#CSA mention for ts

[sunkern-plus]

why do people sexualize r mika when even capcom says that r mika is around ibuki's age in canon like. is big boobs and a big butt literally all that means adult because i had big boobs at 12 and 12 is DEFINITELY not adult

[defectivebrokenandroid]

i'm sick of saying my abuse and especially my csa wasn't real but at the same time all my abuse except my csa doesn't feel real because everything was textbook except for that. the csa was like. a combination of disgustingly sexualizing women in front of my child self to the point my mom was scared i was going to repeat what he said at school and "have everyone think he was a child molester" because in her eyes child molestation = rape/sexual shit but not what happened to me which was nonsexual groping (by nonsexual i mean i know he didn't intend it sexually he intended it to freak me out and make fun of my reactions to him overstepping my body's boundaries). and he nonsexually groped me until i was 24 and even then sometimes he grabs my legs and barks at them or pretends they're "spiders" crawling up my leg in front of other people. IN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE. god i remember one of his first things being him barking at my leg and grabbing onto my thigh while i was in the backseat and MY GRANDMA WAS THERE. SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO PROTECT ME I KNEW THAT WASN'T NORMAL BUT SHE DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING!!! WHY DIDN'T MY GRANDMA SAY ANYTHING. THAT'S THE WORST PART OF IT. NOBODY SAID ANYTHING EITHER BECAUSE THEY DIDN'T CARE OR IN MY MOM OR SIBLING OR EVEN OTHER FAMILY MEMBERS CASE *THEY* WERE AFRAID THEY WERE GONNA BE ABUSED BECAUSE HE LITERALLY ABUSES EVERYONE IN MY IMMEDIATE FAMILY. god that's probably why i have more tactile hallucinations when the schizo ocd gets bad. because schizospec symptoms and disorders are often linked to trauma and a good part of my trauma is linked to being groped by him and also a member of my church and in general having my body's boundaries violated so my worst hallucinations (tactile and presence) are usually because of that. god i can't stand it. i can't stand me and my mom being the only one he did this to and my mom even sorta excuses it because she said it happened to her and he didn't mean it sexually to either of us so it's what normal grandfathers/fathers do. MOM YOU ARE BRAINWASHED YOU WERE NONSEXUALLY GROPED TOO. HE WAS AN ASSHOLE WHO LIKED TO OVERSTEP BOUNDARIES TO MAKE BOTH OF US UNCOMFORTABLE AND UNPERSONED MY SIBLING MANY TIMES BECAUSE OF THAT. THEY ARE STILL UNPERSONED. I CAN'T STAND IT. I CAN'T STAND HIM. GIVE ME MY CHILDHOOD BACK GO AWAY

[shredsandpatches]

sunday snippet (everyone needs so much therapy edition)

I’ve jumped ahead in the Scottish campaign/murder procedural section a bit, because I’ve had the basic idea for this scene in my head for a while and I thought, since I’ve been a bit stuck lately between a lot of residual shingles pain and a lot of emotional pain because of my job search, I should stop worrying about the logistics of the immediate aftermath of the murder for a bit and write out this scene I can do pretty easily. So far it’s going pretty well, I think.

Also including a content warning for non-graphic discussion of domestic abuse. There’s something of a tendency in a lot of fiction to romanticize Joan of Kent’s elopement with Thomas Holland, and, like, I’m sure she thought of it as her own choice and it wasn’t technically illegal at the time, but given her age there’s really no way to interpret events that doesn’t reflect really, really terribly on Holland. I’m following the lead of @heartofstanding here (and also, you know, general good sense) and suggesting that while their later relationship (they did not resume married life until Joan was older) wasn’t overtly or physically abusive, it messed her up pretty badly in a way she didn’t necessarily entirely acknowledge even to herself—for whatever reason, she did choose to be buried with Holland rather than with TBP. John Holland’s description of his early family life is meant to be based on later reflection rather than his perception of his father at the time, but it also messed him up pretty badly. (Richard, our viewpoint character, only knows a little about it because obviously Joan isn’t going to tell him that much about her past other than to assure him that his own parents’ marriage is perfectly valid.)

--

John is seated in the ancient frithstool, the chair of peace—any fugitive in its vicinity can claim the privilege of sanctuary. At the sight of Richard, he stands abruptly, keeping one hand on the arm of the chair.

“Your Highness,” he says, and bows his head, looking abashed in a way Richard isn’t sure he’s ever seen from his proud, hot-tempered half-brother. His eyes are deeply shadowed and his beard unkempt. He looks remorseful. It’s almost shocking.

“John,” Richard says.

“If you’ve come to drag me out of sanctuary, I probably deserve it,” John says.

“Yes, you do,” Richard says. “That’s not why I’m here, though. Your forty days are almost up anyway. I don’t see you becoming a grithman.”

John gives a little snort that’s almost a laugh. “No,” he says. “I’d be a fucking disaster at it.” His face crumples as he sinks back into the chair. “If you’re here to tell me about Maman, I already know,” he says. “You’re going to blame me, aren’t you? I can tell just by looking at you. You’ve got that damned prissy look on your stupid face again. Your Highness.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Richard says, and it’s even mostly true.

John’s face flushes violently. “Well, why the bloody hell not?” He almost shouts it, in the church and everything.

“You could try to swear less while you’re in sanctuary,” Richard says.

“Jesus Christ,” John groans, not even to Richard, exactly. Maybe it’s the closest John gets to prayer. “I can’t believe someone who likes cock as much as you do is this fucking prissy. I killed your friend. It’s my fault our mother is dead and you’re clucking about my language.”

“She sent five different messengers to plead for you,” Richard says. “I stopped hearing them after a while. Rafe Stafford was my friend, John, and you killed him, for no reason!”

“I had a damned good reason!” John snaps back. “His man killed poor Benet. He was my best squire.” He slumps forward, burying his face in his hands. “God, I was so angry,” he says. “Do you know what it’s like, when you get so angry you can’t even see? I think you do, Richard.”

Richard presses his lips together, squeezes his eyes shut. He can feel his throat tightening and his eyes prickling and he doesn’t want to cry any more. He swallows as hard as he can, to force the lump in his throat away, and it settles somewhere in his chest instead.

“You’re right, though,” John says. “I shouldn’t have killed Stafford. I didn’t even mean to kill him, really. If I hadn’t—I think Maman might still be alive, too.” He runs a hand through his hair and looks up, blankly, around the church. “Christ, why am I like this?” he says, and this time, Richard thinks, it is a prayer.

“She might still have been alive if I’d agreed to pardon you,” Richard says. “You’re still my brother, even though you’re a violent prick.”

John shakes his head. “You’ve got me there,” he says. “You don’t have to take this one on yourself, Richard.” He makes a face, a horrible, twisted half-smile. “I’m the one who’s a violent prick.” He makes a honking, sniffling noise, although he hasn’t actually been weeping as far as Richard can tell. “Do you know what the difference between us is? I mean, besides the obvious ones?”

A number of answers spring to Richard’s mind, of course. He says none of them aloud. John is clearly driving at something, after all. Instead, he shakes his head slowly, his face carefully blank.

“You were never afraid of your father,” John says.

“No, of course I wasn’t,” Richard says. He had been afraid of him, a little, when he was dying, but that wasn’t him—it was death that he had been afraid of. He does not need to tell John that now. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You’d have been afraid of my father,” John says. “That’s not anything to do with you, so don’t get all upset about me saying that. I was fucking terrified of him. I didn’t realize it until Maman married the Prince, you know. People say he had a temper—”

“He did,” Richard says. “Not for any of us, though. Maman says—said—that’s where I got it, because it certainly wasn’t from her.”

John snorts. “I hope you argued with her about that one,” he says, and despite himself, Richard smiles.

“Would you have argued?” he says.

“God, no,” John says. “That’s the thing, though. You get your temper from your father and you don’t just fucking stab people when you get angry enough.”

“As shown by the fact that you are still alive,” Richard says.

“Would you let me finish, your Highness?” John snaps. “My point is exactly that. My father was a complete and utter bastard. I’m guessing Maman never told you that. She’d convinced herself she loved him. Probably died believing it. Don’t think he’d ever really laid a hand on her, but that doesn’t matter. I could see how much happier she was with the Prince and I wasn’t even ten when she married him. I didn’t even blame her. I was happier with him too. Didn’t stop me from—” He breaks off, running his hands through his hair again so that it stands on end. “Look, Richard,” he says. “I know where I get—” He flails his hands for a moment. “All of this. My father had us all tied up in knots, and I just finished his fucking job for him.”

[lackspraise]

OUTRUNNING.  i keep seeing posts around talking about that,  like,  you don’t have to give anyone anything,  especially really traumatic experiences etc if you don’t want to.  i felt like i had to and  have  in the past after accusations of lying when i was younger.  i’ve been here a long time.  i’ve been accused of lying about my abuse and why i left to the states  (  or one of the reasons,  there were several  )  and my assault/csa that happened along with various other things.

i’ve had to explain myself because people decided that i didn’t act a certain way or the usual narrative  (  “ you seem to  HAPPY  to be depressed, “ to  “ sexual assault victims can’t talk about it in writing because its to traumatizing “ which to that i say is ridiculous because  SOME OF US  cope in our writing,  or latch onto characters who’ve dealt with the same issues but i digress.  )   and tumblr knows a lot about me that i really wish it didn’t.  hence the r.pe anons i get almost constantly and why my anon is turned on and off at times.

just  . .  what i’m trying to say is that  none of you  owe this hellsite anything.  you don’t owe people,  especially anonymous people,  anything or whatever to get into a weird clique or some shit. don’t. you don’t have to.  it’ll save you further trauma in the long run.

