#cw negative self talk

[murderoushagthesequel]

I'm Here

from @jegulus-microfic's prompt, impatient (352 words)

ok i think this feels a bit rushed but overall i quite like it so! yeah enjoy. also this is a happy one despite the cws i promise. CW for negative self talk, mild self harm

Fuck, he’s so stupid. Of course James wouldn’t show. He’s, well, James Potter. And Regulus is just Regulus. He paces the small stone room hidden behind his favourite tapestry in the castle. He’s been told he paces when he’s nervous, which, of course, he always denies. Regulus Black doesn’t get nervous, what a preposterous notion. 

He continues to obsessively check his watch. In thirty seconds, James will officially be late. Merlin, why would you even think he would meet you here? You’re just his best friend’s know-it-all, grossly skinny, rude little brother whom everyone hates. Of course James Potter would never be interested in you. He probably only agreed to meet you for a laugh. He begins to scratch at his arm, feeling the burn as the skin gets redder and the voice in his head only continues to berate him.

And then, he hears a rustle behind him. Whirling around, Regulus is broken out of his trance by none other than James Potter standing before him in the cramped room.

“You’re late,” he snarls with a glare, though inside he’s flooding with relief.

“And you’re impatient, Reg,” James laughs, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I told you I was coming, and here I am. I’m here,” he assures. And Regulus sighs, letting the tension seep out of his body and relaxing, feeling the warmth of James’ hand radiate through his body.

James is here. James was always going to be here. Because he’s good. Because when he sees the red scratch marks on Regulus’ arm, he kisses them better and doesn’t ask questions. Because he sits and talks to Regulus all night. Because it turns out someone like him is interested in Regulus, and will do everything he can to prove that. And, well, that just fills Regulus with warm, fuzzy feelings he didn’t know he was capable of.

“It’s really rather repulsive, you know,” Regulus says as the sun is just starting to come up. James cocks his head in question. “Feelings.” James laughs wholeheartedly and the feeling only grows. Well. Regulus is in trouble now. Isn’t that wonderful?

[whump-card]

Sunless Lives Part 33: I Need to Survive

~2840 words

CW: negative self-talk, beating, broken bones, attempted murder, torture, vampire whump, gunshots, vampire feeding, vomit, mouth whump, non-sexual throat fuck with a foreign object??? fellas…

Also NO main character death!

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~~~

“Mr Bowers, where are we going?”

Bowers glanced at Simon in the rearview.

“You’ll see.”

Simon huddled in the back seat as Bowers drove. He swore, he was never getting into the backseat of a car ever again. But he’d had no choice in this case; Bowers was a grade B vampire, and could easily snap Simon in half if he wanted to. Running was not an option on his ruined feet. Simon had let the vampire tuck him into the backseat and buckle him in like a child, and could only hope that cooperating would make whatever was about to happen as painless as possible.

He was doing his best to not think about what might be coming, but with Bowers refusing to answer his questions Simon had nothing to do but think as he shivered in the backseat. The rain had turned the May night cold, and Simon’s thin pajamas did little to keep him warm.

What if he’s taking you to an initiation.

Simon watched Bowers carefully, and waited until he was looking away while making a turn to feel the item Nora had dropped into his pocket.

What if they’re going to pin you down and -

It was a small metal and glass square. An MP3 player? A smartwatch? Simon didn’t want to take it out and look.

He’s not preybonded to you and Lara’s rules are gone, he can kill you. He can kill you.

“Please,” His voice was steadier than he expected, “Tell me what’s happening.”

“I would,” Bowers replied flatly, “But you wouldn’t like it.”

Yeah, no shit.

Matthew wouldn’t have let this happen.

Simon screwed his eyes shut, flinching from the pang of guilt.

Matthew-the-vampire wouldn’t have let this happen. He’s human now, and that’s a good thing. Whatever happens is worth it. Him being human and alive is worth it.

You’re not.

You’re not worth it.

