#how else am i going to work through this shit? therapy??? no way. i'm broke

[thealleydog]

LONG LONG LONG STORYTIME ABOUT HOW MY LIFE GOT FLIP TURNED UPSIDE DOWN THIS PAST WEEKEND (tldr at the bottom)

Guest starring @wint3r-h3art ~! 💖💖💖

This is chisme. Gossip. Personal life stuff. But I am, still, very much unemployed.

This wasn't on my 2023 bingo card. I didn't know this was gonna happen when I ate those grapes under the table of a New York dive bar. But sometimes you gotta get your heart broke before you can shake some shit up.

My mentor and close friend owns the tattoo shop we work(ed) at. He taught us how to tattoo on top of some real-life lessons. And if people were to ask me, I'll always credit him for getting me to where I am now. But this bitch is a severely traumatized, unmedicated bipolar who ends up taking it out on the people closest to him. Amazing man who wants to be a good person to his people. But - untreated and refuses therapy.

And while he can be a good man, he will put your ass THROUGH IT. I'm telling you, my homie, Fabian, and I literally had almost quit our apprenticeships because we were helping him build that shop, and it was STRESSFUL. But it made us tough. Instead, I settled for a full mental breakdown along the shore and stared at the lake for an hour or so.

(Side note, why does crying clear up the face and make you look beautiful??? That's no makeup right there?!?!)

We two and our other homie, Primo, have been there for the beginning. I'm talking as soon as quarantine was lifted enough that shops in the city were allowed to reopen and could cut our hair again. (I got a shaggy mullet.) So that's three years of our lives to give to this shop and him. Everyone else that came in and was with us to the end are literally amazing people. Like the social circle we had there was something we don't wanna let go of. And he was almost like our dad in a way.

Anyways! So this summer hasn't been the best and in an effort to get new blood and clients into the shop, four of us decided to work a booth at Anime Magic and represent the shop. There was a whole row just for tattoo artists and we knew a handful of them from other shops. (The community is surprisingly small.) We spent about a month worrying and preparing and buying supplies. It's mine and Mari's first con, but Fabian and David knew what to do and we passed inspection.

All's good, right? I'm excited. I booked @wint3r-h3art and her husband! They came all the way from Boston to get stabbed by me. (Which oh my god I'm still humbled someone would do that!)

So I'm tattooing my first internet friend I get to meet in real life...

Then Mari stopped tattooing and showed me the mass text we got from him.

Bro.

My heart fell into my ass and I felt the world crumble. It was so embarrassing. Had to pull up my big girl panties and knock out these tattoos though. I ain't no punk.

At the end of the night, Fabian and I try to call him, trying to see where his headspace is at and if he's okay. He didn't answer at first, but he called back. I didn't say anything because I was sitting all quiet, full of disappointment and crying a bit. Fabian tried to tell him we are here for him and we love him - only for him to hang up on us.

So we head to the shop to check on every still there. The mood is just...

Everyone is heart broken and disappointed and scared even. But the kicker is the lady who does the office paperwork felt safe enough to tell us how he was acting lately. How he'd talk shit about us and vent his frustrations to her. But he'd act more than okay with us. Even when we would talk to him, he never showed his feelings about anything he vented to her. His mental health was definitely getting worst and with four of us at the convention, all he wanted was for something to go wrong that Friday.

And it did. One of the artists has to go back to her home country for surgery because of a numbness that has been bothering her for three years. She told us she was gonna put her two weeks in and work a little at other places until she had to leave. So when she holds his hands and begins to tell him "I have to leave -"

"Okay then go. Pack your stuff immediately."

Didn't give her a chance to explain or talk even when she begged him to listen. Had to pack her stuff into garbage bags.

Then he sent that massive text that morning we were at the convention.

Mind you, we are a crew of nine people, including two baby apprentices. We think we ain't got jobs. I was able to not think about it the rest of the night because Linda and her hubs were so awesome, and I got to eat and drink something for the first time since 8 or 9 am. (But for real, you guys are the highlight of my story so far!) Anxiety? Betrayal? The streets??? On an empty stomach, good Lord. ⚰️

Day 2 and Day 3 go by. We're still tattooing. But now people are starting to ask questions. So we tell them our situation. It's like blood in the water.

"Come work with us!"

"We got spots!"

"You should come by and talk to the owner of our shop."

Apparently our shop has a GOOD reputation. And all the artists do good work so people want us to work for them.

The now Refuge Gang decided on Sunday night to go to shop and just clean out our equipment, which would leave the owner with a very empty shop on Monday. We just didn't want to deal with him anymore considering he was being very manic with his texting and how he was responding to people in the shop. Gave no illusion that he would change his mind.

That night I felt empty and lost. I felt terrible about that this had to happen with him. He really saved me by teaching me. But this was abusive. With a heavy heart, I was the last to leave my key in the office. Wasn't expecting to cry.

We ended the night with Korean BBQ, plum wine, and several shots of shochu.

I think everything is gonna be alright. He tried to call me twice during this whole thing. But I ignored it because I'm not going back and I need space from him for a long time. Still love him, but that was something I won't tolerate anymore is people abusing me in any shape or form. Even cherished friends.

I have a job lined up not too far from my place and I'll be apprenticing one of the babies from the old shop as part of the deal! Even though she's like my age, but Dani's awesome as fuck. Gotta step my pussy up and guide her and myself on this wild unknown road!

Fingers crossed I just need to meet the boss this Friday to iron out the details. But this one is set up where I could actually... have a life. I can be an artist again. A real, piece of shit, beautifully grotesque, smut artist that I've been! (Check out my Instagram and scroll down, you'll see what I mean.) The Refuge Gang have started a group chat to support and look out for each other. We're making sure everyone will be working again and stable. Someone us even got into some real Chicago staple shops! I'm proud of all these talented hoes.

AND and, HOPEFULLY, because we liked each other so much and we're all incredibly talented - Fabian has spearheaded an idea and is in the works of starting an artist collective! Working on getting funding, investors, a building, THE WORKS. That way we can be artists AND tattoo artists. We'll be our own bosses. If everything goes well, we should have everything organized by the spring. It takes fucking forever for shit to happen in Chicago, but we'll be having meetings to talk and work together on this project.

TLDR: My homie got me and the Refuge Gang fucked up but we're wily. Tattooing isn't for punk bitches.