[faemoria-arch]

9 13 20 27

9 - What is your opinion on exclusivity? Do you practice it? Why / why not?another one of those random munday memes

i don’t have anything against it inherently . i don’t usually practice it myself unless a partner i’m good friends with wants me to though . i myself don’t really feel subconscious about duplicates unless someone i regularly write with makes a duplicate of my my muse ( because then i can’t help but feel like they decided i wasn’t doing it well enough lol ) or someone i am very invested in a ship with starts shipping with a duplicate with the exact same dynamic between the two characters , but that hasn’t happened in a long time . i just don’t tend to follow duplicates because i know i have a tendency to pick up writing habits from other people and don’t want to subconsciously steal stuff from them .for tooth specifically there’s only one other person who writes her that i know of ( and that would be flossinspector who is lovely ) so asking other people for exclusivity would just essentially be directly asking someone not to write with them , and that’s silly .

13 - Have you ever thought about leaving rp? What caused it? What changed your mind?

i did run off from the rpc for about … a year and a half i think ? i still roleplayed through discord though .but yeah i really suddenly shut down my blog because i was in the middle of a big emotional breakdown and included doing so ( and other things of course ) in my plan to commit suicide . but even after i got over that i was kind of glad to take a break from it , because i was actually becoming really anxious with me approaching 3000 followers .ironically i ended up remaking this blog as i was having another sort of emotional breakdown , but as i had made a lot of progress in that area , remaking it was a conscious choice to try and reignite some creative energy in myself , because i knew writing and drawing made a huge difference in how i feel on a day to day basis . and it worked ! hurray~ i’m really grateful i was ‘taken back’ in a sense .

20 - Have you ever felt pressured to write something you weren’t comfortable with?

i’ve had people ask me to roleplay subjects i’m not comfortable with but nobody’s really pressured me to       CSA is a ‘common’ one I suppose , and i understand why . tooth works with children , she has to know this happens , but it’s really difficult for me to dig very deep into why she doesn’t kill every single human she knows who perpetuate it besides saying ‘she is not allowed to and sticks to her work towards the greater good with MiM instead of going vigilante even though she is tempted to when she sees these things and breaks that rule sometimes and…..’ over and over again , because i have to stick with that unless i want to change huge aspects of her character . i mean it’s obvious joyce wasn’t thinking about CSA when he designed the guardians and labeled them as good people lol , and i can only stretch things so far .back in ye old day torture porn and rape was basically what you got with cavity ( and black ice tbh ) if the pitch wasn’t ‘woobified’ into an entirely different character , and someone did try to pressure me into that , so i was hesitant to actually write it with anyone after the first pitch that introduced the ship to me in a less completely awful way left the rpc . luckily i met steph ( existsoutsideoflogic ) after a while and then short after they left @rulesfear​ popped up too , and despite their very different takes , both were interested in pitch being an undoubtedly dark character without making him likey’know . a rapist . so that’s neat .

27 - Do you follow people even if they don’t follow you back?

sometimes i do follow people just because i like their writing so much that i simply want to be able to read it regardless of whether we interact . but typically , no . when it comes to my roleplay accounts i generally have my main investments in the characters my muse is interacting with or hopefully will in the future , for obvious reasons , so there’s not too much purpose to having my dash filled with a bunch of other characters instead . usually if i follow someone and they don’t follow back in like… a week or two , i’ll just assume they aren’t interested in my blog and unfollow them .

[rhythmlessgay]

For any white Barbz on my blog...

This whole thing with Nicki is not new information. She's been trash. She supported her brother, a pedophile. She put out music and almost went on tour with that rainbow troll monstrosity that's also a pedophile.

So if you're crying about her facing consequences for what she tried to do to support her husband the rapist, you can zip it. No music or iCoNiCnEsS is worth looking the other way.

[nataliesewell]

(apricott anon) no need to apologize! I should be the one apologizing actually, I’m sorry I made you feel uncomfortable in any way, definitely not my intention, but regardless, I’m sorry again :/ I’ll keep my ask subject content to wholesome gay content like how much I love nat sewell

ooof don’t worry anon! i’m just not That comfortable talking about the possibility of csa, specifically. everything else is up for discussion tho! i don’t want you to feel like you have to limit your asks to just nat, although tumblr user nataliesewell has No Problems with that whatsoever fjdsmkj

[dapperfvck-arc]

Warning: I’m putting this under a cut, but I know that’s not a bit of help for mobile users so IF YOU DO NOT WANT SPOILERS FOR THE NEW CONSTANTINE ANIMATION OR TO HEAR ME SCREAM INCOHERENTLY ABOUT ALL THE THINGS THAT MADE ME ANGRY, SCROLL FAST AND/OR CLOSE YOUR EYES.

So. Big surprise. I hated every fucking second of it, but here’s the few good points.

-- It’s following a bit more closer to the storyline of ...And all His Engines than it did in the original Constantine series, which did have an episode with loose ties to it. Why on earth they called it City of Demons, I’ve not the fucking foggiest aside from playing on the fact that it’s set in L.A. I think it’s confusing for people who read the comic when it was on Vertigo because there was a fantastic Hellblazer special by the same name. It makes me wonder if they did it on purpose. 

-- Chas is English! Yay! And not magic! YAY!

-- There’s gory violence and John smoking and swearing, so at least they didn’t pull their punches too far.

And now the stunningly long list of things that left me enraged (have I mentioned these episodes are only six to seven minutes long? For reasons unknown???? I’m impressed by how much they jammed into it that absolutely drove me up the wall):

-- Now, this is a bit of a nit pick, I realize this, but it’s very important to me because there is literally no fucking reason for it. The show purports that John and Chas met when they were ten years old. This is patently false. They met shortly after John moved to London when he was in his teens. He was renting a room from Chas’s mother, and some pretty intense shit happened. Long story, but the point is they did not meet when they were ten. Pretty sure Chas is a London native. They were not childhood friends. I know it’s so small, but it erases the dynamic of how they met, the event that happened that won over Chas’s loyalty, and there is no fucking reason for it.

-- Along with this, Mucous Membrane was vastly overblown, claimed to have been something John and Chas started together, that the band was playing for years. Once more this is false. In fact, Chas’s history was blended with Gary Lester’s, who was actually the one who was John’s childhood friend and the one who he formed the band with. Again, there is no fucking reason for this. It’s not like they have to worry about casting actors and being on a budget or whatever. It’s a goddamned animation).  Chas was shown to be a drummer in the band. Also incorrect. Chas was the band’s roadie and driver.  There is no mention of the other members of MM. Also Mucous Membrane was only around for...maaayyybe two years depending on the precise timeline of formation and disbanding.

-- OH BOY! MORE NEWCASTLE RETREADING! Ok, where to start??? So, letsee, apparently Chas was there. McNope. In fact he was not. Now I will give a small amount of credit in that they mentioned Alex Logue and his cult, but the details were heavily altered. Once more, the true scope of Astra’s trauma was erased (which ok, fine. I can understand them not wanting to deal with CSA and  Alex using her as an unwilling magical conduit was a fine change and comparably deplorable) and there is no mention of Norfulthing, which I do not understand and honestly makes John look even more recklessly stupid than he did in the comics. So, the animation tells it like this: John and Chas learn that Alex is doing this awful thing to Astra and go to confront him (incorrect. Aside from the fact that Chas was not there, there were actually five other people who went to the Cassanova Club with John and Gary. It was not to confront Alex about his mistreatment of Astra, but because he had stiffed MM for payment of their performance the night before as well as having a few other curious occultists in tow because Logue’s dabbling in the dark arts was a known quantity). In his self-righteous anger, John summons Nergal in order to fight? Scare? Alex and his cultists into stopping being evil fuckers or whatever (Also incorrect. They stumbled onto Astra traumatized and surrounded by dead bodies because she inadvertently summoned a very angry entity called Norfulthing, who had slaughtered Alex and the other cultists brutally and then proceeded to violently attack members of John’s little group. Nergal was summoned to fight Norfulthing, which makes sense in a very literal sort of way). John lost control of Nergal who, after killing Alex and his cult buddies, went on to kill everyone else at the Cassanova Club. For some reason there’s a concert going on which??? Ok fine, show. I’m not even touching that (Helllla incorrect. While Nergal did defeat Norfulthing, he also fucked with John and everyone else there, mostly psychologically, then dragged Astra into hell. John in fact followed them partway into Hell, but Nergal dismembered her after John got ahold of her hand and in fact John came to afterward still holding onto that limb, so good times that). Now aside from the CSA and uh, some of the fucked up shit that Norfulthing did to John’s friends, I don’t understand why this is changed. It’s just so frustrating I could scream.

-- Nightmare Nurse shows up because...JLD? Fuck JLD. Unnecessary and distracting.

