#for the record absolutely yes im shocking myself at least once

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 9: Follow The Rules]

Hi y’all, I hope you are all doing well 💜

Chapter summary: Veronica has some questions, Roger has a plan, John has a short temper. 

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, medical stuff, pregnancy.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @bookandband​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​ @simonedk​ @herewegoagainniall​ @stardust-killer-queen​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

At the wedding, Roger is wearing a cast on his right arm and a dazzling smile...and a white suit that he looks criminally good in.

John is in black, Brian in blue, Freddie in maroon-colored velvet and heavy eyeliner. Veronica’s dress is high-waisted and falls in huge, billowing, shapeless ruffles to hide her silhouette. Her family knows, of course—it’s written all over the tense, grim lines of their mouths and the blades their pale eyes hurl at John—but none of those strict Catholics are going to mention an out-of-wedlock pregnancy in God’s house, nor at the modest reception in the church basement that follows the ceremony.

Veronica’s mother and aunts and sisters are just like her, docile and milky-skinned and small-boned, and you’ve helped them deck the vast room with enough flowers, ribbons, candles, and balloons to make everyone forget this event was thrown together in five weeks and on a shoestring budget. There’s a simple buffet with pot roast and potatoes and vegetables, a live band (some of John’s old friends from high school), and a homemade Polish honey cake baked by Veronica’s grandmother situated regally on a china serving dish. Veronica and John cycle through the tables of guests, smiling and nodding and thanking them for coming, dutifully and yet also seemingly genuinely cheerful.

“The boning is bloody impaling me,” Chrissie murmurs as she tugs at the bodice of her gown. It’s satin and a muted pink, just like yours and Mary’s and Veronica’s sisters’. “If I happen die, wrap me in one of those nice tablecloths I paid for and throw me in a ditch somewhere, will you love?”

“You got it.” You stab a piece of potato with your fork. “This should inspire you to be especially compassionate towards your own bridesmaids! Maybe no horrid shiny green.”

Brian chuckles. “Good luck with that.”

“Are you comfortable?!” Chrissie asks Mary, exasperated, fanning herself with a wedding program.

“I am,” Mary admits cautiously. “But...well...at the moment, I think my dress is a bit...roomier.”

Chrissie moans, dropping her face into her hands. “I always gain when the students go home for summer. My routine is wrecked, all I want to do is read Glamour magazines and listen to records, it’s too damn hot to go walking...and I adore ice cream.”

“I like you just fine,” Brian reassures her.

Freddie snickers as he taps his cigarette against an ashtray. “Yes, we’re all well aware of your anatomical preferences, Bri.”

Chrissie rolls her eyes. “Please do not elaborate.” She’s not offended—she’s far too used to Freddie’s shenanigans to be offended—but she’ll be embarrassed if he makes a scene at a wedding.

“Darling, I don’t care what anyone tries to tell you, plenty of men love a little extra meat on the bones. Particularly the ass bones.”

“We’re in God’s house!” you scold him in a hiss. “You’re going to give Great Aunt Zofia over there an aneurysm if she hears you!”

Roger quips: “Great Aunt Zofia stole the last kielbasa right out of my disabled, ineffectual  grasp, so fuck her.”

You all burst into shocked, uncontrollable laughter. Great Aunt Zofia squints judgmentally at the commotion from several tables away, gnawing on her kielbasa; she’s been glaring at John and Veronica—the Tetzlaffs’ very own fallen angel—since she first ambled into the church. Roger rocks back in his chair, smoking with his unbroken left arm, smirking cockily and basking in the distraction from the real world that the wedding has gifted you all tonight. He catches you watching him—marveling at him, truthfully—and winks.

John appears and rests his hands on the back of your chair. “What’s so amusing? I swear, I leave you people alone for two hours and you’re having all sorts of fun without me, I won’t stand for it!”

“It was a lovely ceremony,” you tell him. “I’d forgotten how beautiful Catholic weddings are, all the music and ambiance.”

“And from what I saw, you knew most of the words.”

“We have a lot of Irish people in Boston. Saint Patrick’s Day is bigger than Christmas.”

John points at Roger’s cast. “It’s not paining you too much, is it?”

Roger holds his Dark ‘n Stormy aloft, and ice clinks in the misted glass. “Enough of these, and I can’t feel anything. Numb to the world’s many disappointments. I highly recommend it.”

“Noted,” John replies. Roger has pills for his arm, but they only take the edge off. You don’t know that because he’s told you; Roger never tells you that he’s hurting, that he’s frustrated, that he’s afraid. He wears grins and flippant humor like a second skin, shrouding his wounds—both physical and disembodied, old and new—in darkness. Still...you can see all those words he doesn’t say swimming in the depths of his eyes. “I think I’ll hunt down a Manhattan myself.”

“Dad made an impression!” you tell John enthusiastically. “I’ll have to let him know, he’ll be overjoyed.”

“He mixes a good one, that’s for sure. I doubt Cousin Bartosz will be able to compare.” He casts a glance at a perplexed-looking, flame-haired teenager manning a tiny wet bar.

“Booze won’t help you heal,” Freddie informs Roger, checking his reflection in Mary’s makeup compact and fluffing his lustrous hair. “Eat your vegetables. Get more sleep. When do you start physical therapy, again?” Then, to you: “Darling, when does Roger start his therapy?”

Roger sighs. “I’ve got it handled, Fred.”

“Dear, don’t have a fit, I just want to make sure you’ll be ready—”

“I’ve got it handled,” Roger repeats, his tone a warning.

Brian breaks the tension with a toast, his Vesper jangling against Roger’s Dark ‘n Stormy. “I’m thrilled, honestly. Now I’m not the only one who’s ruined a tour.”

Roger grimaces. “Thanks, Bri.”

“Yes, let’s all have a turn,” Freddie mutters, sipping champagne. “Deaky can electrocute himself while fiddling with his amp, and then I’ll...what? Have my foot chewed off by an alligator in New Orleans? Get gored by a wild boar outside Atlanta? It just can’t be a boring maiming, that’s my only request.”

“Alaska has grizzlies, huge ones,” Brian suggests.

“Darling, in what dimension would my luxurious self ever end up in fucking Alaska?”

You shake your head, frowning down into your wine glass. It’s June now, the dead center of a crestfallen year: the rest of the Sheer Heart Attack Tour is cancelled, the record company is furious, and the band is broker than ever. Queen is supposed to start recording their next album—their last album, the record company insists, unless it happens to be a runaway success—in July, but you don’t know if Roger’s arm will be healed in time. None of you know that. You wonder if this really is God’s house, or at least one of his homes, sanctified piles of bricks and glass scattered across the globe; maybe you could ask Him where Queen’s future lies.

Veronica swoops in and dusts an airy kiss onto Mary’s cheek, and then Chrissie’s, and then yours. “Thank you so much,” she gushes. Her high cheekbones are flushed, her watery eyes sparkling. She’s in heaven, sinner or not. Her massive white dress swishes with every step. “We couldn’t have done it without you. And you’re next, Chris! I can’t wait.”

Chrissie smiles. She and Brian are getting married just before Christmas. “Yes, well, time will tell if we’ll be serving Christmas ham or canned beans.”

“And then Mary...” Veronica’s gaze migrates across the table. Mary’s been wearing a ring on her wedding finger since Queen returned from Japan, a simple gold band that once belonged to Freddie’s mother. “What about you, Y/N? Any plans? Then we’d all be hitched!”

Red wine spurts from your lips and you fumble for a cloth napkin. Roger doesn’t believe in marriage, and neither do you; not after only four months together, anyway. And yet...is there some part of you that can’t help but think of papers and rings when you get lost in his eyes, of promises of forever, of some way to tie yourself to him like vessels to a heart? Sure; and that’s a little wonderful, that’s a little terrifying. “Uh, uh, oh, oh no, definitely no plans whatsoever.”

