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bitchassbucky · 4 years ago

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Word Count: 2k

Warning/s: toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, gaslighting and manipulation, abduction, injuries were mentioned, stalking, dark!bucky x dark!reader, emotionally/mentally unstable!reader, dismemberment (not gore-y but still), three very special character mentions, shady corporate stuff, career sabotage?, food mention, sedation/drugging, f-words.

A/N: oh my god, this is the final chapter of CTRL. to all who read from the start, thank y'all so fucking much - from the bottom of my big-ass heart, thank you so much for coming along with this journey. this is my first FINISHED series, oh my god. to @babyboibucky (CTRL's number one fan), @sarge-barnes-sir, and @borikenlove thank you so much for indulging my inner degenerate GHJSDFG and for screaming (affectionately) at me when i first let y'all read the finished draft.

BUT THIS IS NOT THE END (just yet), i will be uploading TWO epilogues very soon: the explicit version and the not-so-explicit version. stay tuned!

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

epilogue:

.eps (explicit)

.eps (cut)

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Your demeanor, character, even tone, changed.

Calculated, cold, unnerving.

But you sat there like a housewife in front of her husband, eating spaghetti and meatballs. Acting all dandy like there isn’t a man strapped onto the chair four feet away from you.

“C’mon, darling, eat! I made your favorite,” your eyes twinkled as Bucky helplessly tugged on his restraints, “oh, sorry, you’re tied up.”

Hm, sick in the head, bad for the heart.

“What do you want?” Oh, wow, even talking hurts for him. His throat is all dried up, he tasted something bitter under his tongue.

You chuckled, moving half a meatball around your mostly empty plate, “for you to stop treating me like I’m stupid.” You spear the meat with your fork, swirling it in the sauce, “I know you’ve been… checking in on me, Bucky.”

Oh, fuck.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I was-- I mean, look at you--” He’s making it worse. You’re mad. You’re angry because he was being a good friend.

He only did that because you were lonely and he’s right: you are lonely.

So lonely that you’re willing to kidnap a grown man to keep you company, “I’m so sad for you.”

“You’re aware you’re the one’s been tied up, right?” You’re curt as you should be, scooting over near Bucky to feed him.

“I can’t eat that—” If he wasn’t sitting down and tied, Bucky would’ve vaulted over you and called the neighbors, she’s fucking crazy!

You giggled, rolling your eyes as if he had the freedom to make a choice right now, “if you’re thinking of screaming… More than half of my neighbors are felons or on parole, I doubt that they’ll call 911.”

Jutting forward the fork, you let the prongs gently touch Bucky’s lips, “now, eat! We have so much to talk about.”

“No. I don’t-- I’m not hungry.” He shakes his head, the fork hitting his chin and clanking down the floor.

“Just eat the fucking food, Steve!”

Bucky flinched at your sudden outburst. The words—the name—seeping in a moment later. Steve? Who the hell is Steve? Was he your husband? Boyfriend? His head throbbed again, his mouth filling with saliva like he’s about to throw up.

You kneel down, pulling a napkin from the table to wipe the meat and the sauce from the floor.

“This better not stain.”

—

He promised thrice.

Once over pasta and meatballs, once over dessert, and once when you were clearing the table.

You relented, of course. Half because you love him and half because it’s getting annoying.

“As long as you don’t leave me, okay?”

“Yes, I promise. I won’t leave you.”

Bucky’s still seating on the dinner chair, slightly slumped without the ropes holding him up, “look, I’m really sorry about the anesthetic, I went overboard with it.” You look over to him—at least he’s regaining his fingers and arms again.

“It’s okay, babe, I wouldn’t trust me either.” If he could stand up, he’d go over and hug you. Helping with the dishes, peppering you with sweet kisses.

A genuine laugh slips out of your lips, “ugh, still… I’m really sorry.”

The last of the plates were neatly stacked, cups and cutleries were placed gently on a drying rack. It was getting late, you could tell.

“I’m not mad, by the way.” You muse, prompting Bucky to lean forward, listening to you.

“What do you mean?” He takes your hand into his, ever so gently.

“You did that,” you squeeze his hand back, gazing into his soulful eyes, “because you love me.”

Did you know that some people could read microexpressions well? Bucky went through a whole lot of them before answering, “of course, I do.”

Contemplating whether you call him out on it or not, you hum, placing a gentle hand on his jaw, “it’s okay, you’ll learn how to love me.”

He has to. He has no other choice.

Bucky clears his throat, “have you seen my phone?” His tone was hopeful, upbeat, maybe he can reach out to someone, anyone, before you can do any more damage.

“Yeah, ‘s on the couch.”

He tried to move, he really did. Bucky’s fairly strong, he can bench an easy 140 on a good day. But even the beefiest motherfuckers have no match for Propofol.

“Don’t worry about your friends, they’re not worried about you, Buck.” The coolness of your tone sends Bucky into a panic—again. “D’you wanna check your messages though? There’s a lot of ‘em.”

Grabbing his phone, you asked Siri to read him his latest notifications.

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

From Joaquin: Where are you, man?

From John W.: Do you have copies?

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

Urgent: Gross Misconduct

From Joaquin: Bucky, what the fuck?

From Samuel Wilson: Pick up the phone, Barnes. You’re fired.

17 missed calls from an unknown number

From John W.: I knew you were a freak but holy shit, dude!

72 text messages from an unknown number

Bucky never really liked horror movies. It made him jumpy and anxious. Too paranoid, even. But now? Now he’s sure that people have never experienced sheer fright before.

His toes cramped inside his boots, his feet were cold, sweating. The little hairs on his legs stood up, goosebumps littering the entirety of his body. If he held his breath, he’s sure he could hear his heart hammering out of his chest. The blood rushes past his ears and onto the base of his skull—he’s gonna be sick.

“What,” he gulped back the saliva pooling in his mouth, “what did you do?”

You’re irritatingly calm, “well, I mean… We’re already together, what do you need those for, right?”

Putting a warm hand over his forehead, you cooed, “poor thing, you look sick.”

—

Bucky thinks it’s well past midnight when the anesthetic wore off.

His limbs were heavy, he had to lean on the wall every couple of steps to regain his balance. Helpless. He’s helpless and you both know it. As if it’s a bear trap, Bucky carefully took his phone from the coffee table.

Why would you leave it unattended?

The screen lights up as soon as he picked up, his lock screen littered with ‘fuck yous’, ‘sicko’, and his personal favorite, ‘motherfucker.’

Ignoring the glaring messages, he went straight for the emergency dialler and—you took out his SIM card, snapping it into two neat pieces, placing it beside the phone.

Bitch.

The golden surface of the card was scratched too, he can’t do anything, use it as a toothpick, maybe? His phone was just as good as a paperweight.

He looks out of the window, limping towards it. Even if he could climb over, it would take him forever to get onto the street. Your neighbors would probably think that he’s just on a bad trip.

“It’s bolted shut. Perks of living alone as a single female.” Your voice made him flinch back, like a kid whose hand was halfway down the cookie jar.

Bucky plays it off with a cough, he can’t be weak now, “no, babe, I was checking out a noise. You ready for bed?”

You smiled softly, taking his hand and draping his arm on your shoulders as you prop him against you, “almost, big guy. Gotta get you settled in bed first. Are you tired?”

Nodding, Bucky kisses your temple, “yeah.” He just needs to play with your sick little games until he regains his strength.

Where would he go? His reputation and his job are besmirched, his apartment is probably crawling with forensics too.

“You fell down and banged your head earlier. Nasty cut on your head too. I told you to not tire yourself much.”

You hit and drugged me but I digress, “Yes, darling. ‘M sorry.”

“You scared me, Buck. I thought you were dead.” Are these tears forming in your eyes?

“I’m not leaving you, not by any chance. I promise.”

He promises a fourth time.

—

Your bedroom was bigger than he thought. But of course, he only saw your desk and your bed through the webcam.

Save from the Ted Bundy-esque corkboard you have in front of your workspace, he feels weirdly at home. You tucked him in, reminding him to wake up every two hours for the painkillers.

“You’re not going to bed?” He muses from behind you, all cocooned in your blankets.

“Just need to take this phone call real quick, babe.” Your back was turned from him as you work on your company laptop. He noticed that the webcam is covered with white tape.

The sound of an incoming call filled the room before you quickly answer it, your voice turning hoarse and raspy as if you’ve been crying.

Hi, Mr. Wilson. I’m so sorry for the late call. Do I- do I need to come in tomorrow? I just... I don’t feel comfortable facing everyone—I used all my home hours this week and—

Miss L/N, I’m glad you reached out to me. Is it okay if I record this call for security purposes? It’s just for you, me, and the HR department.

You turned to Bucky, your face is stone-cold but your voice belonged to someone so utterly helpless.

No, you don’t have to call into work tomorrow… Or any other day.

A dainty gasp and a fucking sob comes out of your mouth, your eyes were telling a different story.

Am I fired?

God, no. Please, Miss L/N, don’t worry about that. We want you with us through this entire debacle. We want you to take some time off—paid. We’ll also grant you… a grievance package.

You could almost hear what he would say next.

As long as you don’t talk to any members of the press or any journalists until our friends in the PR department can clean this up.

A triumphant smile creeps on your bare features, putting a finger in front of your lips, you mimic a ‘shh’ gesture to Bucky.

You round up another mirthless sob as the CEO drones on about the bureaucracy of this whole thing.

He was really nice to me, you know? He took me out on dinners and lunches. He even brought me to his place and I– nothing happened but I can’t stop thinking about it.

I’m really sorry, Miss L/N. I thought he was…

A good guy? I really thought so too.

Please stay offline for a bit, just for the weekend, alright? Someone from the HR department will be in touch with you for the process. We don’t wanna be a hassle more than what Barnes is. On our behalf, please accept our deepest apologies.

Jesus, this guy had the PR department cook up an apology letter.

Thank you—thank you so much, Mr. Wilson. I’ll keep in touch.

You burst out in laughter a second after the call ended. Hearty laughter, the one where you can feel your belly tightening.

“Did you hear how good I was, baby? Oh my god, we had them fooled.”

We? Fuck your ‘we.’

You slide over the covers, propping up yourself with your elbow as you turn to face Bucky, “don’t worry, you don’t need them anymore. You have me, yeah? We have each other.”

—

Out of the most bizarre things that happened to him last week, finding dismembered fingers in the fridge was the least of his concerns.

“Honey!” Bucky calls out, holding the ziplock bag with a pair of tongs.

You bound down the stairs, your laptop in hand as you squint, “what am I looking at?”

Bucky hesitated, maybe he’s going insane too, “fingers. Dismembered fingers—are these yours?”

Setting down the laptop onto the table, you peck him on the cheek, smiling as if him holding a baggie with human remains is just your Sunday normal, “god, I hope not. I need my hands to do things.”

As soon as you look back at him, you dropped the facade: “those are Steve’s. Well, used to be.”

Bucky’s afraid to ask the question where’s the rest of him?

“You know the term pinky promise, right? Well, it has a dark origin.”

Just as fast as a bustling train, Bucky rakes his brain for all the times he promised you something. Hoping that he won’t end up with a stump for a hand.

One vividly bright memory is seared into his brain though, the days blurred together with sharp edges and mismatched colors: we love how we were taught to love.

So, who taught you how to love like this?

#bitchassbucky writes #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader smut #dark!bucky x reader fluff #dark!bucky x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader fluff

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ladyloveandjustice · 5 years ago

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Winter 2020 Anime Overview: Toilet-Bound Hanako-kun

Ok, so let’s get this out of the way first, 1. I adore this story so much and 2. Toilet Bound Hanako-kun has a horrible, horrible English title that is not actually at all representative of the story’s content and I have no idea what happened when it came to the team choosing that name. To the average English-speaking viewer/reader, this name 100% implies gross stuff and bathroom humor, and there is none in this show.

A Japanese reader on the other hand, would be more likely to recognize the name Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun as a spin on the classic ghost story “Hanako-san of the Toilet” only A BOY THIS TIME WHHHHA?” Basically, the story goes that a girl named Hanako in a red skirt haunts girls’ bathrooms in Japanese schools and if you knock on the third stall and call “Hanako-san” three times, she’ll appear. She might grant you a wish or pull you into Hell or something else, it varies.

(Her Wikipedia image, aww.)

Anyway, I dunno why the English title didn’t at least go with “Toilet Ghost Hanako-kun” or something that would have gotten the premise across even a little better (HE NOT TECHNICALLY BOUND BY THE TOILET EVEN, HE CAN GO ANYWHERE IN THE SCHOOL GROUNDS THE BATHROOM IS JUST HIS HOME BASE), but our boy Hanako haunting the girl’s bathroom only leads to broad jokes about our heroine being tasked with cleaning the bathroom and “dude you really shouldn’t be in here” comments, it’s pretty incidental.

Now that THAT’S out of the way, let’s talk about my LOVE FOR THIS STORY

Hanako-kun tells the story of a “regular” high school girl named Nene Yashiro, the mischievous and mysterious school ghost she befriends, and all the other weird monsters, exorcists, spirits and curses they encounter. It’s got a gorgeous, colorful bold aesthetic and art style that combines gothic and cute! It has a great mix of humor, intrigue, angst and fantasy action. basically if you love ghosts, monsters, Japanese mythology and legends, supernatural-human relationships, supernaturally fueled angst and drama, stories about trying to fix an unfair system the world has set up, wistful romance, a good shoujo manga with a Lot of Feelings (yes this is a shonen technically I’ll explain that later), weirdo dorks becoming friends AND MUCH MORE...this story will have something that will resonate with you. It’s got a lot going on, and it’s a ton of fun.

Hanako-kun is really one of those surprising stories that fits right into a hole in my story-loving heart I didn’t realize was still there, or that I’d actually been carrying since childhood. I love ghosts, see, and have since I was a kid!!! I knew this, but I kinda forgot how intensely I love them until this show reminded me again??? That’s because regular ghost stories/mysteries/whatever- I like them, but they don’t quite do it for me in the way more character-driven ones exploring the nature of being a ghost and humans and ghosts trying understand each other etc do. Stuff that really gets into the tragedy AND the fun fantasy aspect of ghosts, and plays the long game with it- and Hanako-kun scratches that itch perfectly.

Getting a little bit deeper into the premise of Hanako-kun, Nene is a very brave and sweet but not-all-that-bright girl (or, to put it more bluntly, she’s an idiot in the best way) who has a lot of romantic fantasies and insecurities and is VERY focused on them. After hearing a rumor at school that “Hanako-san of the bathroom” will grant wishes, she wishes to be able to confess to her crush and finds out its actually a weird ghost boy her age named Hanako haunting the bathroom! A lot of things happen, and she ends up cursed and bound to Hanako-kun, but also ends up slowly forming a friendship.

Turns out Hanako is the ghost in charge of the “seven mysteries/wonders” aka seven powerful supernatural entities that haunt this school (he’s number seven). These apparitions only supposed to terrorize students a LITTLE, because apparitions need to have rumors spread about them to remain in the human world.

(‘HAVE YOU HEARD?’ Oh hey shadow girls from Utena see you’ve moved to a new school.)

The rumors also generally dictate how powerful and dangerous the apparitions actually are- but SOMETHING MYSTERIOUS is changing the rumors around the school and making the apparitions go berserk and actually harm humans. So Hanako needs a human assistant to change the rumors and help him calm and seal the apparitions! That’s where Nene comes in.

Hanako himself is a very fun character- he’s very chaotic and revels in his whole “ gremlin ghost” persona, and is upfront about being a bit of an asshole. BUT he also makes his kindness, often good intentions and the fact he’ll have his friends back when it counts obvious from the beginning. B U T! He’s also got darkness and hidden depths to explore, and a lot of his persona is affected and masks deeper issues!

Our ghost boy is genuinely A TAD unstable deep down (as in he straight up has several untreated PTSD symptoms and that’s as disastrous as you’d expect) and packing some serious tragic backstory, as you might expect from a kid who died young and carries around a butcher’s knife, and it’s gonna come back to bite him and and all who care about him hard.

Especially when an overly enthusiastic exorcist named Kou Minamoto shows up! Kou is another one who’s very dumb and very good, a wannabe-shonen-protag with a heart of gold and strong sensitive, domestic side. He rounds out our main trio. Also he gets a tragic, emotionally intense relationship with yet another ghost boy that sings to my heart.

(Yes Hanako’s helping Nene to do the thing)

You may be able to tell, this story has INTENSE good-shoujo vibes despite technically being a shonen in a way that I love- it’s story very driven by big emotions, a variety of fucked up and tragically complex relationships, teen hormones running wild, etc, and it’s just delicious.

Nene is the normal-person-audience-surrogate-girl in a way that is more common for a shoujo protag, and the way her emotional connections to everyone, her sweeping romantic fantasies and her interiority are consistently in focus when she’s there- yeah, she’s definitely a plucky shoujo protag, 100%. And I’m all about that!!!

One thing I especially appreciate (though this comes across more strongly in the manga than the anime thanks to the anime rearranging things) is when Nene finds out about Hanako’s Heavy Baggage, she actually takes some time to herself to consider whether she can handle dealing with someone with these intense issues as a kid who’s never encountered stuff like this before- it’s not assumed by the story that the Sweet Girl is Obligated to help the Tragic Boy. I go into more detail about this part in this part here, but it’s that kind of attention to Nene’s needs that makes her role in the story work. Hanako and Nene and everyone’s struggles to get the hang of and properly navigate honest communication and mutual support in relationships are often really great and real-feeling

The story has a lot more things I love packed in to it- a dorky-but-still-deeply-unsettling villain gang who’s screwed up interactions are just as fun as our protagonists, yokai, A CURSED LIBRARY, some great ladies in addition to Nene, meditations on the nature of life, death, themes about fighting nihilism, and so on...I could seriously go on forever. It’s good stuff, and there’s lots of good weird supernaturals to meet.

The story’s also got tons of intrigue! The overarching plot and Hanako’s Mysterious Past is still in the process of unfolding, but it’s been great drama every step of the way! As mentioned before, the story also really relies on funny character dynamics, interaction and development to carry the whole thing and balance the drama.

The anime itself does have some pacing issues bc they crammed a lot into the first season and rearranged some stuff- an entire two chapter arc was skipped and was unlikely to be covered in the anime and some parts are noticeably rushed. I still really like the anime and it’s a solid adaptation. I love how much of the manga’s detailed aesthetic it managed to keep as well as the amazing voice acting and it made a few small but important additions. But there are some notable bumps- of course this just led me to go binge the manga (up to volume 12 is legally available digitally) and BOY DO I NOW LOVE THIS STORY EVEN MORE.

Now obviously, just because it is Exactly My Shit in a lot of ways doesn’t mean Hanako-kun is the much quested for “unproblematic fave”, there’s several caveats you should probs be aware of- its shoujo vibes also mean some classic shoujo ~Problematic tropes~ and a couple shounen ones.

THE LIST:

-Just as a general content overview thing: if this wasn’t clear the show deals heavily with death, body horror and other horror aspects. There’s heavily implied suicide and abuse and so on- as mentioned, the main character is traumatized and shows a lot of symptoms of PTSD, and Nene has to struggle to navigate her relationship with him because of this, as does Kou.

-Hanako himself has the whole ~loveable pervert~ and ~slightly possessive shoujo bad boy~ schtick going as part of his mischevious persona. In the anime so far, he never actually gropes or comments on not-in-his-naughty-mags-people’s breasts or anything of that level thankfully, but he’s very flirty, clingy, will loudly bring up porn, fond of the ol’ *says something that purposefully sounds sexually possessive* HAHAHA U THOUGHT I MEANT SOMETHING DIRTY RIGHT LOL ACTUALLY I DIDN’T.”

(My unnecessary ‘this part is kinda interesting!’ ramble: Nene always lists “sexual harassment” among Hanako’s flaws (she loves listing them), but doesn’t get visibly uncomfortable with his flirtiness or seem to mind it most times, which at least makes the whole thing more tolerable for me.

(since she doesn’t seem to mind that part and its clear he does it bc of actual affection for her, it’s actually p. cute how huggy he is.)

The one time it does cross the line and genuinely upset her, it’s treated seriously, Hanako is genuinely regretful and apologizes. That’s one of my fave moments in the story and the way it’s handled is well done.

This incident that he’s honestly pretty socially clueless as kid who died young and a lot of his bravado is to cover that up and keep people at a distance- this is a trope into itself that can use unpacking but I do at least appreciate that this is a considered character trait that’s part of his whole messed up package rather than something that thrown in there Just to Be a Fanservice Trope. (Especially since the manga confirms he never acted particularly pervy while alive, further cementing this is an affected persona).