-- John’s characterization is still...off. It’s not as infuriating as it was in the TV series but not by much. I don’t know. There’s just that spark missing. A certain magic that makes John charming and fascinating, even if he is also a walking dumpster fire. I guess...I guess it’s hard to write? Idek. I’m once more brought back to the endlessly aggravating question of what is happening with the people who write John theses days? It’s not like the Vertigo series didn’t have people who didn’t get him, but predominately the series had excellent writing and consistent characterization. Pretty much since Nu52, John’s characterization via DC writers has ranged to passable to complete garbage. 

-- More overtly showy portrayals of John’s magic. Whatever. Over it. Enough.

So yeah, I hated it and will not be watching anymore. It’s too stressful. I mean, I guess my standards are really high? But like, I love the Constantine movie, and it strongly deviates from canon, but it has the right spirit and I’m sorry. You can hate me. Keanu was wonderful and I loved him as John. So it’s not like I’m sitting here being that asshole like I WILL ONLY ACCEPT PERFECT CANON. I think it just makes me angry that both the TV series and this animation are like “we’re going to give you a proper adaption of this comic you love” and then consistently fucks up details for completely inexplicable reasons. DC owns John. They own Vertigo, so it’s not like they don’t have the rights to the details of his story. It completely baffles me. Judging from the swearing, violenc, and sexual innuendo, it’s not like they’re pulling any punches to sanitize it fully like NBC did so I’m just...completely flummoxed.

One last note: The animation is...fine. Idek. I don’t really like most modern animation. Like, I understand why they do it on computers now. but it just looks so damned souless to me. I mean, there are other cartoons that have been done on computer that don’t look so flat and dead to me. Also I have a personal vendetta against that stupid fucking stubble shit on John’s face. Like seriously, it looks fucking stupid, and honestly? John is clean shaven more often than not in the comics sooo....fuck off with that shit?

[annabolinas]

I've been writing some scenes from my jukebox musical concept and I figured I'd share some of them with y'all. I wrote these out of order and many scenes are yet to be written fwiw. CW/TW for gendered/misogynistic slurs, CSA/grooming/pedophilia, and miscarriages.

Scene 1: Anne Boleyn finds a book of prophecy and is unpopular (Shake it Off)

Scene 2: Anne finds Henry and Jane kissing and miscarries (evermore)

Scene 3: Catherine Howard in the Tower and her execution (Dear John)

Click on the pics and zoom in to read in full.

Let me know what y'all think! And I promise I'll write happier scenes soon.

[you-cant-spell-subtext-without]

Agh. This whole situation is so so messy, with some many people’s personal, super sensitive triggers understandably activated. They’re absolutely valid and it’s awful that this has raised such difficult feelings and brought back their experiences in such a way. I hope they can get support for what they’re currently going through so they’re not dealing and coping with this alone.

I think it’s especially understandable that people will have been triggered with the narratives that have been curated around the recent events. I think I can vouch for every single one of us in this fandom and say that no one would ever condone CSA or any form of child maltreatment across the continuum, at least those of us whom I have interacted with. We all hate John for a reason.

I think the trouble comes from us all holding such strong, and different, head cannons of Jack as a child and of Jack as Dean’s child/Dean as Jack’s father figure. We all know that SPN cannon is messy anyway because of the number of writers involved and with that comes a lack of continuity and consensus on a lot of topics, Jack’s age and role with the boys being one of them. I have personal head cannons that Jack is Dean’s adopted child, Dean is Jack’s father figure and I love baby!Jack truthing because it’s cute and I want that for Dean and Cas. Do I think that was cannon in the SPN universe created by the writers? Not really. I don’t think they consistently recognised Jack as a 4 year old, nor was he ever referred to as Dean’s child. I think Jensen comes at it from that perspective too. It’s important to hold in mind that what is one person’s cannon is not everyone else’s. I can completely appreciate that if your cannon is baby!Jack that Jensen’s comment would then be viewed as disgusting and insensitive and abusive. But baby!Jack is not my cannon for the show, it’s for me and fanfics and the media I interact with on this site. I whole heartedly believe that true SPN canon Jack is a nuanced creature/human on the show and his age is more like him developing in the human world for the first time rather than him being a literal 4 year old, this is represented by him being played by AlCal as a 31 year old male. It’s for that reason I’m not taking what Jensen said as something relating to sexually exploiting a child in any way shape or form.

In reality, disgustingly the audience actually sexualised Jensen’s relationship with his children and he stood against that strongly and seemed really uncomfortable about it. I do not think that Jensen condones any type of child exploitation sexual or otherwise.

I think the narrative people have developed about him around this is incredibly damagingly. It’s awful that so many people have been triggered by this, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. And it’s completely valid for them now to be reeling and feeling shitty because it’s brought up such a visceral response in them, I hope they can access the support they need to work through whatever it is they’re experiencing and get back onto an even keel and step away from things for a while if things are still feeling triggering. I’m even more sorry that the fandom hasn’t felt safe. I don’t think it’s felt safe for anyone on either side of this event. I do however think it’s important to remember nuance and context and think of intention, to remember who Jensen is.

Thinking about Jensen and separating his actions/words from that of perpetrators of CSA is not the same as us/me condoning the actions of CSA perpetrators or invalidating the experiences of CSA survivors. The context in which Jensen spoke and even the words he used is really important to remember and hold on to. Our experiences make us sensitive to particular interpretations of events and our brains can be primed to interpret things in certain ways to keep us safe and that’s okay and sometimes those interpretations will be painful and hurt us. But it’s also important that we can separate this automatic survival interpretation and provide our brains with evidence so it has the whole picture and so we can feel safe again. (Sorry if this comes across as patronising, not my intention at all).

thank you very much for sharing all of this; its very well thought out and succinctly stated. I don't have anything to add, honestly!

[lackspraise]

those who say spider-man is  ruined  by being a csa survivor can fucking choke and i’ll rip their fucking throats out in a denny’s parking lot. also denying he is one when it literally happened is disgusting and you can fall down some stairs   !!!!!

[myownprivatcidaho]

why do people on here insist on speaking in second person someone just sadboyified child prostitution and phrased it like its universal how the hell do you bring yourself to do THAT

[kadywicker]

it just astounds me that ppl r so against bernie like can u imagine supporting candidates that run concentration camps, are pedophiles, are actively racist/transphobic/homophobic, are openly nationalists, and then looking at the guy saying "basic human needs should be free" and going yeah that sounds absolutely insane let's vote for the pedophile locking people in cages because at least he doesn't want universal healthcare!

[fuckyeahasexual]

personally, im more than happy with lesbian ace or gray ace rep, but not by an author who also wrote, csa warning, a child orgy scene

STEVEN KING WTF

Thank god for that at least

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

when y'all come for stricklake, THEN you can talk to me about ~normalizing abuse.~

you're not going to, though, because what you care about is having an excuse to harass people. y'all will literally harass and attack people for saying--without even judging the shippers--that stricklake is fucked up, because it's the popular ship, and attacking people who dare criticize it gets you clout. this has been done a number of times by the exact same prominent BNFs who go after less popular Bad Ships(tm) which are easier targets, it's transparent as hell, and it's fucking disgusting.

(and no, if you try to crawl onto this post saying stricklake as portrayed in canon isn't fucked up as hell you will get a long fucking response, by god.)

and for that matter, hoo BOY are you poking a hornet's nest if you dare criticize barb's behavior toward jim. this entire fandom talks constantly about what a great mom she is, when her treatment of jim is abusive, and not only that, but in specific ways that many, many csa survivors have been harmed by. i have literally been told to suffer and that i, an abuse survivor, don't know what real abuse is (because op ~is writing about it, they should know~), and have been openly mocked in the tags multiple times by multiple BNFs, for talking about it.

and for that matter, while we're at it, how about strickler explicitly telling jim he was worthless for anything but protecting his mom, and that he couldn't even do that right? you know, the exact same thing everyone hates merlin for?

do people like me, who are immensely triggered by this shit, not matter? do people who are, by your standards, having partner and child abuse normalized for them not matter?

the answer is no. we don't. not to people like you. it only matters to you if the characters kiss, because that's easiest to weaponize disgust against for clout.

you wanna know just how much these people don't give a fuck? some of the people in this fandom who are loudest about how Bad Ships are Illegal and Deserve Death openly make content--lots of content--of adult/minor ships of their own, which are portrayed in VERY fluffy, romanticized lights. openly! in between posts foaming at the mouth about other people doing it! they're popular among the other fandom police!

all of this is completely leaving aside everything else about this discourse (which you people clutching your pearls over this shit and wailing to Think of the Children are ignorant as all fuck about and it shows). the point of this post is that y'all are fucking hypocrites and you're not even subtle about it.

don't pretend you care about kids or survivors. what you want is victims. sit the fuck down and shut up.

