said, walking out of the room. Roman nodded, but knew he wouldn't be having any of the sort tonight.

He curled into a small ball on his large bed and, despite his attempts, could not stop the onslaught of sobs that racked his body. Those sobs quickly escalated, and this time there was no Simba to help him calm down. He buried his face in his pillows to attempt to hide his pitiful weeping, but it did little. He barely heard the sound of his door opening once more. Although this time, he could tell it wasn't Virgil. Virgil would have made a snarky comment on his sobbing. Instead, it was the voice of Patton. "Are you alright, kiddo?" he asked, walking over. Roman lifted his teary face out of the pillows. "Virge took my Simba." he managed to choke out. The father figure simply tutted. "Come on, Ro, that's nothing to be so upset about! After all, it's only a toy!" he said, pulling the creative side into an embrace. Simba wasn't only a toy, why could no one see that? Roman could do nothing but cry into Patton's shoulder. Maybe the father figure was right, it probably wasn't something to get so worked up about. He shouldn't get so upset over his simba. It was just silly and childish to get upset about a toy, even if that toy was pretty much the only thing that got him to sleep at night anymore. He pulled away from his father figure and rubbed the tears away from his now-red and puffy eyes. Patton gave him a smile. "Better?" he asked. "Better." the prince lied. "Goodo, well I've got some cookies in the oven so I'll catch ya later! Sleep well, kiddo!" the father figure beamed as he left the room. Roman felt the tears welling up in his eyes again. Darn it, why couldn't he just get over a damn Simba toy? He heard another set of footsteps in his room. Who was it this time, and why couldn't they just leave him alone? "You are aware, yes, that you are allowed to feel negative emotions about things you care about being taken away from you?" a familiar, smooth voice came. Janus. "Oh. I'm fine, you know." Roman replied, rubbing the stubborn tears out of his eyes. "Please, I am the literal embodiment of deception. You can't lie to me." the reptilian side stated softly, taking a seat on the bed. "I told you, I'm fine. If I wasn't I would be with Virge." he said firmly. Janus sighed. "Are you certain?" he asked skeptically. "Positively." the prince replied. Janus stood up once more. "Well then, I guess I can't force you to tell what's wrong. I won't be back, Roman." he said, sinking out. Roman grabbed a pillow and hugged it tight. It wasn't his Simba but it would have to do for now. He buried his face in it and fell into a restless sleep, waking up every so often thanks to the nightmares that now plagued him.

When dawn finally arose, he was thankful to get out of bed. He decided to wander down to the kitchen to find a snack. Patton had said he was baking cookies last night, where would those be? He pondered this as he wandered down the stairs. He entered the kitchen and quickly spotted the cookie jar on top of the cabinet. Being one of the shorter sides, he did have to use a step-stool to reach them but it was a small sacrifice to make for his delicious treasures. He took the lid off and relished in the heavenly scent for a moment before grabbing one of the treats and munching on it. If there was one thing Patton was good at, it was baking. He finished off his first cookie and started on a second. A second turned into a third, which in turn led to a fourth. He was in cookie heaven. Then he heard a voice he really did not need to hear this early in the morning. "You may wanna slow your roll on those cookies, you've been packing on a few pounds recently." the deep voice of Virgil came. Roman almost jumped. "Sorry, Virge." he said, putting the cookie jar down. Was he really gaining weight? Come to think of it, his frame did look a bit bigger when he looked in the mirror. "No 'good morning'? Rude." the emo said with an eyebrow raise. "I apologise again, I'm tired." he replied. A hot liquid suddenly splashed over his face. "Wake up then, Princey." Virgil said. Roman found it hard to be sleepy any more with the scalding coffee burning his face. He attempted to ignore the sensation and wiped it with his sleeve, which didn't do much in terms of easing it. "I will do better next time." he said softly. Virgil snorted suddenly. "Talk about creative burnout-" he said, falling into a fit of laughter. Roman cautiously chuckled with him, backing out of the room. As soon as he was out of sight, he began power-walking back to his room. As he was speeding through the hallway, he bumped into someone, knocking the both of them over. That someone was Logan. "Sorry, teach." the prince muttered, picking himself up off the floor. "It is alright, Roman. Perchance watch where you are going next time." the Logan said, straightening his clothes and continuing his walk in the other direction.

