#here's to hoping tumblr does not nerf the colours again

[mdverse]

i love them ur honour

[spacegaywritings]

Nerf gun professionals - chap 2 (final)

I am late and I am so sorry but family things happened (ew). Anyway, I hope you can handle yourself even if you may have to be around invalidating family members. You are valid and you matter.

Summary: Virgil struggles with some stuff as he faces adult life on his own. Work is a pain in the ass but at least his trusty therapist is by his side to support him. Even with nerfing him whenever he is being a bitch about himself.

tumblr: 1 / 2. || ao3: 1 / 2 // all.

My KoFi  - Support me ♥ or Commission me

Emile remembered the moment fondly, the moment he had made the acquaintance of the most satisfying method of fixing problems and making progress in life. His hands wrapped around the toy and he knew this would be great, if not for the nostalgia attached to it and the symbolism it carried. It would be great for him and his client.

He pocketed the precious holder of memories and carefully straightened his outer appearance in order to ready himself for his new client. When the time rolled around, his expected guest arrived, early as usual and hunched over as he carefully knocked, skinny knuckles hitting the white and pink door he had between him and the hallway.

“Come in!”, Emile piped up, his words direct. It was the voice of a friend, a really unpredictable friend but in the most admirable sense. Upon his words, the person stuck their head in, a head of blonde poking out of the little space between door and frame as they waited. They stared into the other, eyes timid and focusing on the floor rather than Emile - not longer than for a blink of an eye anyway.

“There you are, little gem! Come in, sit down. This is your appointment after all.”

His left hand accentuated his words as he pointed at a couch opposite his baby pink recliner. Seriously, who the heck had a pink recliner? At least the couch was beige.

When he had started coming to therapy with Emile for the very first time, he had expected more professionalism, more coldness and walls that were distant and closing in on him. Instead, he had been met with a guy collecting pop figures and making cartoon references and puns all the time. It was silly and seemed so ridiculous but still, Virgil appreciated the unconventional form of professionalism he was surrounded with in this area.

Concerning his previous therapists, they never gave him the impression they were just as much of a person as he was. They were usually just these superior people who would tell him he was wrong or unstable and needed to be monitored and whatnot. Well, maybe he did. And even if he did, there were better ways to say it than (figuratively) pointing knives at him and telling him to sit back down when he wanted to leave.

“Hi” Blunt, simple. Virgil.

Emile gave the blonde an affirmative nod. The client carefully rushed over to the couch and curled up on it. He was a precious ball of anxiety and one that Emile admired for trying so hard. The kid did not have an easy life but then again, who did ever really not experience any struggle at all in a world like this?

“Welcome back, Virgil. How has your week been so far?”

It was a Wednesday. Usually, this was the day during which Virgil needed the most amount of emotional catharsis since it was just in the middle of a five-day working week. Several days have hurt him already and tired him out, making him question reality and whether anything was really worth all this fucking bullshit. Then, there were still days ahead of him. Mondays were shit but they were so fresh in the week, it was not needed to really get all therapeutic already and Tuesday was still in his mental capacity to deal with this shit but after Wednesday, the stress and frustration was out of the usual spectrum he could handle without snapping at people around him, even the ones he liked.

Fridays were just the days he needed for a nap and Thursday was basically the stepping stone to Friday so there was the logic in his choice. It was been fascinating to hear the tall gem talk about his intricate rumination about which day was perfect for him to choose for his therapy when he had one in seven to decide on.

Virgil would just tell him that it was him bullshitting through life and making a drama out of every decision he had to make when there was nothing to be concerned about but he still was and it did not make any sense and it was so stupid and stole time and was a waste and he would DIE deliberating all the shit he was too scared to do without thinking about it and then he would already be dead before committing to a decision because he was such a fucking DUMBass, EmiLe!

“Ugh.. Well, bullshit. Everyone is a Karen and getting on my nerves and it sucks but I never complain because it is useless and I am just, ugh.. well yeah, whining and all that shit and I suck anyway. It is stupid to think it matters or to wanna try but it would be nice.” He shrugged, his lips pressed together into a thin line.

Emile nodded sagely, his eyes blinking a quick moment in sympathy. “Ah, Virgil. You are expressing a lot of negativity here.”

The blonde sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, I get it”, he started, his words muffled by his hands as he put his face into the grappling apparatuses of his body. He leaned into his own lap and tugged at the hood of his self-made and very much sleeveless hoodie. His shoulders were covered by a thick layer of an older biker-style jacket. “I get it. I do.”