-There’s a running gag around Nene’s insecurity over her thick ‘daikon shaped’ ankles and boys treating her badly for it.

One one hand, her body image issues are relatable, on the other, it feels cruel and annoying just how much the show finds ways to bring it up and humiliate her over and over again.

(My unnecessary “this is part is kinda interesting” ramble:The one thing i did realize that despite bringing it up constantly, we at least have no “i’m going to do this to lose weight” or “go on a diet” rhetoric,like this is just part of Nene’s body type and she knows she can’t change it? Which is kinda interesting. And I’ve spotted what might be foreshadowing something plot relevant’s going to happen with her ankles (I DON’T KNOW HOW, BUT GOD I PUT NOTHING PAST THIS STORY) so uh yeah??? either way it’s not good tho)

-”Obsessive and twisted love” is a running theme in this story, and while it’s generally acknowledged as unhealthy, it can be played for comedy in a way that could make viewers/readers uncomfortable. There’s a couple characters who’s entire thing so far is “obsessively in love with this one person” (and the one only focused on in the manga so far is one of the least interesting characters tbh ugh)

-The antagonist of the show is a member of a main character’s family, and the manner he acts towards pretty much everyone, including (and really especially) his family member, verges on seductive. This is presented as deliberately unsettling and treated as a marker of how unstable and scary he is- and though the backstory between them hasn’t been fully delved into, it’s pretty much all but confirmed he abused this family member physically and emotionally.

-The story has like, A LOT of queer subtext and pretty-heavy queer coding for one character especially, but the few times queerness blatantly comes up in the story, it’s played as a joke in the “haha that’d be kinda weird” way (aside from the rando boys who have a crush on Teru, handled pretty neutrally). It’s not as malicious as a lot of animanga can get (ONE MANGA INCIDENT ASIDE), but it’s something to Be Aware Of, and it makes it clear we’re unlikely to see subtext rise to text and makes some moments feel baity.

-And probably more I might have missed! The manga also has Some Shit in addition all the Good Shit that hasn’t been adapted yet, an early arc has Hanako crossing a serious line etc.

BUT despite how messy it is, I think it’s clear I have a lot of love for this story. In fact, I wouldn’t trade away a good chunk of its messiness (DEFINITELY SOME JUST NOT ALL), it kinda works for the characters and works in the “this story really feed my inner teen” way. Some of the trashy parts are exactly My Trash, basically.

So, I knew I’d ramble on for a while when I talked about his show, but if you’ve read this far, thanks, and I hope that means you’re gonna check out and maybe enjoy this story, bc i need more people to join me in Hanako Hell.

#toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #jibaku shonen hanako kun #winter 2020 anime #anime overview #hanako kun #nene yashiro #yashiro nene #kou minamoto #minamoto kou #yugi amane #amane yugi #my reviews

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acanvasofabillionsuns · 5 years ago

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these fools need to learn communication

for @figurative-siren-song‘s Thing!! credits to the fabulous @main-chive and @an-absolute-failure for betaing ( ˘ ³˘)♥ ( ˘ ³˘)♥

Summary: I think the title says it all tbh Warnings: alcohol mention, insecurity, catastrophizing, Virgil panics some + doesn’t have good self care habits, one (1) curse word, Remus is mentioned Wordcount: just a little under 6k

Additional note!! The section that begins with “Remy and Janus are cuddling on Remy’s bed...” is a repeat of the previous scene, but from another POV

Virgil is so tired. It feels like every day there’s some new crisis to deal with or important thing to discuss, and he just wants a couple days to himself to unwind a bit.

But since he can’t get that, he wants a few hours to gripe with someone over everything that’s been going down lately.

Roman is way too dramatic for his tastes, and Patton would probably be too nice about what’s happening. So he goes to Logan. (He briefly toys with the idea of going to one of the Others, but things are… tense with them, so he discards it quickly.)

“Yes?” Logan asks, opening the door to their room.

“I was wondering if you, uh, wanted to complain with me about all the stuff that’s been happening lately? There’s been a lot, and you’ve probably had to deal with more of it than me, and I thought you might like to commiserate? It’s chill if you don’t want to, though,” Virgil says, shifting awkwardly.

“You are welcome to join us.” Logan opens the door wider and steps to the side.

“Us?” Virgil echoes, confused, until he goes inside and sees Janus sitting in a beanbag chair, swirling a wine glass idly. “Oh.”

“Lovely to see you too, Virgil,” fae says dryly.

Virgil scrunches up his nose and wonders if getting to complain about all the recent shenanigans is worth spending time in faer company. Janus mimics the expression—is fae mocking him?—and holds up a bottle of wine, shaking it a little to show that it’s still mostly full. Virgil sighs, shrugs, and conjures a plain beanbag and wine glass, collapsing into the former and holding out the latter to Janus. Fae obligingly fills it, and Virgil leans back in his beanbag, sipping it as Logan sits down.

“So what’re we talking about?” Virgil asks.

“Y’know the other day when…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil squints at Remy.

“Not to be rude,” Logan begins, but Virgil cuts them off.

“What are you doing here?” He demands.

“Real welcoming, Virgil,” Janus remarks snidely.

“He’s intruding on our thing!”

“Yes, and it’s not like you intruded on our thing only a month ago and we were hospitable, right? You totally have the right to snap at Remy.”

“Shut up.”

“Y’all are gossiping, babes,” Remy says. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

Virgil opens his mouth to protest automatically, then finds that that’s a fair point. Remy does love gossip. He shuts his mouth reluctantly.

“Welcome to the group, Remy,” Janus declares, overexaggerating faer words and smirking at Virgil. He makes a mocking face back but doesn’t comment, crossing his arms as Janus conjures up a beanbag chair for Remy. The little pest. Now everyone but Virgil has a beanbag chair rather than a plain beanbag; this was absolutely deliberate.

Virgil scowls at Janus and sinks further down into his beanbag, letting the conversation flow around him without paying attention to what’s being said. Whatever; at least his seat isn’t a specific shape and therefore can be squished into a different position or turned upside down and still be the same. See any of them try to do that with their chair-shaped beanbags, only good for one shape and if you wanted to shift positions you had to make do with what you had, instead of adjusting the beanbag.

“Virgil?” Logan asks.

“Wh—yeah?”

“Are you alright?”

Virgil pushes himself more upright and sits on his hands. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure, babes?” Remy tilts his head down to look over his sunglasses at him.

“Yeah.” Virgil forces a smile. “Just… need to readjust my beanbag.” He stands up and flips it over, squishing it in a few spaces until it’s like he wants. The other three watch him in silence, making the affair at least twice as awkward as it would’ve been if they’d ignored him. Virgil sits back down, face red. “What’re we talking about?”

“These two were telling me about something that happened with Roman yesterday?” Remy says.

“Oh my gosh,” Virgil groans. “Okay, what do you already know?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is a crisis, Virgil is having a crisis, a dilemma, a predicament, an emergency; sound the alarms, clang the warning bell, and gather the troops, Virgil has a crush.

This shouldn’t be happening! Not allowed! He’s too emotionally unstable to handle it and will mostly likely make a fool out of himself. Which is also absolutely not allowed.

And! The crush is on Janus, which is yet another not allowed thing. Last Virgil checked, he was still just tolerating faer presence, not getting a crush on faer. That’s just plain rude of his brain, please take it back he doesn’t want it.

He looks up at his ceiling, since that’s as far back as Virgil can roll his eyes without being in pain. Okay, he’s staring his brain down, and he’ll stop having a crush in three, two, one—

He pauses, thinks of Janus, groans. That didn’t work. And to be honest he didn’t really expect it to, but it still? would’ve been nice? if his brain could work with him for once??

Virgil sighs and flops backwards.

Okay, if demanding his brain stop having a crush didn’t work, maybe he can just… avoid faer. Maybe it’s just infatuation or something—doesn’t infatuation happen right after you meet someone? His brain asks. Shut up, he tells it—and if he stays away for a few days it’ll go away. That’s probably it.

He glances over at his minifridge and small hoard of non-perishables and mentally calculates. He’s got enough for about a week, that should be plenty enough time.

Virgil waves his hand and his door locks. There. Now he can just. sit around and avoid thinking about Janus until this crush/infatuation/whatever-it-is goes away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is great, Remy is having a great time, get some bells to ring and a rooftop for him to shout off, because Remy has a crush.

To be accurate, he has three: on Janus, Virgil, and Logan. He isn’t exactly sure when they started, only that he just now realized he has them, but he’s definitely not complaining.

He’s also definitely not going to sit around and pine silently for them or something. If he’s going to get rejected, better to get it over with and work on healing than let himself think there might be a chance for however long. (And, yeah, it would definitely hurt, if one or all of them didn’t like him—hurt a lot—but he’s ignoring that part.) And the revelation is giving him an extra burst of confidence (and it’s not like he didn’t already have that in spades) so he’s going to shoot his shot as soon as possible.

His brain decides the most efficient way to confess to the three of them is to wander around the mindscape until he finds them, so he does that until he bumps into Logan.

“Logan,” Remy declares. “I’m gay.”

“Yes,” Logan says, pulling out their flashcards and flipping through a few of them before pulling one out and showing it to him. “‘We been knew’ that, Remy.”

“Nice,” Remy compliments, throwing an arm around their shoulders. “But you see, my dear nerd, I’m gay for you.” He pokes their chest for emphasis.

Logan turns bright red and alternates between wordlessly gaping and stammering so hard Remy can’t make out anything they’re trying to say. They extract themself from Remy’s arm and smooth out their tie, their blush toning down only slightly.

“I… will have to think on this,” Logan says finally, which Remy interprets as Logan for ‘too gay rn; need some time to calm down and consider my feelings’.

“Cool; take all the time you need,” Remy tells them, flashing them a peace sign. “I’m gonna go find Janus and Virgil, see you in a bit.”

“Alright,” Logan says, and Remy takes that as his cue to wander off in search of his other two crushes.

The next one he runs into is Janus, who he immediately tells “I’m gay.”

“No,” fae snarks. “I thought you were straight.”

Remy gasps and scoffs offendedly (at the same time, because his need to be Dramatic™ at all times overrides any petty things like biology, especially when he’s been teased).

“Well, I was going to say I’m gay for you,” Remy tells faer, pressing a hand to his chest. “But if we’re on such a disconnect I’m just not sure anymore.”

“No, wait!” Janus says. “I’m gay for you too, darling, please.”

Remy immediately decides that any pet names for him are illegal; his face has no right blushing like that just because Janus called him ‘darling’. He covers his face, hoping that’ll hide the blush.

“Fine,” he mutters.

“What was that?” Janus smirks. “I couldn’t hear you through your hands, darling.” Fae gently takes his wrists and pulls his hands down. “There’s your gorgeous face.”

“Rude,” Remy huffs.

“But you’re gay for me anyway,” Janus purrs.

“I regret telling you that.”

“No you don’t.”

“No I don’t,” Remy sighs. “You wanna be boyfriends? Or partners or something, if you don’t want to use ‘boyfriends’?”

“I would love that,” Janus smiles.

“Great, me too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan knocks on Remy’s door.

“Come in!”

Logan walks in, sees Remy and Janus cuddling together, puts two and two together and gets four. Oh, they think, they’re dating.

Logan walks in, sees Remy and Janus cuddling together, and squares the twos instead of adding them. I took too long to answer, they assume. Remy must’ve gotten bored or didn’t want to wait and got with Janus instead.

“Oh,” they say. “My apologies. I’ll leave you two be.” They turn to leave.

“Wait, babes,” Remy says. Logan turns to see him stretching out a hand towards them. “What’d you need?”

“I did not need something, per se,” Logan mumbles. “However, I was going to accept Remy’s implied proposition, though it seems I misinterpreted it.”

“Hon, speak up, I can barely hear you,” Remy tells them. “And use less nerd talk; what I could hear I couldn’t understand.”

Logan sighs. “I interpreted your informing me that you are gay for me as you indirectly asking me to be in a relationship with you, but it seems that was a misstep on my part. If you don’t mind, I’ll be taking my leave now before I embarrass myself further.”

“Wait, why do you think I don’t want to be in a relationship with you?” Remy asks.

“It appears that you are dating Janus?” Logan says. “Did I misinterpret that as well?”

“No, we’re dating, but I wanna date you too,” Remy tells them. “If you don’t like Janus like that you don’t have to date faer, as long as you’re cool with sharing me.”

Logan blushes. “That would be satisfactory.”

“Janus?” Remy looks over to faer.

“I’m fine sharing,” Janus says.

“Actually,” Logan admits, blushing harder. “I feel I should confess that I harbor romantic feelings for you as well, Janus—and Virgil too, while I’m admitting these things—though if you do not wish to be in a romantic relationship with me then I am perfectly content to be metamours with you.”

“I’m certainly not opposed to dating you,” Janus tells them.

“So we’re all dating each other, then?” Remy asks.

“It certainly seems that way,” Logan answers, at the same time Janus says, “Yes.”

“Great.” Remy grins. “Come join the ‘yay I’ve got new boyfriends’ pile, Logan.” He pats the empty patch of bed beside him. Logan wrinkles their nose fondly and sits beside Remy, who pulls them down to sprawl across his stomach and onto Janus’s lap. Logan squawks, and tries to pull themself back up, but Remy pushes them back down, declaring, “No sitting up allowed.”

Logan snorts and looks over to Janus. Fae leans forward to kiss their forehead and then settles back against Remy’s side.

“Traitors, the both of you,” Logan huffs, though they can’t stop the smile spreading across their face as they say it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remy and Janus are cuddling on Remy’s bed when someone knocks on the door.

“Come in!” Remy calls. Logan walks in, looks at the two of them.

“Oh, my apologies. I’ll leave you two be.” They turn around. Remy stops them and needles them into admitting that Remy had asked them out—the exact same way he had asked Janus out, fae notes—but that was “a misstep on their part” somehow.

“Wait, why do you think I don’t want to be in a relationship with you?” Remy asks.

“It appears you are dating Janus? Did I misinterpret that as well?”

“No, we’re dating, but I want to date you too,” Remy explains. “If you don’t like Janus like that you don’t have to date faer, as long as you’re cool with sharing me.”

And Janus knows he’s just explaining the situation and Logan’s options, but wow, way to let faer have a say in whether or not fae wants to date Logan or share Remy with them. Fae’s fine with both, but that’s not the point.

“That would be satisfactory.” Logan blushes a pretty shade of pink and unkind thoughts who? Janus doesn’t know them.

“Janus?” Remy looks over to faer, silently asking for faer opinion, and that also helps.

“I’m fine sharing,” Janus confirms.

“Actually,” Logan says, blushing harder and it looks like Janus might just have a new favorite color, wow. “I feel I should confess that I harbor romantic feelings for you as well, Janus—and Virgil too, while I’m admitting these things—though if you do not wish to be in a romantic relationship with me then I am perfectly content to be metamours with you.”

“I’m certainly not opposed to dating you.” Janus grins.

“So we’re all dating each other, then?” Remy asks.

“Yes,” Janus says, while Logan answers with, “It certainly seems that way.”

“Great.” Remy grins. Between that smile and Logan’s blush, Janus just might die from gay. “Come join the ‘yay I’ve got two new boyfriends’ pile, Logan.”

Logan wrinkles their nose—how is faer boyfriend so cute—and sits down. Remy pulls them down on both his and faer laps, and he and Logan struggle briefly.

“No sitting up allowed,” Remy declares, and Logan snickers and looks over to Janus, looking a little like they’re trying to ask for help with their eyes. Janus, being the good boyfriend fae is, kisses their forehead.

“Traitors, the both of you,” Logan accuses, smiling.

“You love us, though,” Remy says.

Logan sighs. “I suppose I do.”

“And,” Remy continues. “You said you like Virgil?”

“Yes,” Logan confirms. “Is that a problem for either of you?”

“None here, babes,” Remy says.

“Here either,” Janus adds. Fae kind of fades out the conversation after that, watching Remy and Logan talk and trying not to let faer negative thoughts get the best of faer.

Because fae can’t help but notice how Logan had confessed to Remy before faer. And Remy had asked Logan out before asking faer out.

And Janus knows they both like faer! They’re all in a relationship! Currently cuddling together!

...Still stings, though. (Fae still feels a little like second place.)

“Janus?”

Fae looks up. “Yeah?”

“What do you think of asking Virgil to join our relationship the day after tomorrow when we do our Thing?” Logan asks.

“Sounds good,” Janus says, smile only a little forced. Fae put faer thoughts firmly aside and rejoins the conversation, enjoying the warmth and comfort of faer boyfriends beside and on top of faer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan frowns, tapping their foot anxiously a few times.

“Should we give him another few minutes?” They ask. “It’s already been fifteen.”

“I don’t think he’s coming.” Remy says.

“He’s hidden himself away for a few days before, but he’s never missed our Thing,” Janus points out.

“Yeah.” Remy frowns. “Wonder what’s wrong.”

“Me too,” Logan says.

“You think we should go ask him?” Remy asks.

Logan hums, considering it. If Virgil hadn’t come out for their Thing, whatever was keeping him in his room was serious. “Maybe give him another day or two.”

“Alright.”

Janus grimaces, tapping faer foot rapidly. “Do… do you guys want to do it anyway, even though Virgil’s not here?”

“No,” Logan says immediately, shaking their head.

“Me neither,” Janus sighs, slowing their tapping.

“Lo, I know you said to leave him alone, but do you think we could still give him a note or something?” Remy asks, frowning. “I’m worried.”

“I am as well,” Logan admits. “And I don’t see why not.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil sighs and pulls his headphones off, unplugging them from his phone. His legs are a little achy, which is probably a sign he’s been sitting for too long and needs to stretch or something.

He wanders over to the pub table he’s got in the corner, thinking that could be a good spot to set his phone while he dances to music (no one’s around to judge him, it’s fun, and it’s a good way to stretch his legs, okay?).

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees something white on the ground by the door. Crouching down to examine it, it looks like a piece of paper someone folded in half and shoved under the door. Frowning in confusion, he unfolds it.

“Hey, Virgil!” it reads. “It’s been a few days since you emerged from your room and we’re a little worried. Hope you’re alright! Missed you at the Thing today.” It’s signed by Janus, Remy and Logan, though scribbled to the side is the addition, “Apologies for Remy’s poor grammar. I hope you are well. -Logan”

Virgil’s brain latches onto “Missed you at the Thing today.” They’d done it without him? It was their Thing and they’d just excluded him? Had they only noticed he hadn’t left his room because he wasn’t at the Thing? Were they upset he wasn’t there? Like ‘where in the world were you; we had to do the Thing without you’? You aren’t a necessary part of the group, his brain whispers to him, but you bailed on them and they’re mad about it.

Virgil clamps his hands over his ears and plops to the floor. Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, he tells his mind. They don’t hate me; they gave me a letter to check in with me while respecting that I might not want to come out and not wanting to force me to.

Really? Or maybe they just couldn’t be bothered to do more than shove a note under the door.

Shut up.

Virgil focuses on doing his 4-7-8 breathing method and firmly ignores his mind telling him his friends now hate him. When his breathing is finally steady and his brain’s stopped hissing poison, he slowly relaxes his muscles and takes his hands off his ears.

Your friends are still your friends, he reminds himself. They’re concerned about your wellbeing, not mad at you, and they still like you.

Platonically, his mind adds sourly. Virgil frowns at the thought.

So far his plan to get rid of his crush on Janus had only revealed his crushes on Logan and Remy as well. Turns out when you’re avoiding thinking about one friend you like, your mind will just go to your other two friends and present some shiny new ‘liking them as more than friends’ idea to you. Which is just more incentive to hide in his room as long as he can.

Virgil sighs, standing up and placing the note facedown on the table. He’s got the majority of a week before he has to face anyone, and even if he doesn’t feel like dancing anymore, he’s still got plenty to do to occupy his time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan knocks firmly on Virgil’s door.

“Virgil,” they call. “It has been five days since anyone has seen you outside your room. This has not happened before and we are all concerned. Please come out to ease our worries.”

No answer. They wait a full minute, their fist still half-raised from knocking, but still nothing.

“Move, please,” Remy says, inserting himself in Logan’s place as they step out of the way. He begins knocking loudly and quickly, barely a step down from banging. “Virgil! Get your pretty ass out here!”

No sign Virgil’s heard anything.

“Maybe he’s asleep?” Logan suggests.