“What bollocks!” Rog sneers. “Really, what’s the point if you’re not religious? Who needs a bloody piece of paper to prove they love someone?! ‘I care for you so much I need the government to know we’re together and the hassle of divorce fees to make me stay,’ what the fuck. I mean, uh, no offense John, Bri, uh...this is all well and good for you, but...ah...”

“It’s just not your scene. That’s fine, Rog,” Freddie says with a tad too much empathy. Mary doesn’t seem to notice.

“But you’ll want children at some point, won’t you?” Veronica asks you, almost pained. She’s not trying to be cruel, you realize; she genuinely can’t fathom the pinnacle of a woman’s life as anything but being a wife and mother.

“Theoretically, sure. One day. Eventually.” You titter nervously. Roger’s good arm circles your shoulders, his cigarette lofting smoke. Oh, but wouldn’t he make beautiful children? You push that thought away. It’s too soon, it’s too much, it’s not in the cards for an impoverished maybe-drummer and his girlfriend; and a girlfriend—with all the intangibility and impermanence that title entails—is all I’ll ever be. “I think I need to travel the world a bit more first.”

John sighs and pats the back of Veronica’s hand. What is that weight in his voice...impatience? Annoyance? “Ronnie, please, don’t bother her.”

Veronica sulks, scraping the old scuffed linoleum floor with her pointy white heels. “I wasn’t trying to bother anyone...”

Mary comes to the rescue: “No, of course not. You didn’t, dear.” She likes Veronica more than Chrissie does. Isn’t she oppressively vapid? Chrissie has asked you more than once. Isn’t she so miserably naïve? Veronica is sweet, sure, but she has no fucking idea what she’s in for. “Babies are wonderful, but they do make things harder, don’t you think? Especially for the mother. You have to be ready to drop everything for them. All your other interests and aspirations.”

“I suppose,” Veronica mumbles. You can tell she’s thinking: What other aspirations?

“But you must be so excited!” You beam up at Veronica. It’s her wedding day, and John’s; it should be happy, it should be optimistic. And you’re learning to like Veronica—less than Mary, but more than Chris—because you know that’s the best thing for John.

She instinctively rests her hand on the swell of her belly; or, rather, where it must be somewhere beneath all those heaps of satin and tulle. Great Aunt Zofia’s glare intensifies. “I’m scared to death, to tell you the truth.”

“Why?!” Mary cries.

“I’m so afraid something will happen to him.” Veronica’s voice is soft, her blue eyes glassy. She’s certain the baby is a boy, claims she had some sort of dream about it. “There’s a lot of bad luck going around for us, isn’t there? And my mother lost four babies. Any time he stops moving, I worry constantly until my next appointment. I haven’t felt anything in days, and I just...I just...” She trails off, staring vacantly across the crowded church basement. She’s trying not to cry, you realize.

“I can try to check for you,” you offer. “If it would make you feel better.”

“Really?” Veronica sounds hopeful, but guardedly so.  

“This is embarrassing, but I carry my nurse kit almost everywhere I go now. That’s why I brought my huge blue purse even though it doesn’t match the dress. You know, you can’t be too careful...”

“Yes, who knows when someone will try something idiotic like jogging backwards down the stairs?” Freddie muses. Roger lobs a pierogi at him. Great Aunt Zofia wheezes out a disgusted huff and crosses her veiny, wrinkled arms over her sagging chest.

“I have a stethoscope,” you continue. “I can’t guarantee I’ll find a heartbeat, but I’ll give it a try if that would help.”

“Would you, Y/N?” Veronica clutches for John’s hand, and he lets her take it without any resistance; but he doesn’t seem to know how to comfort her. He has the same dazed look on his face that he has a lot these days, the same look that Bri and Freddie sometimes get: like they’re on autopilot, like they’re actively filtering through brainwaves to fish out any that wander astray. Roger lands a kiss on your bare shoulder and pitches you a playful smirk, his I’m so proud of my too-fucking-smart girlfriend smirk.  

You grab your purse from beneath the table. “Does God’s house have a cozy private spot somewhere?”

Veronica leads you, Mary, and Chrissie to a small unoccupied room that is used (how pertinently) as the church nursery. The pink wallpaper is dotted with waddling ducklings, cloud-shaped sheep leaping over fences, smiling suns and winged cartoonish angels. Veronica settles into a faded blue couch, and Mary and Chris help her shove aside the massive plumes of her wedding dress to reveal the plain shift she’s wearing underneath. She’s over five months along now, and her entirely unremarkable bump seems colossal on her delicate frame.

You pop the headset into your ears and press the chestpiece against Veronica’s unyielding belly, gliding it over the pearly shift as you try different positions.

“Anything?” Mary asks anxiously.

“It’s not bloody instant, Mary!” Chrissie snaps. “Be quiet so she can listen.”

“No need to be cranky—”

“You can’t find a heartbeat, can you?” Veronica says, her voice quivering. “Oh god...”

“Found it,” you announce. You hold the chestpiece in place as you yank the headset off and pass it to Veronica.

She gapes at you. “You’re just saying that so I’ll stop worrying, aren’t you?”

“Hear for yourself.”

Veronica takes the headset and listens, closing her eyes as the rapid-fire and rhythmic swishing of her child’s heartbeat floods through her ears. “Oh,” she breathes, beaming. “There he is.”

“That’s incredible!” Mary trills. “Can I hear too, Veronica? Whenever you’re finished...”

Mary listens, and Chrissie does too, and then you all help touch up Veronica’s hair and makeup before you head back to the reception. The cake is due to be cut in twelve minutes. As you smooth the short train on her dress, Veronica turns back to you.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” she asks timidly, hugging her belly. “You know...for this.”

“That’s something I’ve always liked about nursing. So many jobs require sorting out who’s right and wrong, casting judgment, assigning punishment. There’s no weighing of the moral scales in medicine. It doesn’t matter if a patient is trustworthy, deceitful, good, bad, worthy, undeserving, if they disappoint you, if they’re the ones who hurt themselves. You treat everyone, you heal everyone. And I would like to keep that part of myself for as long as I can.” You smile at Veronica. “But, for the record, no. I don’t think you’re a bad person at all.”

She sighs in relief, untethering an anchor she hadn’t even known she’d been dragging around by her throat. “Thank you,” she whispers, tears snaking down her powdered ivory cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on.”

“How do you feel about marble lion statues? You know, the ones at the end of long, winding driveways. Rich people’s driveways. Mansion driveways. Or do you prefer gargoyles?”

“Roger.”

He groans, grins, presses his right fist into your palm. You measure the force with your mind, with your muscle memory. He’s stronger than he was yesterday, the day before, last week. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Rog teases. “You’ve got a soft spot for damaged people. Helpless people. That’s why you warmed to Brian so quickly. He was lying there all gaunt and jaundiced and terrified, and you just couldn’t resist, you just had to make sure all his wildest dreams came true.”

“I have a soft spot for self-destructive musicians who end up in hospitals, evidently.” Your gaze cruises over the scar on Roger’s forearm where the surgeons popped his bones back into place, stabilized them, stitched the ragged gore closed. You hate looking at it; you hate reminders of how mortal Roger really is.

“I want lions,” Rog decides. “For the driveway of our eventual mansion. I like the Leo connection.”

“And the Queen crest connection.”

His grin widens, toothy and radiant. “See, I knew you were the love of my life.”

“Come on. Again.”

He winces this time. “Doesn’t hurt a bit.”

“Uh huh. I bet.” You’ve slathered his fresh blisters with numbing antiseptic ointment, iced his arm, administered pain medicine, allowed him the constant sips of alcohol necessary for him to work, to drum, to sleep. But he still hurts. You imagine he hurts all the fucking time.