[spacegaywritings]

CoS - Chapter 6: Of Family and other Nightmares

Summar: Logan's nightmares happen. Tags: food/eating, talks about suicide and guilt and self-blaming and pedophilia/CSA. nightmares (with dying/burying alive metaphor) I am warning you: This chapter can be triggering. ao3 clicky Story under the cut:

Logan felt his lips freeze. The situation before him felt oddly appalling, despite Patton being before him. He was always a tad too affectionate for Logan’s personal comfort but it was never quite too much and they both had learned that the IT student would voice his displeasure and demand more space to be between them instead of them being a space that was filled out. The two were sitting together on the couch, the clock in the warm living-room was ticking with an unusually high volume. It was quite disruptive. Logan had trouble focusing on the silly cartoon before him. Honestly, he had never quite liked them too much. To be frank, he found himself to detest these shows completely despite him being able to name quite why the delight he used to have taken in those was suddenly so shallow. They were like an apple he had bitten into. Red and tight in his hands. So full and robust but when his teeth would break through the candy red blush of the fruit, he tasted mold and dust. He was left with the taste of decomposition and nothing in his mouth. Something had turned his delight into a nightmare, a product of disgust and nothing but retching could be detected within him whenever he saw the bright pictures of too round faces and smooth animations. Something about these holy worlds and the wholesome story lines seemed to disturb him. It was shaking him to the core and it was.. deeply unsettling to say at last. He pushed his hands into his thighs and slid them over to his knees where he pressed his thumbs into his skin. For no reason, he was wearing shorts. Was it bed time? It felt like bed time. Why else would he wear shorts in the commons. It was just then that his eyes caught sight of the sofa they were on. They were not in the commons, they were not on their usual couch. This was another place and even the TV seemed so much older. It seemed like a decade ago, maybe even two, when people had bought and used these big blocks of black screens that seemed to use magic in order to display moving pictures with so many colours and so much sound. The nerd shifted. ‘’Patton, perhaps we should switch channels, should we not?’’, he suggested. His voice was meek and his mouth felt dry. If he did not know better, he would think himself to be a wooden clock. Hollow on the inside, thick layer of wood on the outside. All he felt was the ticking against his lungs, the steady throbbing of his pained heart. His biological alarm clock stunk of adrenaline and it tasted of more and more empty disgust. His roommate next to him let out a deep chuckle. Normally, he would giggle and give him the remote but today felt different, today seemed so off. Where was Roman? Why was his uncle not here, why were his parents not here? Actually, now that he focused on it, it seemed as if he could hear the distant chattering, the clinging of glass cups crushing together and the light-hearted giggles of his mother at ease whenever she was with her brother. He liked his uncle. His uncle was nice. But why was Patton here with him? Did they finish playing on the swing? Mom did not like him being so much inside when he had a friend and could do so much better than watch cartoons. Maybe Patton was over for a sleepover? Logan turned to face the kitchen that was just next-doors. He was ready to call out for his mom but a certain sensation stopped him. A hand was on his thigh and pressed into his flesh. The touch was uncomfortable, it forced a cold into him that Patton did not have. ‘’Loganberry, you wanted to play with me. You promised!’’, the other cried out in a drastic voice before he chuckled again. The sound snuck into his marrow and rattled his comfort again. Patton did not call him that- ‘’I don-’’, Logan started but the words were stuck in his throat. It was so dry, so dry. His mouth was too dry for him to speak any more and the hand on his lap was suffocating him. ’’No’’, he whined but Patton’s hand stayed on him. Suddenly, the hand was on his and he was pulled to his friend’s chest, the observant smirk on Patton’s sharp lips dug into Logan’s sight and he squeezed his eyes shut for another moment. ‘’Come on, let us play!’’ Logan felt his lips seal shut. His tongue as gone, it was far and even further away. Out of sight and out of his mind. All was blank and stale and simple. So bland, so white. So shockingly white without even a hint of innocence in it. Patton’s fingers traced over his body, inching closer, intruding his space. Taking him, tainting his innocence. The kid gasped but the sound was muffled by Patton’s gaunt fingers slapping over his mouth. A distorted mouth was by his side and he felt kisses trail over his body as his body grew stiff. ‘’Loganberry’’, the stranger moaned, ‘’my love!’’

Logan shivered and squirmed but the hand was fitting over his mouth so well, he felt barred and fully blocked from speaking as the restricting human gag of a memory was silencing him into obedience and took his weakness for consent. The other hand was so close, so so deep in his clothing that it scared him because the touch was could and it hurt and he could hear his mom giggle and get tipsy with her brother and Patton was trapping him and flipped him down onto the couch just to trap him and turn his world upside down. When he sat up, Patton was gone and so were his shorts. They were replaced by black and it was stiff and long on him. It covered him wholly and mulled him into feelings he did not know to be his or someone else’s. The black was everywhere, it was on other people, it was in the sky and on the ground. There was charcoal even in the air and in his heart was nothing but spilled ink over his cool white that used to be his and his only. ‘’He had nothing else to live for’’ But who? ‘’He had left a letter. He apologised to his family’’ ‘’I know, I know. His parents are devastated. They will never be the same.’’ ‘’He said he did not see the sense in life without the love of his life with him.’’ ‘’Love of his life? But he was so young. I have never seen him with a girl.’’ Logan swallowed. There were white lilies in his hands. Lilies like death. White like the rotten unknowing that was dead and beaten and would be buried in the black of this ground, vored by a hole and forever graved into a wholesome memory of treasure and value. He stepped forward to put them on the casket. The wooden prison suddenly opened and he was pushed inside. ‘’You killed him!’’, the voices yelled. He could only see violence and hands stretched out to get to him, to come for him and destroy him. ‘’You rejected him!’’ ’’You! You killed my baby!’’ He was pushed into the narrow space. It was perfect for his size, It was made for him and his sins. ‘’You knew you would hurt him. You knew he loved you!’’ ‘’Why did you not just accept his love!?’’ He swallowed the lump in his throat but it remained and tears started blurring the darkness of his vision. ‘’If it had not been for you, he would still be here!’’ ‘’You should have died instead or accepted your feelings like a man!’’ Logan started squirming as his prison was lifted up and he was soon lowered into the hole, his own burial. It was to make up for his sins. Dirt and flowers were thrown at him as the voices continued to chant. ‘’I thought I could trust you.. my own son destroyed out family!’’ ’’Such a sweet child and you were so selfish. How could you?’’ Logan wanted to speak but the hand was forever on his mouth, keeping him still as the black and white were thrown at him. Finally, he cried, sitting up and feeling the familiar heat of blankets on his skin. Virgil, awake as always was immediately by his side and his voice was clustering onto his lap like cereal spilling form the original package into a bowl of cereal. The voice was the same but the content of words was colourful and had a variance Logan could not keep up with, considering all he perceived was a small light somewhere in the room. Not the main light but a little light source that did not seem like a candle. And there was the warmth of his blankets and Virgil who was a blob of colours next to him with these sounds that were so different and so similar at the same, so similar he could not tell them apart or focus on what he said. ‘’Logan, it is okay. I am here’’, the punk assured carefully. The nerd still did not understand him but he understood his name. He knew the sound of it and he welcomed the clear version without any fancy letters attached to it. He hated diminutives anyway. He did not even know why but they made him sick and want to fucking puke. Not all, just some.

Virgil’s hands were raised and the palms were flat, facing Logan for him to see. Oh.. It was so hard to see. Logan narrowed his eyebrows and squinted at the sight. He just did not have any focus ... all was blur and such a fast twisting mess of whatever you would see when riding a merry-go-round when absolutely out of your mind. Like wasted or whatever. There.. no.. one of the hands was curled around something but Logan could not see what it was, he could not make it out but Virgil carefully placed it in his hand and he felt the object with his fingers, wrapping around the familiarity of something he had used so often and had liked so much. His glasses. He carefully put them back on and nodded. The world looked less confusing now but everything was still too much. All impressions on him were so overwhelming and there was barely anything, there was just so much in his head, so many thoughts, so many voices. So much heavy weight of a past guilt. And he still did not feel like the coal in his throat would ever get out. All he did and said was tainted in black with the ink of his sin and the darkness of his actions. He did not even regret it, did he? Logan just shook his head. He did not even what he tried to say with it but.. but he could not, all was too much, everything was too much. His had turned to the side, away from the weak light that was so far away. It was so so far away and it could not even hurt him or bother him but it hurt and it annoyed him. He wanted it gone. Virgil moved into the sight of the source of light, effectively blocking most of it. The second-year student nodded carefully and slowly turned back to face the other. He could not really make out much of his face since the shadows were chased away from the light and bled onto Virgil’s usually softer features that almost made him look like a delicate flower. ‘’Log’’, the other said and Logan nodded again. Acknowledgement. He understood that name. He liked it. It was even shorter and it was a nice reference. It was about the only little joke he liked and Virgil had always used it ever since the two had met on the job. With their firsts shifts together, Logan had worked on something on his laptop and had focused on typing away so much, he had not realised his break had been over. It was only when the other’s voice had piped up, dark and light at the same time, a perfect mix of being in-between and yet so iconic for his brooding appearance. He had called him ‘log’ as a joke since this had been on Logan’s screen and it was probably the first thing he had read when looking for the other.