“At 4PM?” Janus asks. “Virgil doesn’t nap and even a night owl like him doesn’t sleep in this late.”

Logan frowns. “Virgil is not an owl—”

“It’s an expression,” Remy explains.

“Ah.”

“Virgil,” Janus tries. “We’re all really worried. Please just open the door? You don’t even have to come out, just let us know you’re alright in there.”

They all watch the doorknob hopefully for a minute. When nothing happens, Remy sighs.

“I don’t think he’s comi—”

There’s a little shrsh of paper brushing against something as a post-it slides under the door. Janus snatches it up eagerly and the other two crowd beside faer to read it.

“I’m fine. Not coming out, sorry.”

Remy sighs again.

“At least we know he’s alright?” Logan offers.

“Yeah,” he agrees, leaning against them. “I’m just worried, y’know? Just a post-it doesn’t really help.”

“I do know; I’m worried too. However, there is nothing we can do to get Virgil out of his room, short of forcing our way inside and dragging him, until he’s ready.”

“Yeah,” Remy says again.

“Wanna go cuddle until we all feel a little better?” Janus offers. Remy smiles softly.

“Yeah.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil scowls at his minifridge. It’s empty, the traitor, and he’s run out of all the food in his room. He has to go out and possibly encounter other people. A tragedy.

He leaves his room at midnight, of course. Less chance of running into people, plus then when Roman makes a comment about how “it’s nice to see you’ve finally emerged from your room” Virgil can laugh at his confusion when he tells him he came out of his room a while ago, princey, where’ve you been?

Less chance of running into people doesn’t equal no chance, unfortunately, and Patton is in the kitchen baking cookies when Virgil comes out to raid it. A weird time to be baking, but Virgil will probably get warm cookies out of it, so he doesn’t question it.

“Hey, Pat,” he greets.

“Hey, kiddo! Good to see you.”

“You too,” Virgil says, shooting him a finger gun. “Anything interesting happen while I was in my room?”

Patton hums thoughtfully. “Remus switched the sugar and salt and the flour and powdered sugar this morning. I borrowed the Lilo and Stitch DVD the other day and Roman and Remus got in a fight about whether or not Roman was hiding it from Remus. Logan stayed up all night on Tuesday and collapsed around lunchtime Wednesday. Janus found another snake in the Imagination and Roman had to steal it to return it home. Oh! Logan and Janus and Remy all got together.”

Virgil freezes. “Like, got together and talked like the four of us usually do?”

“Nope! In a relationship. About the time you hid away in your room, actually.” Patton giggles a little. “It’s been really cute; Remy and Janus carried Logan upstairs after his allnighter and they’re all very sweet together.”

“Oh,” Virgil says, trying not to sound hopelessly crushed.

“Virgil?” Patton asks, turning around to look at him. “You okay?”

He forces a smile. “Just peachy.”

Patton snorts. “I doubt that, but I won’t pry if you don’t want to tell me.”

“Thanks,” Virgil says, smile more genuine now. “Anything else to report?”

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” Patton says. “But if you like, I read a really good book the other day and I could share the plot with you?”

“Sounds good,” Virgil tells him, pushing himself up on the counter as Patton launches into a rambly explanation of the storyline. They pause in the middle to pull the cookies out of the oven, and then munch on them as Patton finishes the story.

“...And then it ends on a nice, hopeful, the-future-holds-great-things ending!” Patton concludes.

“Nice,” Virgil says, shooting Patton a little smile, who returns a beaming one. “Thanks for telling me about it.”

“Thanks for listening!” Patton returns.

“Do you mind if I…” Virgil gestures towards the cookies.

“Take as many as you like,” Patton tells him. Leaning forward conspiratorially, he adds, “If you take all of them and someone washes all the dishes, then the others won’t know there were cookies to have in the first place.”

“Thanks, Patton.”

Virgil scoops up the rest of the cookies—about a dozen or so—and bids Patton goodnight before heading back into his room. He gets a little resealable baggie to slide all the cookies into and sets it on his table.

Then, with nothing else to occupy his mind, he dwells over the fact that Janus, Remy, and Logan are all in a relationship.

Patton said they’d gotten together about the time he locked himself in his room. Had they noticed he wasn’t anywhere to be found and immediately gotten together? And then only given him the note and knocked on his door out of a sense of obligation or something? And maybe because they were mad at him for missing the Thing? They wouldn’t do that.

Would they?

He doesn’t think so.

He hopes not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What?”

“Hey, Janus, it’s okay! He’s probably just sleeping or something!”

“No, he doesn’t get to come out at midnight after he’s been in his room for a week and then not come out for breakfast or something so the rest of us can know he’s alive!” Janus fumes. Fae marches over to Virgil’s room and bangs on the door. “Open up before I kick the door down!”

Janus gives him three seconds before fae backs up, planning to kick the door down. Fae could do it. Fae’d seen an article online.

“Jay, honey, wait,” Remy says, putting a hand on faer shoulder. “I’m upset too, but I’m not going to kick his door down.”

“No, because I’m going to do it for you.”

“Can we not kick my door down?” Janus turns to see Virgil, standing half in his doorway, but still out of his room. Fae immediately drags him all the way out and into a hug.

“Only if you promise not to do that again,” fae tells him.

“Fine,” Virgil sighs. He half raises his arms, then hesitates.

“Hug me back, dummy,” Janus demands. Virgil chuckles a little and hugs faer. After a bit longer, Janus gives a final squeeze before releasing him, moving back a step and brushing faerself off. “That was because I missed you, but if you breathe a word of that to anyone I’ll prank you for a week.” Fae punches him. “And that was because you worried me, jerk.”

“Ow!” Virgil rubs his arm. “Sorry for worrying you.”

“Try not to sound too sincere now.” Fae crosses faer arms and rolls faer eyes.

“I really am sorry for worrying you,” Virgil says. “All of you,” he adds, looking over to where Remy and Logan had been silently watching their exchange.

“You’re forgiven,” Remy tells him. “If I get a hug too.”

Virgil shrugs loosely. “Sure.” He hugs Remy, then turns to Logan. They open their arms, and Virgil sinks into them. Janus steals another hug from Virgil once he pulls away from Logan.

“Sap,” Virgil teases.

“You can’t prove anything.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things have… gone back to normal. Technically.

Virgil hasn’t hidden away for longer than a day again, and even then, it only happened once. They’ve kept doing their Thing every week or so, and to the outside observer nothing would appear different than it had been before.

But it’s… kind of like when one “cleans their room” by shoving all their stuff into a closet. The room may appear neat, but things haven’t been put in their place, just pushed to the side to be ignored.

Similarly, there seems to be a barely-there tension in their interactions with Virgil. Logan doesn’t usually notice it, but sometimes, in lulls of conversation or merely at random intervals, they’ll feel it, simmering under the surface of things. They don’t like it, both because tension, as a rule, is uncomfortable, and because they don’t know why it’s there.

They suspect it has something to do with why Virgil locked himself in his room for a week. He still hasn’t told them why he’d done it, shrugging off any questions or deflecting the conversation away from the topic.

They also think it probably has at least a little to do with the fact that Janus, Remy, and themself still have not informed Virgil of their relationship.

Virgil is smart, and very observant. He has almost certainly picked up on the fact that the three of them are dating. He is also the type of person to pretend he doesn’t know something if he feels it is being kept secret from him, and the type to internally question why information is being “withheld” from him, and assume it is something he has done.

Logan knows this, and has been pushing Janus and Remy to tell Virgil about their relationship. Janus and Remy think they should wait longer, give Virgil more time. The first couple of weeks after Virgil emerged from his room, Logan could excuse, because they’d been rediscovering their rhythm. But enough time has passed that they have all settled back into their rhythm and now they need to inform Virgil of their relationship and correct any misconceptions he most likely has over why they have taken so long to tell him.

To return to the bedroom comparison from earlier, Logan has never been one to shove things into a closet and proclaim a room clean. Everything should be put in its place and the only things to go in the closet should be things that belong there.

This weird tension and putting off informing Virgil of their relationship do not go in “the closet.”

So, a month after the week Virgil locked himself in his room, Logan opens the figurative closet door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We’re in a relationship,” Logan tells Virgil at one of their Things. Janus and Remy’s gazes both snap over to Logan warningly, but the cat is out of the proverbial bag and this has been a long time coming anyway. “Remy, Janus, and I.”

Virgil stares for a moment.

“Cool,” he says finally. “Congratulations.” And then, since he’s a petty jerk, “Since I locked myself in my room for a bit, right?”

The three of them exchange glances.

“Yes,” Janus tells him.

“How’d you know that, doll?” Remy asks.

“Patton told me.” Virgil half-shrugs. Before he can stop himself, he adds, “Saw your chance and took it, huh?”

Logan blinks. “What do you mean by that?”

“It’s nothing,” Virgil says. If he tells them, they’re going to “correct” him, even if he’s right and they just feel bad about it.

“Um, no, that’s clearly not nothing, hon,” Remy sort of laughs, though his expression is serious. Virgil shrugs again, this time with both shoulders.

“Virgil,” Janus commands. “Tell us.”

Virgil rolls his eyes and tips his head back so he doesn't have to look at them. “I’m just saying, we’re all sort of a group, and you didn’t want to feel awkward with the three of you getting together and me not, so once you noticed I was out of the way, you took the opportunity and asked each other out.”

“No,” Remy corrects, because that is so far from what actually happened it might as well be on the other side of the planet. “That is definitely not what happened, V, dear.”

“Sure,” Virgil agrees, in a way that says he clearly doesn’t believe him but doesn’t want to fight over it.

“You think we, what—saw you locked yourself in your room and decided that was a good chance to exclude you?” Logan asks incredulously.

Virgil snaps and points at them. “That would be what happened.”

“That’s not what happened,” Logan insists.

“Look,” Virgil says, tilting his head up to look at the three of them. “You don’t have to lie to me to be nice or spare my feelings or whatever. I get it.”

“I don’t think you do,” Janus tells him.

“Then explain it to me.”

“I realized how gay I was,” Remy explains. “Ran into Jan and Lo, asked them out, and we all got together. We decided to ask you at the next one of these Things we had, since that was the next time we were guaranteed to all be together alone. When you didn’t show up, we got worried but wanted to give you space, so we mostly left you be until Patton told us you’d come out and then we pulled you out of your room because we figured you were ready enough to come out.”

“And then, what, you just chose not to tell me you guys were dating for a month?” Virgil asks.

“We were trying to find a good time,” Logan tells him.

“It’s been a month; there’s been plenty of time,” Virgil snaps.

Then he stops, tilts his head to the side.

“Wait…” he says slowly. “Did— Did you say ‘ask me’? Like, ask me out?”

“Yeah, duh,” Remy replies.

“You guys like me?”

“I doubt we would hang out with you every week if we disliked you, Virgil.” Janus rolls faer eyes.

“You guys like me romantically?” Virgil amends.

“Yes.”

“Yeah.”

“Duh.”

Virgil curls himself up, burying his head in his knees as he processes this. Remy gently lays a hand on his knee.

“It’s okay if you don’t like us back, or only like one or two of us, hon,” Remy tells him. “But we’d like you to join our relationship, if you’ll have us.”

The knee starts trembling under his hand, and Remy realizes Virgil’s crying. “Oh, hon…” He gathers him up in a hug.

“I—I thought you were avoiding telling me because you didn’t want me to know,” Virgil stammers through his tears. “I thought you’d noticed I left and saw that as your chance to get together without me being around. I thought— I thought—” He starts crying too hard to talk.

Remy holds him, and Janus and Logan move over to them and help whisper assurances that no, they would never, that they love him so much and they’re so sorry it came to this. Their hands on his knee and back and Remy’s arms around him are bright spots of warmth that Virgil relishes.

He cries until he thinks he can’t, until one of them murmurs, “We’re here; we love you,” and sends him to fresh tears. He cries for an hour, at least, and when he’s truly sobbed out all the hurt over this inside him, the other three are still there with him.

“Sorry,” Virgil whispers, not fully trusting his voice.

Logan frowns. “What for?”

He gestures a little to the huddle they’re in. “Messing up this. Crying on you guys for like an hour.”

“You haven’t messed up anything,” Remy assures him. “And we’re happy to let you cry on us all you want.”

“Better than shoving your emotions down and ignoring them as they fester,” Janus adds.

“Yeah, I guess.” Virgil nods and scrubs at his face. “Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome,” Logan says.

“This might be a bad time,” Remy says, “and feel free to tell me off if it is, but does this mean you want to be our boyfriend?”

Virgil laughs, a little wetly. “Yeah. I’d really like that.”

“Good,” Remy says. “We would, too.”

“Celebratory ‘we gained a boyfriend’ cuddles,” Janus declares, pulling them over to the bed. No one resists, and they cuddle until they fall asleep on each other.

#oh my gosh this is so long #I hope you like it casper!!#ts virgil #ts logan #ts janus #ts remy #ts patton #ts roman mention #ts remus mention #analosleepceit #my fics #my writing #nonbinary logan #nonbinary janus #umm i think that's it but lmk if i missed something #sanders sides

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fortunatelyhauntedblackcherry · 5 years ago

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Moonshine - A Beetlejuice Fanfiction 08

Warning: ANGST. With capital letters. So much trauma, anger, crying and death you guys. It was so hard for me to write, it was emotionally challenging, so it might do the same to some of you by reading it. There's also swearing in it.

Beetlejuice floated right through the wall between Rei's and Ari's room. He stretched his back with closed eyes and a huge smile, his bones cracking like dry branches in the wind.

- Oh babes you couldn't possibly imagine how happy I am right now! I heard a genuine scream coming my way! Ah man I haven't heard any of those in a decade, it sounded so... - Beetlejuice opened his eyes. The room was almost empty, only Sirius was inside. Couple of sewing patters were scattered on the floor, next to the already cut-out parts of a cornflower blue dress. BJ blinked at Ari's laptop; the podcast she was listening to has been stopped. - ...kinky. - he finished his sentence in a lowered voice.

He suddenly turned his head to the open window as he realized that a muffled voice came from outside. Sirius scuffled for a bit when he heard the noise and growled when Beetlejuice moved past him. The demon climbed out to the roof, following the noises. Ari was sitting at the farthest end, wrapped in an oversized dark green knitted cardigan. Beetlejuice almost called out to her, scolding her for disappearing when he had such great news but he stopped himself when he realized what the voices were. Ari was crying.

- Babes? - asked Beetlejuice, as he lowered his raspy voice. - What's going on? - Ari quickly turned to the demon's voice's direction. She had a used tissue in her hand. She quickly tried to cover her face with her hair but Beetlejuice saw what she was hiding. Her emerald eyes were all puffy and red, her nose was swollen and full-blooded too, and her lips looked like she didn't drink any water in a week. Her voice was cracking a bit as she started talking.

- Oh, it's nothing, Bug, just... - she beckoned with her hand. Beetlejuice heard as she tried to pull herself together. She let out a huge breath. - ...it's just my mental health issues. They're acting up again. - Beetlejuice stepped next to her as she cleared her throat. - Just gimme a sec, I'll be alright and you can tell me what you have done to my poor sister.

- Nonono, there's something wrong here. - he sat down next to Ari. Her legs were pulled close to her chest as she has enclasped them. She put her chin on her knees, showing as little of her face as she could. - You had a bad day last week when your anxiety was thriving. This is not like that. - Ari smiled lightly. Her wet eyelashes juddered, which made them glisten in the beams of moonlight.

- You really got to know me in the past couple weeks, didn't you?

- Yeah, that... and you also made me sit through 13 episodes of Therapy, which is an awful series by the way, so I'm basically a mind-scientist now. - Ari snorted while she let out a small, sad laugh. - So tell Doctor B, what's going on here, patient number one? - Ari let go of her knees and huffed out. She let her legs dangle off of the roof. She didn't look at Beetlejuice's direction, she just watched the darkness pass by under her feet.

- I... I got to know why do I hear you.

Beetlejuice scrowled and shook his head.

- I'm not following, please explain why does that makes you sad? I thought you wanted to know... - he stopped as Ari rubbed her temples and sighed. She kept her eyes closed while she was talking.

- B., of course I wanted to know! I wanna help, don't think otherwise, it's just... - she clenched her jaw, swallowed her saliva then continued. - The memories. They make me so goddamn angry and sad at the same time.

- I don't get it. - Beetlejuice sounded clueless. He didn't really know what she was talking about. As Ari clicked with her tongue, Beetlejuice moved closer to her and leaned even closer to her ear. His voice was as raspy as always, but he sounded much more sweet and kind. Almost gentle. - Maybe... Talking will help. I don't know, Dr. Phil says it does a lot. - Ari opened her eyes and breathed out. Her breath was jerky.

- The podcast I was listening to, you know, the one about the extraspecial demons, well... - Beetlejuice looked down at Ari's hands. She was sinking her nails into her fingertips. She must have been doing this for at least an hour, since some already left dark purple marks on her fingerpads. Beetlejuice put his hand over Ari's. The cold air made the girl shiver a bit but it also made her stop. - The show started with the hosts talking about how they invited a parapsychologist into the show so he could tell the audience interesting things about demons generally before they start to talk about the different types. So the guy said really interesting stuff, hands down, it really was good, but then he said that after a certain type of trauma, some people develop a weird... "ability". - she used her hands to emphasize the word then let them fall onto her lap again. She sighed. - Do you want to hear the long story of why do I hear you, or the short version? - Beetlejuice flinched his eyes.

- I prefer long and thick things so give it to me, baby. - Ari didn't react to his joke. She'd didn't even smile. She looked like she was was collecting her strength. After a couple minutes of silence, she finally started to speak.

- Bug, have you ever seen how my abdomen looks?

That was a sudden question.

- No? - he said in a kind of shy voice. He didn't wanna upset her more. She seemed just as miserable as furious. - You said no croptops until it's at least 30 °C... Why? - Ari breathed in and layed a bit back. She started to roll her olive t-shirt up on her belly.

Beetlejuice gasped and held his palm before his mouth. The tips of his hair started to turn into red and purple at the same time.

- Who... Who did that to you?!? - Beetlejuice held his hand above the three scars that Ari had on her abdomen. They were shapeless, with rigged edges and at least 5 centimeters long each.

- They've been with me since I was 17. - she sniffled a bit as she let her shirt down. She pulled one of her knees close to her chest again, and put her elbow up on it. - Don't worry, I already got used to them. I don't love them, but they're stuck with me so... - she sighed and look at Beetlejuice's direction. - You sure you wanna hear this story? I might cry. I might get furious and start screaming. You wouldn't like either.

- It's true that nothing is sexier than laughing and screaming of terror, but I'd surely get hard, seeing you deranged with anger. - Ari snorted at the demon's arousing voice. He actually just tried to cover up the fact that all he wanted was to kill whoever did that, and then hug the girl tight.

- Get ready for a love story that is basically horror at best... The kind where the hero still... Gets broken in the end. - she sighed and looked up at the stars. - This fucked up story starts half a year before I got my scars. I started dating a guy named... - she gulped and closed her eyes. - Matthias. - she opened her eyes with a sigh. - Gods, I hate to say his name out loud. It makes me wanna gag. It was a teenage love, I didn't see or didn't want to see his faults and I totally fell head over feet for him. You know what I'm talking about, right?

- Totally. - he had no clue.

- So you know, it was fun in the beginning. He was older than me, so nice and funny. He escorted me basically everywhere, and it just felt so good to be with him. - she sighed. - I thought that he was just worried when he told me I shouldn't go to a party with my friends cause "the world is filled with creeps", but later I realized that he was just simply possessive. - she sighed, sounding annoyed, and looked straight into the darkness of the night. - I started feeling anxious because of him when he started to tell me where could I go and what could I wear. "That's too showing, you can show that much skin only to me!" - she said in a mimicking voice. Then her face turned so dark so quickly. - He told me that if I wasn't acting nice, or behave, or do exactly as he says, that would make him look bad before his friends and a good girlfriend wouldn't want that. Shit, man, we've been together for 4 months only but I was so unstable because of him and massive bullying in school that I turned out to be an anxious wreck. - she clicked her tongue, got up and started to walk up and down, her bare feet tapping on the roof. - We went out one day, and during our "date" he repeatedly told me how I was not smart enough, pretty enough, ENOUGH, and he was with me just because no one else would want me. After he dropped me off at home, I started crying my heart out to my mom. - her eyes got teary again, but there was so much anger in her voice. - Gods she's such a wonderful woman. She taught me how to be brave, how to be strong enough to be myself. And at that moment she made me realize how I'm starting to lose my badass, weird but awesome self because of this stupid cabrón! - she kicked the air. Her breathing was so fast, and her body was radiating so much heat it could almost warm Beetlejuice up. She breathed out with a sigh. - Shit, I must look like a crazy person. Excuse me. I sometimes use spanish words when I'm experiencing a strong feeling. Multilingual things. Cabrón means...