Simon stared out the window and hoped against hope that the square meant help was coming.

~~~

“We can’t just run off without authorization!” Amber yelled.

“Bowers could discover they’re being tracked any second!” Matthew bellowed, “We’re leaving now!”

He and Gina burst out of the stairwell and into the parking garage, Amber chasing after them.

“You’re going to get yourselves killed!” she shrieked.

“What if they get on a plane, huh?” Matthew snapped at her, “What if they go somewhere we can’t follow?”

“We will figure it out!”

They reached Gina’s car and Gina opened the passenger side.

“We can’t wait for Dune to decide that Simon’s worth it,” Matthew kept arguing while Gina searched through her glove box, “I’m not letting him be taken again.”

“Neither am I.” Gina rejoined him, loading a pistol.

“But Bowers is a grade B, he…” Amber’s outrage melted into fear. “With only the two of you against him… He’ll kill you.”

“You could make it three.”

“I…” Amber slowly shook her head.

“You’re a fucking coward, Amber,” Gina spat.

“No, I’m not!” Amber’s voice echoed through the garage, louder and angrier than they had ever heard. “You think anyone will come after you if I go with you? I need to be here, to convince them to send you guys backup!”

Gina and Matthew exchanged a glance. Amber was right - she was the only one in a position to sway the VIU.

“Here.” Amber unstrapped her holster from around her waist and handed it and the gun it held to Matthew.

“Thanks,” he said, softening.

“Just… Survive as long as you can, and I will send backup ASAP.”

Amber stepped out of the way and watched as Gina’s car pulled out of the parking garage.

Then she sprinted back into the building, determined to do what she could.

~~~

Simon slammed into the ground, bruising his knees and scraping his palms raw on the wet asphalt.

“Get up,” Bowers ordered, closing the car door.

“I can’t!” Simon gasped. Bowers grabbed his arm and hauled him upright. He was done playing games. Simon cried out when his feet were forced to touch the ground, but no one was around to hear him.

They were in some sort of warehouse district; massive buildings loomed out of the dark around them, and Simon hadn’t seen a soul on their way in. Whatever Bowers needed this level of privacy for couldn’t be good. Simon’s earlier shocked calm, necessitated to keep Nora alive, had worn off and now he was truly terrified, trembling in Bowers’ grip.

Bowers half dragged, half walked Simon to the door of the warehouse he’d pulled his car up in front of. He threw open the unlocked door and shoved Simon through. Simon fell into the dark, bruising his limbs a second time as he tried to brace his landing. A moment later lights flickered on above him; he was surrounded by sky-high shelves full of plastic-wrapped boxes. He rolled over to look at Bowers, still posed by the light switch. Simon’s heart pounded and his breath came fast.

“Here’s where I come clean.” Bowers reached down and plucked up a length of pipe from where it leaned against the wall, as if waiting for him. It was about three feet long and two inches in diameter, and made of aged dark metal. The ends glinted bright where they were sawn off. 

Bowers started to take leisurely steps towards Simon, who began to pull himself backward along the floor, eyes glued to the pipe.

No.

“Everyone’s noticed by now, since the humans got the cure, and our man Yarl is out, the vampires being caught the fastest are the ex-clients of one Miss Lara Everett.” He twirled the pipe around. “That’s no good for us. No good for business.”

Simon rolled over onto his hands and knees, desperate to get away, to get away faster.

“But of course, none of them can kill you… Not directly, anyway. But I can. So I’m cleaning up, Simon. I took care of Isles and… You’re next.”

Simon froze, petrified.

Christian… dead?

YOU’RE NEXT.

Charged with adrenaline, Simon dug his feet into the floor and ran. The pain ripped a cry out of his throat. He made it two steps before the pain in his feet and his overworked legs made him stumble. His skinned palms crashed into the concrete floor yet again, then his elbow when his right wrist collapsed. But Simon moved through the pain, pushing himself up onto his left hand and his battered knees with a gasp. He could still move, he could still -

Bowers’ shoe stomped into his back, flattening him back to the floor. Simon twisted his head to look up, one cheek pressed against the concrete. Bowers leaned down, putting more weight on Simon’s back and ribcage.

“And since I have to do it anyway,” he smiled, “I may as well enjoy it.” He stepped off of Simon and raised the pipe. Simon twisted his body to the side.

“Please, don’t-!”