[crymeariveronceagain]

*in a terrible brooklyn accent* click the link if you dare i need to ramble rant and rave like a woman driven to the brink of insanity

i know i didn't deserve the way they treated me. i know i didn't deserve it. i know it inside and out. but my heart hasn't learned. my brain can't do it. all i think when i look someone in the eyes is "shit what if it all ends up awful again" over and over and over. every interaction i have is stilted because of the way they treated me. every last one of them hurt me in some way. every last one of them damaged some part of my heart.

the first one told me i was too happy and now i worry about being too positive and driving everyone away. he took my love and smiled as he crumbled it into dust. he held my hand and he smiled at me and then it must not have mattered quite enough.

the second one didn't give me real reasons, just fake ones, accusations that he'd never brought up before, something i thought was a joke that he decided was splitting grounds. he laughed when i cried in front of him.

the third one didn't care. she was my best friend for years and then one day decided that i wasn't worth bothering with. i guess i should have expected that when she dated my ex less than two weeks after we broke up. when she spread rumors about me around like butter i wasn't surprised but stars did it hurt. her little brother asked if i'd abused my ex, and i think i should have expected all the problems she brought with her.

the fourth one joined in, after i'd lost friendships defending her, lost love because she'd told me that our friendship was doomed anyways, didn't hang out with me without someone else around and still let me think she was my best friend. she never understood why i couldn't be around him, never understood why i didn't like being a third wheel when all she ever did was stare into her boyfriend's eyes.

the fifth one hurt the most. because he didn't do anything at all. he never did anything. he just never asked if i was okay. and maybe i'd have survived that if he hadn't been my closest, truest friend. maybe i'd have been okay if he hadn't been my brother in everything but name. maybe i'd have been okay if the sight of him doesn't make me want to throw my arms around him and ask him how he's doing and if he cared and why he never stood up for me when i'd never have let anyone say that shit about him.

and now every single time i look at someone new i just see it, over and over, replaying like a broken record.

my mom says someday i'll forget all about them.

my mom says that someday they'll be so far in the past i'll laugh to think how worked up i got over them.

i hope she's right. i hope i never have to think about how my old friends are out in the world. i hope i never have to look my old boyfriends in the eyes. i hope i never have to smile at my oldest closest fondest friends.

i dont know why it's not fading. feels like a raw wound, with a rope, dragged back and forth over my skin.

am i sitting in my pain, am i trying to stay where it hurts?

am i frozen, stuck?

am i too weak, too small, too tired to keep fighting?

should i get over myself and go demand that my old friend explain? Should I ask the question that's always on the tip of my tongue?

Why wasn't I worth it to you?

would that solve the problems or would that make it worse?

would that make me cry or make me free? would that save me or ruin me? would i live or would i die?

would i be able to smile when this nice friend of mine comes and sits with me at the cafeteria? would i be able to hold a conversation with the guy i like? would this solve my problems or make them worse?

I feel like the line I'm walking is straight through health and brokenness and I'm tottering from one side to another and I want to let it all dissappear into the past but I can't figure out how to stop it from happening.

I can't figure out how on earth to solve the problems.

Usually I'd say that I need therapy.

But I still haven't picked up the phone to call the office. Because what do you say?

Hi, can I speak to your least terrifying therapist who knows about fucked up friendships and relationships and anxiety and like, emotional issues and burnt out gifted kid shit and problems and problems and problems?

Sounds foolish but that's all i have to say.

hi, can you help me?

[j-edwards]

Dad,

You don't deserve to be called that, but what else do I call you? Ross? Father? Sperm donor? I guess dad will have to do for now, just know that I don't hold the same meaning to dad as the general population does. How could I?

I'm not even sure why I'm writing this to you. Life update? Tell you how I feel? Call you out for being a shit dad? Fuck, I don't know.

I want you to hear from me, I got married. I have officially changed my last name, and in the eyes of the government, social media, and in my personal life, we no longer share a last name. I've been waiting 20 years to change my name and to have a last name to be proud of. No, you were not invited. We had a small ceremony of family and friends, and everyone who was there had a personal relationship to the both of us. You did not have that with either of us. You gave almost zero effort to get to know me, spend time with me, and love me as I am my whole life and you gave less effort into getting to know the man that I would eventually marry. You did not deserve an invitation, and I have no regrets about that.

I'm almost 30, I'm more than halfway through my last year in my 20s, and I've learned a lot. I learned about my undiagnosed mental disorders and how to cope with them. I've learned about my toxic and unhealthy habits and traits in relationships and how to shift my mindset to be more productive. I've started to heal, I started therapy, and I'm actively fixing what you broke, what you failed to even put together. I've put in an incredible amount of work, more work than if you just did your damn job right. But no, you couldn't break the cycle. You couldn't put your ego aside and admit you needed help to move past your trauma. Instead, you willingly gave me yours, and now I'm forced to deal with something that shouldn't be my responsibility. You have 5 kids, and you failed all of us, every single one. I have zero relationship with any of them, and with other facors aside, I blame you the most for that. I don't believe you're capable of love, to give or receive. I believe you are far too emotionally detached to even comprehend what unconditional love is.

More than 15 years ago, I told you I felt indifferent toward you, and that is still the same. I don't believe I love you, I think you took that away every time you failed to show up for me.

More than anything, though, I pity you. I feel sorry for you, I see through your tough guy act, I see past the cold, and I see a scared, sad, hurt little boy who was severely abused. Your abuse and your past was not your fault. Going to residential school was not your fault. Having your mom die while away at residential school was not your fault. What was your fault, was passing down your demons to innocent children who just wanted to be loved by their dad.

I think this letter is my final piece to you. I've spent far too many years contemplating this, but I believe open-ended communication is no longer beneficial to me. I don't believe you deserve a window into my life anymore. I don't believe you deserve to have a means to contact me. Not that it really changes all that much. You haven't reached out in years. I mean, you asked me what my birthday was a couple of years ago, but I don't believe that counts. It's a sad day when a child has to parent the parent, but it's even sadder when a little girl is just begging for her dad to show up. You are the reason I don't want kids. I fear turning into you, I fear my trauma would be passed on, and I don't believe that's fair. I could not live with myself if I had a child, and they felt how I felt because of me. I had to teach myself how to be loved and cared for by a man. A job that was supposed to fall on you, and instead I, again held that responsibility. I experienced trauma because I was never taught to be loved, not in healthy ways.

I hope for the sake of your younger children, you seek help one day. Renée and I are on our own now, were adults, but the younger 3 still have a chance of having a healthy relationship with you. You just need to heal yourself first.

Jess

[mercuryislove]

6 for Anwei, 10 for Yixing, and 30 for Ciaran and Sihla please 😊

once again I feel like I have said a whole lot of words with actually answering any of the questions at hand... please forgive me ._.