- Pendejo, fucker, asshole, I know. - that sudden cut-in brought Ari down back to earth quickly. She knitted her eyebrows. - I had an argentinian girlfriend who taught me a bit spanish. I can cuss just perfectly. - he tried to sound calm. He really did. But oh boy he was not. The way the emotions changed on Ari's face made him remember some of his past traumas, and that made him feel a lot of different things at the same time. And he was also furious at this asshole of an ex.

Ari sat down again. She breathed out to calm herself down. After a minute of frozen silence, the demon started to talk.

- This whole thing is fucked up, you know. The whole being told what to do and where to go and how to look... - said Beetlejuice in a low manner. His raspy voice sounded... sad? He cleared his throat, even though, being dead, he didn't have to, it just felt good. - I'll totally regret this, but since we're doing this overly honest heartfelt shit that I normally hate, and I'm very much irritated by it, let me tell ya... - he looked at Ari as his hair turned more purple. - I can relate to you. My mother did the same shit to me. She made me feel worthless, a piece of shit that didn't deserve any love. - he sighed and looked up at the moon. He chuckled a bit, his voice went back from soft to normal quickly. - Dear God slash Satan, your emotional bullshit is contagious, Ari. I gotta stop hanging out with you.

Ari smiled lightly.

- You couldn't. You love chilling with me. - the demon scretched his stubbles and let out a tiny laugh.

- True. I'm hooked on that fine ass of yours. - Ari laughed a bit. She looked where Beetlejuice's voice came from previously, and held out her hands.

- You know, I wouldn't really feel it, it won't exactly be a real hug, but if you want to... - Beetlejuice didn't let this opportunity go, he basically jumped into Ari's embrace instantly. He almost fell over her body, and he couldn't really wrap his hands around her, but being this close felt so good. Ari's body radiated so much heat and hearing her heart pitter-patter inside her chest made him forget how she didn't even see him. They both smiled. - Thanks for telling me a bit about your origin story. I know it's hard to talk about these kind of shits.

Beetlejuice let Ari go and sit back a bit, still staying close to the girl. She let her hands down.

- I'm only this honest with you cause you told shit to me too. - the demon lowered his raspy voice. - But if you tell anyone about my problems, even though we are bffffs forever, I'll skewer you like a pig. Understood? - Ari swallowed and blinked nervously while nodding. Beetlejuice continued like he didn't say anything threatening. - Anyway, I still don't know why do you hear me. Are we getting there soon? - Ari nodded again and rubbed her cheek.

- Yeah, sure, buckle up for the worse part of the ride, buddy. - she cleared her throat. - When the next day I went over to his place to break up with him and to tell him that I belong to no one, and he doesn't have the right to tell me what to do, he hit me. He slapped me so hard that my cheek ripped up a bit. - she pulled her hair back a bit, revealing a tiny scar on her left cheekbone. - The next day he called me, told me that he's sorry and he didn't want to hurt me. I hang up on him quickly and got a new number the same day. I wanted him gone. But it didn't take him much time to get my new number. He called me a thousand times. But since I didn't answer, he started to follow me. Watching from the street while I was at school. Creeping around the studio I sang at. - she sniffled as her eyes started to get teary, but she quickly wiped them with the sleeve of her cardigan - You know, I called the cops. I told them everything. And they told me they couldn't do anything until he hurts me. - she chuckled in an annoyed way. She fuckin chuckled. - They didn't have to wait for that for so long.

- WHAT?! - shouted Beetlejuice which made Ari jump a bit. He jumped up in anger, the tips of his hair shining in bright red. - THOSE GUYS SHOULD TAKE CARE OF PEOPLE, NOT TELL THEM TO "GET FUCKIN HURT THEN WE'LL TALK"?!? - he squatted down next to Ari. - Let me guess, that son of a bitch ex of yours caused those fuckin scars?!?

-...yes... - said Ari with bated breath. Beetlejuice scraffed his fluffy hair and unshaven face. - I was walking home late from a rehearsal, mom was at work, and when I was already at our street, he stepped up to me out of nowhere, started to tell me how he's gonna change and after I pushed him, and told him to leave me alone since I fuckin hate him and I don't belong to him... He said that if I don't wanna belong to him, then I'll belong to no-one. And he... - tears started running down her cheeks. - Stabbed me. Again. And again.

- THIS... MOTHER FUCKER... - he bit his fist and started to babble. - I mean yeah sure I kinda get it I'm a bit possessive too, also creepy, but I'm pretty sure he could get an another hot goth chick and...

- HE KILLED ME, MAN! - screamed Ari into the abyss. Beetlejuice froze in his movement.

- W...What? - Ari sat still, hands covering her mouth. Beetlejuice squatted down next to her again. - Babes did I hear that right? - she shut her eyes and sighed. She let her hands go and stared down from the roof.

- Yes. - she said. Her voice was so weak. - A neighbor saw what happened and called the ambulance. I got rushed into hospital and... I went under surgery. They had to remove a part of my intestines asap... They got damaged from the stabs... And while I was knocked out... My heart decided to give up on me. And I died.

Beetlejuice sat down at the brim of the roof. He was shocked.

- I... suppose that's why you have a fixation with death? - he asked calmly. Ari shrugged and lifted her hands up.

- Partly... Other than the fact I was born on Halloween so it's basically in my blood... I think what really caused my obsession is that I remember every goddamn second of being dead. I remember seeing my body, covered in blood, and as I realized what was going on, I started panicking about how much more I wanted to do and how young I was to die. - she sighed with a light, not so real smile. She sounded so damaged. The demon could hear the pain in her voice. - 🎶And so, being young and dipt in folly, I fell in love with melancholy.🎶 - she looked at Beetlejuice's direction after she wiped her tears off with a tissue. - I was dead for 4 minutes before they brought me back. More or less. Looks like that's why I hear you. Many folks who die and come back develop this... "ability" to see or hear creatures from other dimensions. My special power is to hear demons, as it turns out. - she looked at the demon's direction. - Good for you I winded up in this house.

- I'm so happy about that. I couldn't ask for a better breather partner in crime in my dreams. - Ari heard in his voice that he was smiling. Oh if she could see his lightpink hairtips too... - What happened after? - asked Beetlejuice. Ari lifted her eyebrows a bit. - I mean, I hope the fucker got what he deserved and someone killed him. - Ari bit his lips in frustration, and sighed.

- Not exactly... At least he didn't got what I think he would have deserved. - she stretched out her legs. - While I was in the hospital for 8 months, on full-time mental and physical therapy by the way, I filed a report against him and got him arrested. I was so relieved... Then I heard he only got 3 years. - she fumbled through her hair. - Seriously, he fuckin put someone in intensive care for months and all he got was a couple of years then adiós, go on your fuckin way my man?! - she let out an angry growl. - Just because, and I quote, "he was young and could have a bright future", yes, that's what the jury said... - she huffed. - But the good thing is, right after he got out, he violated the restraining order that I got against him. He came to the house that Sofi, Rei, my mom and I lived in. You know, they moved in with us after I got out of the hospital because... For the first 5 or six months, I was afraid to go out without company. So my sisters helped a lot. They even kind of made me forget how my friends left me, because "I was acting overdramatic and why couldn't I just forget and be happy". - Beetlejuice raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

- The fuck is wrong with people... - Ari let out an annoyed chuckle.

- Oh my man, most of them are awful fellas. After this, I didn't even care that I missed my prom. - she swallowed her saliva and leaned back so she could gaze the stars. - So yeah, back to the subject, that pendejo came to our house in the middle of the night and demanded my mom to take him to me cause he wanted to say sorry because he missed me so much and wanted us to start a new chapter. - Ari rubbed her temples. - The police acted quickly this time and put him into jail for 3 more years. - she sighed. - Not that I think that's enough... But it was enough for us to find a new home and move away from him, as far as we could.

Beetlejuice waddled closer to her, and layed down as well.

- You know what's the weirdest thing about you, scarecrow? - Ari chuckled.

- Besides the fact that my best buddy is a demon? - BJ laughed a bit too. - No idea, Bug.

- That you're so full of life, and so goddamn annoyingly positive. If you wouldn't tell me, I wouldn't know you had so much shit to deal with. - Ari put her hands up in the air while shrugging.

- Look, I already know how does it feel to die. By the time I turned 19, I decided I'd try how does it feel to be alive. And when I'm not a mess, oh boy, it's so much fun! - Beetlejuice turned to his side and looked at the girl.

- You’re not a mess babes, you’re a... spicy disaster! - Ari laughed. It was so nice to hear that adorable laugh again. BJ looked straight into her emerald eyes that were gleaming in the moonlight. - You know, doll, I'm really sorry for creeping around. If I would've known, I... - he shut up as Ari gestured with her hand.

- You didn't know. It's alright. I hate being followed, but you're so goddamn chatty that it doesn't feel creepy at all. Plus, you're not human, which makes me more comfortable. It's somehow nice to have you weirdo around.

For a couple of minutes, they just laid there, both watching the stars. It was so peaceful, but something still bugged Beetlejuice and he just couldn't let it go.

- Hey, babes? - Ari turned her head to his direction.

- Yeah?

- If he ever finds you, can I kill your ex-boyfriend?

#alex brightman #beetlegeuse #beetlejuice #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice oc #beetlejuice the musical #fanfic #fanfiction #lawrence beetlejuice shoggoth #musical!beetlejuice #beetlejuice broadway

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velvetv0nblack · 5 years ago

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An open letter;

(Possible trigger warning)

I’m not even sure why I’m writing this, maybe because this theme of abuse has be something I’ve been experiencing as a third party, the person removing the victim this time, you know the role many of my friends filled within our tumultuous relationship... maybe it’s because my friends abuser is now threatening and harassing me for helpingher leave... maybe it’s because I’ve finally found my therapeutic dosage of lithium, am in a clear mind and are therefore able to reflect properly for the first time in my life... or maybe it’s because this is not an apology, I mean maybe it is if you had only been a serial cheat, but the truth is you fractured my skull and cut me open with a knife, so this is not a fucking apology. Also I’d rather rip my own eyes out of my skull, smash them with a hammer, and then inject the liquid into my ass than actually engage you in any kind of conversation, so knowing that this is the one platform you can still check for me on, I’m going to post this here... Its about time I had my say without putting myself in physical danger.

You would think I wouldn’t have an essay to correct your 3 lines of a nothing apology, but here we are I guess.

This kind of self deprecating “I wasn’t good enough for you” narrative is truly infuriating, and not because you were actually good enough for me but because of the very reasons you proved yourself not be “not good enough”. You weren’t undeserving of me because you didn’t work, I am physically incapable of doing so myself and I didn’t fall in love with you because you came across mad motivated. You weren’t undeserving of me because you took drugs, drank like a fish or smoked like a chimney, we were both purposefully killing our selves in the same way. You weren’t undeserving of me at all, until you fucked my best friend in the bathroom and collectively gaslit me into wondering if I was imagining the whole thing, and slowly but systematically broke down my confidence and support network away from me. I want this to be very clear; the reason you do not deserve me or any other decent human being is because, you are an abuser, you abuse people.

I was barely a whole person when I met you. I was barely an adult. I had lived through so much already, and had been abused in every area of my existence. I was easy pickings to you. The issue was you were not a pawn to me, a player in any game, or any of that. To me you were this fascinating, beautiful soul, to me you were someone who needed my love who needed someone to support you and I couldn’t believe that you chose me to fill that role. I was freshly 18 that month, and I had just had a flat mate steal £3k and kill my kitten.

I weighed all of 63lbs that night you lost the plot on me because I didn’t want to go to Big Red to watch that actual cunt of a waitress smile at me as she gave you lap dances, it’s not even a dance joint it was a fucking bar. You allowed other people to emotionally abuse me with you for months up until this point and I just didn’t want to go, all I wanted was the keys and I would of gone home alone and gone to bed. Why you feel the need to publicly humiliate me again instead of just leaving it? You couldn’t just go be adulterous without me watching and hurting, so you followed me home, screaming at me the whole time. You told me I was pathetic, you hated me, I should just kill myself- on a bus on a Saturday night, from the bar I worked in, in soho, back to our place near Caledonian Road. I was so unstable anyway, undiagnosed autism, misdiagnosed mental health issues, on the wrong if any medication, deep within the throws of an addiction and eating disorder... you. I couldn’t take you verbally ripping my heart out anymore when I decided that throwing myself from our 3rd story window would hurt less. The fact I could of died isn’t what made you grab me and stop me jumping, no in fact you told me you don’t care if I kill my self as long as it’s not in the flat, you were much more concerned with the amount of drugs in the flat and the prison opposite our window. At that point you threw me full pelt across the other side of the room, all 63lbs of me flew through the air like a paper aeroplane and smashed directly into your guitar. You know your beloved custom Les Paul? The headstock came off, and at that very moment despite the fact you were the one who threw me, my life was the one in danger. You started strangling me and threatening to have men come down to London to gang rape my then 14 year old sister. It gets a little fuzzy, that’s what your brain does when you experience potentially life ending trauma. I do know I ended up with stitches in my lips and hands, that you fractured my right eye socket- that I still suffer issues with to this day- and had black bruising covering my entire body like a bus had hit me.

For a couple of years there my brain completely blocked out important details of that night, and a lot of our relationship. Don’t worry though periodically I have the real type of flashback where I relive these events and I come back to reality remembering more than I ever wanted to. I’m yet to even touch on the fact that whilst I may of been able to escape you in waking life, my dreams are perpetually stuck in this horrific PTSD dream land, a town that is a mash up of all the places I’ve been traumatised in my life, the place you eternally reside inside my head to traumatise me whilst I desperately need to rest. You haven’t really left my life despite the efforts I have made to avoid you (I think I’ve seen you once, from a distance once at Download 2 years ago, my heart fell out my ass, and I dragged Camilla in another direction) I have only 2 dreams in 6 years that haven’t included you chasing me down to finish what you started and kill me or keep me captive. But that’s what trauma does, and oh how you traumatised me.

I really loved you though, that’s why I stayed, and those couple times I tried to leave before I came back. I loved you so unconditionally that it took me realising that everyone else around us was so complicit that they’d help you hide by body. To this very day I cannot believe a man, a male roommate, walked in on you pinning me into a sofa by my neck, with both your planted knees on top of my chest, full weight suffocating me, biting the end of my nose until it was blackened and he had the audacity me I needed to calm down. I have to label the guy the world biggest pussy in my head so I don’t get wound up about it.

I wasn’t perfect, I can never be perfect, I have more imperfections than most. I am severely mentally and physically unwell- I sure as hell am a pain in the ass to love- however I cannot actually think of a damn thing I did to deserve constant unending emotional abuse, threatens and follow through of physical abuse and then after I left stalking and harassment. I am difficult but I am not deserving of abuse and that’s all you gave me in the end... unless of course you “needed your baby girl to suck your dick” - that was the only time you were ever nice to me, and I know because I recently read back a bunch of our texts and you flipped between “I hate you, I’m gonna kill you/kill your self” to “I need my beautiful girl to come and suck my dick I love you so much” is actually fucking insane. - Should I bring up the fact you would bang pathetic girls on the scene and then dicknotise them into stalking and harassing me with you? Because... what I had the audacity to leave a man, of over 6ft tall, who would become violent to my 5ft 63lbs self?

So yeah, you didn’t deserve me, but not because of any self deprecating attention seeking reason but because you’re a sociopath, who seems to take pleasure in fucking with vulnerable women.

Am I happy? Now that’s a fucking difficult one to answer.

I ended up homeless on and off for a year. Despite the homelessness I had suffered before this was worse because of the place I was in mentally.

You caused me to develop complex PTSD.

You caused me to have a 3 year long psychotic break.

You caused me to live in secure supported housing, where I was prayed upon by other residents.

You caused me to fall victim to abuse within the system

Not sure if you know this but our mental health services sucks ass, after leaving you I had a delightful therapist that would text me telling to kill my self and would tell me you were right to abuse me.

But I got one thing from our relationship, I fine tuned my “four Fs” ...I no longer freeze or fight in the face of difficulty... I developed an ability to fawn.

Dead ends are no longer in my eyeline, I will metaphorically straight on walk through someone else’s house to get where I need to be, I will jump the fence, break the locks and out run any guard dog. I may fall down but I’m never out.

When I was diagnosed with multiple chronic illnesses and essentially lived in hospital for 3 years, even when I thought to end my life it was weighed out by the thought of “how do I get to a place we’re I can do even 5% of what I want? What do I have to change, manifest?”.

You see if you could only temporarily break me but not stop me then why the hell would I let my own mind and body do that? That ability to fawn came with an ability to find a middle path, to be diplomatic. That ability to fawn gave me the patience to understand medical text and use that to access the right care. ~ I am actually thinking of starting a medical degree just to prove I can ~ I am now 98lbs and healthy for my size and stature, I now have a home with a housing association who like me so much they have me a lifetime partner agreement, meaning I will never be homeless again. I have been clean 7 whole goddamn years and 2 months. I have the most beautiful empathic cat, 2 foster dogs and an incredibly patient partner, who has known me before you had ever entered my life. I am as healthy as someone in my position can be, I still struggle with the anorexic thoughts but I eat everyday of the fucking week now.

I am not “happy” as happy is an emotion and emotions are fleeting but I am content in living for the simple life I have fought ever so hard for. I am strong, and determined and constantly fucking working on making more for myself. I’m proud of myself.

All I have to say is get therapy. If you’re really sorry work on yourself enough to be able to apologise properly before you fuck my day up by rising your head again for this weakness. I can’t say I don’t have morbid curiosity, because that’s me all over, however I’m much more determined to keep all that I have work for mentally, emotionally, and physically safe. For that reason I would never in my right medicated mind talk it out with you, email you back or seek you out. I’m sorry, it is what it is.

You can not damage someone irreparably both mentally and physically and think “I’m sorry for being a cunt” even close to cuts it. You are mentally unbalanced, in a way not even I can relate to.

#what was the point #open letter to my abuser #its not 2014 anymore buddy

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naturesloopholedaaa · 4 years ago

Note

If Hope had a child and got out of that marriage what do you think she'd do about sharing custody

This is so big and depends on so many factors. I can’t even in my right mind give a straight yes or no to this. A rambled a lot on this and broke this down into pieces and parts. Marriages are complicated and adding a child into the mix just adds to it. Also, add in the supernatural factor there is more to this. Hope isn’t likely impulsive when it comes to the marriage unless it was plotted that way because in reality, it doesn’t fit her character. BUT even the best in love couples can end up falling apart.

Was the marriage healthy? Did they just end up turning sour / not in love anymore? Was there abuse in any way in the relationship? Did the other party want a child? Was the child an accident and the marriage was a let’s get married because it is the right thing to do? Does the other party actually love and care for the child?

If the other party (the father / mother ) of the relationship that turned into divorce was wanting the child, was stable and not abusive in any way then yeah, she would do shared custody. Every other weekend, have every other holiday, etc. In an ideal situation of divorce with two stable and healthy parties that just found love elsewhere or whatever and there was no risk to the child? Hope would do it. She would be that supportive party that buys gifts for the ex’s kids for Christmas even. Hope isn’t going to go out of her way to be petty to an ex that wants to be in their child’s life and if they can work together and things are decent then she would be okay. Her child always would come first and do what is best for them over herself.

Now if there was abuse in the relationship (most likely emotional) Hope would be less likely to go along with sharing custody and playing along. She wouldn’t willingly put her child in harm's way and while sometimes people can be harmful to a partner and great to a child there is the chance the child will be hurt and used against the other parent. Hope wouldn’t want to put her kid through that. There is more to this that also goes with what genre this is that this all takes place and I will go into that next.

Is this a supernatural setting? Is this human au? This is another fact of everything and what it would look like.

In a supernatural setting if the parent party is not a great person and or emotionally abusive with no real change for a child then compulsion to keep them away is easy enough and something any one of her family members would do. Hope also would likely go with the fact that she has the money in the world to make a problem go away for the right price.

In a human setting, courts have a decision on a lot of things. Hope in human settings comes from old money and therefore likely has a pull because of her family background. Now courts don’t always make the right choice for the child. The system is flawed but assuming the other parent doesn’t have more money and connections Hope has more of a chance of winning any custody battle if there was a negative sticky situation.