Logan had fallen behind his usual schedule and had yet to get a university project finished but one of his partners had just dropped the course. In the middle of the whole semester, he had decided to change courses and left without another notice. Nothing but a short message that was only a screenshot of a mail sent to the administration. A confirmation of abandoning his studies since he was accepted into another course of studies. Virgil had noticed that he was just not his usual self and had promised him to cover and take the work onto his shoulders. Logan had almost cried. Half-way through his shift he had gotten to finish his project. Without anyone knowing, Virgil had spent basically all his time to work for two people. Logan had basically used all his working time to finish his group assignment and submit it with a string of notes from how much his partners helped (of course his chat history had been attached as screenshots in order to back up his claims. ‘’V’’, he returned. For some reason, his voice was so raspy and it felt like the coal within his throat was scratching madly against his throat and it hurt and dragged and rubbed and the friction felt like another bruising fire starting up within him and he hated it. He wanted to cough out his coal. He was sick of carrying the blackening piece of dark history with him. Logan was so much more.. He had so much good in his life. Right now, Virgil was smiling at him even though he did not look very much like smiling. His face look tired and so so void of any life. It was like flaccid skin being pulled over a skull after being bleached with the strains of being awake for days on end. Did Virgil even sleep? ‘’Log, hey. Can you hear me?’’