The vampire brought the pipe down with a tremendous clang onto Simon’s left hip and a crack shot through Simon’s pelvis. Simon shrieked as the pain lanced up his spine and down his legs like white hot fire. He had no time to process the hit before the pipe came down again, smashing into his femur with a crunch. Simon tried to curl up, to hide from the excruciating pain, to expel it through his mouth, but the next hit shattered his left shoulder blade. His existence felt like one unending screech of agony as he writhed on the concrete under Bowers’ merciless gaze. Bile rose in his throat and he gagged, desperate to fall unconscious, desperate for it to end. He couldn’t even form the words to beg. He could only breathe, scream, breathe, scream.

I don’t want to die.

I don’t want to die.

I don’t want to die.

“Fuck, you’re loud!” Bowers shouted over Simon’s ceaseless wailing, “Let’s see what we can do about that!”

He seized Simon by the neck and dragged him upright, his back against Bowers’ legs. This sent new waves of pain through Simon’s body as displaced nerves jostled against bone crushed against muscle. Bowers shifted his grip to Simon’s jaw, pulling his already screaming mouth open wider. He lifted the metal rod and shoved the end of it into Simon’s mouth, and pushed, the sharp metal edges tearing, ripping, scraping at the delicate tissue of Simon’s cheeks, his tongue, his throat, as Bowers forced the rod in further, not caring what damage he caused. Simon choked, on the rod, on the blood, on bits of flesh. His screams were finally stifled as he struggled to breathe. His arms flopped uselessly. His eyes rolled.

“Better,” Bowers grunted, “Much better.” He yanked the rod out, splattering blood, and dropped Simon back to the floor where he heaved and choked and spat out blood and chunks of his own throat. Gone was the screaming; now Simon could only agonizingly gag and wheeze.

Bowers raised the rod once more and brought it down on Simon’s right shoulder. Simon’s whole body jerked, but the only sound he made was a horrifying gurgle. He shouldn’t still be awake. He shouldn’t still be alive. It wasn’t fair, wasn’t fair, wasn’t fair. His brain reverted to primeval instincts: The danger is behind you. Crawl.

Simon dug his fingernails into the concrete and dragged himself, inch by inch, forward. It was the only thing he could do. Maybe, somehow, he could crawl away from the pain. Leave it behind.

Bowers stood back and watched Simon struggle, clawing at the floor until his fingernails broke. Going nowhere.

He laughed, and it echoed throughout the building.

BANG!

Matthew fired from where he stood by the door, gun raised and eyes full of fire. Bowers spun, his hand flying to his shoulder where blood burst from a bullet wound. He crouched and sprang back, taking shelter in an isle of shelves as another shot rang out. Matthew cursed and lowered his weapon, running forward towards Simon. Gina hung back, watching the room like a hawk. Matthew fell to his knees at Simon’s side.

Simon was lying face-down on the ground, silent and still. Blood seeped out of his mouth and bandages around his feet were stained red. Horribly dark and discolored blotches of skin peeked out from his t-shirt. His left leg lay at a sickening angle. Bruises littered his arms; his nails were cracked and bleeding.

“No, Simon…” Matthew reached out to touch him.

“Matthew, look out!” Gina shouted.

Matthew looked up and saw the vampire charging towards him, pipe raised, moving at an unnaturally fast pace. Matthew had just enough time to duck, and he felt the rush of air and heard a faint whistle as the pipe whizzed over his head. A second later and his brains would have been bashed in. Bowers kept sprinting past him, and shots rang out as Gina tried to hit him before he disappeared back into the stacks of boxes.

“Shit, he’s too fast, I can’t hit him!” she yelled.

Matthew stood, staring at the isle Bowers had disappeared into. He pulled his phone out of his pocket with a shaking hand.

“I need to call an ambulance now or it might not arrive in time - Gina!”

Gina turned in time to see Bowers making a run at her out of the stacks. She stood her ground, aiming and firing as he approached. Her shot landed in his chest, but he was unphased, and swung the pipe as he passed her. With no time left to dodge, Gina was hit squarely in the stomach and knocked to the ground. Her body convulsed as she dry heaved and gasped for the air that had been knocked out of her.

“Gina!” If she was down, Bowers would make his next blow a killing one. Matthew started to sprint over to her, but he heard inhumanly quick footsteps behind him. He started to turn but was hit squarely in the right arm.

“Ahhg!”