Now onto this verse that I have going on with a husband named Dustin and a Hizzie connection

Hope has a child with her husband, Dustin. The thing is the relationship is very unstable at best. (By that I mean hanging on by a thread) It is political in nature and there isn’t any love there. She did it for her people and this want for a normal life in a rash and impulsive decision. Dustin is a good person with a temper of a wolf. He isn’t a bad person by any means and does put his wife with respect but there is love there and Hope isn’t exactly respectful in her choices of what she does.

There likely comes a time when they no longer can play the game of a loveless political based marriage. The two of them had hoped they would fall in love and have a connection that lasts a lifetime but that doesn’t happen. It is okay that it happens because in this world it isn’t like it was back in the old days where marriage is forever no matter what. That it really was “death due us part.”

When they divorce it would be every other weekend. The divorce likely isn’t that messy because it is supernatural and she has the ability to get exactly what she wants without strings. She respects him enough to likely leave the house to him, gives him every other week with their kid, pays for his lifestyle until he is dead because he will die. He is mortal and always will be.

This whole verse is not thought out completely and things are subject to change.

I used some knowledge that I have on custody battles from experience.

#›› Illicit Affairs. ❝She showed me colors that I can only see with her.❞#›› Headcanon. ❝Heaven knows we belong down below.❞#divorce tw #custody battles tw #child abuse mention tw #abuse mention tw

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razberryyum · 5 years ago

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My Two Cents on the Ending of The Untamed/陈情令

From chapter 111 of MDZS (novel translation by Exiled Rebels Scanlations):

“It was what he hoped all this time. Each to their own path. But now that the day really came, watching Wen Ning and Lan SiZhui’s figures walk slowly, slowly away until they finally disappeared, he felt somewhat dejected.

Lan WangJi was now the only one who stood by his side. Luckily, Lan WangJi was also the only one he wished to have by his side.”

(spoilers for novel, episode 50 and ending of Guardian, Eternal Love, I Will Never Let You Go, and Story of Minglan)

If I’m going to be honest, part of me wishes the show had ended with that scene above. That would have been, imho, a PERFECT ending because it would have been an obvious one. We wouldn’t have to think any further about if they actually did reunite at the end, if that white glimmer in Wei Wuxian’s eyes is indeed the figure of Lan Wangji, etc etc.

Now before I say anything further, for the record, I am freaking GRATEFUL we got the ending we got…especially the original Tencent version. Even though the WeTV version is a little more questionable, fact remains things could have been so much worse. I mean, God, imagine if we were left with THIS as the last image we ever see of The Untamed.

Or this:

The fact that Team 陈情令 took it one step further and gave us Lan Zhan’s “Wei Ying” followed by WWX’s glorious, teary-eyed smile is already a straight-up miracle. But, because I’m a lazy ass by nature, I wish I could have shut off my brain and just be spoon-fed a definitive ending that would have left me completely satiated, and that’s really the only reason why I wish they had ended the show at the scene where WWX and LWJ sad their goodbyes to Wen Ning and Lan Sizhui. Plus, there’s just something a little more satisfying about seeing our two leads together as a couple on screen one last time. A teeny tiny bitter part of me knows that had WangXian been a m/f couple, we would’ve undoubtedly gotten that last shot of them together, much like we did for the main couple in shows like Eternal Love or I Will Never Let You Go or Story of Ming Lan or basically any other c-dramas with happy endings and a hetero couple at its core (which is like, what 99% of the c-dramas anyway? And sorry for spoiling those shows). But I know, censorship, I understand, so I should stop beating that dead horse and just be glad what we got. I mean, I’m still suffering from PTSD due to Guardian’s ending so trust me when I say I am entirely thankful.

After all, from a thematic point of view, it’s not like the ending doesn’t make sense; it actually does. The idea of both WWX and LWJ living clear of conscience has been reiterated time and again throughout the show, so the fact that LWJ would decide to abide by his duties instead of going off and having fun with WWX does indeed go along with the values established for him. In fact, one might say that during the 16 years of WWX’s absence, he was probably acting the most out of character since he seemed to have more or less shirked his duties as Gusulan Sect’s esteemed Hanguan-Jun. As Jiang Cheng mentioned in the second episode, LWJ has spent most of the past 16 years time just wandering the world, looking for someone, which of course we know who. Even Jin Guangyao mentioned that he never attended any of the big cultivation meetings. So for the past decade and a half Lan Zhan’s really been just living his own life, off on his own quest, and probably leaving all the major responsibilities of his sect to his brother and uncle. Now that WWX is back and the main villain is conquered, I can see how his guilt at abandoning his duties might have finally caught up with him and he realizes he might have some amends to make. After all, his uncle’s old and constantly spitting up blood, and his brother—dear poor Xichen who just makes my heart HURT when I think about him—is definitely in no condition to become Chief Cultivator. I thought about Jiang Cheng briefly, but he’s probably in the same unstable emotional state as Lan Xichen at this point. Hell, Lan XiChen, Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling should probably all sign up for some intense group therapy; can’t imagine how they could even function otherwise considering the emotional battering they just went through.

Anyway, getting back to the role of Chief Cultivator, in the novel, it was implied that Nie Huaisang was gunning for that position, but honestly, I actually thought that was a bit odd in the book because even though we know he’s the mastermind behind everything, it’s hard to imagine that he would want to step up to the plate and be in the limelight instead of staying in the shadows as he has been doing. I actually think the drama’s change to his ending made more sense. Not to mention, since most of the cultivation world has known him as the know-nothing coward, if he were to suddenly do a 180 and become this strong, intelligent, assertive person, wouldn’t people be pretty suspicious of him as a person and be too wary to follow him? For better or worse, LWJ IS indeed the best candidate for that position at this specific moment in time. The scene at Lotus Pier where the other sects found out about Jin Guangyao’s heinous activities was illuminating in more ways than one since it also showed how wishy-washy and easily influenced the majority of the other sects were. Those guys are a bunch of dumbasses who need to be led, otherwise, if left to their own devices, the cultivation world would be in total chaos.

I also appreciated the fact that even though WWX looked downright heart-broken when he realized LWJ wasn’t going to explore the world with him (yet), it seems like he had actually stayed with Lan Zhan until he became Chief Cultivator, which probably didn’t happen overnight. I’m assuming this based on WWX’s wardrobe change from their scene with Sizhui and Wen Ning. I think it’s sweet that despite his disappointment, he still stayed with him for a bit.

The logic part of their parting holds water, but it’s the emotional part that I’m not entirely sold on. I mean, what the show is essentially trying to tell me is that a man who looks at Wei Ying like this:

And this…

And this….

…would actually be ok with being separated from him? Again? Yeah. Right. Siubian.

Just the thought of Wei Ying having no one to protect him now from all the scary fluffy puppies of the world is probably enough to keep Lan Zhan up at nights. In terms of the bond between WWX and LWJ as it was established in the show—not even getting into how they are in the novel because then the notion of them separating would be downright ridiculous—it is pretty hard to accept that LWJ would be ok being away from Wei Ying. Even if the call of duty is loud, the siren song of WangXian has to eventually overpower everything else. The question is when, of course, and even though Wei Ying goes through yet another wardrobe change by the last scene, I can’t imagine that much time passed…I would like to think no more than just a year or two. At a certain point, LXC, being the generous, loving, understanding older brother that he always is, would probably realize how much LWJ misses WWX and offer to take over the Chief Cultivator role from him. But big bro does need time to emotionally recover so I think a year or two is a fair timespan. It’s not enough time for LXC to heal completely of course, God knows a decade probably would still not be enough for that, but a year or two probably would allow him to at least be able to pretend to be fine enough to function somewhat normally again. Ugh. Again, poor big bro.

Actually, if I think about it, one thing good about Wei Ying and Lan Zhan being separated for a short time is that this time around, WWX can be the one missing and pining after LWJ instead. I can easily imagine him making detailed mental notes of every place he has visited and everything he’s done that is fun for when he finally reunites with Lan Zhan, he can take him through all of his journeys so that they can then experience together what he had to experience alone during their time apart.

I also like that when Wei Ying hears his name being called, he actually looks shocked…

…which clearly indicates he never expected Lan Zhan to appear at all, which means they didn’t plan this reunion, that Lan Zhan just magically found Wei Ying again. That is seriously so romantic. I’m sure Lan Zhan kept tabs on Wei Ying’s whereabouts all the time, I refuse to believe that he wouldn’t at least do that, but still, that hilltop looked pretty out there in the wilderness so it’s truly beautiful that he still managed to pinpoint where Wei Ying was to surprise him. Or maybe the energy he shared with Wei Ying acts as a sort of GPS now so he can always easily find the other man no matter where he is? That’s romantic too.

So at the end of the day, I feel pretty satisfied and content. Since I fell in love with the show, I’ve literally been on pins and needles worrying about how the show will end, if Team CQL would somehow lose their minds and just screw everything up or be forced to screw everything up because of censorship. I can finally breathe easy now…well, somewhat…there’s still movies to worry about, but I’m just a worrywart by nature. With their splendid track record so far, I’m sure Team CQL will continue to deliver and make us happy in terms of WangXian.

“After we went to travel the world together everything was spread into the world as ‘rumors say’”.- from WWX’ character song 曲尽陈情 (“Songs end with Chen Qing”)

“With you by my side, I hope you’ve been well since the last time we’ve met”. -from LWJ’s character song 不忘 (“Won’t Forget”).

#The Untamed #陈情令 #CQL #WangXian #Episode 50 spoilers #Ending Spoilers #Mo Dao Zu Shi #MDZS

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avehi-the-adamant · 5 years ago

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Arathi Meetup

It was a beautiful day in Arathi. Raetos took a moment to take it all in. The fields still held signs of the battles that had been waged during the faction war: broken siege engines, catapults, pieces of armor and weapons scattered about. Still, nature was already beginning to reclaim the land, the grass spreading and growing tall to cover up the ground beaten down by cavalry. The sky was a perfect blue, not a cloud in sight.

He allowed his companion to graze in the fields as he made his way into the ruins of Stromgarde. While parts had been reclaimed and rebuilt by the Alliance in the war, there was still a large part left untouched. The Lightforged’s hoof steps were surprisingly light for someone his size, moving through the environment without a sound. Compared to the Fel environment of Argus, this was nothing.

He’d certainly seen a lot of what beauties Azeroth had to offer in his hunts for Avehi. First Northrend, then Pandaria, and now the Eastern Kingdoms. He wondered if Kalimdor would be next. She was easy enough to track down now. Surely, she felt relaxed enough not to try and cover up her tracks. That, and he was well attuned to her cold and necrotic aura.

He moved around a wall and unharnessed his rifle, having filled it with special rounds for his prey. He propped it up on the stone ledge, looking through the scope as the Ebon Knight came into view. He smiled, seeing her, already feeling his insides stir in anticipation. He took a moment to slow his heart rate, aiming carefully at her chest….

...And fired off a couple of pink paint rounds.

*Splorch! Splotch!*

Slowly, Avehi looked down at her chest plate. She didn’t so much feel the paint round hit, as low impact as it was on her plated armor, but the sound caught her attention on its own. She snarled as she beheld the fresh pink stain on her tabard-- one of her prized possessions. Avehi had kept this tabard clean and serviceable for years following her demise. Washing it, sewing up holes and tears, and overall maintaining it as meticulously as she maintained her armor, weapons, and even herself! And now… paint? She eyed the stain’s splatter, judging well enough the trajectory of the projectile that did this, and turned her gaze up towards the stone ledge.

“Raetos!”

The Death Knight reached out her hand, calling upon the necrotic power she had mastered over the years to reach out for him. A shadowy tear ripped through the space between them in a harsh and jagged line as the darkness gripped at the Lightforged. She pulled at him, yanking him down from his perch towards her! She could immediately feel the tingle of his opposing Light suffusing as the tendrils of darkness connected between them… and couldn’t help but smirk.

“Hehe! Gotcha!”

Raetos grinned widely, victoriously. Like a child who’d just won a game. Even having just been yanked over by Avehi’s creepy magic, he couldn’t help but be in a good mood.

“I’m gonna be straight with you. Had no idea you could do that. Creepy as fuck, but pretty cool move.”

He reached out to loop an arm around her waist to pull her against him.

“What other surprises do you have in store for me, My Lady?”

“Tch… only a fool would reveal all their tricks at once, yes?” she grinned back at the Lightforged, his playful mood contagious.

Nonetheless, she pushed away from him, putting a bit of distance between them as she looked around. Her icy gaze scanned over the entry paths, and other stone outcroppings like the one on which she’d spotted Raetos. Her tail twitched warily for a moment, before she returned her attention to the other Draenei.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, bluntly. “You came alone?”

“Pff! Of course I came alone! You think I’m stupid or something?”

As she moved away to look around, he couldn’t help but fire another paintball into her thigh at close range. He’d managed to keep a firm hold on the rifle in one hand despite her surprising magic.

“Hah! Gotcha again! Man, you would be extra dead if Argonas was still on your trail. Dude, that guy is PISSED!”

She scowled at Raetos, letting out a huff.

“Enough of that. Or it’ll be the only kind of round you ‘unload’ today.” she warned him.

Getting shot again hadn’t soured her mood, but the mention of Argonas certainly had. She took another quick glance around the worn-down fortress, before turning and stepping inside a nearby decrepit old building-- motioning for Raetos to follow, of course.

From the look of it, the structure used to be a house. Possibly an inn. The mantleplace was the only part still more or less intact. Floorboards were warped and uneven, stairs were chipped and eroded, and the only furnishings left were a well-built table, a few chairs, and a faded chaise lounge that probably looked really fancy in its prime. She drew Rokaa from its holster with a light flourish, spinning it once before she leaned it against the fireplace. Then, she drew a small cloth from her inner pocket.

“I’m not surprised Argonas is upset. You spoke with him, then?” she asked, as she began to wipe the paint off her thigh. “I’m not pleased it took Khanaros’ orders to keep him from interfering, but I suppose it’s preferable over sending him to join his wife directly…”

Raetos’ tail swayed as he followed the Ebon Knight into the tiny inn. He still couldn’t get over how small humans built things… still, it would do well enough. He walked over and placed his rifle down next to the hammer, before drawing his sword and doing the same.

“Oh, those orders aren’t gonna stop him,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “Bumped into him at the bar. He told me all about it. I had to talk him out of hunting you down, despite the Grand Vindicator’s orders. Bought you some time, telling him I’d keep an eye on you and report any illegal activity you might be doing out here.”

He shot her a smirk, “So, you’re welcome.”

“Mm, I’m so sure.” Avehi rolled her eyes, as she finished wiping down her legplate.

Next came the tabard, which she knew would be harder to clean. Still, it had to be done before the stain set. She pulled it up over her head, and laid it out on the table. She pressed her hand to the paint splotch, palm growing cold with icy power. The paint solidified, and became easy enough to slowly scrape off in solid chunks before setting into the fabric.

“I know Argonas well. A command from Khanaros is the end of it, for him.” she nodded. “What did he really say about all this?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. But the guy has gone unhinged! He thinks you and Mierne are working together and are controlling the High Vindicator. He feels it’s his duty to deal out justice because he accuses Khanaros of being unable to make proper decisions because of Mierne. The guy is going rogue. Gotta say that Mierne chick sounds hot. Did you know she seduced Argonas on more than one occasion?”

“Mm, I’m well aware…”

She continued chipping off the last of the paint from her tabard, casually. Waiting for Raetos to chuckle and finally tell her what really happened. But as the silence drew out between them, she turned, brow furrowed.

“... You’re serious, then? Argonas really thinks that?”

She set her tabard aside, and stepped towards the Lightforged.

“What exactly did he tell you?”

Raetos blinked, looking confused, “I just told you. He said the High Vindicator’s judgement is skewed because of his relationship with Mierne. He told me that it was up to us to bring about ‘the Light’s justice’ ourselves. I told him he couldn’t just go against orders and had to be patient. I told him the best course of action was for him to stay put, because everyone knows how emotional he’s being about all this, and in exchange, I would stay close to you and report any illegal activity, creepy raising corpses excluded, obviously.”

He went about removing his shoulder gear, followed by his gauntlets.

“I mean, you want his exact words?”

He puffed up his chest, placing his hands on his hips and giving his best Argonas impression.

“The High Vindicator is not of sound judgment in this matter! He is far too close to the issue to be impartial! It falls to us to do what he is unwilling to do. It is our responsibility to see justice is met, Raetos!”

He shot Avehi a grin, “How was that?”

Avehi blinked. She nodded slowly, unable to help but be impressed by Raetos’ eerily accurate impression of Argonas. She almost had a mind to put that incredible mimicry to better use, if she weren’t so upset with the subject at the moment...

“Pretty good, I guess.” she shrugged. “But that doesn’t bode well. If he’s so upset that he’s willing to go against the High Vindicator about this…”

She trailed off, continuing the thought internally. Raetos was right; he was clearly unhinged if he was considering such possibilities! The Light was dangerous enough, but Avehi had put faith in Khanaros, at least, limiting how it was deployed. But if an emotionally unstable Vindicator like Argonas was talking about starting to take the Light’s justice into his own hands, that was dangerous. For everyone. She sighed; only one clear solution came to mind. Argonas was too dangerous to be kept alive.

Her gaze flickered back to Raetos, as a soft smile crossed her lips.

“You… did that for me? Talked him down so he wouldn’t keep coming after me, himself?” she asked, stepping in a little closer to Raetos. “Thank you, Raetos. Truly. That means… well. It means quite a bit, that you’d intervene on my behalf.”

The Lightforge’s face flushed, and he brought a hand behind his head. His tail swayed widely behind him in excitement, knocking over a chair.

“Well… I mean. I enjoy spending time with you. And while I admit I don’t understand a thing about all this world of the dead and raising people business, if the High Vindicator thinks it’s worth looking into, then so do I. I don’t want to see you hurt, and if staying close to you means keeping Argonas off your trail for a while, then win-win, right? Temporary, I know. But… gives us time.”

A mixture of emotions fell over Avehi. Flattery and gratitude, of course. But spoiling them both came a sense of worry. Of concern, aside from the new ones brought on by this information about Argonas. No, concern that perhaps Raetos was taking things too seriously between them. Just what was he expecting through all this? She had begun to enjoy the time they spent together as well, but… she couldn’t see herself going to such lengths to prolong the time and opportunities for them to meet up and get intimate with one another.

All these feelings, of course, remained well hidden behind her facade. She remained smiling softly as she beheld the Lightforged, glowing like a beacon in the dimly-lit and run-down house. She tried to put it from her mind, instead electing to believe he was simply being selfish; maneuvering amongst Argonas and others to maximize his chances to get laid. Surely that was part of - hopefully all - he was going to such lengths to accomplish. And for his efforts, he surely earned one such chance here and now.

Without another word, she stepped in, pressing her cold, plated body against his as she claimed his lips with a kiss. Her hand came up behind his head, fingers gripping at his hair to pull him into the intimate gesture. Her other slipped to his side, tugging at his girdle while she began to grind her hips against his. This was all she really wanted with him. And all he really wanted with her, too.

… Right?