6. Do they like being reminded of home?

If by “home” you mean the past or like her childhood home then... only sometimes. Very rarely? It's complicated. Anwei pretends not to be sentimental about what life was like before, but deep down she still longs for that familiarity. She wasn't nearly as close to her mom as Ciaran was (and neither of them were close to their dad because he was um. largely absent), and looking back she still beats herself up about not cherishing the time with her they had. And sometimes in casual conversation, Ciaran will bring things up like “oh, this is just like the time when we were kids when Mom did xyz” or “Mom used to say things like that all the time” or “Mom would have loved this [completely mundane thing lol]” and some part of her gets like... resentful, maybe? She's jealous in a way that he doesn't feel the ache for the old times like he does. She's jealous that he remembers all those little details about their old life, while she only remembers stupid shit written in the margins of her college textbooks or some song on the internet that went viral when she was thirteen or the mnemonic devices she used to learn all the bones and muscles in the human body. She doesn't care about those parts. She wishes she could remember more important things. Like her mom's favorite color or the way their childhood home smelled after a summer vacation or the name of her favorite restaurant down the street. So like. to not answer the question at all, no lol. It mostly just makes her sad to think about home and how she can never go back again :(

--

10. Are they very sentimental, or perhaps just selectively?

Yixing has nothing to be sentimental about in his life. Well, he does have a few things, but he doesn't think so, and all of the things he would get sentimental about are tarnished by the abuse he's suffered at the hands of others. When he hears other people talk about their nostalgic feelings about childhood, he's just like “Hm. Can't relate. In fact, I wish I could erase every memory of my childhood from my brain!” Much like Anwei, he just gets fucking sad about shit instead of ever getting sentimental. Wait, would it be called sentimentality if you're like. mourning for the things in life you never got to have growing up? Like a well-adjusted family and fond memories of your youth? Because if that counts, then he absolutely is sentimental about everything ever. Sometimes he sees fathers with their young sons and sees how much they care for each other and has to like. hold back tears (or go sit on his horse for a minute lol) because that is what his life was supposed to be like. He was supposed to have someone who loved him and taught him right from wrong and protected him from the evils of the world and supported him and nurtured him and showed him how to be a good person, and... well. His father didn't do any of that. If anything he did the exact opposite. And sometimes Yixing gets really bitter about it because he didn't deserve that, and leaving when he did was the best thing he could have done, but still. He likes to imagine what it could have been like.

(Seriously though, the only things he ever truly thinks fondly of when looking back is how on nights when it was cool outside, he would sneak out of the house and go hang out with the horses in the barn and read by candlelight.)

--

30. How do they feel about the passage of time? Do they feel old too soon? Are they content to let days go past without recognition?

I've talked before about how the passage of time makes me personally feel insane and yes I do project all that onto my little fictional gay people because how else am I supposed to cope with the ever shifting sands of time?!

A long time ago, it didn't bother Ciaran. There was a glossy sheen to the realization of “oh fuck I'm going to live forever” and years and eventually decades passed, and it never bothered him to watch the first and second generations of survivors of the actual end of the world grow old in what felt like the blink of an eye to him. He was so distant from people back then anyway. Then the years continued to fly by and immortality had lost its shine, and he had the grim realization that he couldn't keep people at arm's length forever. They needed him and Anwei, whether he liked it or not! So he slooooowly started to warm up to the idea of letting people get close again, and eventually opened himself up to like. loving and caring for people (and letting people love him) in the short time they had to know him. (And as we know, that works out very well for him and everything is hunky-dory for a long time until he starts to care for people a little too much and then he meets a certain someone that really throws a fucking wrench in the works, and everything kind of goes downhill from there lmao) And if you go WAY back to when he like. mortal or whatever, he absolutely led a very yolo kind of life. Like. Oh fuck I will only be young and beautiful and relevant for so long so I might as well fuck up my body while my liver can still handle it!! And god he was insufferable for it. Some of that still comes through but he isn't (usually) as reckless/self-destructive about it.

MEANWHILE Sihla does not even consider time. She used to. She used to be anxious like Ciaran about how she would outlive everyone she ever loved, but then she met Anwei and was like “nevermind lol fuck everyone else I only need her,” which was, well... an interesting outlook on life. And when that ended horribly because [redacted], she got to enjoy the luxury of being trapped alone to die every day for a couple of centuries, and that's when she quit caring about, uh, anything really. (omg she did like spongebob and cleared her mind of everything except fine dining and breathing) Except maybe exacting revenge on the two people that put her there (gee I wonder who that could be). And before this all happened back when she was just a regular person, she was high strung and SCARED of the passage of time. The world as it was before wasn't particularly great, and there were always growing anxieties about the devastating effects of war and climate change and complete apathy from gods who were very real (and who could definitely put a stop to the suffering with the wave of a hand), and she was just an elementary school teacher trying to like. come to terms with the fact that many of her students could hardly afford food and clothing. And she and her wife had their own woes with trying to raise a young child in a world that could barely sustain them. Every day was a fucking struggle but it was also a gift, and she tried her hardest to make the important things count.

[mymadmedleyw]

...and I officially broke. It fought me off, I tried to hold it back, really, after all it's all just an internal exaggeration, but no, I'm crying. Over a stupid post...

I never ever cry, when I do, that's a big event. Things hurt me many times, I hold back things for years that people don't even know about - literally, no one - and through the years I built up a sort of shield over me, entirely unconsciously. I can't cry, when I do, that's really something that hurts me, deep.

I know it's not just about that. Work was hard this week, very very hard, and can't even remember the last time it was this hard, this long, but it was now, the whole week... and it's two fronts this week too over my country, and for my luck I inherited the gene to have serious migraines... and overall, I am very sensitive over my hobby... so yeah, it's fucked.

I've got into this fandom before I started to have hard time at the university, many of my fears were handled through my hobby, channeled. I'm here, in the phandom, a little over a year, which also equals with the last year at the university, stress and stuff like that... Writing is my therapy, the therapy I've never got - but I would have needed (way before this years, so then I wouldn't be now unaffected and a 'cold' person for anyone else, like a stone, but that's another story, heartful really too...). I was yelled many times through this past year by the people who should have helped me the most, about my hobby - because, according to them (and in a way they were right), I should have used that time more wisely, to study more, to have the second language exam instead, etc, etc. The only thing that helped me to survive that shouting mess too I've got, was writing. It was a damn circle. But that was my escape. So then, now, I just feel bad about it, even more worthless than before. The sufferings, the yelling, to bow under people, the weight over me for a year, the internal swallow to things that hurt me day after day, from what I've attempted to escape to writing instead, to handle it somehow, to channel my internal pain into something that meant to me something important, a little happiness in the chaos around me... was for nothing, all of it, entirely.

Sorry, it just really killed my mood, and seriously, I don't know when I would recover from it. (Probably just a really bad constellation of things, but still...)

(Also, do you have any idea how hard it that to do it, not on your native language, but on another one? I can't write on my own language, because that's another shield for me, distancing a bit - not that I could really... - but it's twice work at least! Now, even the time I've ever spent with writing, thinking, days and weeks over vocabularies, editing, editing, editing over and over again, to somehow make it readable for people whose native language is that... worth nothing! And don't even count that, I find my writings shit after a little time, because I recognise even after my many attempts it's a mess how I put together sentences... all could go to the dustbin.)

[acklest]

Why is your husband the most Iconic and sweetest person ever?! We(I'm confidently assuming that I'm not the only one) need to know more about him.

Oh, you may regret this. 

(If you’re squeamish about blood, you might wanna proceed with caution. I promise I’m not trying to be dramatic. There’s blood in this.)

He is iconic, at least to me. And he’s probably really only “sweet” to me. Also to the cat, but he denies this. To everyone else, he’s just a quiet sort of guy with a permanently “done” look on his face.

What he planned to do from childhood was join the US Navy, because his Dad had been in the Navy. He wanted to be a technician on a submarine.

As soon as he graduated high school, he went to talk to a recruiter, and got sent to take the ASVAB. His scores on that were great and he was willing to enlist for a long hitch. The recruiter was like “it’s not even my birthday.”