Focus. Yes. Yes of course he did. He even understood his words. ‘’Good, good.’’ Virgil sounded so soothing. He could not even sound ridiculing to Logan even though he just admitted that his greatest accomplishment was being able to decipher spoken verbalisations in his mother tongue and effectively respond to it. Well, not exactly verbally but at least he could react at all. Virgil chuckled a little. It sounded so little like him. It sounded so much more like a desperate crying fit and Logan was so confused about this. Emotions rarely ever made sense but this was like trying to summarise a book and instead just praising it with meaningless reviews. It was something that Logan hated with a burning passion and he had ranted so often about it with Virgil, it had eventually turned into a game. They would read some of the books review of the books they had to sort in. Logan would usually just glance over the back of one book and start reading it, voice heavy with the tone of his judgmental sarcasm as he presented the ridiculous reviews to Virgil. The punk would then have to find out what it was about. It was nearly always wrong but they eventually added the book cover as hint so the game would be easier. After that, Virgil would come up with the funniest story ideas. If Logan was a writer, he would ask for help with Virgil’s ridiculous creativity. His ideas were nonsensical yet strangely amusing. Logan smiled. Virgil smiled back, the desperation seemed to fade from his lips and the curl of their corners seemed more genuine and it resembled the natural snorting expression the artist would display whenever someone he was comfortable with made a joke. It was magic to Logan. ‘’Listen, is it okay if I touch you? I just wanna sit next to you and look around the room, okay? It is not bad if you say no. You can always say no.’’ Logan tilted his head. His head was so heavy and his thoughts seemed to weigh him down. They were soaked clothing on a person who tried to make it through the every day insanity of life. It was so much harder and it did not have to be. Nobody needed this. He tried to contemplate on the question and carefully let his head drop before his unfocused gaze, that was just anyway, narrowed onto the space pattern around his blanket. The librarian carefully moved to the side and nodded again. His lips twitched upwards into a little smile and he nodded again when Virgil did not respond. The artist slowly climbed into his bed and despite the confirmation that he was very much okay to touch Logan, there was an invisible barrier that kept the two apart. Their bodies were not touching. He curled up and stretched out his left hand to allow Logan to take it. ‘’Hey, I know the light sucks but I need you to focus. I know you are tired and exhausted but can you please focus?’’ Another nod. Virgil felt Logan’s hand slip into his and the fourth roommate nodded softly. ‘’Can you do me the favour of naming five things you can see?’’ Logan dragged his gaze over the room, fixating on nothing in particular. The objects before him seemed to float down the stream of a waterfall and he was not quite quick enough to catch the concept of all these things. It seemed so lost, he was so lost. He carefully squeezed Virgil’s hand that was between them. He trained his eyes on his lap and and slowly moved his hand over there. Maybe for comfort, maybe because his cluttered mind would understand that this hand was moved by him - into his own lap. But honestly, there was no knowing since he himself did not know at all. The first things started coming into focus. Despite his glasses it felt as if he was squinting in concentration and his nose did scrunch up a tiny bit. Logan was helpless and lost but he looked utterly uncontrolled and, for some reason, much more human than on average. Of course, a common exception is whenever he just woke up and had this little look of confusion and needed adjustment on his face. It was when he was loose like the straps of a recently purchased backpack - it was only a matter of time until it was adjusted to the given circumstances. Before his eyes, the familiar darkness of his blanket came into focus and slowly, like an old camera, the blurriness faded until everything seemed clear. He was still floating, as much as the things around him that seemed out of place and as if they were homeless at the same time. None of them belonged. ‘’Blanket’’, Logan started and Virgil gently squeezed his hand in encouragement. The elder one smiled mutely and gave a curt nod as response. At least he saw something. ‘’The space’’, he started but the words did not make sense, not even to him, ‘’space pattern’’. Virgil nodded wisely. Maybe it was just in imagination that Logan brought onto himself. Perhaps in his mind it did not make sense but it somehow made sense after all. Just not to him. It was like Patton’s jokes that he missed out on so often that he just felt the heat on his face stay away and instead, cold settling in his chest. It was almost too common for him to feel like he was the only one to not get it. The only one to not feel it. His fingers brushed against Virgil and the other immediately opened his hand around Logan’s. It seemed the other had pressed the right button to convey what he wanted to express because the other was quick to give in to his sudden movements. Sudden, nonetheless slow and careful. His palm rested back on the bed and he brushed over the blanket. The pattern was not just dark hues. Well, it mostly was but there were sparks of stars and sources of shine in the nice illustration of a space-themed look. The best part of it was that the other side of his blanket, the one which was currently covering his legs and touching his toes, was a mash up of different stars and constellations of them as well. They were connected and Logan would often just look at them and appreciate them. It was a gift from Patton and he still found comfort in the blanket. Logan’s hand retreated to the grip of his roommate’s fingers. He gently squeezed it again, the warmth welcoming him and inviting him to a more beautiful and stable world. For some reason, everything seemed more complete at this moment. The grip was more like a grip on his life and and Logan breathed out. There was relief on his tongue and he slumped a little against the wall behind his bed before he curled up against Virgil. It was a light contact at first, their heads brushing together like a lover’s caress. Their shoulders lightly bumped together and the outside of their thighs lined up next to each other like best friends would sit together whenever they share time to have some good moments together and make a little less complicated and bitter like it usually was with all the stress. ‘’Our hands’’, he said. His voice was genuine and dipped into a softness that seemed so different, nearly alien coming from the usually so factual nerd who barely conveyed any sort of emotion. No strong one. His emotions were usually the verbal pastels of colours while others came on so strong. Roman, for example, was always strong like his red jackets he liked to wear so much. They were the intense crimson, a deep carmine, sometimes the slightly softer but still rather bright poppy. His emotions were so bundled up and came in less than they stormed the scene with lime light and speakers as they started the rush of feeling. Virgil swallowed, a lump building up in his throat but he gently shifted their hands so his thumb could brush over the back of Logan’s larger and much paler hands. Logan truly had this glorious nerd tan that came from being solely exposed to the sunshine instilled in LED lamps. It was admirable, truly enviable. At least, if you asked Virgil. ‘’One more, my dear’’, the punk encouraged and Logan settled against his side by now. His head slipped to his chest and he let out a little sigh. ‘’The light. It is a real nuisance’’, he said. The hands on his back seemed to be gone. The grabbing cold stopped trying to drag him into the abyss of decay. Virgil scoffed at that and Logan joined with a little huff. His sounds were breathless and he had to keep inhaling deeply in-between his fits of laughing that easily degenerated into aimless giggles. He collapsed into Virgil’s lap and the other carefully brush through his blonde curls with a smile so faint yet so prominent on his features. His eyes were light with the feeling of elation between them and the light was the least bothering by now. It gave them the opportunity to lock eyes whenever Logan’s throat cried for more oxygen and gasps ripped from his insides as he split his mouth and sucked in needy breaths just to fall into his self-intoxicating chuckles once more. ‘’You did well, Log’’, he praised gently and softly petted his hair, ‘’you are doing very well.’’ Logan hummed softly, his chuckles dying down as a smile of contentment splayed itself over his features. The nightmare was far gone. It had hit him like a truck but after the initial harm, he was back to himself and the violence has brushed past him. He had recovered from the impact and was back in the sweet sweet care of other people making him realise that life was so much sweeter than the bitter aftertaste that trauma left on your tongue every other morning even after years of remission. ‘’Thanks..’’, Logan mumbled softly as he curled into a large ball of his gaunt but somewhat bulky form. Sure, he was much more compromised like this, like a human espresso of everything in time and space that is worth universal adoration, but he was still so much taller than Roman or Virgil were. ‘’Don’t sweat it, nerd’’, Virgil chuckled but his amused sounds were quick to fall from the air like heavy drops of bombs and they clashed onto the ground to leave the crushing destruction that was his mind. ‘’Do you want to talk about it?’’ Logan curled up further. It was foolish to think that simply taking the position of a fetus in a physical sense would transform him into a similar responsibility as much as capability. Well, it turned out that the student was still very much able to feel the pain in his chest albeit his lungs had calmed into a regular breathing rhythm. His mind used to be a galaxy but at this moment, it was sucked in by the gravity of something too big and too heavy for him to comprehend and he had yet to try and figure it out. It was then when his mind gave him a little spark in the wide darkness of himself. Hope. If he did not know how to free himself because he was too weak to break the power of attraction, maybe he would do good in getting help. He had dismissed the idea of therapy for so long. His family would find out. Even now, he would not be able to handle the shame of being any less than idea, of being someone who did not fulfill all expectations the world pored over him. The biases and dragging limits were running over him like a painfully slow bulldozer. Well, there was Patton. But the thing was, Patton did know Logan when he was not ready to talk about things, when he was in the most horrible state of mind. To him, it felt too wrong to just suddenly come up with all these things and spout them out like they had been buried under his tongue all along, waiting for him to just get loose enough. Another point, of course, was the plain fact that Patton was studying Psychology and was currently conducting a study with residing therapist Dr. Emile Picani. Sure thing he would not actively try and analyse Logan but he would at least tell him to see a therapist. He had done it before and Logan was not just unprepared and, in some ways, unable to handle this (talking about the financial burden would just be another issue he did not want to consider). Patton was his best friend. They had been best friends for years, for over a whole decade by now, if only by a few mere years. Whenever something new came up, they supported one another and now that Logan grew up more and had the time to be away from his family and think for himself while studying, he just realised that there was so much in him, so many untackled things he had never considered to be an issue. Especially the talks and the co-studies he took by supporting Patton and generally having a broad interest in all kinds of sciences had left