#character story #Raetos #Arathi Highlands #Argonas the Ironclad #Mierne the Persevering #Khanaros the Inexorable #Warcraft #Draenei #Death Knight #Vindicator #WoW

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canaryatlaw · 5 years ago

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okay. it’s late, obviously. and I need to go to bed. I just took my pills like 10 minutes ago though so it might be a minute before I actually get tired. but yeah, today. I think I woke up around 11, and then for like two hours waited for my sister to wake up and trying to not get annoyed because I know I’ve slept that late plenty of times, like even on this trip, but I was just kinda tense. it didn’t help that on twitter I was repeatedly seeing people doing tribute tweets to their friends or making lists of all their friends who did whatever in 2019 and I wasn’t on a single fucking one, even when people that I know they saw less than me made it and I just like.....I got really upset about it because I felt like shit and like I didn’t even have any friends, which of course I know is not true, but it felt really shitty to see people I’ve expended energy trying to befriend just straight up ignore my existence and I just felt really awful about myself. this year has unfortunately gone from meeting a lot of new friends to constantly fearing that none of them actually like me or want me to be their friend, thanks to a couple of things that have happened. and I just feel like this massively messed up person who must’ve fucked up so badly to have all these people turning against me but like, I didn’t even fucking do anything, and if people had actually been honest about stuff this could’ve all been avoided but they weren’t and now I’m the one who’s hurting because of that and it really fucking sucks when you really feel like nobody cares about you. sigh. I feel fraudulent sometimes posting about how happy I am with my life (which I am! really!) while knowing my emotional stability is not where it should be definitely could be causing an issue. and like, looking back to the beginning of this decade all I can think is 10 fucking years and so much happened and yet emotionally I’m back in the same fucking place? how did that happen? I still obviously care way too much about what people think of me when I know I shouldn’t, and placing way too much of my happiness and value into friends who clearly don’t reciprocate any of those feelings and clearly don’t care about my emotions or how any of this actually affects me. and I fucking hate that because I truly have grown so much as a person but I feel like that same fucked up kid who cared way too much about what her friends thought of her and definitely put a lot more energy and care into her friendships than she got back. and I feel so emotionally unstable and I don’t know how to deal with this because like! I’m not depressed! my overall mental health has been fine and there aren’t really any issues there, this just feels like an entirely separate area and I don’t know what to do with it. It really sucks that just when my professional life was finally getting its shit together my personal life had to fall to pieces. and I know on some level that like all this shit really means that I should be in therapy actually working through all of this, and this is so fucking hypocritical, I know, but like....I just don’t have the emotional energy to deal with going through all of that right now. It’s going to be so much work and I really just don’t want to deal with it. and that’s messed up because I’ve told so many fucking people that they should be in therapy and that it will really help them, and now I’m clearly not abiding by that, so that makes me feel shitty too. sigh. I got on way too much of a tangent here and now I’m ranting. I really need to get back on focus and actually talk about my day before I go to sleep because it’s fucking 3:30 am. anyway. eventually my sister woke up and then she had to go get her flu shot for something with her job but like all of the places they were going to didn’t have it so she didn’t even get it done, then her and her boyfriend returned and we went to the mall. it was alright, not great, and eventually she wanted to split up which I kinda knew was going to happen because we wouldn’t want to go to the same stores, but it still was annoying. I mainly wanted to get jeans and I went to Express and tried some on, but all of their jeans were still so fucking expensive (the ones on clearance were like $50, reduced from $80) and there was a super fucking long line and I just didn’t have the patience to stand through that long ass line to pay too much for a pair of jeans, so I left and concluded I’d get jeans at some other point in the future. I went to Dynamite after that because they always have stuff I like and it’s been a while since I’ve gotten anything from them, and I ended up getting a pair of work pants from them that were on sale and very nice, so I’m happy about that. after that I met back up with my sister and we headed out. back to the house, I had dinner with my parents and then watched some GBBO with them until my brother’s friends arrived. He had asked me if I wanted to go out with him and his friends tonight and I knew if I didn’t go I was just going to end up alone with my parents and feeling sorry for myself so I said what the hell and said I would. my brother is at this new assignment at work though where he’s working a 3 pm to 11 pm shift, so he still wasn’t getting off for some time yet, so my parents ended up driving me and his two friends to the bar where we chilled for a bit and talked until he arrived some time after 11. he was bringing with him this girl who he has apparently started dating (yeah, I found out on Sunday that both of my brothers are apparently dating girls, which is just fucking great for my self-esteem knowing that I’m officially the only sibling without a significant other) which I suspect is the real reason he asked if I wanted to come so she wouldn’t be the only girl there. and she was nice, honestly at this point any girlfriend is probably going to be a positive influence on his life, so unless she was really terrible I’m not going to object. I mean, honestly, his ex-girlfriend was like, the best thing that ever happened to him, but he fucked that one up and hopefully this time he’ll be a lot smarter and more mentally stable about it. I really hope he is honestly. I also really miss his ex-girlfriend since we’d gotten quite close in the time they were dating, and of course she ultimately ended up coming to me for help when things went south, so there was a lot of emotional investment there. sigh. anyway. I was having a pretty good time chatting with his friends before he got there, they were both guys he went to highschool with so I had at least in theory known them for like 12-15 years now, but never had more than like, a passing conversation with them really. one of them I’d talked to a bit over the years, I always thought he was cute but never had like a full blown crush on him or anything, but it was kinda nice getting to talk more to both of them tonight. and of course there was alcohol, and I considered maybe trying some since it’s been like 4 years since I’ve tried consuming any but then I got a whiff of the tequila shots they were doing and I swear the smell alone started giving me like minor chest pains, so that was a no. I was kinda dumb though at midnight because they were passing out little cups of champagne as the ball was dropping and I had a single sip of champagne, which again was dumb being that I just concluded I shouldn’t be drinking any alcohol, but I mean it was midnight and everyone in the bar was doing it....sigh. It kinda burned in the back of my throat for a while which was unpleasant but never moved on to the full on chest pain that’s fucking unbearable, so I’ll count that as a semi-success, definitely not a full success because it really did not leave me wanting to consume any more alcohol, but at least I wasn’t in pain over it. we ended up playing darts for a few rounds, which I’m not particularly good at but it doesn’t really matter. a little after 2 we started trying to return to my house where everyone was spending the night, but that turned into a whole debacle because this is the fucking suburbs and it’s 2 am on new years, so getting an uber was a bit difficult. my one brother’s friend had apparently worked as a lyft driver in the past so he was a bit biased towards that app and then the first driver somehow got messed up and picked up another person but it still charged his phone and he was like, so affronted by this and just not letting it go at all and it was honestly pretty funny, it was obvious the alcohol in his system was contributing to it on some level but it was still amusing. since there were 5 of us they were originally trying to get an XL which proved even more difficult, and we ended up taking two separate normal sized ubers to get home, which still took fucking forever and we didn’t end up getting home till like, almost 3 am, which was annoying. but oh well. once we got home I showered and then had to do all my pills for the week because of course I had to run out tonight, then opened my laptop and started typing this, and now I’m here like 40 minutes later because it’s just a few minutes before 4 am now because I clearly was in the mood to write a fucking novel for some reason. sigh. last 2019 post, even though it’s now 2020 the day was in 2019 so it gets the last December 2019 hashtag. alright, I really need to go to sleep now, so that’s what I’m going to do. Goodnight dears. Hope you had a very happy new year.

#daily journal #December 2019

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ohlisaaaa · 5 years ago

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Old thoughts

July 23, 2018 I haven't felt this way for a long time. It feels familiar, yet new. And he definitely defies ALL the stereotypes of meeting someone online. Like, you date so much so you know the pattern right? He does the "moves" but doesn't follow the pattern. It's interesting, makes me curious and want to know more. Obviously he isn't perfect, cuz I'd be freaking out. But he's a good, good guy. Anyway point of this was since I deleted all our texts bec I thought he was being an asshole, I have to type out everything lol. Dude you know me and dating memorabilia. Don't think I'm using the word right but we are just gonna go with it. Ok when we first had coffee, he told me straight up he was sweating in the car before he met me lol. He was nervous and said it even in text. I think his last girlfriend was in high school... doesn't matter. He met me at the park while I got sushi and his mom was like what if she stood you up and he said no she doesn't seem like that type of girl and he was looking for me in the window haha. Also I jokingly asked him to ask his mom about coupling tips and he actually did. She said there was too many haha. He walked me back to my car (can't imagine a guy NOT doing that, Melody LOL) hugged x2 then he's like you wanna hang out tomorrow?! He texted me after the park and said it was nice meet June 28, 2018 Palliative was interesting because I've never seen it in person before. Only read about it. M on the other hand was amazing. Seriously, the visits were very insightful. I think I learned a lot. It kind of felt like a sales visit, but at the same time she didn't push the patient or their family towards anything. Just educating them on the levels of care that Residential has to offer after home care. Focusing on the goals. Educating on the importance of what YOU want and when it would be a time for the highest level of care which is hospice. Five wishes which is a form of advanced directives that can be notarized to be legal. DNR and the levels of resuscitation that you want. MPOA (medical power of attorney). The first lady we saw had a wedding that she really wanted to go to the following week and was working really hard with OT, PT to gain strength to be able to walk without feeling short of breath and getting used to her oxygen tank. Curative vs. comfort. Knowing when to stop curative treatments without it working. Getting the courage to be able to make the decision and say no more treatment. Recurrent hospitalizations, poly pharmacy. The diagnosis is leading to a decline. Both patients and their family members talked about how their doctors don't use layman terms and don't know when to stop. They don't listen to what the patient's want. It's not their fault, medical school teaches them to cure the patient. But there needs to be The Journey department was created to bridge that gap. Home care allows me to see what happens when something unexpected happens August 2, 2018 I just don't understand. I guess it's not for me to understand. It's not for me to dissect apart. It is the way it is. Why do I have to go through so much disappointment, so much heartbreak. My anxiety is through the roof. My mind is wandering aimlessly with no end. The voices in my head can't stop My heart wants everything to halt Dating filled my empty hole after my failure. I don't know how I'm going to get past it. If I ever do. It feels like I'm just moving through time, not really feeling. Not really tasting. Not really smelling. Not really hearing. Not really touching. Like all my senses have gone numb. This isn't who I am. Worst part is I don't know how to come up through this. Doesn't help that people in my life disappoint me one after the other. People are wishing Charles a happy birthday and how he's the best person ever and yes he may be the best father and nurse on earth but oh boy. Do they want to know his other side? Pisses me off. Can he actually be a man and tell me straight up? Nope, he just likes to ignore me while I tend to every beck and call. I have to be strong and not let him take advantage of me. Mistakes happen right? And Paul. I spent so much time with him. And he just ignores me. Why does everyone I meet in my life expect ME to save them? I wish the world could just quiet down. Just stop. Just leave me alone. Just leave me the fuck alone. And I know. I know the power to do it all is within me. I have to be strong. The only person that can save me, is me. The only problem is, what happens when I already ran out of strength? May 29, 2018 After the busy long weekend, I’m feeling so tired. Mostly emotional. Think I’m getting my monthly visitor. It is that time. I JUST DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO. Can someone just tell me what to do, step by step? I was thinking about it and dude this is my rock bottom. Like I can’t even sink any lower. I do have to say, I’m excited for my new job but that’s it. Graduate school went down the hole, it’s been a month but I don’t feel normal. Maybe I need a new normal. I just don’t feel motivated. LIU sent an email out saying they are unmatched cuz someone decided not to go. Annoyed emoji. I don’t even know where to begin. I wanted this for so long 😦 Oof shall we go into the romantic part of my life? I tell myself this is a fun thing but shall we face the actual facts? I think this will make me more unstable. I can’t not have feelings for things, you know? HE IS 37, WITH TWO CHILDREN + TWO, NOT ONE BUT TWO BABY MAMA’S. Laughing emoji. Dude, I know I can have fun but is this really the way? I really don’t think I can even have ��fun” when I seriously can’t handle myself emotionally. Still in the process of loving myself. And when I justify having relationships with people who I normally wouldn’t go out with, it’s a problem. I don’t think I’ve made any sense, to be honest. So many racing thoughts. Ok, I shall use what Matt taught me and focus on one thought or I’ve noticed focusing on one object helps. And yes, I think I need a new normal. I think I will give myself one month (more) to just think everything through. I want to adjust to my new job too. And focusing on myself, no dating apps. Exercising and not overeating for the past couple days so that’s good. I want to be proud of my body and feel good. So since my main focus was school and it’s going to happen for some time, my mind needs a new distraction because obviously, my mind can’t sit still. So it just so happened to be Charles. But dude, I seriously wonder why the universe put HIM in my path. I’ve read a quote somewhere that says having daydreams is good because it motivates you to achieve your dreams and I use to daydream 24/7 about interviews and I got one from Michigan. And dating an older guy, Charles wasn’t exactly what I had in mind but yeah. I like to think it’s telling me that I have to focus on myself because he clearly isn’t the one so I shouldn’t fall head over heels with the first person who notices me. If I want something, I need to really want it. Also, I have to stop seeing the good in everyone. Some people just have bad in them. I have to grow thicker skin too. I know I want to sleep with him, buuuuuut I probably shouldn’t. The reckless side of me is saying do it, do it. But the responsible side is saying no, this will end badly (like the Jake situation, cough cough). Charles is cool, more like a friend though. Because I know I don’t believe this now, but I deserve better. I deserve better. I deserve better. Someone who puts me first Someone who is interested in what I have to say Someone who will go on midnight walks with me Someone who will hold my hand in alleyways Someone who will talk to me no matter what time of the day it is Someone who will support anything I do I’m not looking for anyone to complete me, someone who will love me unconditionally.

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buckysforeverprincess · 6 years ago

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What Do You Want From Me? Ch 16

Lance Tucker x Reader

Words: 1998

Warnings: Language

A/N: Lance gets with the program, but is it too late? Enjoy!

Lance watched as her car drove away down the driveway and make its way onto the main road. For some reason he was cemented to that spot; feet deciding not to move.

“Well, that shit show is finally over…shall we get back to us?”

He heard the voice behind him say with a little too much confidence than necessary. She reached out and places her hand on his shoulder in a seductive touch, and he was immediately thrown back into the reality of what just transpired at his home.

Lance turned around and met his PA’s eyes with an almost threatening look. “Remove your hand from me now!” Lance demands through clenched teeth.

The woman looks at him shocked at his response to her touch, but does as requested, “Lance? Did I do something wrong?”

Lance walks into the house, bypassing the woman, leaving her standing at the door. She begins to follow him, but the former playboy is not stupid and is having none of it.

“Don't take another step!” He yells at her, walking around the house collecting her things she has scattered around like she owns the place.

“I-I don't understand? Wh-what did I do?” The woman has panic written all over her face and Lance has no fucks left to give.

“I can't believe I listened to you!” Lance grabs her keys and looks for the ones to his house. “How could I have let you inside my head? Fuck!” He's fumbling as he locates the keys and removes them from her key ring.

“Listen to me?! Lance, you can't possibly think any of this is ok?! You're just going to stand here, excusing what she did?!”

The man stops and looks at her like she's just grown two heads. She's obviously still trying to portray him as the victim to gain favor. God, he can't believe how close he was to fucking her!

“Yeah… I am!”

“B-but, she's nothing but a lying little whore!”

Lance stops dead in his tracks about a foot away from her and deadpans, “says the woman that just had my dick in her mouth! How'd that taste?!”

Her mouth drops wide open and she's shocked at his words.

“Oh, I see you've perfected how to open your mouth. Careful…wouldn't want everyone to get the impression you're a thirsty little slut that loves cock. What was it you said ‘oh Lance, I love to suck cock! I'll make you forget all about her!’ News flash…even Hope Gregory sucks dick better than you!”

Lance places her things in her arms and ushers her out the door.

“You're fired!”

He's about to shut the door in her horrified looking face but has to make sure she knows who she's fucking with, “Oh, if you get any ideas about lawyering up...I had cameras installed before you even started working here. Every moment, every sound, every fuck you, has been recorded and downloaded. Think anyone will believe I forced myself on you? And I burned my sheets, by the way! I can't believe you fingered yourself on my bed! Didn't know I could make a girl cum without even being in the house! Should probably get you vag checked, they smelled like the fish ladder. Nobody like a dirty snatch!” And with that he slams the door, leaving his former PA standing on his doorstep stunned and devastated.

What the fuck has he done? He can't even begin to grasp how fucked he really is. Not only did he let that woman prey on his emotional state, which ended up in a lousy blow job and he didn't even come, she also somehow got into his head that he needed to go after Y/N for lying to him.

Now, he can admit part of him was upset for that. She should have told him right away, so they could deal with the pregnancy and how to go forward as parents and maybe even a couple. Jase wouldn't have been an issue, and Claire…Claire! How could he forget about her!

“Fuck!” He yells out into his house. He just fed into Claire’s plan! Jase was right; he and Claire deserve each other. He’s always acting without thinking, and damn anyone that gets hurt in the process. “Shit!”

Speaking of hurt, Y/N was hurt! His mind was now moving on and racing at a hundred miles an hour.

The woman he loved stood on his doorstep, hurt by his words and she yelled at him. In doing so, something was happening with the babies, his babies, and now he felt like the biggest jackass in the world. Lance Tucker, former God of Gymnastics, shall now be known as the King of the Asshats! He may have to have that engraved on his tombstone.

Grabbing his phone, he had to find her...make sure they were ok. He called her cellphone first, but it went straight to voicemail. That was expected. Y/N probably deleted his number or plans to anyway. She'll never want to speak to him again.

Maybe he could call the hospitals. Jase said he was going to take her there, but which one? Calling would do no good; privacy laws. What if he went to each one? He could do that, beg them, tell him he was a distraught father looking for his pregnant fiancé, they might take pity on him. It's worth a shot.

Two hours later he was standing in the waiting room of the labor and delivery unit. It was late and the young girl at the desk took pity on him and let him know what floor Y/N was on. Even though he knew he wasn't welcome, he had to come. He owed it to her and his babies. If anything, he just needed to know they were alright.

A nurse came out and greeted him after he had explained he was the father and he just needed to know they were ok.

“I can't give you any information, but...if you promise not to upset her, I'll give you five minutes. I just came from there and she’s awake. She sent her fiancé home to sleep.”

Lance nodded in understanding, “her boyfriend’s an attorney. Probably has a big case he's working on; and I promise...I won't upset her.”

The nurse gives him a reluctant smile and leads him through the halls to Y/N’s room. Lance passes the nurses station but doesn't look at any of the ladies staring at him. He feels as though he's doing the walk of shame, all eyes on him, and he can't look at them. He's had enough looks of disappointment and disgust this evening to last his entire life…he can't handle any more.

“Ms. Y/L/N. You have a visitor?”

Lance walks in with the nurse and sees your eyes are almost closed. “I thought I told you to go ho-oh hell no!”

“I told him five minutes, but I can make him leave?” It was more of a question than a statement.

Lance swallow and looks at Y/N, face full of regret. “I promise, five minutes.”

Y/N nods to the nurse but is still seething with anger.

“Good luck?” She says as she walks out, shutting the door behind her.

Lance moves himself closer to the bed, never taking his eyes off the woman he still loves and sits in the chair next to her bed. “I'm sorry.”

Her eyes never soften at his words. “Wow! It only took you a minute. So glad you got that out because I was not prepared to sit here and listen to your bull shit for five agonizingly long minutes. Thanks for stopping…buh bye!” Nope, she's still angry.

Lance let's out a sigh and puts his face in hands. “Ugh, I fucked up!”

It comes out muffled, but he knows she heard it. He peeks out at her through his fingers, trying to hide his eyes like a child caught stealing a cookie before dinner. Y/N doesn't respond sitting there stone faced. The monitors she's hooked up to don't change, beeping staying the same. He knows he's lost her, there's no coming back from it this time.

“Seems to be a common conversation we have. I'm sorry. I fucked up. Your emotions seem to be a driving force for you. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were emotionally unstable.”

How she manages to stay calm is beyond him. He's been on the receiving end of one of her verbal lashings, trying to put him in place. This is very uncharacteristic for her.

“Clearly, you're a horrible judge of character, and you’re quite the man whore. Guess it was only a matter of time before you fell back into old behaviors.”

Lance’s mouth opens to counter but she's too quick, and she raises her hand at him. “I've been around you too long to know when a woman's gotten her way with you.”

Y/N shakes her head and takes in a deep breath, “I thought you changed, but I was so wrong, and you know what? That's ok! I feel that with all your horrible life choices you continue to make, your way of life is just not conducive to a stable environment for the children. So tomorrow I'll be calling my lawyer and I'll counter your suit. The twins shouldn't be subjugated to the whorish ways of their biological father.” Her face void of all emotions. Lance nearly breaks at the sight.

This was all his doing. How could he be such a fucking idiot? She was his world...his life! Lance wanted those twins to be his, wanted her to be his so they could be a family. He was nearly there until he went back to his house and let the she devil talk him out of everything he wanted. She made him believe Y/N was just toying with him, playing with his emotions. Why he was he so quick to believe it, he'll never know, but it cost him the most important things in his life. At this point he can only pray Y/N would have a change of heart and help him become the man that he lost only a few hours ago.

“Your time’s up. You need to go, and I need sleep.” Her face was still solemn, and her tone was dry.

Lance gets up from the chair and makes his way to the door.

“Lance…,” she says flatly, “I'll be marrying Jase in a couple of days. Whatever Claire's reasoning, she's almost completed her goal. You single handedly threw me in his arms. Hope she was worth it.”

Y/N turns her head away from the door and tries to get comfortable. There's nothing he can do but watch. Lance Tucker has just officially lost the love of his life.

Opening the door, he walks out of her room hearing nothing but the monitors beep behind him as he closes the door. He moves over to the wall, throwing his back up against it and begins to bang his head.