It’s August now, and Queen is recording their fourth album at Rockfield Farm. You and Roger are sitting by the pool as Freddie splashes around in the clear chlorine-smelling water trying to get John’s attention. John, meanwhile, is lounging on an inflatable raft, wearing black sunglasses and most likely asleep. Brian circles the pool snapping photos with your Canon F-1.

“I have a plan,” Roger informs you as he starts his stretches without prompting. He knows the drill, even if he likes to be difficult about it.

“By all means, enlighten me.”

“Fred’s thing, the weird one. It has a name now.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah. Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“Oh, it’s perfect!” You try to stay out of the band’s business decisions as much as possible; it’s not your expertise, and it’s not your place, and there are already a few too many creative chefs in that kitchen. Still, you love when they share their magic with you. “Eccentric, whimsical, exhilarating. Just like the song. Just like Queen.”

“I’m so glad you approve. We’re going to make sure it’s the first single off the album. And I know exactly what song’s going to be on the B-side. Freddie and Bri don’t know yet, but I do.”

“Sounds like they’re going to murder you when they find out.”

“I’ll convince them.” His grin is crafty, daring. “Picture it: you’ve just finished the incomparable experience that is Bohemian Rhapsody. You’re a newly converted Queen enthusiast. What could possibly come next? You flip the record over. And the virile, screeching, pure rock and roll passion of I’m In Love With My Car is there to greet you.”

“Oh my god, Roger.” You shake your head in mock mourning. “They actually are going to murder you.”

“Listen, love, BoRhap is going to be a hit. I can feel it.”

“Sure,” you agree lukewarmly. You want to be supportive, you really do. But disappointment stings more than resignation.

“It will be,” Roger maintains, unmovable. “And it’ll sell mountains and mountains of singles...and with my song on the B-side, I’ll get half the royalties. Which means we’ll get half the royalties.”

“Which is how we end up with the hypothetical mansion.”

“I’m being serious.” Roger picks up his mini barbell weights from the water-splattered concrete and begins his bicep curls, flinching each time he lifts his right fist.

“Rog—”

“I’m fine,” he insists. “I’m going to make this happen. I’m going to get rich so I can provide for my family. You know about that, you know it’s on my list. And my family includes you now.”

“I don’t need a mansion, Roger.” I just need you. You stare at his right arm worriedly. “Are you sure—?”

“I’m fine!” he shouts, and you recoil. Brian peers over from where he’s taking pictures of blooming purple foxgloves. Instantly, Roger regrets it. “I’m sorry,” he says, setting down the barbells and cradling your face with his rough, bandaged hands. “I have to be fine, you know? I don’t have a choice. If I can’t play, I can’t be in the band. If I leave, John will leave too, and that’ll be the end of everything. Or worse, John will break the pact and stay and they’ll find a new drummer and forget all about me. Sail off into some blissful new future. And where will I be? Moping as I drag myself back to dental school? Becoming a freaking lab biologist? Resigning myself to being some excruciatingly ordinary bloke, someone who climbed just far enough out of Cornwall to know everything he’s missing out on?”

You try to imagine who Roger would be without the band, but you can’t. You’ve never known a pre-Queen Roger. “No,” you say, amused. “You’ll never be just some ordinary bloke. You’re too brilliant, too determined. Even if you do have a dodgy arm.”

He kisses you, and you can feel his lips curling into a smile beneath yours. “So you’ll let me buy you a mansion.”

“If you get I’m In Love With My Car on the B-side, and BoRhap is a hit, and Freddie and Bri don’t smother you with a pillow in your sleep...yes, you can buy me a mansion. Buy us a mansion.”

He winks, his sapphire eyes glinting in the late-summer sunlight. “Watch out, baby. I get everything I want eventually.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s done,” John tells the others as he passes out copies of his new song, the second he’s ever written. There are only four sheets of crisp white paper; as you watch from the studio couch, you wonder what the song is about, why he didn’t mention it to you.

“It’s done?!” Brian yelps. “What do you mean, it’s done?! Nothing’s ever done after the first pass! That’s how it works, that’s how it always works, someone suggests something and then we all dice it and slice it and flip it around and stitch it back together like the world’s most maniacal surgeons, and then, only then, maybe, it’s done.”

You glance up from where you’re sewing an eleventh patch onto Roger’s jeans. “Must we disparage the medical profession?”

“Sorry, love,” Roger tosses to you with a laugh.                          

“It’s done,” John repeats.

“Deaky, darling,” Freddie ventures gently. “We should endeavor to keep our minds open to collaboration—”

“Oh, should we, Fred?!” Bri exclaims. “How extraordinary, you never seem to encourage collaboration when it’s your song on the cutting floor!”

“Okay space boy, you listen here—”

“‘I’m happy at home’?!” Roger reads, revolted. “We’re not the bloody Bee Gees, Deaks!”

John explains measuredly and patiently, as if to a child: “That’s the way it goes. We record it as it is or not at all.”

“That’s not how we do things,” Brian mutters, deep frown lines chiseled through his face as he scans the lyrics.

“Then just fill the album with your and Fred’s songs like you always do, I’m sure that’ll keep me and Roger loyal.”

Brian glares at John. John stares back stoically, his eyes like steel. Brian looks to Roger for support; Roger lights a cigarette and pretends not to notice.

“Darling, please, you’re not being reasonable!” Freddie pleads.

“I need it.” John turns to Roger now. “I need it to stay the way it is.”

Rog just watches him for a while, exhales smoke, shrugs. “Okay,” he says at last.

“Okay?!” Brian howls. “What do you mean, okay?!”

“He said he needs it,” Roger replies simply.

Bri throws his hands into the air. “Bleeding christ! ‘He needs it.’ What rubbish! Do something, Fred!”

“Oh relax, darling.” Freddie sashays to the microphone and points to Brian’s Red Special. “Let’s try it out.”

“But—!”

Roger claps Brian on the back as he trots by him towards the drum kit. “Come on, Bri. Big smiles. Just picture the nice shiny pounds from all those album sales plinking into your bank account. You’ll have fifty Christmas hams at the wedding, one for every guest.”

You listen passively from the couch as they rehearse, trying not to let on that you’re paying attention, trying not to overstep. But you can’t help being struck by the lyrics, feeling the somberness of Freddie’s voice and John’s tentative notes on the electric piano slink into your bones; because it sounds so familiar, because it echoes so many things that John has told you.

When Queen takes a mid-afternoon break and John slips into the kitchen for a Coke, you follow him.

“Hey John?”

“Yeah.” He rests his hands on the dining room table. They’re sturdy and unmarred and completely unlike Roger’s; and you aren’t sure why you notice this, but you do.

“I completely understand if I’m being intrusive, and if I am please just tell me to shut up and I will.”

He chuckles. “You’re never intrusive. Go ahead.”

“I was just wondering...who is You’re My Best Friend about?”

Now his smile evaporates. “No one in particular,” he says briskly. “It’s just a song. Just something to put on the album. Maybe a single one day. A soulless royalties grab.”

That seems unlikely. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He takes a swig of Coke, peers down at the table, traces swirls of centuries-old oak with his fingertips.

“It’s just...you know...well...it kind of sounded like...maybe it was about me.”

He looks up. And for the first time, John levels some of his infamous, razored words at you: “Don’t be such a fucking narcissist.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later, John doesn’t apologize. But he smiles at you over tea, offers to clean off the fingerprints of strawberry jelly that Roger left on the Canon, splashes you from the pool as you sunbathe beneath lapis August skies. And you agree, wordlessly and unconditionally, to forgive him. Because John is your best friend, whether or not you’re still his.