Logan understanding just how much there was wrong with him when he had not noticed in so many years. The master student was much more knowledgeable about Logan’s well-being and his coping mechanisms than anyone else. He had his little skill kit Patton had helped him with in all glory and support. Just... He could not, he did not feel like he was the person who could break it to Patton just how fucked he was in senses where he knew that his dear friend was hurting. He could not, it would be wrong, so morally wrong like some Martha Nussbaum would probably argue for the sake of moral philosophy and the regard for human dignity. Virgil was waiting while Logan pondered, still waiting as Logan was rotating endlessly as he slowly billowed through the darkness of his own universe. The librarian sighed and carefully shifted. Ever since he had moved into Virgil’s lap to curl up like the baby he was in his vulnerability and emotional exposition, he had let go off the other’s hand in favour of holding onto himself, kind of. Well, it had not been too much of a loss since the punk was patiently caressing his hair and making the swirls of thoughts and memories less nauseating to him. Roman was out of question. He would never be able to gain this emotional depth with him. He did not know why but there seemed to always be something between them that just split them apart in ways that made it unable for him to reach out. Maybe they were too stubborn. Maybe they were not open. Perhaps it was a matter of pride and being honest with yourself and others. Logan knew it was all three but he dismissed the thought in favour of just breathing into his current acceptance at this moment. It could be that he was in some lightheaded blur but as the worlds around him kept moving and he was wafting thorough the cosmos still, the sickness seemed to fade and a sense of something special sparked within him. There was a warmth, a belonging in him and he knew it was not hope, it was so much more. It was the first time of lighting up a candle, seeing the fire spark from match or lighter over to the wick of an untouched potential. ‘’Ye...yes’’, he murmured silently. His voice did not sound like him. Not quite. Was this a new he? A he who would face his past and finally spill the truth? ‘’I mean, I think so’’, he vaguely stated but doubt quieted down his honesty, ‘’I guess..?’’ The hand in his hair stilled for just a moment before it continued again. A new tenderness seemed to be in the movement and suddenly, it was not just his hair getting gentle caresses but his whole scalp would feel the pads of now ten single fingers gently applying different degrees of pressure to his sensitive skin. ‘’I can try’’, Logan concluded. With his mind being handled like this, the whole ponderosity seemed but a fleeting incident. It was the passing of time, the sound of the steady breathing, the daily growth of nature and the movement of a river’s perpetual stream. It just.. was. Silence. After a while, Logan spoke up again. Sounded like a lot of talking he would have to do. Might as well get used to it. ‘’Can I stay like this?’’ Virgil smiled but Logan could not see it. His eyes squeezed away the possibility of rejection. ‘’Of course you can’’ It was okay?? ‘’And Logan?’’, he asked softly. Logan might as well have missed the sentence. It was not silent, no, not really. The mutter was clearly audible. Virgil’s form was so closely connected to his and his head had to be facing his as he was pronouncing his words for him. He hummed in acknowledgement, prompting the other to go on. ‘’If you ever want to stop or think better of it, that is okay. You don’t have to tell me anything, I mean, ever. Not just now. It is okay. I am here whenever you need me, as much as I can.’’ A part of him wanted to add that he owed Logan but it was not about that. It was not about any of this at all, it was more of a thing he wanted to do rather than some principles or mutuality. In the past he had been eager to please people but now all he wanted to do was give back and encourage. Maybe just open worlds and being a good friend for the sake of it rather than fulfilling some cryptic purpose he wanted to believe others would serve him in their relationships to him. ‘’I mean..’’, he mumbled and sighed again. Logan’s hand reached up to rub the eyes under his glasses, the backside of his hand pushing his glasses up like some annoying person a bully would shove out of the way. He glanced over at the alarm clock on his night stand. It was on his side, the left one. Closer to the door. Virgil’s mattress was on the right side of his bed when you were laying on it and did not face the wall the bed was cuddling with but rather showed it your back. For some reason, Virgil liked it that way. The clock was glowing in a signal red. It was stinging and intense and Logan did not particularly enjoy the sensation of craning his neck just enough off his friend’s lap so he could stare into a bright pillarbox red. It read something along the digits of 2:38am. What a shitty time to be awake when you had lesson early up in the morning but well, winter time was his personal nightmare. The shorter the days got, the more he seemed to ponder, think, deliberate. The memories would start swallowing more time of his day and block his mental capacity and cognitive abilities. As a person who took pride in this, he absolutely despised this. But at the same time, he had met Patton in the days of snow flakes falling and marshmallow-adorned hot chocolate being passed out to children. But right now it was 2:39am and Virgil was still waiting for him. ‘’Hey, let’s go out’’, he stated eventually. It was not even a suggestion. He wanted to take the car he shared (he shared it with his roommates even though Patton had resorted to using it the most these days. Not that any of them minded since it was all up to them for using it whenever the day was free. Roman usually drove him to university when his schedule allowed it.) and get out with Virgil. For some reason, he felt hungry and he just wanted to get something from a stupid take out, have crappy 3am fast food and cry over something like disgusting donuts or whatever when talking about how much he actually hated life and himself and all that made him who he was. ‘’Holy shit, that is a good idea’’, Virgil chuckled and carefully nudged Logan. The IT student got the hint and slowly rose before a certain urge overcame him and he felt his lips beings pushed open for a big yawn that he immediately covered up with a quick hand. ‘’Aw Logan’’, Virgil teased in amusement. His voice nearly sounded appreciative as he got hs ass out of bed. It was now that Logan realised that yes, they were both very much in pyjamas because they were awake in the middle of the night because of a nightmare. It was not a thing that had actually happened even though his mind wanted him to believe it very much was a memory rather than the manifestation of his guilt about actual things that happened. His tired eyes lingered on the appearance of Virgil and his tattoos for another moment. Seeing him outside of his hoodies and jackets was a thing that just happened at home, even in summer. Every time he was blessed with the comfort of Virgil being able to show his body a bit more he just felt as if something great had happened but he did not quite know how to deal with it even though he desperately wanted to do something about it. ‘’Are you sure about that, though?’’, the punk asked again as he pulled his shirt off and Logan quickly turned away and put his glasses back onto his nightstand. The elder one shot another look back at him and caught a glimpse of something that seemed to shine, something that was a dim light and it was not this stupid lamp that Virgil had turned on in order to see something when Logan had suddenly started screaming. Possibly. This glow was weaker but it seemed like a bluish, glowing colour. ‘’Yes, I am’’, he retorted and fully turned back to him, his hands by now buried in his closet as he was fishing out some casual clothing. Maybe just some nice comfort hoodie and long grieving pants. After all, he did not exactly feel like running fireworks today and seizing the day like a participator in the Olympia. He felt more like some pancake that had too much water and size and ended up being soggy and abandoned and so cold. He continued fishing. ‘’What is that glow?’’, he asked. He refused to turn on the light and Virgil did not even seem to bother as he pulled up some hoodie to put on. So, apparently he would just wear a hoodie and the loose shorts he had put on before cuddling up to his mattress in the bliss of sweet and promising exhaustion. The reward was usually a goodnight-sleep, a full one. The art student looked back up at him and even in the dim light he could see the lazy grin that were his lips, the two rings on   his bottom lip slightly stretched to the side to present a lop-sided joke of a mischievous smile. ‘’Hey nerd, you checking me out?’’, he sad before his lips were pulled by his teeth that hungrily made the grabby hands for the black horseshoe-styled jewellery that was curling around Virgil’s lower lip as he looked up at the ceiling before he spared Logan another dark glare. ‘’Well, if you need to know, come closer.’’ He dropped the hoodie onto the bed as he stepped over to Logan and the curious man was quick to jump over his hesitation and how caught up his breath seemed to be when he swallowed his questions, his confusion and his desperate need to understand what he was feeling at this moment. Virgil carefully lifted his right arm and leaned his back against the closet for Logan to see his little glow. On the side of his ribs, a few inches below his armpit, there was a bunch of little lights, bluish in nature and rather intense to see. His skin seemed so smooth, so void of hair and simply soft. Logan had never felt this hungry for secrets. He wanted to unwrap the mysterious of his friend and eat them up like a delicately wrapped of chocolate praline. ‘’It is the Comae Berenices. That thing that looks like the tip of an unfinished triangle is her Diadem’’, Virgil explained as he carefully brushed over a connecting line. This one was in regular black, nothing too fancy, no special ink that seemed to magically appear in the light of darkness. ‘’I kinda associate it with the goddess of victory and success and thought it was kinda nice. The alpha star is called ‘Diadem’ like I told you. It is a double star and it is usually connected to beta and gamma of this asterism.’’ Logan leaned in as he followed Virgil’s browsing finger like a predator observed his victim. Curious, morbidly even so. And so hungry in his own fascination. It drowned him in something that did not quite satisfy him. Oh, now he regretted having taken off his glasses just to stare less but this was just another excuse to get his curly head of curiosity closer into Virgil’s life and find out more. When he carefully brushed over it with his own fingers, Virgil flinched away. The magic seemed broken and Logan’s captivity in this bonding moment was gone as the portal to the cryptic glow was closed off again and Virgil’s arm lowered and curled around his abdomen in defense. The IT student wanted to apologise, wanted to tell his colleague that he was sorry but then he heard Virgil’s chuckle again and he saw how the other squeezed himself into the closet and hugged his arms to himself in a sense of comforting his triggered tactile sense. ‘’I am ticklish’’, Virgil explained, his words effectively affirming Logan’s suspicions. He was merely satiated but he swallowed away his interest and nodded away, keeping up his usual business-attitude as he tried to not feel feverish and so unbelievably hot in his own skin. His face was glowing harder than Virgil's tattoo. And it was not even the only tattoo and Logan had just recently saw the snake one for the first time. Now he also got to realise that his chest and back as well as the asterism were tattoos on the slim body of his friend. A body full of ink and secrets. A person so soft and mysterious, it felt forbidden to be so close yet so far away when he was existing despite all the odds and all the rules of life and society.