Lance had a single moment of weakness, and it cost him the woman he loves and the children he’s grown to love. She'll never let him come near her and knows for certain, Y/N won't let him be anywhere near where she delivers the twins. ‘Lance Tucker is incapable of love and I hope you die alone!’ her words filled his head. He’d lost and there wasn't anything he could do now, right. Or was there?

Leaving the hospital, he pulled out his phone and called the one person he despised the most.

Claire answers on the second ring like she was expecting his call. “Hello Lance…bout time you called.” She sounds so self-assured.

He has no interest in small talk. He only needs to say the words and be done.

“You want me, bitch?! Come get me!” he didn't even wait for a response. He hung up the phone and walked to his car. Game on bitch.

#lance tucker #lance the fucker tucker #lance tucker x reader #lance tucker fanfiction #the bronze #the bronze au #pa!reader

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amphtaminedreams · 6 years ago

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Mental Health Awareness Week: My Story

Hi to anyone who’s reading this!

My name is Lauren and this is my first personal post on my Tumblr (which I’m using because I am a granny who can’t be arsed to work out the basics of Wordpress). My intention in making this blog was ultimately to talk about mental health and fashion and things that interest me and I suppose I knew that ultimately I was going to make a post like this but I just didn’t realise it would be so soon. But then Theresa May lit up Downing Street and it was Mental Health Awareness week and Borderline Personality Disorder Awareness month and I realised, best to just get this out of the way before I can start making excuses to put it off until the end of time. It’s a hard post to make because I don’t exactly know who the audience will be; I’m writing it for the mental health community and anybody who’s interested in what Borderline Personality Disorder is/looks like but I’m also conscious of the fact that one day my family and friends and even potential employers could be reading this. How much detail am I supposed to go into? A lot of people still feel uncomfortable discussing topics like this; they start seeing you a different way when they know you suffer from a mental illness, even though you’re the same person you’ve always been. It’s also hard to know where to start when I’m talking about my mental health. I feel like other posts of a similar nature tend to have a clear start, beginning, and end. A clear cause or inciting incident, one self-explanatory, well-understood diagnosis, and a clear pathway to recovery. I don’t have a single, defining trauma I can pinpoint anything to, and I don’t think I have complex PTSD (which is often conflated with BPD but as I understand it, not always the same thing). I have a family history of mental illness and a series of less significant events that in hindsight might have affected me more than I originally thought, but until I became able to think about concepts such as “mental health” and self-image and relationships in the abstract, I believed that I generally had a pretty happy childhood. My family did their very best and they loved me and we always had a roof over our heads and food on our plates. When I did start to conceptualise my mental health, I kind of thought of it as a wave of depression and insecurities and anxieties that hit me when I was in my early teens. I think this is the same for a lot of people. Only when I got a diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder (which I will shorten to BPD for the purpose of making this easier to read, lol!) in October 2018 did I question that.

I’ve done a lot of questioning since I got the diagnosis, the same kind of questions that make this post hard to write. Am I really that ill? Am I not just being dramatic? Do I have any right to feel like this given the privilege I have? When in reality, this deep-rooted gut instinct to doubt who you are and what you have a right to feel is an intrinsic part of BPD.

There are 9 key symptoms involved in the disorder, 5 of which must be experienced to a degree that is severe enough to affect your day to day functioning in order to receive a diagnosis. My formal assessment which took place during my stay at an inpatient psychiatric ward in October 2018 revealed I was just on the cusp of receiving a diagnosis; in 5 of the 9 categories I scored highly enough that the symptom was impairing my ability to function, thus I only just qualified (lucky me!). That’s what mental illness is really, a collection of ingrained and/or inherited behaviours that are inhibiting one’s day to day life. With regards to BPD, these 9 behaviours or symptoms are as follows:

1. Fear of abandonment (check).

2. Unstable relationships.

3. Unclear or shifting self-image (check).

4. Impulsive, self-destructive behaviours (check).

5. Self-harm (check).

6. Extreme emotional swings (check).

7. Explosive anger.

8. Dissociative experiences (check).

9. Chronic feelings of emptiness (check, check, CHECK).

See, when the diagnosis was first suggested to me informally by a community mental health nurse in June of 2018, I was a bit like…what?! That can’t be me! I don’t have outbursts (it’s okay if you do and you’re working on it)! I don’t scream and throw things (again, okay if you do and are working on it)! And I’m definitely not manipulative (any person can be manipulative so I don’t even know where this one comes from)! That was, like, all I knew about BPD. Stereotypes. Think Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction type bullshit, we’re talking the woman that coined the phrase bunny boiler. I didn’t know that BPD can present in a million different ways, based on the person who’s suffering with it, because I thought BPD was the person. The widespread consensus on BPD isn’t the most humanising. So I hope me explaining how it’s affected my life and the way its presented itself over the years helps in turning the tide, which so many amazing people have already begun to do by sharing their stories. My aim is to do the same.

I’ve had a lot of time to think about the areas in which BPD has affected my life since my formal assessment, in which I felt I learnt a lot more about the disorder. In particular, the idea that I was always this happy child that got hit by a wave of inexplicable, crippling depression once I hit my teenage years. I remember during the assessment, the doctor asking me to talk about my early relationships and it kind of struck me at that moment that I’d been going through this pattern of switching between extreme attachment towards versus extreme devaluation of my relationships with the closest people in my life for as long as I could remember. My first real best friend of several years basically stopped speaking to me (and in hindsight, I do not blame her, lmao!) when we were about 12 because I can only imagine she was sick of me either picking a fight or desperately seeking her reassurance every time she dared to hang out with another friend. I remembered how it felt when she did choose to spend time with somebody else rather than me: “oh my god, she likes them more, she finds me boring, she hates me and she doesn’t want to be friends with me anymore! Everything’s over! I’ll never find anyone who loves me like she does because why would they? I can’t go on with my life until I know that she isn’t going to leave me!”. I think at that age, everyone has that shrill inner voice that doesn’t exactly consider logic or react in the most sensible way, but instead of my shrill inner voice going away, it just faded to more of a constantly niggling monotone that continued to affect the way I behaved around other people for years to come. This was just one of the signs that things weren’t as they should be from an early age. I think I was around 13 when the Child Adolescent Mental Health Services (otherwise known as the dreaded CAMHS), whom my parents had initially got me referred to for sleeping problems, diagnosed me with generalised anxiety and social phobia. Social phobia, despite this being its DSM name, is more commonly known as social anxiety. This came about after I had undergone successful CBT for said sleeping problems and thought I’d just drop it in, as you do, that basically, every social interaction felt like I was putting on a desperate show to keep the few remaining people left in the theatre from walking out. I told them that school was emotionally exhausting me. Whilst after the first couple of rocky years of transitioning from primary to secondary school I had developed a close group of friends, I still felt like aside from the closet few of them, absolutely nobody liked me. That was definitely true of some people, but likely not to the extent I envisioned it. I had come to feel, I suspect due to a combination of genes and a few environmental factors, like I was inherently unloveable and annoying, and even though I’m in a good place right now, these are things I continue to struggle with. When you’ve believed these things for so long, to act according to them is second nature.

The thing about BPD is that it’s hard to determine what is a co-morbidity and what is part of The Disorder™. I’m still not quite sure whether my social anxiety was in and of its own issue or if it was driven by the borderline symptom of fearing abandonment. Even recently, during a period of relative stability, I went back to my GP about dysmorphic thoughts concerning my body and appearance as I believe they go beyond the threshold of what is to be expected as part the unstable self-image facet of BPD. Whilst I can accept, for example, that the self-harming and binge eating I began indulging in around the same time I received my anxiety diagnoses were my way of coping with the mood swings and chronic feelings of emptiness I was also experiencing (get me working in the checklist of symptoms here, I imagine this is how film writers feel when they namedrop the movie in the characters’ dialogue), I have a feeling the image issues I have would exist regardless of the influence of the unstable self-image part of BPD. I mean, would perfectionism alone take me to the extremes of punishing myself for missing out on all A*s by an A or two at GCSE and A-level, forcing myself to do a degree I had no particular interest in just because the university was in the single digits in the international league tables, or at one point eating only apples for 10 days until I could barely stand up because I wanted to look like those girls on 2013 emo black and white Tumblr? Probably not. But you don’t need to have an unstable self-image to latch onto the idea that only the very best will do in today’s world, lol (typed with a totally straight face)! Yeah, if the niche that is socialist twitter has taught me anything it’s that, that’s like, late-stage capitalism for you. It’s hard to look at myself and know what is a good quality, or just a character trait, and what is disordered. I think when you call a mental illness a personality disorder, the people who are labelled with it are inevitably going to have that problem.

Surprising absolutely no-one, trying to fit into these ideals I had created and emotionally detaching myself from my friends and family didn’t do any good for my wellbeing. I gave into self-destructive impulses with increased frequency and as I went into sixth form and drifted even further away from the few people I did feel close to, I began to experience derealisation (not depersonalisation, though this is something a lot of people with BPD do experience). This would come under the dissociative experiences symptom of the BPD. It was like my eyes were glass windows and I was just watching life unfold in front of me from the other side. It’s not as if I didn’t have control of my actions, I did, I threw myself into revision, but it all just felt slightly unreal, like I was going through the motions, almost robotically, detached from everyone around me. Everything was muted. Generally, I find that my mood swings between 5 different states: lethargic depression, extreme distress, anxious irritability, an almost mania like sense of confidence and purpose, and a more pleasant calmness. The best way to explain how I experience this switch is that I can almost physically feel the gear of my brain shift, with this change of energy then flowing down to the rest of my body. My thoughts take on a different tone of voice, my body feels heavier, or if I’m going up, it’s like I can feel electricity running and crackling through me. It can happen in a split second, and it can be random, though often it’s triggered by something as small as a phone call or how much I’ve eaten. If multiple plans fall apart at the same time, it can be enough to make me angry at the world and distrustful of everyone in my life, closed off and weighed down. However, back when I was experiencing this derealisation, I remember only really switching back and forth between feeling numb and feeling passively suicidal; I feel like I lost my teenage years to this big, grey cloud of meh-ness that fogged up my brain and obfuscated my ability to regularly feel any positive emotion. To use a cliche, there was this void inside of me that nothing would fill and I had learnt that trying to use relationships to do this was dangerous for me because without sounding melodramatic, it hurt too much when I felt they weren’t reciprocating my love (what a John Green line, lmao).

My fear that people didn’t like me morphed into paranoia that even the people I was supposed to be friends with were ridiculing me the second I left the room; please don’t laugh when I say my greatest pleasure during this time was to go home at lunchtime to avoid having to spend an hour sat with them so I could eat Dairy Milk Oreo, nap and listen to The Neighbourhood (careful, don’t cut yourself on that edge!). I put on a lot of weight due to binge eating, would often leave sixth form early or skip it altogether, and saw my GP, who reestablished my anxiety diagnoses now with an exotic side order of depression. When it comes to NHS services where I live, I’ve kind of won the postcode lottery. There’s a large, conservative elderly population which I’m assuming is the reason our area receives a lot more funding than other, debatably more deserving other areas, and this meant that along with prescribing me the first of many SSRIs I was to try, I was also referred back to CAMHS. I’d been discharged from them about 2 years prior, and what had back then been about a 1 or 2-month waiting list to be seen had doubled in longevity since. I say I won the postcode lottery because, in a lot of places, it’s not uncommon for people to still be waiting to be seen by their local mental health team over a year after they’re first referred. Even so, the help I was offered was very minimal; I met a counsellor once every couple of months that didn’t really specialise in any particular kind of therapy and would kind of just talk at me for the hour I saw her. This was in spite of me expressing suicidal feelings and regularly self-harming.

That being said, by the time I left sixth form, I had finally found an SSRI that worked to blunt the intensity of my social anxiety. I was attending my “perfect” university with my “perfect” grades and (prepare yourself for the twist of the century) I finally managed to get my lazy arse to the gym, and get to that “perfect” weight. I was forming emotional connections with people for the first time in years. On a shallow level, in my first year of uni, things were finally beginning to look up, and yet I was experiencing worse mood swings than ever, becoming more dependent on drugs and alcohol to function through these, and throwing myself into intense friendships where anything less than utmost enthusiasm on the other end of the relationship would send me back into that “oh my god, I’ll never make another friend in my life, I’ll always be alone, I can’t deal with this, the only way to deal with this pain is to end it!” mode. I don’t know why things got so drastic so suddenly. Maybe it was being away from my parents, or maybe it’s just that late teens/early twenties are a time when negative emotions do tend to get more serious after being repressed for years and consequently accumulating. The whole having to be the smartest person in the room to maintain a sense of self shtick was also taking a bit of a hit because university is bloody hard and everyone’s bloody smart and bloody passionate and here I was not even understanding what the assigned reading was trying to say let alone having any brilliant ideas about it to contribute; I was so quiet in one of my seminar groups the lecturer forgot I existed in a class with a grand total of 9 students. Big fish in a little pond to little fish in a big pond syndrome or maybe just more simply put, imposter syndrome, is a real thing and when you struggle with your identity anyway, it’s enough to throw you off completely. I finished that year with a first but I told myself it probably wouldn’t happen again. A couple of days later, feeling shit and overwhelmed, I did what I’d taken to doing to manage my emotions, and got high. The delusional episode ended me up in A&E for self-harm, and when they let me go the next day, I travelled back to my family home and pretended nothing was wrong.

The whole “act like everything’s fine” approach doesn’t work in the long term. 10/10 would not recommend. Without my parents around, when I went back to uni in September, everything fell apart again. I was using drugs every day, either not eating at all or binge eating, self-harming, binge drinking regularly, skipping all my lectures. Honestly, when I think back to that time it’s like I’m watching myself from outside my body. I was feeling very done with the dumpster fire (how very American of me) that was my brain. I was done with the constant 100mph up and down internal monologue. I was done with trying to cope and to hold myself together. I intentionally overdosed multiple times and after one sent me to A&E, my dad brought me home from university. It was a horrible shock for my parents: they knew I was a worrier that could be a little closed off and miserable sometimes, and they were the ones who’d first taken me to CAMHS when I was younger, but they’d struggled with that, and so from then on I’d tried to keep my issues to myself. To be honest, I don’t blame them at all for not realising anything was drastically wrong. I did a pretty good job of hiding my problems; everyone had their own things to deal with and so I became quite adept at internalising my feelings and acting “inwards” rather than outwards. It was also definitely a case of things escalating whilst I was away. With all this in mind, the overdose kind of came out of nowhere for them, but I was so detached from reality I didn’t even consider this at the time. Thankfully, I can’t really remember how they actually reacted either. Benzodiazepines do that to you, a little tidbit of information that all these teen rappers and social media personalities hyping up Xanax fail to mention. I think my dad made the decision to bring me home rather than have me stay in hospital in London, as was offered, because he thought that would be better for me. However, a few days later, after numerous, distressing visits from the crisis team (another name that will be regrettably familiar to anyone who has experienced severe mental health problems before), where I can only assume a lack of time and recourses on their part forced me to repeat what had happened over and over again to the revolving door of staff members, I took another overdose. I had become paranoid that they were out to get me and falsely believed that I was too much of a burden on my family, who were having to take time off work to look after me. This time from A&E, I went on to stay in a psychiatric ward where I was given the formal diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder I mentioned earlier. And it’s here that my life changed forever, I believe for the better.

It changed my life for many reasons. Firstly, it was incredibly validating. To learn that I didn’t have a plethora of different problems but rather one problem, the different facets of which can present themselves in many different ways and affect multiple areas of your life, was so, so reassuring. It not only gave me a clear treatment path but helped me to understand that there was a reason all this was happening. Additionally, the events forced me to open up to my parents and for them to grasp the severity of the situation. After all these years, I finally felt like I had a support system. My parents had always been there before but I had emotionally distanced myself from everyone, and being a “typical teenager” I believed they didn’t understand me (get that angst). I think in retrospect they didn’t understand me because I wasn’t using the right words. I didn’t want to sound dramatic so whenever I spoke to either of my parents about how I felt, I downplayed it a lot. My mum, who works so incredibly hard and has a lot on her plate herself, had a tough upbringing so her approach to me being miserable was pretty much telling me to be grateful for what I had. Had she known what I was really getting at, I know that she wouldn’t have reacted like this to what I was saying. The minute I got my diagnosis, she went out and bought every (mildly offensively titled) book on how to support someone with BPD out there and I learnt today has even been trying to bring an emphasis on mental health into her workplace! She is a wonderful person.

With all this being said, my main piece of advice for other people who are newly diagnosed with BPD or just suffering from any kind of mental health condition is to be brutally honest with the trusted people around you about what you’re dealing with. It will be uncomfortable but I can promise it’ll be worth it. With something like BPD, having a support system who know exactly what you’re dealing with, minus the vagueness and the bullshit, is so, so important. I say this because, despite Theresa’s green lights, neither she nor her party are doing much in the way of providing the funding for professional help. When I first came out of hospital, I had a lot of nights where I felt incredibly depressed, almost as depressed as I did before I went in. Prior to my family knowing about my BPD diagnosis, I would have dealt with these feelings in unhealthy ways but this time, I could go to my mum and stay with her and just cry it out until the feeling passed. That is also a useful sentiment to remember, that the feelings will pass. It’s in the nature of BPD to swing around, when I’m not experiencing a period of depression, and that’s something I find it helpful to remember. I personally really like the Youper app to track my moods because when I do get suicidal, feel anxious or wired, I have something to look at objectively to remind myself that I did feel like this before, in fact, I felt like this yesterday, but a few hours later I told the app I felt okay again. It also helps you to dissect your irrational thought processes and identify “thinking traps”. Meditation, ASMR and CBD are big parts of my life and stability, though I would recommend doing some research into the latter before trying it yourself.

On a less subjective, more physiological level, I notice that my medication really aids my emotional stability; when I have been off it, my mood swings are a lot more intense. So whilst medication isn’t for everyone, it can be something to consider talking to your GP about to see if it could be beneficial for you. Another help is the DBT skills course I completed in March, DBT being the abbreviation of dialectical behavioural therapy, the treatment specifically developed for BPD by Marsha Linehan. If you have time, she’s a great person to do some research into. She herself was diagnosed with what doctors called an “incurable” case of BPD yet she’s gone on to do the most incredible things and help so many people also suffering from the disorder. Not only did DBT provide me with a skill set of more functional coping mechanisms for both interpersonal insecurities and individual struggles, but I liked the fact that once a week I got to be with a group of people who really understood what I’m dealing with and didn’t judge. Even if you can’t find a DBT group, it’s worth checking to see if there are any mental health peer support groups in your area for this reason. I found that being around people who are dealing with similar issues helped me to see my own struggles more objectively; it reminds you that what you’re experiencing is not about you personally and that whilst you may feel isolated, you’re not. The world hasn’t got it out for you. It’s a condition that many people experience. In terms of the feelings of emptiness BPD causes, I have found that since my diagnosis, I’ve actually had more of a sense of purpose in life. On a practical level, having therapy along with a year out of uni and the presence of a constant support system has had me time to get back into writing properly. What I’ve found to be even more rewarding, however, is my participation in the online mental health community.