Nine weeks later, Bohemian Rhapsody is released as a single. (And, as promised, Roger ensures that I’m In Love With My Car is on the B-side.)

Twelve weeks later, Bohemian Rhapsody reaches the #1 spot on the UK Singles Chart, and remains there for over two months.

Fifteen weeks later, A Night At The Opera becomes the #1 album in the UK.

Fifteen weeks later, Queen’s future is suddenly crystal clear.

[ladyofpurple]

here it is: the post Literally no one was waiting for. i'd put it under a read more thing but i'm on mobile and can't be assed to get out of bed so fuck it. we air our dirty laundry on main for the world to see like men.

so waaay back in february or something, i started seeing a psychologist again. i'd been seeing a psychologist for a while last year, but she had a private practice and got too expensive over time, so i had to stop. now, however, i finally got a referral to the public mental health offices in my county. which is nice, because norway has this neat thing that means when you go to the doctor, public health care facilities, refill prescriptions for medications you have to take daily, etc, the money you spend on those things gets recorded and after you've spent like $260, you get a free card that gets logged into your medical records and you don't have to pay for any of those things for the rest of the year.

anyway, i mentioned a couple of years back that i finally got put on antidepressants for the first time. they helped a lot, but then i just... stopped taking them. there wasn't a reason, really. i just forgot to take them one week when i was stuck in bed with a headcold, and then it was hard to get back in the habit again. i tried to get back on them off and on for a long time, but i'd inevitably just forget again. until, like, i wanna say november/early december last year? i started taking them again. there were still some slip-ups every now and then, but for the most part i took them almost every day. any gaps were no longer than two, maybe three days at the most, and those gaps were maybe once a month or so on average. averages aren't really useful in this context, but i hope you get the idea.

anyway, i finally convinced my doctor that, no, seriously, i really need to see a psychologist, i've always needed to see psychologists my whole life, seeing psychologists help me, i can't afford a private psychologist so i need a public one, and after a lot of begging and insisting on my end and a lot of hemming and hawing on her end she finally agreed to refer me. except she forgot to actually send the email she'd been typing in front of me, and then she quit, so there was a lot of confusion and time spent sorting things out until i got my first appointment.

i didn't like my psychologist at first. she was way older than i'm usually comfortable with (that's a personal me-problem that i know is irrational, and i'm not gonna go into the why but yes i'm working on it), and very blunt in an exasperated sort of way. she made me angry sometimes. she made me feel like i wasn't trying hard enough. but she helped me get shit done, so i guess she was doing something right.

in june she called in a psychiatrist to help adjust my medications, so i started taking zoloft in addition to the other medication (remeron, aka mirtazapine) that i was already taking. the mirtazapine was helping with my depression, but my anxiety was still pretty bad. the zoloft helped.

by my second appointment with my psychologist, she asked me whether i could have adhd, or if there was a history of it in my family. now, i have a lot of family with adhd (how closely related we are by blood is a bit of a mystery to me, my family tree is more like an overgrown hedge and who knows who fits where), and my grandma used to joke that the women in our family "all have a little bit of that adhd brain in us", but as far as i knew, nobody in my immediate, direct bloodline had such a diagnosis. i had my suspicions about myself, of course — i knew that not every focus or attention related problem necessarily has a specific attention disorder source, but i also knew that what i was experiencing couldn't be "normal," in the sense that if i walked into a room with 100 people in it, 86 of those people wouldn't necessarily look at a list of my symptoms and go "oh same hat." i've had add on my about me for a while now. maybe that was silly of me; i hadn't been diagnosed with it, and what i knew about the specifics of it were picked up piecemeal off the internet. you know, that super-reliable place where everyone is honest and factual all the time?

anyway, this began the process of investigating the merits of such a potential diagnosis. research was begun. questionnaires were taken. my mom was invited to one of my sessions, in which she revealed that, oh yeah, bee tee dubs, she's always suspected i have adhd. did she mention that she has also apparently always suspected ocd and that i'm autistic? no? whoops, well, she has now.

end of june i was referred to the neuropsychologist devision of the public health care place. over the course of a little over 6 weeks i went in for 2 interviews, in which i answered several questionnaires, talked about my life and childhood and traumas and what my mom had told me about her pregnancy and labor, every possible symptom i'd ever had, and was sent home with even *more* questionnaries. in addition to these, i went in for two rounds of "testing," in which i was tested on my memory, pattern recognition, reaction time, impulse control, and probably a dozen other things. i was nervous. it was exhausting. i wanted answers but was terrified of what those answers would be.

end of august, my mom came with me for the big reveal. and guess what? she was right. primary diagnosis: adhd, special emphasis on the attention deficit part. bonus diagnosis: asperger syndrome. surprise! i'm autistic, i guess.

it was hard to come to terms with. which sounds really silly, since i wouldn't have even been taking those tests if i didn't think the outcome was a possibility. and it's not like the diagnoses were surprising either. the adhd part was easier to accept, mostly because i already felt pretty confident i had it. but the asperger diagnosis was harder. having to unlearn all those ingrained ableist stereotypes and social stigmas is hard, especially when you had some you didn't even realize were there. it's very surreal to think a thought and be like "no, wait, i do that. that joke is about me." it's a very surreal and slightly upsetting experience to realize how biased you are as general rule, but especially about a facet of your own identity you weren't aware of. and the feeling of everything and nothing changing all at once. i've always been like this. a doctor telling me i have two cognitive/developmental disabilities isn't an event that magically gave me these disabilities. my brain has always worked like this. the only difference between me now and me a year ago is that i have an official, medical reason for Why now.

that's another thing: coming to terms with the idea of being "developmentally disabled." it's not like i'm suddenly a different person — i have to constantly remind myself that my brain has always been like this. but having a piece of paper confirming that i am legally entitled to special allowances in the workplace or at school because i have not one, but two "disabilities" is absolutely buckwild to me.

it makes me reevaluate my life and my past. how many situations did i make worse because i did not have the capacity or knowledge about how my own brain works to self-reflect? was i high-functioning in the past because life was simpler? was it because i subconsciously had a better handle on what works for me and what doesn't, and somewhere along the way i lost that? or was it simply because i didn't have the option to be anything other than high-functioning? it's confusing.

i also lost my spot at college. i can still reapply next year if i want, but at least now i know why i was failing out lmao

anyway, by my birthday in september we started the process of adjusting my medication again. upping my zoloft, getting me off remeron, and as of 6 weeks ago or so, beginning ritalin.

it was a rocky start, but i'm up to 60mg now. two pills in the morning, one in the afternoon. i have a goddamn alarm for 8am every day, even weekends. my sleeping is still wonky, but at least im genuinely tired by 8pm every night. the psychiatrist still wants me to try melatonin for a month (even though i told her multiple times it has never worked for me, and my problem has never been "i'm not sleepy enough"), so i'm on a whopping 2mg of melatonin for the next 30 days. norwegians are fucking WEIRD about melatonin, don't even get me started.

a slightly unexpected side-effect (on my end) of these medication changes: remeron made me gain weight. like, a lot of weight. and i was constantly hungry all the time, overeating to ridiculous amounts. why did nobody ever tell me that weight gain and metabolism changes are a side-effect of anti-depressants? i was more active this summer than i'd been in, like, three years and i just got fatter. which was incomvenient because i kept outgrowing my clothes. anyway, a side effect of ritalin is a loss of appetite and general weight loss. the combination of regularly taking ritalin and dropping remeron entirely? i eat a fraction of what i used to before, i've almost entirely stopped snacking, and i've lost 15 lbs in less than a month. i've already noticed my face is slightly slimmer now. maybe by christmas i'll be able to fit into my old tshirts again.

anyway, my psychologist quit, so i have a new one now. i've only seen her a few times, but she's veeeery different from my old one. i can't decide if i like her or not.