But he failed the hearing part of his physical, so his status was “disqualified recommending waiver.” He didn’t know that his hearing had degenerated from type 2 (moderate) to type 3 (severe). The eval was to see if he could hear all the comms with his headset cranked up to max without hearing aids (which he hated wearing anyway). When he missed some of the cues, he was fully disqualified. 

Then he had to figure out what his second choice for the rest of his life would be. Nothing really jumped out at him. He’d never really thought about it. But his family couldn’t pay for college, so he would need a job.

His best friend got him on as a cashier working the graveyard shift at a 24-hour gas station/mini-mart. During breaks, he looked over the course catalog from the local community college. He thought maybe he could do one of those non-degree cert programs, like becoming a welder or a mechanic.

A week before, a dude who had sued that chain of gas stations for damages from a personal injury found out that he wasn’t getting a settlement. He was across the street from the one where my husband worked. I guess lawsuit dude got enraged all over again, thought “I’ll show them”, and loaded the .22 he had in his jacket before heading over. 

My husband was behind the counter, where the liquor was, thinking he was dealing with just another drunk customer at 4-fucking-AM. When he turned to ask if he needed anything else, lawsuit dude shot him in the side of the face from about six feet away. The bullet wound its way through his jawbone and he instinctively reached up to his mouth because he felt loose bits of his teeth on his tongue. (Sort of a dark in-joke, when one of us asks the other about a day that had obviously not gone well. “Bad. Not gargling-my-own-teeth bad, but not great.”)

He would’ve spun around by then to take cover behind the counter, but the sound of the gunshot stunned him because he heard it perfectly. He was born deaf/hearing-impaired, so he’d always heard things a certain way, through a certain amount of… I don’t know, static, interference, fog? But this he heard perfectly and it stunned him. 

(“If their headsets went up that high, I could’ve joined the Navy.”) 

So he didn’t turn in time to miss the second bullet, which hit him in the chest from the same range. As he turned, the third one hit him in the side of his stomach. The fourth one hit him in the thigh, nicking his femoral artery. Then his best friend showed up to tag in for his shift, heard the loud noise, ran in to help like a moron. So the last thing my husband heard before he blacked out was his best friend screaming at the guy to stop, and then a few more gunshots after that. 

If a Jeep full of hard partiers hadn’t pulled up to get gas and ran next door to call 911, he’d be dead right now. Of course, lawsuit dude was hell and gone by then.

He woke up in the hospital ten days later, heavily drugged. He tried to talk but they had done something to stabilize his jaw so he couldn’t speak. He was in and out for a couple of days after that. 

A day or so later, the thoracic surgeon sat down and told him that he’d died a couple of times, and that they tried to get the bullet out of his chest, but it had ended up less than 4cm away from his heart, so it was too high risk. They would have to leave it in. He apologized for how wide the scar was from when they opened his chest, because they had to work so quickly.  When they brought him in, he was covered in blood, all over. His hair had matted together from lying in it until the EMT people got there. One of them told him later, “We saw the booze behind the counter and assumed a bullet had hit a couple of bottles of red wine.”

Not so much. 

His best friend had died in the ambulance on the way. 

There was two years of recovery, facial reconstruction for his jaw, lots of dental work, physical therapy, follow-up procedures, and so on. There was a court trial that dragged on and on. 

It hurt when he breathed in, it hurt if he laughed. It all hurt. He’s a big dude, 5'10, shaped kinda like Wolverine (comic Wolverine, not Huge Yakman Wolverine). His health had always been good. He said he felt like he was being punished for not appreciating it enough while he had it. Up til all that, he’d been a devout Catholic, but that burned away real quick. He says that the 18 year old working at the mini-mart was a different person than the one who got wheeled out of the hospital a couple of months later. He didn’t know that guy.

He spent the next ten years on what I call a Chuck Norris tasting tour, where he was likely suicidal but not aware of it. He survived two terrible motorcycle accidents, a spectacularly failed marriage, he was thrown off a horse and hit the ground with a thud about 30 feet below, and then a drunk driver plowed into the back end of his car at top speed and he ended up ass over tea kettle in a ditch.

A few months after that, he started having terrible chest pains. He thought it was just pain from the impact with the steering wheel, which broke a couple of ribs. But when it kept going even after his ribs had healed, he went back to the hospital. The impact had shook stuff around and now the bullet was moving closer to his heart. Moving very very slowly, but yeah. So they had to open him up again to get it out.

(“Would you like to keep it?”

“…What?”

“Some people like to keep the bullet.”

“Uh. No. Thank you. I think a decade’s enough.”)

Fast forward to ‘98. I was a year or so off of a devastating event/blue screen of death thing of my own. I had a baby that I had never planned to have because I wussed out of the adoption process (I’m not saying I regret that, I’m just saying). I was on a little death-seeking tour of my own, when some mutual friends pushed us together. I do not know why. Maybe because we were the same amount of “over it.”? Maybe to take us both out of the dating pool at the same time, thereby making it safer for everyone? “You know someone who’s a walking disaster? Me too!”

The wheels almost fell off the wagon a couple of times. He told me he loved me and I didn’t talk to him for a couple of months. He sent me an instant message that said, “I am not playing Peter Gabriel outside your goddamn window. Get the fuck over this.” The age gap (22 years) made him pull away a bit there for awhile, but we didn’t need any Peter Gabriel for that shit either.

Nothing really surprises him or catches him off guard. This sort of weird Midwestern Zen thing that I don’t really understand because I’m kind of the opposite. Our communication is weird because neither one of us talks about anything that’s really bugging us, but we kind of talk around it.

I asked him to marry me a few years after we’d moved in, and he said “I don’t know, the last one didn’t go too well.” (A charming understatement.) I was cool with that. I was like… 83% cool with that. Almost a year later, while we were watching a movie, he turned to me and said, “Yeah.“ 

A YEAR later. 

“Yeah?” Like I would fucking know what he was talking about.

“I’ll marry you." 

"About time. Would you say that you were trying to decide the entire year or was it more of an on-and-off thing?”

“Oh, fuck off." 

Anyway – courthouse, Vegas, etc.

What I need you to know about him, more than anything, are these three things: 

1) When one of my family members (an uncle I didn’t know well) showed up to threaten the two of us, he quietly took that man by the arm and walked him out to the parking lot. I was watching from our doorway. I thought I was about to see him rip the guy’s head off and go bowling.

I didn’t see him make an angry face. I didn’t hear him raise his voice. It was a quiet conversation, and then that man backed away, got in his car, and left. That was 15 years ago, and I haven’t seen him or heard from him since, though I got a letter from my biological mother the week after, asking what kind of psychopath I was living with.

Still no fucking clue what he said, though.

2) His idea of asking me to move in with him back in ‘98 was to start replacing the furniture in my apartment with new furniture, but leaving that new furniture at his apartment. "Got you a new desk." 

"I have a desk.”

“Your desk isn’t gonna go with the chair.”

“What chair?”

“The chair I bought you last week.”

“You bought me a chair last week?”

“Yeah, come over and look at it.”