Something I wasn’t made aware of prior to my diagnosis was the amount of stigma there is still towards mental health issues, Borderline Personality Disorder especially. It really is one of the most demonised mental health issues in and outside of the healthcare system and that’s a hard fact to learn, because it’s a difficult enough condition to learn to manage already without knowing that there are people out there who think you’re a monster for it and are going to judge everything you do through a certain lens. Whilst we are a lot more accepting as a society of conditions like depression and anxiety, conditions such as bipolar, schizophrenia and personality disorders are still greatly misunderstood by wider society who have largely taken their understandings of these illnesses from ill-informed media portrayals and shallow, surface-level observations of a sufferer’s behaviour. I doubt the name “personality disorder” helps matters; it’s hardly the most flattering description of what we’re dealing with I’ve ever heard. I’ve found that even mental health professionals and other mental illness sufferers have a negative bias towards BPD. There’s a widespread view that we are dangerous, manipulative individuals who choose to be difficult and act erratically, that our behaviour is not “organic” like that produced by other mental health problems. I have no idea where the latter assumption comes from. Most experts on the condition tend to agree that the mood swings, impulsive, destructive behaviour, and irrational thinking originate in the hypothalamus and come from a faulty fight-flight response or other atypical brain structures; in other words, BPD has a biological basis. Whilst I agree that we can learn to change our coping mechanisms, the idea that they are as a result of anything other than pure desperation and mental anguish is incredibly puzzling and dehumanising. Simply looking the causes of the condition up online or doing a small amount of research from a credible source debunks all the common BPD stereotypes, yet people like to speak about it as if they know everything about the condition just because they’ve heard a few horror stories. There are nasty people in the world. Some of them have BPD, but that doesn’t mean everyone with BPD is a nasty person, and the bottom line is that most people suffering from Borderline Personality Disorder will hurt themselves before they hurt anyone else. We are so hypersensitive to any changes in our relationships in the first place that the last thing we want to do is damage them. When we say something feels like the end of the world, that’s because the emotional dysregulation part of BPD really makes it feel like it is. We’re not being dramatic or trying to get your attention. In fact, I can say for certain that despite feeling this way on a daily basis for about 7 years, I rarely actually voiced the sentiment. I still don’t. But I should be able to. To give the example of one person suffering from physical illness and one suffering from a mental illness, where both publicly talk about the pain they’re experiencing, why is only the latter of the two called an attention seeker? If the former tweeted about how much pain they were in, nobody would bat an eyelid. Why is this? When so many people experience mental health problems? When the gender who are typically expected by society to repress their feelings accounted for over 70% of suicide victims in the UK last year? It’s clear that keeping our feelings to ourselves and suffering in silence doesn’t do us any good, so why are so many so eager for us to continue doing so? I think being open about mental health simply needs to be normalised, and that once it is, hopefully, this sentiment will die out. I find that by being open about my mental health on social media (still quite selectively, I must admit! I can’t see myself making a post about BPD on Facebook any time soon!) has given me a sense of purpose because I do feel like I’m helping to normalise this kind of honesty. With regards to the stigma that surrounds BPD specifically, I feel that my presence online and my support of others helps to show that we’re just human beings who are struggling, not the awful mythos that surrounds us.

To finish, one of my main goals in my recovery is to be more compassionate to myself. BPD is a hard enough diagnosis to have without constantly internally doubting and questioning it. I find that as the months go by, I am feeling more and more stable, and this leads me to question if I was ever sick, especially since I only displayed 5/9 of the borderline traits in the first place, which meant that I only just met the diagnostic criteria. I don’t have psychotic rage or complete blackouts and tend to act inwards rather than outwards. I am what is considered within the mental health community to be a “quiet” borderline. I know theoretically that this doesn’t make my condition any less valid, but for this reason, part of me fears moving towards being “well”. Because if I’m well, then I feel like I’ve lost part of an already fragile identity. Of course, I’d rather not have BPD. But because I’ve been expressing symptoms for so long, I worry what’s left of me without it. At the same time, I fear going back to a place where my BPD is so severe that I have to go back to hospital. So really, it’s like you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. It’s a double-edged sword. Is that enough cliches? The thing that I wish more people could understand is that mental illness in itself is traumatic and that even when you’ve moved on, what you experienced will always be a part of you. You still need that support. I’m not going to lie, resisting the urge to indulge in old coping mechanisms and habits is hard, and whilst the sense of pride I feel every time I don’t, or every time I use responsibly something I’m used to abusing is rewarding, there are days where waiting for the need to use them to pass is very long and very hard. I need to stop telling myself that just because I am feeling better than I did, I don’t deserve that support anymore. I do. I still deserve compassion. I still deserve a safety net. I still deserve a sense of understanding from the people around me. I deserve all of it, as does everyone else. I also deserve to be proud of how far I’ve come already instead of berating myself for not having come far enough. As I write this I haven’t self-harmed in 169 days, have been at my current job for coming up to 6 months, have an interview for a psychology course at the uni I came to love in a week’s time. I’m finally somewhat healthily managing my weight for the first time in years! I have also decided that once I do return to university, my reason for being there is not contingent on me maintaining firsts; my mental health, and what I do with the degree is much more important. I would ultimately like to go into clinical psychology and do as much as I can in that area to help people going through similar issues. With the current state of the mental health (and healthcare, in general) system in the UK, it’s definitely easy to get disheartened that the services it provides will never be adequate due to funding issues. However, in the meantime, I think the more of us with lived experience that can get into mental health care, the better the service that eventually is provided can be. Every week I’m thinking of new things I’d like to research once I have the footing, epigenetic and intergenerational trauma and the use of psychedelics and the benefit of peer support groups. There’s always a way to turn the negative into a positive, even if it takes time to learn how to do so and I think after all these years, I’m finally getting the hang of it. If my brain has been a “dumpster fire” for the last however many years, then I don’t want to let the ashes go to waste. I’m going to make them into some really morbid confetti! As I sit here writing this, I can firmly say I am happier than I’ve ever been. Game of Thrones is pissing me off (might do a post how identity and attachment issues lead to a correlation between BPD and obsessive character fixations at some point because BOY has that been driven home to me this week!) but tomorrow I’m going to an ABBA party with uni friends, Yvie Oddly is smashing drag race, and my cat is lying next to me purring. It gets better. The hard days become less frequent and they get easier to cope with too; you can learn to ride the waves and find reasons to continue doing so, regardless of how tiring it might be sometimes.

My pipe dream for this time next year is that we have people in government who really care about the invisibly ill of this country. That Downing Street can do more than turn green. I hope that we get to see more realistic and sympathetic portrayals of BPD in the media that draw attention to the issue without glamourising or romanticising it and that we get more portrayals of queer, disabled and POC experiences of mental illness too as it’s not just skinny caucasian girls that deal with this shit! Most importantly, I also hope that I continue to flourish, and wish the same for everyone struggling with mental illness/any kind of turmoil. Anybody who reads this ’til the end, wow! Thank you! It was a bit of an essay but what do you expect coming from an ex-history student and wannabe author, lol! Please let me know if there is something you’d like to see me post about on this Tumblr, such as any specific BPD symptoms and how they might present, how I deal with social anxiety and body image, or even anything completed unrelated to mental health! God knows I love the sound of my own…prose? Is that the right word to use?

I hope you enjoyed reading!

Lauren x

#mentalhealthawareness #mentalhealth #borderline personality disorder #borderlne #bpd #bpdrecovery #social anxiety #socialphobia #bpdprobz #body dysmorphia #recovery #addiction

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kookiesangels · 6 years ago

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[PT-48]—Jikook Social Media AU—Focus (On Me!) 💫AU

Jungkook’s tattoos each had a meaning.

Yep, every single one on his body had a story behind it, a person who either inspired the ink on his skin or a memory that was too good to forget so easily, Jungkook always the one to treasure the most important things in life.

The angel wings with black and white feathers on his back were there in memory of his first girlfriend, who lost her life due to losing her battle to her drug addiction, leading to her downfall at the young age of eighteen. They connected with the tattoo on his chest which was of two ravens fighting over a heart. Jungkook had gotten that done when he had released his first EP, only nineteen at the time, the royalty check enough to get him a good tattoo artist to do his former best friend and ex-girlfriend justice.

The koi fish representing Ying and Yang behind his ears were there for his parents, who balanced him out on his anger issues when he was younger almost flawlessly. He had those done on a whim in Japan, Osaka to be exact, where he had been missing his parents one night and made his way down to the nearest tattoo studio, putting up with the pain even during the concert he had the following day.

The hangul he had on the back of his nape were for his hyungs, who stood with him from the start of career and would no doubt be with him until the end of it, having stood there through all of Jungkook’s tantrums and fits of anger, even going as far as to finding him a therapist that would do one on one sessions, no matter how much it cost them. He had those done in Seoul, during his Asia tour for 88Rising when his hyungs had a soundcheck and he had some free time, the first names of his little family going down his neck vertically.

All of his tattoos were on him for a reason, Jungkook always made sure of that. He didn’t want to go and get something dumb like a skull engulfed in flames just to regret it as time went by---no, Jungkook was smart, he only got tattoos when he felt that someone or something deserved it, earned to be on his body.

Though yes, he has a lot of tattoos despite that rule, but Jungkook’s met a lot of people worthy of the privilege. He’s picky but he knows when people or when something deserve what they earn.

That’s why he had ended up calling his personal tattoo artist, Taeil, to do some work on him in the morning, eating some cereal and walking his precious dogs before he had hunkered down to get his pieces down, one on his right cheekbone and the other on his stomach.

He had to get a personal tattoo artist because every single time he walked into a shop, fans would follow, and despite the artists being fine with the attention, Jungkook almost always felt bad for making the place go wild with his fans at the door.

Taeil had been introduced to him by Yoongi, who had a couple of pieces done by him also. Jungkook had formed a friendship with the older man who seemed to be happy working with Jungkook whenever he called, which is why he responded to his abrupt call with no problems.

“Who’s it for this time?” Taeil asked as the tattoo gun buzzed, tracing the lines of art he had etched onto Jungkook. The rapper was leaning back in the seat he had especially for these appointments, looking up at the ceiling of his living room with a sigh, music playing lowly in the background.

“Thought you’d know with my business all up on the news and shit,” He mumbled, flicking his eyes down to Taeil. Jungkook’s never been through such a scandal like the one he was going through now.

After that dick Jaebum had exposed him on Twitter, he hadn’t left his house other than to walk his dogs this morning, and that’s only because they got restless. He didn’t leave with a hat and a mask to cover his face though, since people had to know who he was for getting involved with Jimin.

The man huffed, flicking his eyes to look up at Jungkook before focusing on the tattoo again, black gloves stretched over his hands.

“I do, but it’s always nice to hear from the person themselves,” Taeil sighed, stopping his gun to change the ink bottle. Jungkook had been lying there for nearly two hours, the tattoo on his right cheekbone that was only about an inch big already done and slathered in antibiotic cream.

He was almost done, he knew it, and had been nicely accommodated in his chair while Taeil hunched, tracing the design he had asked for onto his skin carefully.

Jungkook’s design was really something else, something he had never expected Taeil to do so brilliantly for him, under a constrained amount of time too. It was a pair of two, Lotus Blossoms to be exact, tinted blue and purple while in full bloom, flames underneath them and the tips of the petals charred.

There was a crooked halo above one of the blossoms, a pointy golden crown on top of the other, both highlighted with a golden glow. The one on his cheek was a small cursive ‘J’, with the top curved out into an angel wing.

The tattoo, or, the tattoos, were no doubt for Jimin, Jungkook’s only thought at the moment about his lover, or, well, ex-lover. Since the drama had started, he hadn’t been near his phone, not while all of his social media was blowing up.

He had deleted everything from Instagram to Gmail before he had touched it again, only ever responding to his hyungs. Jimin was still blocked and Jungkook tried hard to take his mind of the angelic man, trying things from working out at home to playing with his dogs only to find that there was always something that reminded him of Jimin.

His anger issues were always a stigma for the people he was around, always automatically thinking he was some kind of beast because of his temper. He hadn’t mentioned it to Jimin because he was getting better, and that wasn’t a lie, but his mandatory sessions had ended a month before they had met and even though his hyungs still wanted him to go to his therapist, Jungkook didn’t see a point in continuing the treatment any longer.

If people saw him as a regular person before his condition was revealed, then that meant that the sessions had to have been working, right? There was no need to see his therapist anymore, no need to talk about his fucking feelings over and over again anymore, right?

Maybe not, but Jungkook was shackled up in his house and he couldn’t stop thinking about Jimin, so he might’ve called his therapist and started his sessions up again through the phone.

He wouldn’t tell his hyungs just yet though, they would only make him feel worse about himself.

“My back hurts,” Jungkook complained listlessly, really only doing it to see Taeil get annoyed. Much to his penchant, Taeil rolled his eyes, which lightened his mood a little.

“Shut up, at least you’re not gonna leave here looking like the fucking hunchback,” The tattooist scowled as he capped the dark blue ink and bent down again, the gun whirring to life again and touching Jungkook’s stomach once more. The rapper laid back with a sense of relaxation he had only by getting used to the process of getting tattooed. God knows he’s done this too many times already, but that definitely wouldn’t stop him from getting more.

It felt like only five minutes had passed while another hour flew by under Jungkook’s nose. The whole time he had been humming along to the music playing, trying not to think about Jimin’s eyes or Jimin’s smile while he focused his eyes on the intricate ceiling lamp in his living room. Taeil had sighed and sat up straight, cracking his back in the process with a small groan of satisfaction leaving his lips, taking off the glasses he had on for the small details off when he was done.

“All done?” Jungkook asked, feeling Taeil’s fingers smooth on the cream onto his tattoo. The older man hummed in confirmation, snapping his gloves off of his wrists and tossing them into the small garbage bin Jungkook had brought in before they started, rolling his neck around.

“Yeah,” The artist yawned the word out, stretching his hands. Jungkook was already moving to sit up, careful with the slight sting that the tender skin on his stomach carried, “You can go check, I’ll start cleaning up.”

Jungkook nodded before he shuffled to his hallway, looking over the new piece to his collection with careful eyes.

The design had come out as beautifully as it did on paper, even the lines of the flowers carefully traced over. Jungkook couldn’t help but admire the work of art on his skin, inspired by his one and only muse. It’s been about a week since this bullshit’s gone down and Jungkook isn’t even afraid to admit that he misses his small, cherubic ball of sexy-sunshine.

Jungkook’s spent the week going through a whirl of emotions---from aggressive anger that he let out in his home gym to a drowning sadness he let his hyungs take care of, it’s been worse than a woman going through her PMS mood swings. Yeah, he did cry that day where things went to shit because Jimin was the best thing that’s ever happened to him in a long time, and that’s no exaggeration. Jungkook didn’t feel worthy of being in front of Jimin anymore, not when he had to find out about his condition through his asshole ex-boyfriend and broke their unspoken rule of no more secrets between them.

He didn’t belong in the presence of an angel, he really didn’t. Jungkook was a sinner, he knew it and he didn’t even go to church, for fuck’s sake. Jimin may not be innocent either, but in Jungkook’s world, he was as pure as the angels in the sky were, while he was one of the devil’s cronies.

Jungkook couldn’t face him, no matter what. Even if Jimin wanted to see him, it would be too embarrassing, the sense of having let the singer down too overwhelming for someone as emotionally unstable as Jungkook.

And that’s why he had gotten the tattoos done, to save him that embarrassment. If he couldn’t bring himself to see Jimin again, he would always carry pieces of him, of the best thing he’s ever had in his life, something that was his.

Although, Jimin wasn’t really his anymore, was he?

“Kook!” Taeil called for him from the living room, “Kook, yah! Come here, Namjoon is on the phone,”

Jungkook snapped out of his trace with the tattoos and blinked, his hair falling into his eyes messily. He turned around and walked back to the living room, brow raised as Taeil shoved his phone at him, lips pursed while he went back to sorting his things in the right place, Jungkook bringing his phone up to his ear slowly.

“Hyung?” The younger rapper asked tentatively.

Within a second, he was literally bombarded with the voices of his hyungs.

“Jungkook, you piece of absolute shit!” He heard Yoongi growl, tone malicious. The raven winced at the sharp voice of his hyung, not having heard that attitude in Yoongi’s voice ever since he got lost in Walmart that one time, and even then, it wasn’t as fierce as it was now,

“Where’s your phone, goddamn it, we’ve been calling and texting you for like an hour!”

Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, “Taeil was doing some work on me,” He told them apologetically, checking the time with a glance of his eyes to his cable box.

5:50 PM, he read. Damn, they had taken a while.

“Jesus, I want to just kill you sometimes,” Hoseok muttered, annoyance lacing his tone, “Please tell us you’re at least caught up with what’s going on? Kook, please?”

At that, Jungkook drew a blank, “Uh,” He mumbled, playing with the hairs on his nape. He hadn’t told his hyungs about the lack of any social media on his phone, but now was a good time than never.

“I deleted all of those apps, like, Twitter and shit?” Jungkook exhaled, rubbing his hand back and forth across his neck, “I didn’t want to see any of the hate thrown at me, so I just deleted them before I could get sucked into that, so,”

“Is he serious?” Jungkook now heard Namjoon speaking, though it was far, and he could practically see the frown on his hyung’s face from the way his voice sounded. He didn’t understand why they were mad, this is usually what they did whenever a scandal popped up for them too. “Kook, shit, you really haven’t heard of anything? Like, nothing at all? Not even a word? Have you even spoken to Hwasa?”

Jungkook frowned, “No?” He replied, earning sighs and muffled curses from the group over the line. Taeil waved to get his attention that he was leaving, Jungkook sending him a distracted wave before the door shut, leaving him alone with just his hyungs over the phone. “Guys, what’s wrong? Has the problem really gotten that bad? Is Jimin okay? Jaebum said something else?”

Yoongi sighed in frustration, “No, Kook, god---look, you need to download all those apps again and get with the fucking program because this shit has somehow taken a turn,” Shuffling was heard and Jungkook heard traffic in the background, which meant that his hyungs were probably on their way over.

Great, just great.

“Also, turn on E! like right now,” Hoseok added in from afar, though Jungkook heard it clearly.

“What’s this all about, guys, seriously,” The younger sighed, turning around to search for his TV remote, finding it rather quickly on his coffee table. Jungkook turned around and clicked his flat-screen on, turning to the desired channel that his hyungs wanted on it to see the beginning of a special Jungkook didn’t know about.

But he was interested immediately when he saw Jimin on the screen.

“Hyungs, what…” Jungkook couldn’t even finish his sentence, raising the volume on his TV as the announcer began to spoke, showing clips and pictures of the famed Jimin Park.

“...Known as the world’s sweetheart with an incredible set of vocals, Jimin Park has managed to break record after record in his time as an artist. With his face used for modeling, his voice used for singing, and his words used for acting, there isn’t one person who doesn’t know who this Korean-American legend is in America, or anywhere really,”

“Jungkook, sit down, watch it, and download those apps,” Yoongi told his once again, voice softer than before, “We’re on our way.”

“Okay,” The raven said mindlessly, phone still to his ear even when Yoongi had hung seconds ago. His eyes and ears were focused on the screen, soaking in the praises that the TV announcer was giving to Jimin like a sponge, agreeing with it all because it was true, the man really was something.

But it made no sense as to why Jungkook had to watch this though.

“...Three years ago, Jimin Park was in a relationship with the singer JB, or better yet known as, Jaebum Im,” The announcer spoke over images of the two together, smiling, laughing, and being a couple. Jungkook felt something rise in him as he took a seat, downloading all of his social media apps once again with his ears tuning out the TV.

He snapped his head up again when he heard the word overdose.

What? Jungkook scrambled for the remote and put the volume up once again, phone in his lap while he closed in on the screen, elbows resting on his knees.

“A couple of days ago, the true light of this relationship between Jimin Park and JB was exposed by Jimin Park himself in a message to jk, the same rapper JB told had anger issues. In this message on Instagram, Jimin Park posted a photo of jk and left him a heartfelt message where he also told the public of JB’s abusive nature, ranging as from sexual abuse and drug abuse,”

Jungkook blinked.

Drug abuse? Excuse me?

“...And here today at E! is the man himself, Jimin Park, to share his story with the world,” The TV finally showed Jimin, who Jungkook hadn’t seen in a week, smiling gently at the female host, hair in a sandy blonde undercut, his tresses curled and his makeup light, wearing a pale blue hoodie and some jean shorts.

“Good evening,” The man spoke up softly, hands in his lap, “Thank you for having me here on such short notice,”

The host shook her head, “It’s not a bother, we support you here at E! Jimin,” Her smile was small and sympathetic, Jungkook not bothering to glance at it another time as he focused on Jimin, who smiled back, cheeks flushed.

Beautiful, was all Jungkook could think. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

The host cut through his thoughts with a gentle question, “Is there anything you would like to say first before the interview starts?”

Jimin nodded, looking up to the camera.

“Thank you for all of your support, everyone, I appreciate it,” The blonde relayed to the camera sincerely, teeth snagging his lower lip as he glanced down to his lap then back up at the camera, looking at it harder this time.

Jungkook swore on everything that he was looking at him, for him, something.

“And, um, Jungkook---I love you so much,” Jimin stopped to suck in a shaky breath, eyes glassy and teeth still nibbling on his lower lip.

“I love you too, so much,” Jungkook spoke gently to no one, only to a TV screen that couldn't respond back.

Jimin went on, wiping away a tear that managed to fall from his eye, “Please don’t get upset if you’re watching this, I’m really okay now,”

A lie at it’s finest, Jungkook knew it very well, but he sat back and readied himself to be shocked anyway.

He wanted to see how much of a turn things took.

Jikook Social Media AU—Focus (On Me!) 💫 AU

“Could you focus on me?”

Rapper JK seems to have the attention of the famous pop-star, Jimin Park. Why is exactly is that?

#jikook #jikook social media au #Focus (On Me!) 💫 AU

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