Pain erupted as his humerus snapped. His arm spasmed and his gun clattered to the floor. He stumbled and only caught a glimpse of Bowers as he vanished back into the maze of warehouse shelves. Matthew looked around wildly, at Gina, struggling to stand, at Simon, a mangled mess on the floor. He couldn’t protect both of them - he couldn’t protect either of them

Bowers was too fast.

Too powerful.

He was going to kill them.

Breathing hard through the pain, Matthew stuffed his phone back into his pocket and scooped up the gun in his left hand. Amber’s gun.

She wasn’t going to get there in time.

He heard Gina scream - a shriek of true fear, something he’d never heard from her before that poured ice down his spine - and he could only watch as Bowers flitted past her and knocked her from where she had just started to stand up back to the concrete with a horrible clang. She lay frighteningly still, a red gash at her temple. Bowers was already gone.

Matthew raised his weapon and spun around, frantically searching for Bowers. His right arm dangled, useless and excruciating. He heard footsteps, but in the large echoing building he had no way of pinpointing their location. They grew louder, faster, and Matthew pivoted to see Bowers rushing towards him, his eyes full of bloodlust and his knuckles white where they gripped the pipe. Matthew fired haphazardly, the first shot flying over Bowers’ shoulder and the second one hitting home in the center of his chest. Bowers finally stumbled, and instead of hitting Matthew with the pipe the vampire tackled him, pressing the pipe down over his throat. Matthew caught it with the heel of his good hand, still holding the gun, but was only able to resist the downward pressure for a moment before the vampire’s superior strength won out and the pipe pressed down on Matthew’s throat. Bowers held the pipe down with one hand and easily plucked the gun away from Matthew with the other, tossing it aside.

Matthew couldn’t breathe. He wheezed and reached up to claw fruitlessly at Bowers’ face. Bowers only smiled, baring his fangs, and bore down on the pipe harder.

“Not so tough now that you’ve been cured, huh?”

Matthew’s legs kicked uselessly against the floor. Bowers held him pinned there for what felt like an eternity. Matthew felt the air in his blood running out as his raised arm wavered and collapsed and his legs stopped moving. Spots filled his vision.

Suddenly the pressure lifted, and Matthew was able to suck in a stinging lungful of air. The relief lasted less than seconds, though, as the pipe was replaced by fangs. They sank into Matthew’s neck, and his chestful of air rushed out of him in a strangled cry. He was able to breath a little now, and movement returned to his limbs, but he could only wriggle and push at the vampire to no effect as Bowers fed, holding Matthew’s neck still with his teeth and his hands on Matthew’s shoulders.

Matthew had never been bitten before. It was expected to happen eventually in his line of work, but senior agents had always warned him: there’s no way of preparing for it.

There’s no way it won’t stick with you.

It’s slower than you think.

As Bowers leeched his vitality from him, Matthew found he could turn his head, ever so slightly, and look around. First to Gina, still motionless on the floor. Then over to Simon, his head in a pool of blood.

He could only be grateful he was dying among friends.

He began to feel cold, and dizzy. He lifted his hand to look at it: pale white and shaking. He could only hold it up for a second before it slumped to the floor. He refocused, as best as he was able, on Simon, who now looked very far away.

I’m so sorry. He couldn’t tell if he was thinking, or speaking, or just mouthing the words.

It shouldn’t have ended like this.

Not for you.

You deserved better.

I love you.

Bowers lifted away from him, and Matthew felt the blood run down his neck.

He must be done.

I must be dead.

Then he heard a horrible hacking cough. With great effort, Matthew rolled his head to look at Bowers.

The vampire was doubled over, clutching his chest, gagging and sputtering.

“No,” Bowers cried out, “No, no!”

He spasmed, and vomited up blood. He turned and screamed wordlessly at Matthew, spattering red. He heaved in a breath, and his own blood leaked out around his fingers where he pressed them to his chest.

“You poisoned me!” he wailed at Matthew, “Fucking turncoat!”

A smile crept over Matthew’s lips.

The cure.

It was in his blood.

It was turning Bowers human - and humans can’t survive two shots to the chest.

At least Matthew could die knowing the three of them had been avenged.

That Simon had been avenged.