As near as I can tell, his plan was to slowly replace all of my furniture but keep it at his apartment and to slowly move me in a box of things at a time until I was like “Wow, all my stuff’s over there.”

3) When little kids ask him about the inch-wide scar from his collarbone all the way to his navel, with a narrower scar on top of that one from the second surgery, he tells them that he was shaving with a straight razor and suddenly sneezed really hard.

[irepookie]

Infinity Chapter 4-

Meet The Family (PT.1)

Summary: QUEEN AU where Rog (aka Rowan Queen) is a young single dad struggling to make it into music industry.

Warnings: not really. Just fluff, sappiness and swearwords here and there

Disclaimer: I don't own the pictures. The boys are based on Queen, but Piper, Gina and Callie are mine

John: Rick Lincoln (Cause he is John Richard Deacon born on August 19th 1951™™™™™)

Brian: Terry Garrett (Cause my uncle used to have a black puddle named Terry and I had no choice)

Freddie: Len Mars (Yea I couldn't help myself)

Chapter 4- Row opens up with the boys about the raisin.

“I'm a dad”........

"Okay, let's... let's get over this again: A daughter?" Terry, the band's guitarist couldn't believe his ears.

"Yes, Terry. A daughter" Row repeated for the 19th time from the other side of the phone.

"A baby." Len said, taking another sip of his tequila.

"No, a 30 year old alpaca." Row said sarcastically. "Yes, a goddamn baby. Fucking gorgeous, just so you know"

"And you're gonna keep her." Rick, who had been quietly plunking his bass' strings, added. "Are you sure?"

"It's done. I've already kept her. And it's not like I'm rescuing a shelter dog. She's mine. Period."

"Sorry, was just trying to... Wrap my head around it"

To be honest, Row still couldn't quite believe it (that he was a father). Not even now, as he tried to convince his best friends while holding his girl with the other arm.

"And is your mom okay with it?" Terry asked

He scoffed, clutching his Lil raisin close at the thought "My mom has no say in this".

"But she knows" Rick said.

He sighed "Yes, she knows. And she was a bitch about it, okay? She can disown me for all I care". It's not like there was much to inherit, anyway.

There was a general sigh from his three best friends.

"And what are you gonna do?"

" 'bout what?"

"Um, I don't know, man. About School? Maybe about your life in general?"

"School ain't something I'm worrying about".

"What a surprise" Rick rolled his eyes.

"But you're still in the band right?" Len said

"Oh, of course. Of course. You guys are gonna be the only ones keeping me sane"

They chuckled

"But we ain't gonna babysit for you, huh?"

"As if you knew anything about babies"

"Well, the same as you." Terry said

"Just what I was saying: nothing at all" Row grinned

"Her future looks bright, then" Len half teased.

"Incandescent, in fact" Row could pretty much hear Terry's arched eyebrow.

The youngest member could only roll his eyes and try not to take it as an insult. He knew this was a lot to process all of a sudden and that in the inside, beyond the sarcasm and teasing, they were happy for him.

"Whatever, guys" he replied, as Pips began to frown. He sighed, knowing that meant smelly treat was on its way "Gotta go. By the way, she just told me she thinks you guys stink" he grinned, before hanging up.

The other three men exchanged a confused glance, and stayed in silence for a minute, until Len broke it:

"I say he'll go completely nuts in seven days".

"That long? Nah, I think less than 24 hours after they leave the hospital." Terry said

Len smirked "Bet?"

"I'm a bit tight at the moment, pal"

"Then not money. If I win, you'll be my model for the midterm design project. It's 30's fashion. For ladies, of course".

"Ok. But if I win you'll do my chores for a whole weeks."

"A whole week?!"

"Seven days, if you prefer it."

They shook hands "Deal. Rick? Join us?"

"I actually rather believe that they'll be alright" Rick got up and stretched.

"Well of course they will. Eventually. Row always figures things out." T said

"The fun part is to watch him go crazy in the meantime" Len chuckled "Like when he first moved in and left a fork in the plate when first using the microwave"

They laughed, remembering how their friend had called them at 9 PM in panic, screaming the microwave had exploded.

"Let's just hope for the best. I mean he seemed quite sure of himself this time. And who knows, maybe being a dad is the best way to grow up." Rick defended

"Yea, well a bit radical, don't you think?" Len said

"Like sock therapy. If smokers quit when diagnosed with lung cancer, maybe Row settles down now he has a baby"

"I just still don't get why he didn't just put her in adoption" T said

Rick shrugged "Would you if you were in his shoes?"

"Absolutely"

"That's exactly how Row would've answered, say, a week ago. That's what we all answer. Until it really happens. I think it's one of those situations where you can't really picture until you live it."

"But this is Rowan Queen we're talking about. Rowan <<Made out with both Jones Twins at the same party Cause I didn't remember which was which>> Queen. I mean, he does know that a kid is gonna freeze his sex life for indefinite time, right? What the hell was going through his head?" Terry said

"I can't believe you think that." Len interjected "I mean, I'm the one who's never gonna be a dad here, and the one who failed biology, but even I get it. He met her right? Before any decision was made, he met her. Once you meet your kid, you're tangled up forever. And you might think you're not but if you give them away you'll never get rid of a feeling of remorse."

"Wow, Lenny, that was deep"

"Yea, where'd you get that from?"

"Just common sense."

"Funny, considering you're the one who's started the bet" Rick grinned

"One thing doesn't prevent the other. And out of the two of us, I'm the optimistic! He gave him one day, I gave him seven! I trust him"

"Well I'm not sure if I do. I mean, I love him, he's a great guy, a great musician, and everything else, but he's not reliable. Remember his first job as a waiter? I'm still waiting for the fish and chips I ordered last April"

The other two chuckled "I once lent him a t-shirt, and I swear I saw Liz Michael's wearing it" Len said

"See what I mean?"

"Yes, well, we can't do anything about it, T. It's his life"

"But this affects us too, one way or another. This affects the band. And he didn't even consult us"

"Well what did you expect him to do? Call and go <<Hey guys, are you fine with me having a daughter? No? Okay, just checking. Bye>>?" Rick imitated a phone with his hand, doing a decent impression of their friend's high voice.

"A head's up would have been nice"

"Terry, just chill for fucks shake. I mean, this is unexpected, but Row's our best friend, our brother, and we have to support him. Because, if he's a dad, that's makes us her uncle's. And it'll be fun having a little niece we can spoil" Len smiled at the idea.

"Spoil? With what money?" Terry, always realistic, put his hands on his hips

"With the upcoming tour's, of course darlings" he twirled majestically around the room

"First, that's in four months" Rick reminded

"If it does happen at all"

They still had one last song to arrange And record. Plus, they didn't know how Row was gonna make it work now he had a baby. But nobody addressed that concern out loud.

"Oh don't be so goddamn negative, fellas! C'mon! We're uncle's! Row's made a very important, life-changing, mature decision, and we should be proud of him. So" he went to the fridge and returned with three beers "I say we toast for him and the lil Queenie"

The other two grinned and accepted the cans, opening them.