in the middle of all this, i've been going to the social security office as well to kind of get some of my own money, possibly help me get a job at some point in the future. my caseworker is super nice. if she's over 30 i'd be shocked. i relate to her really well, she's very helpful and understanding, and she's very patient with me and my bullshit. she's the kind of person where if we met at a party or something we could probably hang out.

anyway, she's helped me get out of the house sometimes. she introduced me to this youth club volunteer group thing called the fountain house, designed for young people who've dealt with or are currently dealing with mental illnesses and such. i hung out there yesterday and the day before and did some basic office work. it's nice. and then there's a work placement place that can either give you a job on site in one of their four departments, or help you get a job at an actual business elsewhere with more support and leniency than you might get if they just hired you off the street. i'd start in their second hand store. they clean and restore all donations they recieve, and they're super fucking cheap. i treated myself to my literal lifelong dream of owning a vintage typewriter (!!!!!) yesterday, because it's almost christmas and goddammit, i've been doing so much shit the past couple of months i deserve it. do i have space for it? not really. do i have a plan on what to use it for? no. was it heavy and miserable trekking through the snow and rain yesterday back and forth? was it worth the backache in the morning? fuck yeah it was.

a fucking lot of things are happening all at once. diagnoses, medications, lifestyle changes, work placement, social clubs, dealing with bureaucracies on all sides just so i can feel like a person again, not to mention juggling hobbies like writing and drawing and maintaining my irl friendships. i'm getting as many balls rolling as i can while i have the opportunity and mental/emotional capacity to, but i'm worried i'll burn out again. i'm stabilizing and slowly building my life back up, but jesus christ it would suck if this stupid house of cards collapsed again. but i'm tentatively optimistic. who knows, maybe it's not to late to course-correct my mistakes.

so long story short, that's why i've barely been active on tumblr for months. that's why i haven't been writing, drawing, or reading fic. it's coming along, but it's slow.

i guess the most important thing is that it's coming along at all.

[jaydraws-tings]

Ohmtoonz ~Rainy Days~

(Im so sorry for the shoddy quality of this specific drabble. I was having a real tough time finishing anythinf with writing and figured why not end this one here. Thanks for reading and i hope ye enjoy)

It was rare Ryan truly ever had a bad day. Sure sometimes things could get annoying or something unfortunate would happen, but it never really was bad. Ryan was an optimist, always believing the day held something better, and it usually worked for him. Today however, was just not his day.

Ryan started his day bright and early, walked to his desk, and found out his recording software and most of his footage from the day previous was corrupted. Frustrated he decided to just sit back and glare at his screen, eventually calming himself and getting up to go get breakfast.

He was once again disappointed by there being absolutely no food. By this point the sky was beginning to darken (much to his disappointment) with a storm seeming to come from nowhere. Ryan sighed and as quietly as he could manage slipped out of the house. The walk to the supermarket seemed short and relaxing, allowing Ryan to clear his head. He breathed in the air that started to feel heavier, the rain would come down hard in time.

He quickly walked into the supermarket, got the few things he needed (eggs, milk, more coffee) and started the trek back home. The sky was dark and the air fell into a thick heavy silence. Ryan knew at that moment he fucked up. The first droplets caused Ryan to speed up his walking, a few minutes later a heavy rain had him sprinting to get under shelter. He felt out of breath as he barely made it under the porch of a strangers house.

Ryan was angry, soaking wet, hungry, had no footage, and had no idea what to do. He tried to fish in his pockets for his phone but came up empty handed. His phone had been left on his desk when he went out for some food. Meaning he had no way of calling anyone too. Ryan felt it all burn up in his chest. The weight of the day started to come down on him. Ryan as well as angry felt embarrassed. He felt weak and stupid. He buried his face in his hands to keep anyone (not that anyone would see) from seeing the tears slipping down his face.

“You alright there?” A nice southern voice shocked him out of his thoughts. Ryan straightened up and brushed the tears from his face, eventually turning to look up at the stranger leaning against the front door of the house he was taking refuge under.

“I’ll take that as a no.” The stranger came forward sitting beside Ryan, he let out a huff of breath as he plopped down on to the step next to him. “Do you usually do this?”

Ryan blinked at the question, feeling embarrassed at the stare lingering on him. “What do you mean?” The stranger gave a smirk, tilting his head slightly. “Walk in this type of weather?”

Ryan blushed and turned away, he knew that same stare was still on him. He sighed and ran a hand through his messy wet hair. “No.” He felt embarrassed at how flustered he was getting around this complete stranger. He could be an axe murderer for pete's sake! However, when looking back at the stranger he knew that wouldn't be right.

“Ah so today was an exception.” The cocky grin on the strangers face widened with another curious tilt of his head.

Ryan sighed and looked away, his eyes scanned the streets distractedly. He could feel his blush calming a little bit, but still could feel that bubbly nervousness in the pit of his stomach. “Not exactly. I uh, don't have a car and was hungry. My roommate, he has a tendency to steal my food and my stock was low.”

The stranger raised an eyebrow a smile stretching across his face. “Well I’m not sure if this rain is going to let up anytime soon. Wanna come in?”

Ryan looked over and found himself embarrassed. “Oh, I don't want to be a disturbance!” He scrambled up to his feet and waved his hand in a dismissive type of way. “Please don’t worry, I’ll be fine out here”

He was cut off by the strangers gentle chuckle. “It's fine. Don't worry yourself about it.” The stranger got up and extended a hand to Ryan. “I should have introduced myself earlier, sorry. My names Luke.”

Ryan looked up at the male, another warm blush moving across his face. He found himself at a loss for words for a few seconds. With a bit of hesitation he reached up and grabbed Luke's hand, allowing himself to get pulled up by him. “Ryan.”

The short stutter that accompanied his name made Ryan curse himself, especially when Luke seemed to grin a bit wider upon hearing it. “Well Ryan it's nice to meet you. Let's get you dried up and fed yeah?” Luke gave a closed eyed grin that made Ryans stomach flip. “Uh yeah sure.”

Luke's house was much cosier inside than it was outside. It was nice and warm, and Ryan noted the cat lying on the sofa that seemed to want to ignore both the men's presence. “Thats Princess. She's kind of an asshole.” Luke chuckled and walked over petting the cat with a fondness that made Ryan smile behind his hand. “She seems pretty cool to me.”

Luke let out a breathless laugh and turned to look at Ryan with a raised eyebrow. “Sure, just live with her than you'd get the whole experience.” He laughed, a smooth sounding laugh that made Ryan giggle. For a minute a peaceful silence landed between the two before Luke got up and clapped his hands. “Let's get you some new clothes.”

Luke had led Ryan to a restroom. He showed him how the shower worked before leaving him, returning with a new set of clothes. Ryan looked down with wide brown eyes opening his mouth to object but Luke stopped him with a wave of his hand. “Your clothes are wet and these are really the only thing I have that look like it'll fit you. I’ll put yours in the drier after you get out if you want?”

Ryan felt bad, his eyes watched  Luke with uncertainty but saw that Luke was determined. With a sigh he accepted grabbing the dry clothes. “Ok fine, but after they are dry I’ll give these back ok?” Luke grinned at him and nodded accepting it. After a minute he jumped and blushed.

“Oh uh, I’ll leave you be.” He backed away and waved awkwardly. Ryan waved back with a soft giggle and closed the door behind him.

The shower was nice and warm. His body relaxed under the water, his once tense muscles felt so much better. Ryan was conscious of the amount of self care products this stranger had. It was almost funny compared to his pitiful amount of things at his shared restroom.

Ryan did not allow himself to take his time though. He quickly showered and got out, wrapping a towel around his waist and stretched. He reached over wiping the foggy mirror. Ryan took in his messy rumpled appearance and grinned despite himself.