Roman slowed his pace and reached his room, and stepped inside. He shut the door and headed over to his beloved writing desk. He pondered what he should write, before settling on a play. He began brainstorming ideas on what to write about, and ended up deciding on a story of a prince and his quest to find true love. He needed that sort of energy right now. As he began writing what came to mind, his room shifted to match the setting of his play. He was now in a beautiful stone castle with sturdy oak beams and elegant furnishings. Through the window, the moonlight came streaming in, and his wooden desk was illuminated by a few wax candles. He always enjoyed this sort of setting. The more he wrote, the more detailed his surroundings became until he could almost see an entire village out of his window and beyond that, a great forest. Past the forest were tall, rocky mountains in which sat the dragon-witch's tower, the place the prince was reluctantly headed to. This prince was not a fighter, he was a lover. But little did he know that was exactly what he would find, but not in the tower and not anywhere else. For the prince did not know it yet, but this dragon-witch was not a hideous monster but in fact, a handsome man with dual-coloured eyes who, much like the prince, had no desire to fight. He had merely been cast out from the village as a result of his nature. Once the prince arrived at the tower, he was indeed greeted by this stunning man who did not mean him harm. Instead, the dragon-witch invited him inside and the two discovered something richer than victory or wealth or power. They found the one thing that could bring peasants and kings alike to their knees. They found romance. True romance. A romance so powerful, neither could deny they felt it. The prince soon decided to stay with the dragon-witch, this man who took care of him. And the two would live happily, forever after. Roman smiled as he went through the story a few times, it was a fine piece. It was always nice to write something he was truly proud of. "What'cha up to, Princey?" a distinct voice came from the doorway, snapping him out of his whimsy and returning his room to its natural state. He looked up from his work and saw his lover leaning against the doorframe. "Just some writing." the prince said, his voice infuriatingly quiet. Virgil stalked over to the desk. "Mind if I take a look?" he asked. Before Roman could respond, the gothic man had picked up the script and began flicking through it, his face painfully blank. Roman wished he knew what the man was thinking, hopefully good things but more likely judgements. That was just Virgil's nature, to be skeptical and judgemental, right? Right. The man occasionally would make a small 'hm' sound as he read, but apart from that he was expressionless. And honestly, Roman would have been less afraid if Virgil responded negatively as he read. But eventually, the man finished reading and shoved the script carelessly back onto the desk. "Eugh, charming." he said distastefully before taking a seat on Roman's bed. The malice in his words reminded Roman of his facial wound and re-lit the intense pain. He gingerly touched the wound, quickly deciding to retract his hand. He should probably ask about it. "Hey, Virge? Why'd you have to throw that coffee at me?" he asked. The man in question met his eyes with confusion and anger. "I didn't throw it, Ro. You accusing me of assault or something?" He snapped. "Well no, that's not exactly what I mean-" "Are you saying I'd just hurt you for no reason?" "No no, of course not! I just-" "You are accusing me! I would never without reason, why can't you see past your own ego for five seconds? You're pegging me as the bad guy again, you always do!" "I didn't realise I was, I'm so sorry Love, I would never intentionally." "Yeah sure. You keep believing that stupid bullshit. Great, now I need a break." the emo stormed out of the room with great haste. "Wait, no, Virgil-" but it was too late. The man in question had already slammed the door behind him. Roman looked over at his script with despair. Why couldn't he do anything right? Not his writing, not loving his boyfriend, not even his own job. Virgil didn't even like his script one bit, but was that really a surprise? After all, it was just a mediocre plotline partnered with sub-par writing skills. Of course he hated it, it was completely childish and far too fantastical and whimsical and unrealistic and who said those happy endings even existed in real life? It was everything Roman was. Oh goodness, it was everything he was. Virgil must absolutely hate him, and that conversation just earlier did nothing to disprove the matter. He picked up the useless script and shuffled over to the wall that he always kept bare. It was bare for a reason, he could do with it what he wished. And what he wished to do was summon a large fireplace with a crackling fire inside. It soon materialised, large and grand, and he threw the script in, leaving it to the mercy of the vicious tongues of the flame. He watched as hours of work was reduced to ashes in mere minutes, and while it absolutely tore him up inside to do so he would not show it. He sighed and returned the blank wall to its natural blank state, then climbed into his bed. If he got to sleep, maybe he wouldn't have to see anyone today. He could almost chuckle at how much he sounded like Virgil right now. Maybe the two weren't so different. He pulled his pillow into his arms and curled around it, and squeezed his eyes shut. He lay there for a good few minutes before he felt a gentle hand, rhythmically stroking his hair. He was tired and just wanted to sleep and besides, it was relaxing. So he let it continue. Whoever it was started singing a soft lullabye in french, which confirmed his suspicions that it wasn't Virgil. But who was it then? Patton could only speak english, Logan was in the process of learning Spanish, so it couldn't be either of them, right? Unless they knew something that he didn't. Remus knew a bit of french, but this definitely wasn't his distinct nasally voice. That left Janus. But Janus wasn't the type to do such a thing, right? Of course not, the man was a villain. So who could it be? Maybe it was a product of his own imagination. Either way, the voice was deep and smooth and rich, and had a certain honey-like quality to it. It was nice to listen to, at for the first time in forever he drifted off into a peaceful and nightmare-free sleep.