"Oh, I say we Split a fourth beer in his behalf, cause parents shouldn't drink while breastfeeding" Terry mocked, earning a laugh

"To the Queens" Rick raised his can "For our little bro to take this seriously and not fuck this kid up"

"To the Queens" Terry and Len crashed theirs as well.

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

Meanwhile, in the hospital...

"Goddamn it, raisin! How can someone so small produce so many colors of something so stinky?" Row exclaimed, holding his breath as he clipped the fresh nappy on his daughter "We only feed you milk! Like... Like white milk! How can you turn a white liquid into rainbow pudding? Holy shit" he held the dirty one at arms length and threw it in the bin "It's a damn good thing I love you, cause I won't do this for anyone else" he told her, lifting her up to his chest again before walking around the room

"You gonna be a good girl for me for the next eighteen years? Huh?" He kissed her chubby cheek "What am I saying? You're my daughter, of course you're gonna be a trouble maker. But we'll get along, you'll see. I ain't gonna be like my parents. Don't worry. I won't be a bloody pain in the ass like mom, and I will never ever do anything my old man did. That I can promise. But I gotta admit I do want you to be like Gina. Yea, she's a control freak sometimes, but let's face it: she's gotta be the strongest person I've ever met. You should've seen her kicking the bastard out the house. She took no shit."

He smiled somewhat proudly at the memory, and for a second forgot how mad he was at her for turning her back on them.

"You wanna be a badass gurl like her? Huh? Yes you do. Yes you do" he cooed, craning his neck so he could brush his nose with her little button one. Her fist chose to close around the nearest strands of blond hair on reach, which he found secretly adorable.

But a part of him did wish he had mom's support. After all, despite the rough patches through his teens, they had always had each other's back; through thick and thin. She had have to raise him all alone, and although he hadn't even begun with Pips, he already knew it hadn't been easy. She may be stern, and a bit inflexible when it came to negotiating allowance. She could come across as rude if you caught her in the wrong mood (which many neighbors had) but above all she was a good person and a good mother.

And looking back, he hadn't been such a great son. He could have been more responsible, less handful and more obedient. Less rebellious, too. He could have thanked her more often for the thousand things she did everyday. For the meals. For all the jobs she had taken to provide for the two of them. For the surprise birthday gift she had got him with the money she had been saving: a real drum kit. For helping him move out her house into that one room crappy appartement which would be Pip's home.

But still she had rejected Piper without a second thought, regardless of her anger towards him; Pips was her granddaughter, she had done nothing wrong and as her father, Row doubted he would ever forgive Gina.

He sighed, untangling the hand of his hair and bringing it to his lips "But you don't have to worry about all that. Just concentrate on staying strong and growing up. And I promise I'll focus all of me on being the best dad. That you'll never miss a mom cause you don't need one. You've got me and I swear I'll be enough. Even if I'm still young: I'll have it all more fresh won't I?" He grinned "You're the one person who's never judged me yet, and I don't wanna let you down"

That a was vow. And he was determined to keep it.

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

This one goes to my mega-paragraphist @definitely-darcy who's got my engine going through the usual inspiration blocks, and who's reviews help me improve. She's made me believe in this fic, and encouraged me to keep going despite the one digit notes.

Xx- Pookie

[mental-health-advice]

I have bpd and high functioning depression. I'm also living with my 3 years so.I'm also constantly low key suicidal.A few days ago he broke down and confessed he feels like shit and honestly wants to die,and that me being depressed and talking about it is a major trigger. He wasn't mentally ill before,so it's totally my fault.Idk what to do.we only have enough money for one of us to go to therapy, and it's 90% his money.Right now I'm trying to be better for him but idk if i can keep it going.

Hello there,

Firstly, I want you to know that someone elses mental illness is never your fault. I know it can feel like you've contributed or caused them to become mentally ill, but you haven't. That's not to say that it isn't hard to watch a loved one suffer with mental illness, as I know it certainly is, but you haven't caused him to become sick. So please don't put this huge blame on yourself, you don't deserve that over your head.

I'm sorry that you're in this situation. I've honestly been on both sides of this same situation - sick when someone told me that my sickness was a trigger to them, and being the one triggered by someone elses mental health and situation. Neither side is easy; it honestly is very hard for both of you, and I really am sorry that you're both struggling.

The best thing that I've found in this situation is making sure that you're both directing your negative experiences, thoughts and feelings towards someone that isn't your partner. It can be hard to be suffering, and then take on all that your partner is suffering too. And I'm not talking just for him - you sound like you are suffering too. It's not healthy for you to hide your feelings and bottle them up. If you're working positively on them as to make sure you're both living okay, then that is great. But if you are just bottling things up in fear of making things worse, that's going to be bad for you in the long run.

What I recommend doing is looking into free counselling options in your area. There are often organisations who offer counselling to people for no charge, especially those in situations that involve low income. If you search "free counselling" and your area, you may be able to find some relevant to you. This could really be helpful. Another option is to talk to your current therapist about the situation, and how your partner really needs therapy too but isn't able to afford it. They may be able to work with you to find a plan to get you both support. Another option is to look at doing couple therapy. This is only viable if you are both comfortable with each other hearing all you have to share in therapy, but may be a way to not only get you both into a therapy program, but understand each other and how you're both feeling a bit more.

Although it isn't ongoing therapy, we do have a page of Helplines and Web Counsellors here. There is absolutely no maximum to the amount of times you can contact these places, and often if there is a counsellor that you get along with, you can request to call or come online when they are next available to chat to them specifically. This is a really handy option for those who can't access therapy, as it at least gives you someone to share your feelings with and get some guidance. They are also great for being there in those times where you're at home, and you need to let things out, but don't want to vent it out to your partner - they're an option there where you can safely let all your feelings go without worry.

Lastly, I want to give you a link to our page on DBT Skills. These are skills that I have worked with myself to help with Borderline Personality Disorder, and may bring you some help through this time too. I hope that this gives both you and your partner options. I'm sorry that you're in this situation, and I do hope that this helps you both access some help.

Positive thoughts your way,Alexandria.

[ultronnie]

For the OC thing, could u tell about Andy? I'm curious to hear :0

A N D Y O H M Y G O D

Full Name: Andy Wolpert. I named him after Andy Hurley from FOB coz he is an AMAZING drummer. Last name comes from a singer named James Wolpert. He’s great too.

Gender and Sexuality: He’s male. And he’s bi. Part of his arc in the story he’s a part of is that he’s pretty uncomfortable with his sexuality and shit but he figures it out as time passes. I project a lot’a shit in Re-Hash and he got the honor of having a REALLY dark period I went through being part of him. It’s sad but it all works out.

Pronouns: Goes by he/him. 

Ethnicity/Species: He’s a cool fox boy~

Birthplace and Birthdate: I haven’t figured this out yet tbh, even though his birthday/birthplace is kinda a minuscule detail as of right now. It’s nothing special.

Guilty Pleasures: I think maybe he sees liking 80′s pop music as something no one needs to know about him. He’s a very punk rock guy. He likes screamy music and rapid hard hitting drums so to see him listening to George Michael or fucking Whitney Houston is like ‘Andy what the fuck dude’ but in reality that’s totally normal. Like who the fuck doesn’t like 80′s music???