His eyes drifted closed as sirens approached in the distance.

~~~

First, Previous, Next, Masterlist

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @pigeonwhumps, @sunshiline-writes, @seasaltandcopper, @pirefyrelight

[kitakami-zorua-kin]

i - i'm so sorry - i didn't - i didn't know i'm sorry i - i should've - should've been there - i care i do i'm sorry - i didn't know - not again please i'm sorry not again i can't - i'm sos orry i should've been there i'm sorry i didn't know i would''ve been there if i knew i would've i'm so sorry i didn't know- rus? shit - rus, bud, you alright?! i - i'm sorry so sorry i didn't know not again they never should've fished me out i can't help anyone should've juhst left me in the sea- i'ms sorry i didn't know i care i do i'm so sorry i- i can't do it again i can't do the fucking kitakami trip again please i'm so sorry i'll be there next time i swear- fuck

[bee-bee-kyuu]

Hey uh, I know you probably don’t want to hear about this anymore but

I scrolled back, and now I know you were just upset about one person who seems to be winning every battle they have with others. And how it really affected someone you care about poorly. But it’s not all black and white. Sometimes being that “prodigy” can take a toll on you. I’ve seen it firsthand with one of my friends. At first they wore their win streak with pride, but at some point, between my poorly adjusted reaction and someone else’s, they lost interest in sparring. They’ve been treating their Pokemon’s skill like a curse ever since.

Just be careful with that, I guess. I’m not saying this to judge you. I’m… not in a great position to do that, from what you can probably gather.

(@psyonicscream)

please just leave me alone. i know it was stupid and i wanst thinking but im getting a lot of asks twlling me how selfish and awful i am and i just want it to stop

i wisb i was good at battling like my cousin or like fucking juliana but im not and ill never get that feeling so please just leave me be

[bright-knight-star-light]

i think kai needs a little help rn, her friends are very miserable and she's made a massive problem of it for herself

...Yeah. I've messaged her, trying to sort it out for tomorrow. She's certainly... Having a time of it. I'm glad my secondary school wasn't this intense...

[//text messages undercut]

[divorce-master]

I tried my best to help him. And failed.

God im a horrible father, aren't I?

[morose-magnetrix]

X-Factor (1981) #75

Lorna :((((

[huntinglove]

I want my F/Os to hold me while I cry my heart out.. I want to feel safe and wanted, I want to feel like I belong...

As soon as things start to brighten up again everything goes downhill... I'm so tired, I'm so scared.. There's nothing I can do and nothing can fix me

I'm just a broken, stupid person, it's all I'll ever be...

[nagichi-boop]

I made a post a while ago asking if other age regressors have like a running dialogue of yourself being critical (eg you’re acting young but in your mind you’re telling yourself you’re being weird/creepy and need to stop), and how two of the three comments said they experience it but they’re a system.

I’m pretty sure I’m not a system (like I don’t think I have distinct “parts” to me and I don’t believe I experience amnesia), so I guess I’m like doing a round two to see if singlets experience this or not.

[jen-angst]

I cried in front of my mentor teacher today because I saw a recording of myself and was repulsed. I always say that fat is beautiful… on other people. I look like a chubby, ugly baby. My mannerisms look fucking weird. My hair was sticking up and I... don't look like the woman I want to be. Body dysmorphia and gender dysphoria hit me like a truck.

And my MT offered a hug. I turned her down. I don't know why. I needed one and refused twice. My brain is bad.

[cheezyratz]

:( read tags please

Haven’t brush my teeths in months and now they is hurting :( can’t brush em now cause already in bed :( I’m a bad baby aren’t I? I ‘pose brush in da morning and in da night but I don’t :( I’m a bad bad bad baby. I’m a very bad baby and it making me sad cause I don’t wanna be bad I’m just a no good baby :(

[whump-card]

Forged Divinity Chapter 28: Leannan is Miserable

1401 words

CW: past institutionalized slavery, religious themes, negative self-talk

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~~~

Leannan spent the next two days wallowing in bed. Enjolras or Jeanette would come by occasionally to coax him into eating something, but otherwise he was left alone.

No punishment came. No balancing of the scales.

Everything was too much. The lies were too much. The books were too much. The fact that his sister didn’t believe in God was too much. The humiliation was too much. His new family was too much.

So he tried not to think about any of it.

Instead, he thought about Phineas.

Sure, if Leannan was human, then the way Phineas had treated him was wrong – but Phineas didn’t know that! As far as Phineas knew, they had been treating Leannan properly. Fairly. The worst thing they’d ever done to Leannan was something Leannan has asked for, no, begged for.

They listened to Leannan. Sometimes. And they were… funny, and protective, and possessive in a way that made Leannan a little giddy, and they’d saved Leannan so many times.

Leannan missed Phineas. He missed their presence, their smile, their authority, their ownership. He even missed being intimate with them. The realization brought tears to his eyes.

He’d never felt like this about a master before. Not even the good ones.

He fantasized about what it would be like to see Phineas again. He’d tell them about how he was actually a human, and Phineas would completely understand. But maybe Phineas would still like to be his master anyway, just to keep things in order.

Leannan had no idea what to do without a master.

Enjolras had made it abundantly clear, and Leannan had finally accepted it: she was not his master, and never would be. He was masterless, currently, and felt horribly adrift because of it. Leannan often had his own goals and interests, certainly, but those usually aligned with the goals and interests of his current master, or the aim of being sold to a new, better master.

He didn’t have high hopes for learning to live without one. The rest of his family had had twelve years to adjust. Meanwhile, Leannan had lived twelve years constantly relying on another person.

Can’t teach an old dog new tricks.

He was a misfit here. He didn’t know how to play with the children, or handle the chickens, or milk the goats. He didn’t know how to… be the way the rest of them were.

Happy, maybe. They seemed happy.

Until they were around Leannan, anyway.

He combed over previous conversations and encounters, convincing himself that he had been constantly making people uncomfortable, disgusted, sad. How miserable it must be for them, to have finally gotten him home only to realize he was a fucked out whore who didn’t know how to live like them, how to be normal like them, how to be human like them.

All he’d done since arriving was ruin things.

Leannan spiraled.