When he awoke, the person was gone. He felt a pang of disappointment that the figure was not there to bring him that relief he had felt last night, but he brushed it off. He was most likely late for breakfast, and Virgil was never happy when Roman was the one who overslept. He groggily climbed out of bed and realised he had fallen asleep in his costume, which was now horrendously wrinkled and stunk like he had worn it for two days straight. Probably because he had. He pulled off the suit and threw it haphazardly toward the laundry hamper, and opened up his closet. He picked out something comfy, in this case a red t-shirt and a pair of white sweatpants, and cautiously left his room. He shuffled downstairs and into the kitchen, where he noticed the other three light sides were already sitting and eating breakfast. His spot was set with a portion of Patton's famous chocolate chip pancakes, which he gleefully sat down to. "Morning, sleepyhead!" the father figure said playfully. "Good morning, Padre." the prince responded. Virgil cleared his throat rather obviously. "Of course, a wonderful morning to you, my chemically imbalanced romance," Roman added with a bit of a smile. He was in a good mood this morning. "Morning, Princey." the emo responded before returning to his breakfast. The prince picked up his fork and grabbed a mouthful of pancake. He was about to place it in his mouth when Virgil cleared his throat again, with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. He put the fork down. "Are you not hungry, Roman? I did not see you at any of yesterday's meals." Logan stated. "I probably shouldn't, teach." He responded. The teacher looked at him with skepticism. "Just eat some. I do not wish to see you get too thin." he insisted. Roman sighed and picked up the fork again. His stomach was definitely growling. He took a deep breath and lifted the food to his lips. Swallowing seemed a definite chore. "Right, that's enough, Ro! Weren't you gonna do something today?" Virgil said louder than usual. That first mouthful of pancake only made him feel more noticeably hungry. "It's just one meal." he said. He couldn't be sure if he was talking to Virgil or himself, but nonetheless he took another forkful of the delicious breakfast. Virgil had gotten up and was walking over. The man's very gaze was enough to send shivers down his spine. "Roman, stop that." He said coldly. Roman glanced to the two figures sitting across the table, but they just kept eating and not paying attention. "It'll only be this one meal today, I promise." he said, putting the second forkful in his mouth. Virgil slapped the fork just as it reached the prince's mouth, scraping across his cheek. It wasn't that bad of an injury, nothing he couldn't take. He swallowed. That was when the emo had hit the last straw. He grabbed Roman by the throat and pulled him to his feet. Virgil was surprisingly muscular. He began throwing punches at the prince without relent, repeating over and over how he had been warned and he deserved this. The prince felt tears running down his face and called feebly for the other two to do something, only to be met with more reasons as to why he deserved this. Breathing was becoming a strain and he had to stop in order to preserve air. He squeezed his eyes shut as the blows got harder and faster, when all of a sudden they stopped. Although that could have been because his senses had numbed. He could tell there was talking going on around him, but he couldn't pinpoint who was talking. The tight grip around his neck ceased and he collapsed to the floor. More talking. Then he felt something unexpected. Two pairs of arms wrapped around him gently and one hand gently stroked his hair, much like the mysterious figure from last night. He so desperately wanted to lean into the touches, but that probably wasn't a smart move.

The noise around him faded and he felt the familiar sensation of rising up. The arms were still around him, which was odd. Usually only one or two people could rise up at the same time. "You can open your eyes, Roman." that smooth as honey voice said softly. Slowly he peeked his eyes open, and noticed he was in an unfamiliar room. This room was a darker, more comfortable brightness and shifted gently around the edges. The arms wrapped around him were scaly and clad in a yellow sweater. "I don't apologise for taking you out of the mindscape but my room is safer." the voice said. The prince turned his head to see who his rescuer was, and was shocked at his discovery. The man was none other than Janus, the disney villain. Wearing a sweater with a snake on it. The villain gave a small smile. Well, it would have been smaller and softer if the man's mouth on his snake half did not reach right across his cheek. But it was a surprisingly soft gaze nonetheless. Roman sat there in that embrace for a good minute, attempting to think of something to say. "Why did you stop him?" he managed to ask. "Stop who, Virgil?" the snake asked in a curious tone. "Mmn. I deserved all of that." the prince responded. "Listen to me, Roman. That was abuse. You do not deserve abuse, and you do not deserve to see your so-called family stand idly by while you are being physically and verbally assaulted. Why did you never tell anyone?" Janus asked, his spare sixth hand raised with the thumb and pinky tucked in to show he was not lying this time. "I tried at first. It was always my fault." Roman said, his body shaking again. "I mean someone who cares, dear. Like Remus and I." "Neither of you care about me though." "Of course not, I rescued you out of pure spite." "Well Remus hates me, at least." "Remus wishes more than anything that you could be friends with him again." "He'd probably murder Virge." Roman stated. Janus chuckled. "I suppose that is true. But neither of us think ill of any of you. Well, perchance there is some spite aimed at Virgil. But my point is, we are here to help you." he said with a wide, fangy smile. The door suddenly swung open and a certain duke bounded in. His eyes drifted immediately to the prince in Janus' arms. "Roro, who tried to murder you?" he asked, launching at his twin with open arms. "No one you should worry about." Janus said softly. Remus pulled his hug back and began examining his brother for notable injuries. He scanned the face and squinted. "That's not good, you look like Jan but worse!" he noted, eyeing the burn mark. Janus cleared his throat. "Maybe do that later, Rem." he said. The duke sat back on his feet. "Oki then." he said, his stache twitching. "Now listen here, Roman." Janus said softly but firmly. "You will always be safe here."