He’ll also never admit that he thinks Bridesmaids is the funniest movie ever made.

Phobias: Andy’s got a fucked backstory that involved a bad abusive situation before he was actually put in an orphanage for a bit when he was about 7 or so. He’s prone to bad dreams about a lot of bloody shit. He underwent a lot of therapy and is doing a lot better now He doesn’t really have fears like ‘I hate the dark’ or cramped spaces. 

But whenever he does have a bad night everything is bad. The dark, the sounds, the images he sees in his mind.

I’d say maybe he has a paranoia about if he’s going to have another bad dream. He’s genuinely terrified of those. He always wakes up in a panic and has trouble going back to bed afterward, which results in a lot of 4 AM cigarette breaks outside in the cold.

What They Would Be Famous For: Andy’s got a band coz he’s punk rock as fuck. If the band were big, he’d be big for being the singer. He’s also kinda a heartthrob to a bunch of people in the Re-Hash world even though his band is pretty local and not big whatsoever. Everyone’s got a thing for him.

What They Would Get Arrested For: He’s been arrested before for petty theft. He was broke and really wanted something to drink so he stole like six bottles of Pepsi from a gas station. He’s also totally broken into someone’s car but he didn’t get caught for that. He’s a little shit but he doesn’t do anything that REALLY hurts anybody directly. 

OC You Ship Them With: AHHHHHHHH-

So Andy’s existence has straight up changed the entire course of the story now. Main character is my SWEET BABY BOY Kris and I had something different planned for Kris with someone else. About an hour after I actually drew Andy the first time, I thought that he could be a cool addition to the cast coz I didn’t originally plan on him actually being a character. Just an idea. So I drew him interacting with MY SWEET BABY BOY KRIS and-

Immediately I was like

These two are literally OTP goals, man.

Andy’s got a loud, abrasive attitude that Kris thinks is attractive in a weird way. Kris is a little pop punk shit so they go hand in hand, really. They both bring the better out in one another, too. Meeting Kris helps him figure out a lot of his struggles with his sexuality and shit. He helps Kris mend a lot of the bad thoughts he has in his head about himself. Kris is Andy’s rock and Andy is Kris’s sutures.

They drain the fear from each other and make the noise go away in each of their heads.

Plus they look cute together. Tall fox boy and tiny cat dude. I love both of ‘em to death.

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: None of ‘em. I mean, I think Dustin thinks he’s kind of an asshole but no one wants to murder him.

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: He’s keen on horror but he likes thrillers a lot too. He thinks Se7en is a work of fucking art. 

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: He doesn’t like romantic movies at all. He thinks they’re cheesy. He also thinks Game of Thrones is overrated as fuck.

Talents and/or Powers: He’s a good singer. I mean, he’s totally in a band. He also can play guitar a little bit. That’s an important bit in the story for what I call the ‘Honeybee’ section.

Why Someone Might Love Them: He’s really nice under all of his walls he puts up. If he cares about someone, he gets really attached and has a whole lot of good shit to say/do for you. Maybe he got you something nice for your birthday. He probably stole it, but hey! For you!

But yeah, Andy’s a pretty sensitive guy under all that fluff and the scar on his eye. Kris likes him for his personality and jokes. He has a good sense of humor despite it coming off rather dry at times.

Why Someone Might Hate Them: Andy’s abrasive, like I said. He’s rough around the edges to strangers. He might come off as rude but he’s just kinda doing that thing Rocket Raccoon does where he pushes people away coz he feels he’s unworthy of it.

He’s also broken into people’s cars and shit. Crimes for days.

How They Change: Andy’s first introduced as a guy without much else to do but scream in the Killing Jokes and act like he’s Batman brooding alone in the corner of the bar. But as time passes and he becomes closer with Kris and co. (mostly Kris), he starts to open up a bit more. We see the bad parts of him and the good parts as well. It’s a nice progression I have planned or him.

Why You Love Them: I really love Andy’s aesthetics. Torn clothes, the scars, the punk idiot with a heart of gold under all the grime. Plus he’s a tall, wiry fox. He’s fun to draw in that regard, too. And his personality is a fun one to write. Young, reckless, and a good time all around. 

[ferrerochocobo]

When you get pretty much told you make a person feel physically uncomfortable and full of anxiety- it's understandable that you'll feel bad.

But when that person WON'T give valid reasons, hasn't told you why and refuses to engage in convo so you can solve it- are you really the weirdo- or are they?

Now, I gotta say- I'm 5'7, a bit buxom and a bit awkward af.

You know that kid doing yoga/foam sword fights on your lawn at 6 am? That's me.

I have no qualms about my weirdness. At 28, I learned to stop questioning it.

Because when you have Aspergers, you can either become a miserable fuck who makes everyone else's lives miserable out of your own lack of understanding how conversation works OR you can try to fit. And while you do, make people laugh.

My dark humor was what actually saved me. And I went from a girl who was usually in a hovel and obsessed with dark things like Silent Hill and death to helping people conquer their fears. And teaching them what was behind all that gory stuff that scared them in a horror movie.

Despite that, I occassionally am still considered a bit scary to those who don't know me. Especially if they haven't met me in person. Because trust me- meeting me in person- you'll find I'm talkative but bashful when complimented. (I especially blush when I'm in cosplay and someone who knows me compliments my outfit.)

I hide constantly behind a belief that I'm tough. That nothing scares me and that I've waded my way through the goriest films that would make you lose your lunch to. Don't ever call me on that. I'll fumble up nervously- citing A Serbian Film as my darkest film.

But for God's sake, I wish people looked deeper. I wish they saw that I have repulsions, fears, hopes and dreams. Just like them.

You know someone tapped my shoulder a few days ago to get my attention and it put me in a foul mood? I don't like being touched. By anyone. It's an Aspie thing.

You remember that? Well that's me internally anytime someone touches me.

Regardless- past that is someone who covers her eyes during horror movies, loves Cardcaptor Sakura and has celestial bedsheets. I write so much smut and sketch so many outfit designs, I have the gray pencil stain down the side of my palm.

And as I hide myself in Silent Hill, that is my attempt to indicate to you I feel detached and unwanted. I realize it's subtle. I realize my depression buries itself even in things I love- but it's those very monsters that have taught me to be strong.

Those things that go bump in the night? I know them. I was them. And I only really become them over again when someone puts me under harsh lighting. In essence- I turn into the scary thing you project me as to get you to leave me alone if you're going to hurt me. As long as you try to understand- I won't. But the minute you become intolerant- I turn on you the same way you have to me.

I've heard in the Amazon- if you cross a snakes' path once- you never go back that same way. For a long time, I was that kind. You could cross me once, and I would make you regret it when returning.

I was quick to bite, wound and emotionally wreck people in a show of empty pride or vindictiveness.

I hurt people.

And cried everytime my proverbial knife went in them. Wishing they would leave me alone. Wishing the world in one hand would leave me alone while in the other, wishing they would try to see past my surface. All the while- self-sabatoging each time things fell apart.