~~~

“Okay, that’s enough!” Enjolras declared. She shook Leannan’s shoulder gently. “I’m on duty to help with lunch, and you’re coming with me.”

Leannan groaned and curled up tighter around his pillow.

“Do I have to?” he grumbled.

“You know what? Yeah, I think you do.”

Aisling was already getting things started in the restaurant kitchen when they arrived. She did a double take when she saw Leannan, but she smiled.

“Hey, good to see you!”

Leannan nodded, not quite looking at her. Enjolras nudged him forward.

“What can he do?”

“We’re reheating soup from last night, and making salad and a peach cobbler. The cobbler recipe’s on the table, or…” she hesitated, remembering that Leannan couldn’t read, “He can chop veggies for the salad.”

Enjolras nodded and went to work, setting up a station with a knife, a cutting board, and a bowl of washed cucumbers. She parked Leannan in front of it.

“Have at it!” she said brightly, and bent over the cookbook to figure out what she needed for the cobbler – but when she glanced up a minute later, Leannan hadn’t moved.

“Leannan?”

“I don’t know how,” he mumbled, his cheeks flushing red. He looked like he might cry.

“That’s okay!” Enjolras assured him, “Let me show you.” She took his place in front of the cutting board. “Hold the knife like this, okay? And then you hold the thing you’re cutting like this, with your fingers curled under so that you don’t chop them off, yeah? And then you want to slice it… about that thick. Okay, you try.” She put down the knife and stepped back.

Leannan slowly picked up the knife, rested his hand on the cucumber, and sank the knife into it with hesitant, jerky motions. The slice that fell away was thick and lopsided. Leannan stared at it blankly.

“Okay, um… Hey, Aisling!” Enjolras called to the other woman, “Do you want to switch with Leannan? Let him stir the soup while you chop?”

“Oh, sure…” Aisling started to say, but Leannan burst into tears, dropping the knife onto the counter and pressing his hands over his face.

Enjolras deflated a little. She had been hoping that some honest work would pull Leannan out of his funk, and it was already backfiring.

“Leannan,” she spoke softly, “Can you tell me what you’re thinking?”

“I don’t – I can’t, It’s too hot in here, I can’t think!” Leannan wailed.

“Okay, that’s okay,” Enjolras took his shoulders and began to gently guide him away, “Let’s get out of here for a minute.”