Ryan had to remind himself of where he was. He dried his body and grabbed at the clothes Luke had given him. The white button up shirt he had given him was too large over Ryan's body. He buttoned it up and tried his best to pull up the sleeves to a suitable length. The jeans Luke gave him was also too large but manageable. It at least allowed Ryan to tuck in the button up.

Ryan collected his wet clothes and bundled them together. He opened the door and the smell of bacon seemed to waft into the restroom. Ryan stepped out into the hall, walking down back to the livingroom and right to the scene of Luke cooking.

The southerner was focused on some bacon, his nose scrunched at the easy task. Alongside it was two plates of eggs. Ryan felt flattered at the scene. He cleared his throat and smiled at Lukes shocked gaze. “You didn't have to.” Ryan walked into the room and gestured to the plates. “I would have been fine. I've already been so much of a burden and, you really didn't have to.”

Luke shrugged and offered a plate to Ryan. “Take it as neighborly hospitality.” Ryan found himself grinning despite the worry. He walked over accepting the plate graciously. “Thank you.”

They both ate in comfortable silence. They didn't chat, merely enjoying each others company together. After they were done Luke took their plates (Ryan objected for probably the fifth time that evening but he was once again stopped by Luke) and washed them. Ryan chit chatted with him softly, getting to know the stranger bit by bit. He learned of his past, his friends and hobbies he had. They both shared an interest in games and Ryan wrote down his gamer tag for Luke so they could later possibly play with each other.

Their conversation in the kitchen turned to them both sitting in the living room. They both spoke easily with each other, seeming to be long time friends instead of people that met that day. The conversation turned to Ryan soon enough.

“So what do you do Ryan?” Ryan tilted his head, previously looking up to Luke's ceiling to glance over at Luke. “I uh. It's complicated.” Luke burst out laughing and looked over at Ry. “It can't be that bad. Come on.” Ryan puffed hi cheeks and turned away. “I uh. I film for youtube. Nothing too special just something on the side.” Ryan scratched his cheek. “Other than that I work at a nearby video store. It's interesting we get all sorts of customers.”

Luke smiled at Ryan encouragingly. “See that's not that bad.”

Ryan scoffed at Luke. “You cant talk. My roommate always makes fun of me.” Ryan blew a breath between his teeth.

“A real piece of work huh?” Ryan glanced o er confused at Luke's words. “Your roommate, he seems like such a swell guy."

Ryan chuckled softly. "You could say that." Ryan puffed a breath between his teeth. "Brings girls endlessly to the house, eats my things, uses my products, real good guy." He gave Luke a thumbs up with a fake cheery smile plastered on his face. The sarcasm practically dripping from his lips.

Luke burst out laughing, reaching over and patting Ryan on the shoulder. "Damn man. Must be hell to live with him."

Ryan chuckled looking down at his hands. "Yeah." He sighed softly. "If it weren't for him I guess I wouldn't of gotten stranded in the storm. This day in total has just been." A sigh blew from his lips as he leaned back again. "Amazing."

Ryan after a second looked up into Luke's chocolate brown eyes. The gentle fondness amd care in them made Ryan tear up. The days events once again getting to him.

"I'm sorry Ry." Those words had him balling

Luke had no idea what to do. His eyes widened at the sobbing male in front of him. His shoulders shook with silent sobs as he covered his mouth. The frown on his lips made Luke feel angry and sad for him. Within the short time that Ryan had been with him he could feel the connection he had with the guy.

Luke reached over, soothingly rubbing Ryan's arm. "Hey hey, Shh its ok its alright." He scooted over a small bit closer, keeping in mind Ryan's privacy and their short status as 'friends' if someone could call them that.

"Come here. Its ok darlin." Luke almost slapped himself when he said that. It slipped out of his mouth before he could even catch the word

To his surprise though Ryan came closer and hugged him, wrapping his arms around Luke's waist and burying his head into his chest.

It was comforting and safe. The sound of rain whispered in the background comfortingly. The warmth from Ryan warmed Lukes body. His tears seemed to have stopped yet Ryan remained in his arms. Luke continued to rub soothing circled on his back, letting his thoughts wander.

"Luke?" Ryan's soft, shy voice broke Luke from his trance. He looked down at the brown ruffled hair and tilted his head, leaning closer to Ryan. "Yeah bud?"

It took Ryan a few seconds to answer. His tired mind made it hard for him to formulate a sentence but he managed to get the words out.

"I'm sorry." Luke dryly chuckled and patted his head, leaning to the side so they both could lean against the sofa. "Its alright Ry."

"Luke?"

"Yes Ryan?"

"Thank you."

[fearfilledvirgil]

Ivity and Anx: part seventeen I

Work Summary: Virgil and Roman hate each other to the core of their beings, but both become friends with a new stranger via the Sarrahas Project. Virgil takes to Creativity as well as Roman does to Anxiety, but they don’t know the true identity of the ones they’re slowing falling for.

Warnings: undertones of abuse, low self worth, intrusive thoughts, swearing

Word count: 1800

Parings: Slowburn Prinxiety

A/N: Clifhanger! I’ll post the second section to part seventeen in a few days so it isn’t as bad of a wait. The reason why the sections of part seventeen aren’t their own chapters is because I’ve set a chapter limit for myself. I intend to stick with it! Taglist under the cut.

masterlist

taglist: @rileyfirstname @verymuchanidiot @definentlynotjustanotherlemon @silversmith-91 @kanejandkruge @sander-fander-sides @lovecrazyjennybear @the-incedible-sulk @hexdream18243 @crows-with-hats @monikastec @definenormalifyoucan @i-am-absolute-fandom-trash @applecannibal @cats-with-blogs @bubblycricket @witchcraft--and--wizardry @bunnyartie @quietlypondering @elusivefalsehoods @hghrules @royallyanxious @quietwords-loudthoughts @squishynonbinarytwink @sortablue @illogical-anxieties @savingshae @a-fander-named-skittles @thelowlysatsuma @ughthatsprettygay @im-so-infinitesimal @certifiedtrashxx @karmels-stuff @sanders-sides-trash-blog@musicqueen1239 @the-average-loner @nicological1 @oh-star-how-the-mighty-fall @surleytemple​ @nervous-collection @asapmy @super-magical-wizard @arandompasserby

Patton was at Roman’s front door, with Virgil getting changed in the bathroom, and neither had a clue the other was in the house. This was going to be an interesting day. Roman could never turn away his best friend, so asking Patton to leave was out of the question. What was more out of the question was making Virgil hide, because then he might think Roman is embarrassed by him, but he isn’t. Something even less possible than that to happen was for Roman to make Virgil leave, which wouldn’t go well with either party. Virgil obviously didn’t want to go home, and Roman wanted to watch over him for a while. So, the only other option was to have Patton formally meet Virgil.

“Roman? Kiddo? Pal, friend, human? You okay?” Patton asked in quick succession, swaying on the balls of his feet. This broke Roman out of his line of thought, making the older—who was just called kiddo by a friend younger than him—snap his eyes up at his friend.

“Patton! Hi, yes, hello, please come in,” the owner of the home opened the door wider for Patton to come in, adding in a gesture of welcome. “I totally forgot you were coming over.”

“Roman!” Patton sounded slightly offended, but mostly worried. “How the pecking peck did you forget about my very worried dad-Pat call yesterday?” The younger started kicking off his shoes as he shrugged off his yellow rain jacket that completely clashed with his sky blue t-shirt with a pink ice cream cone on it.

Patton’s answer came around the corner just after he got his jacket on the hook. Virgil was looking down at his now ruined purple shirt in his right hand instead of looking up as he said, “Hey Ro, who was at the door? I heard the—“ He was cut off by a screech, which made him look up to see a very excitable short boy with curly red hair and many freckles. Patton.