His inner Sherlock wanted to take him in and explore all of his body and analyse the stitches and scars, the ink and the moles on his skin just so he could know him better, so he could understand. It was probably just him panicking now that he decided Virgil was a safe space to reveal himself to but at the same time, it was a step for him to realise just how little he knew about the other. Family? Hobbies? Friends? He knew of some but he was not happy wit many of these and he was just so shocked about how much there was hidden under the piercings and the confident smirks that came from the same person who would just rush over to Logan and beg him to take over a costumer for him as he was sweating and trembling and biting his lips and brushing over that tongue piercing of his by pushing it against his gums. He could see it in his jaw movements whenever he had too much social pressure. And then he was such a playful tease, so  confident and slithering with his words and deeds. What was this man? Who was this man? He was a good friend at least and he gave him a comfort like Patton did but it did not seem so conditioned, not so tainted by their past and the length and depth of their relationship. It was odd but it was so free and spacious. It was like a grip that was completely open, a touch you barely felt and the support that was there the second you were about to turn your head for them and call for help. Logan was pulled from his thoughts and observations that were clustered around the mystery of his friend. When this was over, he should try and get to know Virgil more. They surely have learned more ever since they moved in together but there was still so much left unsaid. With the pressure of exams coming up and assignments being due, he just was rather busy and honestly, Virgil and Logan saw each other during work more than at home despite sharing the same room and sleeping next to each other (if not in the same bed). Virgil was rather occupied as well. If he was not working or staying in university until much later so he could finish and even hand in his art projects, then he was out late or on a run like he had explained to Logan. Apparently, he had frozen this activity for a few days when the cut incident happened and now Logan was none the wiser. He quickly pulled his own little hoodie on. It probably looked cliche but he loved his NASA merchandise. After he had visited the place with his family (he had just been a teenager and pushed them into doing something fun for once), he had never lived down the greatness of this experience. They had even taken Patton with them at this time and it had been amazing. Up until now, he had kept these memories and pictures saved in his heart and files. Well, now that he was all cuddled up in his slightly too big hoodie (it was rather hard not to be too big for Logan when he was still rather slim compared to people like Patton), he also added some regular jogging pants and made sure to take his phone and wallet with him. He felt like eating weird weird stuff. The punk was still rather next to him and chuckled when the other was ready, he just tapped his shoulder and passed him, on the way to leaving the room when Logan quickly reached out for him and pulled him close by his wrist. ‘’Wait’’, he ordered suddenly, his words in the tone of a police officer who did not joke around but was there for the serious busy and looking all gloomy and professional, ‘’Patton and Roman cannot hear about this. They will just ask questions and get worried or annoying. I..- I cant do this right now.’’ Virgil narrowed his eye, his small snub nose scrunching up a tad as his upper lip rose just enough for him to open his mouth in protest. Did Logan want to not go anymore? Was he scared? The taller man sighed and gently took Virgil’s left again. ‘’We gotta be quick and silent. We need to rush over there. We will not shut this door here. You go to the front door and open it when I join you, I just need to quickly get the keys. Patton did not have shift but we need to be back until 8 for him to not notice and also not to interfere with his schedule.’’ Virgil’s expression forged back into a smile and his nose settled as well as he nodded. It was just a few more moments and a conspiring exchange of nods before they followed Logan’s proposed steps and quickly exited the home together in joint silence. When they were outside, they only looked at one another and giggled before they descended the stairs and hurried into the cold night. *** Virgil and Logan were laying on the bonnet of the car. They were in the middle of some more or less abandoned part of the area after having driven for ages and now they were there, laying there in the middle of nothing. The darkness around them was patiently cruising around them instead of trying to swallow their light and make their bodies disappear. They were peacefully coexisting with a bunch of junk food between them, separating them but at the same time uniting them whenever they went for the food at the same time and giggled or simply smiled in silence at the little gesture of similarity. The feeling of being understood and having a common ground. Their bodies were a little twisted away from one another, their heads resting on the beginning of the windscreen’s sharp upward-angled curve. The food rested in the space next to their thighs and stopped right at their knees like the perfect length for a dress of nightly munchies. Just without the whole teenage regrets and late night pot-mistakes. Logan was drinking his milk shake while Virgil dipped onion rings into ice cream. None of them could count just how much fast food they had gotten this night but they had stopped at a few places before they felt satisfied. Now, they were just laying there, peace brushing over their limbs and the exhaustion of not having gotten enough sleep dragged at their eyes but neither of them wanted to let this night end. The stars above them illuminated their new world, their shared twosomeness. Logan lifted his lips from his cup. Yes, he had no straw or whatever. He had nearly glared daggers at the proposal of any while a sleepless and overworked student had just stared into him, with soulless posture and underpaid heart on his face. Virgil just had hissed and taken Virgil’s hand with some sort of eye roll before saying, ‘’He watched ‘Happy Feet’ and now he is really sensitive, you know?’’ Once his lips were unoccupied, they pressed together. Numb and wet from the cold drink, he ran his tongue over them in order to clean off the sweetness of his artificial peanut butter and jam cocktail of flavours and crushed ice particles with enough lactose to kill a man. Or just trigger some explosive tummy aches of death. And then, he giggled. His body curled up to his side, away from Virgil and he faced the side of the field that was in his line of vision. A bit of car lights were emitting enough human-made sun for him to see a bit of wilted nothing and brownish leaves all over. Aw, autumn could be so depressing.. and now it was almost winter, huh? Virgil immediately shot up, his body jerking into the position of dropping his food and support Logan in case his sucks for air and little gasps turned from delighted to pained and regretful. None of it. The nerd simply curled back, breathing out hard before his giggles continued, if not a little subsided by now. Eventually, he had calmed himself and turned back to face the other. ‘’I barely remember the last time I did anything so unpredictable and spontaneous, anything I just wanted to do at that moment for no reason at all. Just going out at’’, he wanted to check his watch but it was at home on his desk. Instead, he checked his phone as he brushed off the habitual movement of bringing his wrist into his vision, ‘’oh what not? Nearly 4 am by now. Can you believe that?’’ A faint smile was still playing on his lips and he let his head rest back to where it used to be and Virgil took the invitation to return into his previous position and put another ice-cream covered abomination of greasy onion rings into his mouth. Seriously, how did this kid eat any of this? Logan was rather sure Virgil was still underage. Allowed to drive and pay his bills but not allowed to drink or be ‘adult’. Weird laws. The elder student sighed and took another thick sip of his sugary treat. He would never sleep with all these amounts of monosaccharides flooding his system but well, his body had to suck it up now. H was having fun and despite his nightmares, he was still smiling and talking and able to interact with Virgil like it was the easiest thing he has ever done. ‘’Well, Virgil. Now to what we wanted to discuss in the first pla-’’, Logan started but Virgil interrupted him ‘’Okay, nerd. I respect you but give yourself the time of the day and stop being so formal. This is a personal shit thing so treat it with emotion and let yourself be upset. It had you shaken up like crazy there and it is okay to feel shit. It really is. And if someone tells you otherwise, I will eat them and we have a problem less in the world. We got a deal?’’ Logan moved his neck, turning his face just enough to glance at his friend who, in response, extended his right for him. He had his glasses on but he was sure he only saw a few fingers hanging in the scarce light, presenting themselves to him. His left extended itself without his mind following. He was still hung up on the fingers. But his fingers stretched out for the other, longing and eventually meeting them and curling around the empty hand. It felt so strange holding these fingers, it was not even a full hand to him, it felt so little, so unlike Virgil. ‘’It is a deal now, stop staring’’, Virgil laughed with a mock-offense in his tone as he nudged his shoulder against Logan’s and carefully tended to the rest of his food. Right now, it was burrito into his ice cream. There was not much left so maybe at least this crime would find its own end. ‘’Okay okay but will you stop eating gross food?’’, Logan retorted and Virgil scoffed, nearly choking on his food and the nerd was merciful enough to offer his milkshake weirdness for Virgil to mix it into his confuzzling mix of whatever the heck his taste buds had to identify in his mouth. When Virgil did not seem to choke anymore, he took another gulp of the milkshake and handed it over. ‘’I swear, Log, you need more of this attitude of yours when we are at work. With these guts, you would obliterate everyone by simply giving some assholes these deadass stares and no-bullshit tolerance.’’ He did not understand, he really did not. But he understood that Virgil gave him a compliment and laughed at a stupid thing he said. It made him feel lightheaded and warm inside, no matter how much freezing cold there was around them or pooling around the actual area of his guts when the milkshake seemed to just run down his insides like rapid snowfall. ‘’Whatever you said, Virgil, I might as well give it a try and be less patient, if you will.’’ Virgil shrugged and finally, finally finished his ice cream at last. The empty container was stuffed into the bag of trash between them that held all the wrapping and other stuff they had already discarded by consuming the different food items. One by one. He sighed and patted his stomach, a little smile on his face. Logan was not sure he had even seen him eat so much food at once. He had quite the appetite for some small guy, really. Anyway, he could not keep dodging the topic by getting desperately interested in everything else. He just set himself a mental reminder to update his journal on Virgil later on so he would learn something and maybe understand his friend a bit more. He just wanted to help him, too. ‘’Okay, well..’’, Logan started. This time for real. ‘’I was pretty young. It was before we moved and met Patton. I was still attending elementary school. We probably moved because of this all.’’ He looked up into the stars, the scattered white somewhat attracting him, soaking him in and giving him a feeling like the night sky was just a blanket curled up around him and helping him sink into the sleep. The calmness was slowly covering his body and mind and it was a comfort, so far from human but so close to understanding and a sense of belonging that it left him confused. The universe was just so much bigger and all he could think of is why he loved it so much and how trivial all seemed before him. There was something more, maybe a plan and order. ‘’My cousin is dead, Virgil’’, he eventually stated. The words were as cold as the night and Logan’s face seemed to freeze into a statue of who he could be at any other point in time. ‘’He is dead because he killed himself when I was young and it is my fault and I don’t care.’’ Virgil carefully slid up against the windshield and looked at his friend, his face unreadable and in deep rumbles of thoughts. That must have been shocking, huh? A nice friend telling you he did not care about the death of a family member. Him saying that he was at fault, maybe a major cause to the whole thing happening. Logan did not know what the minor thought, he did not know what to think or how to feel about this but he did know for sure that the hot shame was rising in him and he suddenly felt sick with the guilt and pain in his younger self’s struggle. His heartbeat was the only tune in the memorable night. It sang and it sang in its remorseful wails and sputtering helplessness before it started sobbing. Logan felt tears pricking at his eyes, the heat making him feel dizzy and out of his body, in a weird way. ‘’That is okay, Logan’’, the other said without another moment of silence to make them drift apart any further. The words fell so easily but when they hit the goal, they seemed to crash into Logan’s heart like a car into a wall at full speed. ‘’It is okay to feel or not feel. You cannot control what you feel. It is okay. You can keep going. I don’t care about what you did.’’ Logan forced a shuddering breath out of his system and discarded the rest of his milkshake in their little trash bag. He hugged his arms around himself and gave in to the violent shivers that ran through his body by now. Despite the hoodie, he was still cold. He was so cold inside because he never felt and he never lived and now he did and it was horrible and terminal. Like he could never go back to not feeling this wretching pain anymore despite the feeling f someone just slowly pulling his heart apart, peeling it like a tomato with slow yet precise movements and the patience of someone who wanted to inflict high-quality torture. ‘’It is my fault, Virgil. It is my fault. He mentioned me in his suicide note, he listed me as reason. I did this to him, I destroyed a whole family!’’, he cried out and curled up, his tall legs coming back up to his chest to suffocate him further. The weight on his conscience was much heavier and breath-taking than his body felt. His voice faded into a mere whine, his wails downgrading into the volume of a pleading whisper when he repeated his words, his self-blaming, his accusations. ‘’I did it. I killed a man, I made him, I did that - Virgil, I killed someone, it is my fault, my fault, my fault!’’, he puled. His words were nothing but the twisted reflection of his despair and personal all-time low as he dug for all the shit he had on himself, all the crap and pain and shame he had buried within him and was now trying to get out. He was in a sinking nutshell of a boat. It had a leak and he could not help but keep staring at it as he felt his body being more and more immersed in the salty depth of the abandoned ocean around him. Salty like his dishonorable tears he still shed despite him being at fault. He was undeserving of any pain and sadness, considering he has triggered the whole grief with his own selfishness. And he was collecting the water, oh he was. Logan was gathering it with all he had, his hands, his shoes he had taken off and used as bowl in order to let the water back into the ocean, throw it out of his little nutshell. He was prolonging the inevitable. It was trying to postpone death when it was a certainty to come but he faced worse than death, he was living a life of guilt, subjected to the own pain he had sentenced himself with in an attempt at repentance. But then there were warm hands around him and Virgil pulled him closer, pulled him over to the other side of the junk barrier between them and held him close, let him cry against his shoulder and keep repeating his shame again and again as he softly hummed and rocked the other. Logan just wanted to sleep and never feel again, just stop being so miserable and never go back at all. ‘’That is bullshit, Log. You did not do a thing. You did not give him anything to hurt himself, you did not do anything that could have made him do it. You were just a kid, you were dumb and unknowing and you tried to make it and that is okay.’’ Virgil gently brushed over his arms and Logan nodded but he did not know whether his heart understood the words like his mind did. He processed the words, he had made sense of them but he did not feel them, not yet.. it was not all, it was not the whole story. ‘’But I did- I... I did!’’, he stubbornly spat through his teeth as more snot and tears mixed on his face and washed away the mask of a good man to finally reveal the ugliness beneath. He was a monster, a killer, a selfish criminal and he had never once tried to be a man about it and face his fears, accept his guilt and live with it. No, he was still denying and now he was even manipulating Virgil into supporting his personal denial. It was ugly, so ugly, he was so ugly. ‘’What did you do, Logan. It is okay. We can figure it out, we can get behind this together.’’ The sweet smell of a promise, the warm notion of relief and forgiveness was shining before him, wrapping him up and letting him breathe out his despondency. Virgil was the light to over his shadowy self the turn of events he was asking for, the possibility to finally stop hurting and instead change the there and now, feel the past fade into the black and white of long forgotten memories. ‘’I... He told me he loved me’’, he breathed out, his tone flattening as he steadily forced himself down to deep and intense breaths that hurt but felt so soothing as well. ‘’He.. loved me and I.. I was.. I did not. .. I told him to stop b-because he touched me. He touched me a lot and so often and I .. It hurt, it was bad and I hated it. I hated it!!’’ He felt his face grow hot again, the wrecking heat finally raising his temperature and settling the agony in his heart. ‘’He.. He would watch cartoons with me’’, he hiccuped softly as his voice turned from enraged and fierce back into the begging tone he had obtained in his miserable tears, ‘’he would watch them and touch me and told me to not move and it was so bad. I did not want that and he hurt me, he hurt me so much but he loved me and and-...’’ Virgil gently brushed over his back and carefully hugged him closer. ‘’Shh’’, he hummed gently and cradled the other closer, ‘’It is okay. It is okay. You are with me, you are safe. You are an adult now. You are in the fields with me.’’ Logan acknowledged the words mutely, his head nodding them off and he took another courageous breath of sweet, cold oxygen. It bruised his lungs and wrung his wind pipe from the inside. His throat was hurting so much and his voice still felt hoarse and broken from all his crying he entitled himself to. ‘’I was sick of him hurting me. It was so mean and he was so sweaty and he forced- He.. he forced me and told me to be silent and then gave me things and gifts and was so nice. I could not hate him but I did and he never stopped. Virgil, he never stopped but I asked him too because it was so painful and he made me bleed a lot and it hurt. It hurt so bad!’’ Virgil gently held his friend and he nodded. ‘’I know. I know, Logan. You did nothing wrong. You never did anything bad. It is good you told him how you felt. Lies are mean. You are not responsible for how you feel, it is not up to you to make others feel better about how you feel. You were just honest, Log. You were just an honest kid and he hurt you so much and left you with all this guilt.’’ Their hug became more as Logan broke under his words and acknowledged the meaning. He was free, he was gone. Virgil had broken down his own prison of guilt and told him it was fine. It was fine. It was okay. He had never done a mean thing, right? ‘’You did good, Log. You did a very good job with all these things. If he had loved you for real, he would have respected you and your needs, he would not have forced or hurt you.’’ His heart squeezed painfully as he pronounced his own daily mantra. ‘’Love is about loving someone for who they are and wanting the best for them. He did not love you when he made you feel bad about being yourself and feeling what you feel.’’ Logan nodded again and again. They sat together and cried longer and longer. The sky was forming and changing around the feelings they shared in their little bubble. It was so long and tired until they got back.