She exchanged a somber nod with Aisling as she steered Leannan out of the kitchen. They’d talked, the day after Leannan had burned the books – Enjolras and all the other adults on the island. Enjolras had been a bit more candid. Jeanette had filled in some blanks as well. What they had concluded was Leannan’s experience had been far worse than any of them could imagine, and worse than they might ever even know, and his mental state reflected that. They couldn’t punish him, nor could they force him to live like they did. They needed to give him space, encouragement, and love, and to understand that he wouldn’t always react the way they expected. It would take him a while to let go of certain things.

Enjolras sat Leannan down at one of the dining tables, and pulled a chair for herself up next to him. The dining room was completely empty, allowing them some privacy.

“What just happened?” she asked him, sitting down.

“I don’t know how to – how to do anything,” Leannan lamented between hiccuping sobs, “I’m not made for this, I don’t belong here.”

“Leannan, you’ve only been here for, what, four days? It’s going to take time for you to adjust, but you will, I promise.”

Leannan lifted his tear-streaked face from his hands, his cheeks red and snot running.

“But all I do is mess things up! All I do is make people miserable,” he choked out.

“That’s not true,” Enjolras said, putting an arm around his shoulders and squeezing him, “You don’t make me miserable.”

Leannan pulled his knees up and hugged them to his chest.

“I’m the oldest,” he sniffled, “For years I thought I was the youngest, and then that I was the only one, but now I’m the oldest, and I don’t know how to be like them at all! I don’t know how to be part of… a family. Or maybe I used to, and I forgot.”

“Leannan, it took everyone a long time to learn how to live outside Iowa City,” Enjolras said, “You’re feeling exactly what Aisling felt, what Shannon felt, Clary, all of them – nobody knew how to live free when they were first rescued. They had to learn, and they had to do a lot of it on their own, but you don’t! You have everyone here to help you, and everyone wants to help you. You just have to let them.”

“Do you believe in God, Enjolras?” Leannan asked unexpectedly. Enjolras took a moment to shift gears, but she answered.

“Yeah, actually, I do,” she said, “Not the God you were raised with, though, something a little different. A little kinder.”

“Why doesn’t Shannon?” Leannan whispered.

“That’s not a question I can answer for her,” Enjolras said, “How about…”

“Enjolras!” Clary popped up at the top of the stairs, “Radio for you!”

Enjolras frowned slightly.

“Now’s not the best time.”

Clary shook their head.