“That’s your answer,” Roman said with a sort of flatline tone to both Patton and Virgil at the same time. He pressed his hand into his face, dragging it down his nose before taking a breath. Patton was basically vibrating with… whatever emotion he was vibrating with. His eyes were as bright as his toothy grin, his hands up against his chest and twitching as he wobbled back and forth. “He came over in literally the middle of the night. Right after you called, actually.”

Virgil, however, was shaking for the completely opposite reason. Here before him was Patton Heart, his best friends crush and mortal enemy’s (or is it friend? Acquaintance? Creativity?) best friend. How was he supposed to react to that? He doesn’t exactly have the best track record with emotions and Roman. Putting those two things together tended to end in catastrophe, but an amazing, wild, gorgeous catastrophe. He didn’t know what to do or how to think, much less what to say. Virgil ended up accidentally dropping his ruined shirt on the floor.

“Pat, remember you need to breathe. He’s not a puppy who will get excited from your energy.” Roman said, trying to calm his best friend down for the sake of his other friend.

Patton covered his mouth, trying to become calm, before removing it and saying, “I’m sorry, but finally! It’s really nice to meet you Virgil! I mean, ya know, like… officially.” He couldn’t help but bounce up and down on the balls of his feet. The desire to rush and hug the lanky boy was almost too much, but he knew from Roman that he wasn’t the biggest fan of sudden touches.

“Sure. Whatever.” Virgil bent down to pick his shirt up from the floor. He already had his mask, his facade, firmly in place. He had to have it in place. Patton may have talked to him as Anxiety, but he never had met Virgil before. Virgil didn’t know who he wanted to be talking to, so he settled on his usual hard persona. It was easy to do, as it was his natural reaction to anything at this point.

All this did, however, was make Patton squeal louder than before. “Wait, this means we all three can spend the day together! Oh oh oh and maybe I can teach you guys how to make thumbprint cookies?”

Both Roman and Virgil looked at Patton in shock before looking at each other. Neither had a clue to how deal with the boy in the ice cream shirt. Virgil wanted to run and hide from any chance of his facade breaking, but something inside him stopped him. Maybe it was how highly Logan spoke of him, or that he seemed harmless, or that Roman was looking happy at the day to come, but Virgil decided to stay. For now, at least.

Roman broke out of his stupor first. “Wait. Thumbprint cookies? As in jelly in the middle cookies? With the Crofter's in the middle?”

“What is with you people and excitement over jam?” Virgil couldn’t believe Roman’s sudden excitement over a jam. Especially after Patton just invited himself to do things with them.

“Hey! Crofter’s is amazing!” Roman attempted to defend himself, throwing his hands in the air. This made Virgil flinch in the slightest, but he held most of it back. Don’t show weakness. Don’t show weakness. Don’t show weakness.

“It’s a jam!” Virgil didn’t know how people could be this obsessed with a jam. It reminded him of Logan, which made a spike of sadness and guilt hit his stomach.

Both Patton and Roman gasped at that. “It is not just a jam!” Roman took a step back, lowering his hands. He didn’t know if Patton did, but he noticed the flinch. “It is the fruit spread of the gods!”

“Have you ever had Crofter’s, kiddo?” Patton asked softly. He didn’t know if Roman did, but he noticed the flinch.

The sudden change in Patton’s deminor caused Virgil to pause. It was very similar to the way Logan had tried to get him to eat the jam, not to mention when he was fixing him up after a rough night, “I haven’t.” He settled on the simplest words devoid of emotion. Don’t show weakness. Don’t show weakness.

“We gotta fix that right now!” Patton went to grab Virgil’s hand, but stopped just before he did. His hand wavered, unsure if he wanted to be touched. As an answer, Virgil put his hands in his back pockets, complete with a clench of his jaw at the pain the movement caused to his upper arm. It made a small sinking feeling hit Patton, but he dropped his hand and lead him to the kitchen anyways. Once there, he opened the fridge and pulled out the strawberry jar. He spun around to get a spoon and scooped some jelly out of the jar.

“Here you go.” He offered the spoon to Virgil.

“I’m supposed to eat that with a spoon? No fucking way.” Virgil told Patton, hands still in the back of his pockets.

Patton gasped, “Language!” Virgil at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed, but it was nothing compared to the overwhelming guilt swirling in his chest. Bad bad can’t do anything right. Virgil’s intrusive thoughts rattled. He hates you he hates you he hates you and he’ll hurt you now. Stupid stupid stupid.

“And yes. You can eat Crofter’s with a spoon and be completely happy. If you want I’m sure we can find you a piece of bread?” Patton lowered the spoon, trying his best not to blame Virgil for how cold he was being. He knew that it was a coping mechanism, now that he put together what happened with Anxiety and events with Virgil.

Roman chuckled at Patton in “Dad Mode” while he was digging in the pantry for the bread. “I’m way ahead of you for the bread, Pat. But he is right. You could eat Crofter’s with a spoon and be in heaven.” He handed a slice to Patton after opening it on the counter.

Patton spread what he had on the spoon onto the white bread before passing it over to Virgil. Virgil sighed, trying to keep his face looking disinterested, and took a bite of it. His eyes widened as, the sensations, the flavor, and the texture filled his senses.  Before he knew what he was doing, he finished the piece of bread and licked his fingers. After, he internally cursed himself for it.

Roman and Patton both laughed at his reaction. “I think that’s a ‘yes’ on the thumbprint cookies?” Roman teased Virgil, who flipped him off.

“I will physically fight you, young man, if you keep using such bad words!” Patton put the jar of Crofters back into the fringe.

Virgil strongly felt that Patton would—even though he was older than the redhead—that same guilt hitting his chest again. He didn’t show it, keeping the stone face in place, as he apologized, “Sorry. Habit.”

“So what’s the plan for before lunch, kiddos?” Patton asked as he sat down at one of the breakfast bar seats at the same time Virgil heaved himself to sit on the counter.

“Well, Virgil needed some new clothes while he’s staying here, so we were going to go to the thrift store.” Roman said, mostly into the pantry as he put away the bread.

“We don’t have to do that. It can wait if you two wanna do something else.” Virgil mumbled as he stared at the floor. He hated to be an inconvenience. It all he ever was. Patton could see how insecure Virgil was in that moment with his head hung low and guard still firmly in place. That would not stand.

“I think that’d be fun! Maybe I can find me another awesome shirt while we’re there.” he smiled, trying to put Virgil at ease.

“That’s not really the problem.” Virgil sneered, but Patton didn’t flinch.

“Then what is it, kiddo? I think it’d be fun to go shopping.” He said softly instead.

Virgil didn’t want to say it. He also didn’t want to make it look like he was staying with Roman on charity. “I didn’t,” he clenched his jaw, continuing, “Bring anything but my phone yesterday, and that’s…. I was still talking to Logan.”

“We can go and pick up some of your stuff if you want.” Patton suggested, still speaking softly

“NO!” Virgil nearly screamed that one word. The fear he felt wasn’t only for himself this time. He didn’t know what his father would do if any of his “friends” came with. He didn’t let any of this fear leave his gut though, instead solidifying his glare with the harsh, loud, one word of ‘no.’

next part

hey im pretty sure you are used to this by now but heres another shoutout to my amazing co-writer and friend @lovecrazyjennybear! this chapter is so long that we have to split it up into three (four?) parts, and it was her idea where to split them, so blame her for the evil clifhanger. but seriously, i just???? love her so much and she’s such an amazing person and an amazing writer!!!! she’s awesome. 