His face rose from the asylum of his powerful hands. It just barely got out of reach and its features already poured down like raindrops in a thunderstorm. “You say we need positivity - I need it or whatever. I bring negativity into the room by talking shit about me and others. I get it, but this is what I do. I don’t say nice shit about me or others or whatever. That is just not me.”

His shoulders flinched in the camera flash of a sudden shrug. “Just.. Just - It is whatever and positivity won’t do shit because I am like a lost cause or something. Ugh, I don’t know. It- it is whatever, yeah.”

Emile’s eyebrows drew together like a bundle of dark clouds accumulating for a horrendous thunderstorm. “Virgil, you might want to rephrase this. You know that you are better than what they make you feel like and if they matter, then so do you and it is important to remind yourself of how much you are worth. Just remember that your words are as significant as everyone else’s. You are not any less than your co-workers and you have done so much in life alrea-”

The addressed client sighed in exasperation and gave Emile a glare, almost as if offended or ready to tackle. The therapist knew better than to feel insulted or personally attacked by the impulsive client. He had learned over some time that Virgil struggled to keep himself together whenever it got slightly emotional for him. He was rather sensitive. Not that Emile minded. It was yet another thing he needed to pay attention to. Virgil was always ready to pounce and while he was not violent towards Emile, we way certainly ready to verbally shoot a full magazine at whoever dared to dip into his issues or trigger his anxiety.

“I know”, he barked at the other and the therapist stopped. His jaw clasped together like a zipper and it stayed shut as Virgil ran a hand through his hair and let the back of his feet move from and against the floor as if to tap a rapid rhythm. If it was one, it would be yet another song featured on his album of personal hell. This one in particular would probably be called “emo nightmare” because feelings were a pain and they made him fidgety. “I know but it does not matter, none of it ever matters” It is all stupid and just shit and and - They don’t care! Why do they not care if I matter so much, Picani! They never even bother to fucking ask about my opinions or my schedules because they do not fucking mind me being a human being. I am nothing to them or anyone.”

He shrugged, his shoulders falling into a slump as he rolled back into the soft island of his safe, beige couch. Ugly but at least a space in which he knew himself to be okay in, a space in which he was certain he was not to be attacked by anyone. Well, anyone but himself. He was a beast. His best and only friend but still his worst judge and enemy at the same time because he committed so many bullshit mistakes of course someone needed to hold him accountable for all these things.

..Sometimes it felt like life was hard enough but his personal anxiety and panic was even harsher with him than this world had already been on him.

He took a deep breath, the oxygen echoing through his body and leaving the fleshy walls of his vessels shake in sudden intrusion. Oh his panic did not like breathing.

Then, for no apparent reason or maybe about every reason there could be, a dull sensation hit his shoulder and his teary eyes ripped their gaze from the nothing that was his life back to reality. Things were slurry to his mind but Emile seemed so clear before him.

Orange, such a fucking stingy and intrusive colour. It was like looking into the sun right after leaving the dark bedroom of safety. Such a fucking colour. It seemed so surreal in the blob of pastels and soft soft colours that Virgil needed to squint at his therapist to make sure he saw what he saw. As in what he saw was actually real, it was there and happening and not some odd thing his anxiety whispered into his memories to mess with his perceptions.

Cognitive distortions or something, had his psychiatrist explained to him. Sometimes he wondered whether Mister Vega was more capable than Picani but he would not run into this place all the time if he found no use in it.

“The.. the fuck?”, he stammered. His mind focused more and more, clearing the blurry veil that seemed to angrily drape itself over his concentration and when it was all crystal clear and safe as day, Virgil identified the orange piece of shit to be a child’s toy.

“Did you shoot me? Did you fucking shoot me, is this what we are going to do now?”

Virgil’s words seemed acidic, being spat out and examined with his hateful gaze that burned in the dark eyes of his eminent self. His voice, however, was still shaky and stumbled as securely as a high teenager when trying to make a snack at 3am without their parents noticing.

Memories and shit.

Emile offered him a smile. That bitch.

Virgil sneered in response but left the other room for speaking so he could explain himself for the audacity he had committed with his unusual actions. Emile was actually not that much of a daredevil but more of the sweet nerdy therapist who still kinda stuck with Virgil enough for the punk to keep him in his life. Partly because he could at least afford it with his insurance.

“Well Virgil, see. You got an issue with negativity and talking yourself down and you find too much comfort in the mentally self-harming behaviour of - if you will - trash-talking all about yourself you seem fitting at the moment.”

The punk blinked and opened his mouth just to, much like a fish, close it again instead of sharing any sounds with the other. Communication was all about listening to and right now, he was not in the mental state to give a comeback to his therapist, oh no. Those words had hit too close to home at this moment.