“It’s Phineas.”

~~~

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Taglist: @angst-after-dark, @sunshiline-writes, @flowersarefreetherapy, @thecyrulik

[kitakami-zorua-kin]

🎤 - An audio transcript from a recording

-Audio Recording Enabled, bzzt!- “An’ I jus- I’m so tired, Super, I’m s’ fuckin’ tired of not bein’ ‘nough. I wish I was a Zorua, m’ybe then everythin’ would b’ better, l’fe would b’ easier an’ I’d be able t’ b’ happy an’ – an’  ‘m so fuckin’ sick of wishin’ I was anyone else an’ I wouldn’t wish this life ‘n anyone else, I don’ – I don’ wanna die but sometimes I wish this was like every other universe an’ Kiki an’ Carmine didn’ h’ve a third siblin’ at all, an’ I can’t think of anythin’ I’ve improved except maybe th’ Noibat c’l’ny an’ I just – I wish I was ‘s happy ‘s I pret’nd t’ b’, I wish I was lighthearted an’ silly an’ cheery an’ I’m not an’ I hate that I’m not, I hate that ‘m a liar, I wish I wasn’ everythin’ that I am, I wish I didn’ care so much ‘t makes me sick I wish I didn’ feel s’ stupidly guilty about everythin’, I wish – I wish I could stop carin’ I wish I could stop, I wish I could hate th’ people that hurt me but all I can think is that m’ybe they were right, m’ybe Car’ never shoulda stepped in m’ybe they never shoulda fished me outta th’ ocean t’ begin with maybe everythin’ would be better an’ I wouldn’ hafta deal with the lights an’ the sounds an’ – an’ everythin’ I’ve ever cared about fallin’ apart aroun’ me an’ – an’ I don’ know what ‘m doin’ wrong, ‘m tryin’, ‘m tryin’ s’ hard, why aren’t I ‘nough t’ fix things, why is m’ best never ‘nough for nothin’ why did ‘t hafta t’ b’ me, Super, I don’ wan’ any ‘f this, I wanna g’ home, I wanna have people that care an’ – an’ don’ lie t’ me, I wish m’ siblin’s cared an’ it hurts that I cared – care – s’ much an’ they didn’ care at all- an’ – an’ it’s not fair but I don’ wanna tell anyone ‘cause I feel selfish an’ sick with guilt f’r even feelin’ this an’ I feel s’ stupid an’ used an’ I jus’ – I hate it, Super, I hate it s’ much an’ ‘m sorry ‘cause I don’ wanna dump this on ya but ‘t’s eatin’ m’ alive an’ I ain’t got anyone else t’ tell ‘cause I can’ just keep dumpin’ everythin’ on Ange an’ ‘Roki ‘cause that’s just what everyone else did t’ me an’ I kinda hate them all f’r ‘t, an’ I don’ wanna do that t’ anyone an’ they both mean s’ much t’ me an’ I care s’ much ‘bout them so fast ‘t scares me an’ – an’ I jus’ – I don’ know wha’ t’ do anymore, ‘m scared an’ I keep cryin’ an’ I wish I could turn the carin’ off ‘cause it just keeps gettin’ me hurt-“

//OOC, Non-Accented Version: And I just – I’m so tired, Super (Superconduct), I’m so fucking tired of not being enough. I wish I was a Zorua, maybe then everything would be better, life would be easier and I’d be able to be happy and – and I’m so fucking sick of wishing I was anyone else and I wouldn’t wish this life on anyone else, I don’t – I don’t want to die but sometimes I wish this was like every other universe and Kiki and Carmine didn’t have a third sibling at all, and I can’t think of anything that I’ve improved except maybe the Noibat colony and I just – I wish I was as happy as I pretend to be, I wish I was lighthearted and silly and cheery and I’m not and I hate that I’m not, I hate that I’m a liar, I wish I wasn’t everything that I am, I wish I didn’t care so much it makes me sick I wish I didn’t feel so stupidly guilty about everything, I wish – I wish I could stop caring I wish I could stop, I wish I could hate the people that hurt me but all I can think is that maybe they were right, maybe Car (Carmine) never should’ve stepped in maybe they never should’ve fished me out of the ocean to begin with maybe everything would be better and I wouldn’t have to deal with the lights and the sounds and – and everything I’ve ever cared about falling apart around me and – and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, I’m trying, I’m trying so hard, why aren’t I enough to fix things, why is my best never enough for nothing why did it have to be me, Super, I don’t want any of this, I want to go home, I want to have people that care and – and don’t lie to me, I wish my siblings cared and it hurts that I cared – care – so much and they didn’t care at all and – and it’s not fair but I don’t want to tell anyone because I feel selfish and sick with guilt for even feeling this and I feel so stupid and used and I just – I hate it, Super, I hate it so much and I’m sorry because I don’t want to dump this on you but it’s eating me alive and I ain’t got anyone else to tell because I can’t just keep dumping everything on Ange and Hiroki because that’s just what everyone else did to me and I kind of hate them all for it, and I don’t want to do that to anyone and they both mean so much to me and I care so much about them so fast it scares me and – and I just – I don’t know what to do anymore, I’m scared and I keep crying and I wish I could turn the caring off because it just keeps getting me hurt-

[psn-stalling]

why would anyone care about you anyways?

I thought if i did something important then that would make more people care again- Why isn't it working??? It should've worked- I don't get it. It's supposed to work again- Then I'd be happy and I'd be able to help more- Then I wouldn't just be sitting here spectating- People care when you're important. I did something really important. Apparently people don't even know-

I'm sorry. I feel like a failure again.

[opossumbard]

I think I just realized what killed reading for me. It's shame.

Shame that I had to go with the resource lady for years to learn how to read. Being behind all my classmates, and their younger siblings. Shame that my mom read my bedtime stories for as long as she did. That shame hurts more than other shames, I wish I wasn't ashamed of it but I am and I hate myself for it.

Reading out loud in class was always hard for me to do. I'd get stuck on a word multiple times, or re-read the line. I dreaded it, and I know my classmates dreaded it too. One time I go an "oh no" when it came to my turn. Another time, I had a sub once assign the paragraph I was supposed to read to someone else, and gave me a shorter one.

I want to read. I want to so bad but I fucking can't. I hate that I just can't. I just feel so stupid.