[anwo-prinz]

Anime Expo Anisong World Matsuri ~kawaii live~ 2017 Post-concert essay

Okay so here’s my really long write up about the concert. Includes pictures and background info on call books I helped with. tl;dr I cried a lot.

pre-concert: I had already been planning to attend Anime Expo 2017 since I’m fairly local to the area (I live in Southern California) so it was easy for me. However, the moment AX announced WUG and Cinderella Girls for a Day 0 concert, I was so shocked! I never thought that WUG would return nor that imas would ever come to the US. I’ve been a fan of both since the WUG anime came out, and for CG through the original mobage (mostly rolled over from 765 animas though). Of course, most people know me as an ArisuP. 

Once the announcement was official, I caught wind of people who wanted to organize creating fan call books for the live. I signed up to help as an artist for the imas CG call book and the WUG call book. I was happy to be able to contribute to those teams and was really excited about our books! 

Here are the pages that I helped with. WUG chara chibis, Nanamin, Miria, and Arisu doing calls.

Bonus - I did the back cover for both of them! 

https://twitter.com/suna_chika/status/876980186490601473

While signal boosting for WUG call books before the show, the WUG character designer, Sunao Chikaoka, noticed our book! He said the outfits were cute.

I was able to get a copy of all 4 of the call books that were passed out! 

actual concert time:

CG Setlist: 

Star! 

Goin' 

Yumeiro Harmony 

Yes! Party Time! 

Onegai! Cinderella!

Performers: Mika, Anzu, Kirari, Miria, Frederica, Kanade I couldn’t believe that CG was the opening act because they were the group I was most hype for. They opened with the first 2 songs, then did introductions, they did a short MC section where they showed the Cinderella Girls Theater clips and Cinderella Girls anime clips and had the girls voicing their lines. Mika/Miria was the first one, followed by Anzu/Kirari. Frederica and Kanade did theirs solo. I was really happy that the audience seemed to like it and new fans could put faces to the characters. By the way, I was pretty much crying through the entire thing and cheering as hard as I could being choked up. My favorite was Yes! Party Time! and that was SO HYPE! Seeing their outfits glitter up close, every girl was so cute. I especially loved Iidashi since I have a Cool idol bias haha. 

Mika was also the designated leader & center, which I loved - felt very old-school CG (back before Mio became the poster passion idol). The only thing is that I wished they had done some solo songs (Hotel Moonside, Ankira, Tokimeki...) or some group songs like Orange Sapphire or Tulip. Ah, well. It felt really like it was a very safe approach. 

Also, none of the girls tried to speak English to the audience if I’m remembering correctly. My Japanese isn’t fluent, but I can understand a bit. So the impression their act came off was kind of like “Well, to like iM@S, you should already know Japanese! Also, come to a proper live in Japan to experience us fully” haha. They didn’t bring a fully cohesive unit so I think that’s why they mostly stuck to the group songs, which did feel a bit generic. But that’s not to say I didn’t cry like a little baby because IMAS FIRST WESTERN APPEARANCE AHHH I LOVE ;_; 

WUG Setlist: 

Tachiagare!

Shoujo Koukyoukyoku

Koi? de Ai? de Boukun desu!

Beyond the Bottom

7 Girls War 

Gokujou Smile

Performers: Full Group (7)

MY GOD WUG WAS SO STRONG. They were such a cohesive group. Mayushi and Yoppi’s vocals were AMAZING, I really loved them. The last time I’d seen one of their lives (BD, not in-person), it was one of the first ones they did so they were very unpolished. But seeing the difference in the 3 years that’ve passed... It felt very emotional, realizing that they had really worked so hard to become as amazing as they are now, and that there’s a 4th Live Tour (which I’m planning to see, hopefully!). 

Having them open with the 2 very strongly anime-based story songs, and having come right after CG, I had NO TIME to recover at all, so I was really a huge screaming sobbing mess during WUG’s performance. During the intro segments, I was again crying as I cheered on each girl. It was really cute, they told us their nicknames as well “Please call me Ai-chan!” or “Please call me Yoppi!” (though, in Japanese mostly)

I felt that most of the audience wasn’t very familiar with WUG when they first started, but by the end of it I could feel that so many people had become fans of theirs. Their choreography was absolutely stunning to see, and hearing them perform live was a whole different experience to seeing their lives on a computer screen. Not to mention the emotional bond of following them as the underdog idol series, it was truly an amazing experience I’ll never forget. 

Walkure Setlist:

Koi! HALATION THE WAR

Ikenai Borderline

Bokura no Senjou

Ichido Dake no Koi Nara

Rune ga Pikatto Hikattara

Performers: Minori Suzuki, JUNNA

Thank god we had an intermission before Walkure or else I may have gone through cardiac arrest right on the spot. I was able to collect myself a bit though I spent the entire intermission still sobbing and reeling from the two groups I regarded the most highly. Anyway, I’m not familiar with Macross but I did listen to a lot of Walkure songs since they’re very catchy. It was really something to be able to see it performed live.. with just 2 out of 5 members present, Minorin and Junna really captivated the theater and you could feel their amazing presence. The songs were incredibly hype, really pumped up the audience and not to mention Junna’s talent is just... I’m really speechless! 

Walkure was really cute because Minorin interacted a lot with the audience (”Do you like ANIME? Do you like WALKURE?”). They asked what countries people had come from to see this concert, so of course USA, but also Canada (”Ah, that’s right! It’s near America!”), China, and they even heard Dis shout out “SCOTLAND!” at which they were very surprised. They also asked where was the best place to eat burgers, so everyone shouted in unison IN-N-OUT! and it was very cute. 

The last song being Rune ga Pikatto Hikattara made me extremely happy! It’s my favorite song by them. Minorin taught the audience how to do the Woa-woa, whoa-whoa-whoaaa call before they performed it. She wasn’t satisfied with us at all! She kept making us repeat it at least 3 times! She is so cute, and her acapella singing for the chorus part was great. I definitely cried and now I feel very emotional whenever Walkure songs come up on shuffle. 

Also it was adorable how Junna wasn’t allowed to say the good-bye because she’s 16 and can’t work after 10pm hahaha.

Aqours Setlist: 

Aozora Jumping Heart 

Kimi no Kokoro wa Kagayaiteru kai?

Koi ni Naritai AQUARIUM

MIRAI TICKET

Yume Kataru yori Yume Utaou

Performers: Full Group (9)

I have to admit here: I am a fan of Love Live’s μ's but I have very, very little emotional bond with Aqours and Love Live Sunshine, nor am I familiar with their songs. However, that’s not to say they weren’t great! I thought they really were stunning live. It was amazing how in sync they were with each other, not to mention the seiyuus are sooo pretty. During their songs, in the background screens it showed the animated scenes of the songs and their dancing matched up perfectly. It was really cool to experience! Plus, the audience was really hyped up (of course, I’m sure that’s what most of the people were there for). However, by the end of the concert I was already tapped out of energy so it was a bit hard to enjoy, and I felt that the Aqours songs were about the same generic, safe sort of songs like the CG full group songs, and that their vocals were weak and not very distinctive in comparison to Walkure and WUG. But I’m also glad they were the last to perform since all the Love Live people were forced to stay until the very end and experience every other idol group. lol. They also had the most English of each group, I think? Iirc, Riko was pretty fluent almost. 

Overall, it was a seriously amazing live and I can’t believe I still survived the remaining 4 full days of Anime Expo after that. I really truly hope that this concert showed the Japanese industry how much of a western audience there is for idols, and that there were lots of new fans for WUG and CG after that concert! 

Also: I was able to sit quite close up and in the center since my friend snagged an orchestra seat for us! I was happy to get seat 315 because I love SideM. 

Lastly, there are no pictures or recordings allowed DURING the live. However you can usually find stuff from staff twitters of the performers and behind-the-scenes pictures from them. That’s pretty standard and mostly why you’ll only see drawings or tweets from people after JP lives.