“We will do something more helpful. While we could have you exercise self-deprecation to your liking, we could work on your language and your thoughts but more important, we have to change your attitude as a start. It will be hard but all is hard in therapy and life and we can do it together.”

Virgil nodded. This sounded more like something he could catch up on at this moment. So.. he talked shit about himself and Emile was tired of his bullshit so he wanted to change his mind rather than his.. his words because one caused the other or whatever. Vega had mentioned something like that before, yeah. Whatever bullshit.

“Uh.. um, yeah.”, Virgil commented carefully. To be honest, his mind was wiped out, it was all blank and for once neither anxiety nor biting sarcasm were there to take the wheel and direct his speech like he would need it. ...He was almost helpless, not knowing how to deal with no voices and no trouble in his mind. The client was immersed in the situation, anxiety turned off. Maybe Emile’s childhood dreams have shot it to death. Served it right, that fucking bitch. It was annoying as hell... Virgil still could not help but will this trash beast a bit. He had given it a name and such and well, it was kind of not so bad.

Was that a bad thing? Emile said it was good to have a connection to his feelings and indentify thoughts and feelings coming from him.

Emile smiled and let the toy drop into his lap, clapping his hands together, he nodded over at the other to resume speaking. “You were saying?” His chin dipped down a bit, angling as if to give Virgil’s a toddler-intended sweet view to his soft, sundrop orbs.

Virgil let his lips divide for a moment, his lower one retreating for his tongue to wet it. He was out of words, out of his mind and all out of clues.

“Uh..I .. I forgot the um.. the question - “, he admitted in a state, somewhere between confusion and the feeling of being lost and dropped right into the ocean.

“You wanted to talk about your time at work and how your week has been so far. Any progress at talking to your co-workers or communicating with the costumers?”

Virgil shrugged, lips pulled into a quirky wave more than anything else. ”Ah, I mean, I guess? The costumers still suck but not all. Just some and the majority is just there. A nice lady told me I did a good job and some pal stood up for me when there was another asshole costumer so I think this is okay.”

He shrugged again, his shoulders flinching upwards as if to prove a point with their jumping. “And the whole co-worker thing.. I mean, they still suck but I care less I guess. I don’t know, really. I just.. Maybe I gave up but it does not bother me too much.”

Picani smiled and nodded again, the gun resting in his lap rather than his hands.

“So you feel less intensely about all these incidents?”

Virgil nodded, his shoulders immediately going up and falling back into place right after. “Yeah but it still hurts and such. But not as much. Maybe it is good? The costumers just get on my nerves but the issues at work kinda still bother me.”

The therapist nodded sagely once more, letting out a thoughtful hum. “You told me you tried talking to them before?”

The therapy session continued with several exchanges like this, the nerf gun being used every now and then, but after the initial outbreak on Virgil’s side, it had been much calmer. It was a peak of feelings and tension - somewhat usual between them but the more they met, the less intense and often they had been. This was what mattered to Virgil. He wanted to stop being so sensitive to everything and panic or snap at all things happening around him, especially people talking to him.

When the ending rolled around, Emile invited a conclusion as always and gave Virgil the usual revelation of trying new things. In a few sessions, Emile would return a special sort of letter Virgil had written about the therapy when they met for the first time. It was a method he used to show his clients how they struggled before and whether they actually felt different from what how they used to be. If they did not feel as if there was any meaningful progress, then he would suggest other therapists and so on or different approaches.

When Virgil got his, he returned the item with a letter of his own. Less about the therapy session but more about addressing his feelings to Emile. The retail worker took a break from seeing Emile for about two weeks but joined in after this and continued working with more vigour. Picani shared the enthusiasm when he read along the lines of Virgil’s response he had written.

Sometimes his clients surprised him after all. The young adult had written about his personal reflections of how much it helped him already and how he kept a journal to show his steps of improvement. There were certain photocopies of the journal pages and highlighted paragraphs and other lines to refer to Virgil’s bettering such as talking to strangers willingly, having less breakdowns and finally getting some more and qualitatively and quantitatively high sleep.

One of the last notes placed themselves in his memory as much as gently putting a hand over his heart as if to warm it up. And warm it up it did. They continued working together with breaks here and there to give Virgil more reflection time as he figured himself out further and let the learned lessons sink in and show in his behaviour.

Emile never backed away from his nerf gun, not for himself nor for others. Even as he retired he kept it around to remind himself of helping others and being helped by others as time passes. The spirit of helping and supporting your next travelled from Remy to Emile and eventually rested with Virgil who took it upon him to aid his friends as much as he could.