I became a hermit in any way I could. My bed was my refuge. Curled up in the fetal position often as my clean clothes laid on the floor.

I stopped caring. And stopped allowing love to fill my life. All the king's horses and all the king's men indeed could never put me together again.

It was only after medication and therapy that I began to rise from that. I was who had to fix myself.

I was shown love by people who healed themselves and wanted only to help me understand the thing I feared.

Love scared me. And as my best friend has made my wallpaper- it rings true.

"How can anyone be afraid of love?" "How can they not?"

It was love and acceptance that pushed out fear and hatred. The hug you never got but could feel your friend 100 or so miles away give you when your world broke.

Do you know how hard it is to hug someone so tight, all their pieces come flying home? How much that takes and to have them finally understand they're loved?

The person who does it saves you. They don't save you from life or depression- they save you feom yourself.

As my world brightened, my fandoms brightened. And there, FFXV came into view. Bright colors and fun and a dark antagonist. I have the best of both worlds in that fandom. Between Prompto or Ardyn.

And lemme tell you.

....

It's hard choices, man xD

But symbolic. One is light while the other is dark.

So now we come to the conclusion.

Earlier, and for a week now- I have been treated as weird. Unwanted. And not told why.

I have wracked my brain trying to figure out why someone who doesn't even know me- I make nervous. They have made me cry, be in a bad mood and in general- not want to go on the Discord server we share.

But tonight- something turned in me. My give-a-shit light flicked off.

And then I realized it-

I don't give a fuck if they're afraid of me. They don't know me. And eventually- they're going to wear themselves out scared of someone simply wanting their own acceptance.

When someone says what they said to me- it stings. Oh, it stings. But try this on for size-

(Continued in next post.)

[pluckyredhead]

I'd love to pick a fic quote, but I'm on my phone so I'll just ask about the whole thing, OK? Private property, when Foggy finds out and Matt crashes.

Fic is here!

Matt had known Foggy nearly a decade now. He’d never heard him this mad before.

“You ever stop to think what would happen if you went to jail? Or worse?” he demanded. Matt tried not to cringe visibly. Everything hurt and he was so tired. They’d been here so long. “You really think that anyone would believe that I didn’t know what you were doing? You’re my Companion, Matt. I’m responsible for you.”

This is one of those things, like “All this time I actually felt sorry for you,” that Foggy never meant to say out loud. It’s less that he feels like he’s legally or financially liable for Matt’s behavior (although he is) and more that he sees his role as Matt’s patron as protecting him from people who would abuse Matt’s Companion status and enabling Matt to get out of that status, and (part of) his role as Matt’s friend as loving this sad, self-loathing orphan as much as humanly possible. But Matt, of course, takes it in exactly the worst way because he hates himself, and reads it as a) him ruining everything for Foggy forever, b) Foggy sticking around Matt out of obligation rather than affection, and/or c) Foggy being so angry at Matt that they’re no longer friends, just Patron and Companion.

Now Matt really did cringe. Foggy never pulled the Companion card; most of the time he acted like they weren’t in the Program at all. Why was he bringing it up now?

But Matt had already made his choice. “The city needs me in that mask, Foggy.”

Salt in the air again. It wasn’t the first time Foggy had cried since Matt had woken up. That didn’t make it hurt any less. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it does. But I don’t,” Foggy said. Something raw and wild was clawing at Matt’s throat, working its way out. “I only ever needed my friend. I wouldn't have kept this from you, Matt. Not from you.”

“You don’t know that,” Matt stammered. “You don’t know that.”

“Yeah,” Foggy said, and the ring of finality chilled Matt to his core. “I do.”

Footsteps. Foggy was leaving. Foggy was leaving. Maybe he was going to call the Program right now to dismiss Matt, to end it, end everything they’d built together.

Matt couldn’t let him do it.

“Foggy, wait!”

Foggy didn’t stop. Matt tried to stand and fell back against the couch as pain shot through his abdomen.

Would Matt actually be able to stand when he couldn’t in canon? Eh.

But Foggy was still moving towards the door, and Matt’s terror was stronger than the pain.

“Foggy!”

He lurched off the couch, stumbled the few steps to Foggy and dropped to his knees in front of him, hands fisted in the hem of Foggy’s shirt. “Foggy, no, no, please, you have to stay.”

“Matt, get back on the couch.” Foggy sounded so tired.

I tend to emphasize how tired Foggy is when he and Matt fight in my fics because Foggy is normally such a peppy, high-energy character - and often the only source of pep in Matt’s life - and so making Foggy tired by his very existence makes Matt feel terrible. I like making Matt feel terrible. ;)

“Please.” Matt allowed himself the infinitesimal relief of pressing his forehead to Foggy’s hip, just for a second. “Don’t dismiss me, please, I’m sorry.” Everything hurt; his knees hurt, his side hurt, his head hurt. He didn’t care. “Please, I’ll be good.”

“Jesus, Matt, stop.” Foggy’s hands closed around Matt’s wrists and tried to tug them away from his shirt, but gently, carefully. “You’re getting back on that couch, and I’m leaving.”

Angry voice + gentle hands = A Thing for me, for sure.

“No.” Matt shook Foggy’s hands off and took a tighter grip. “Please, I’m sorry, I promise, I’ll…” He wasn’t going to stop fighting. He couldn’t stop. He had to offer something else. “Let me...please. I’ll show you I can be a good Companion. I know you want me, Foggy. I can...you can have me.”

Foggy made a noise like someone had let all the air out of him. “...What?”

“I can...here.” Matt let go of Foggy’s shirt and fumbled at his fly. “Let me...I’ll show you. Please, I’ll be so good for you.”

Yeah, so this sequence might be why I wrote the whole fic? I was just really hooked on the idea of Matt desperately offering himself up and Foggy being like what!! the fuck!!! and Matt being like why this no work??? :( Matt you are GOOD at seducing people when you want to be, stop bleeding and get your shit together.

Foggy didn’t move, apparently stunned, and Matt got the button open and the zipper down with trembling fingers. He nuzzled against Foggy and Foggy let out a sudden, sharp hiss. His heart was racing but he wasn’t hardening, and Matt didn’t smell the cocktail of body chemistry that meant arousal, just exhaustion and worry.

“Please,” he said again, and reached for the waistband of Foggy’s boxers to push them down, but Foggy grabbed his wrists again, more firmly this time.

“Matt, what the fuck?” he asked. He didn’t sound turned on at all. Why didn’t he want this?

Foggy is the most horrified, and Matt has no idea how fucked up this is.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Matt asked, aware that his voice was bordering on hysterical but unable to stop it. “Please, you can, I’ll do anything, just don’t dismiss me.”

Foggy recoiled, and Matt felt it like a slap in the face. “Jesus fucking Christ, Matt, no,” Foggy said. “Now get back on the fucking couch.”

Again, this is Foggy being like “What the hell, I’m not going to coerce you into sex while injured and terrified!” and Matt being like “That means you HATE me. :( :( :( “ Matt needs so much therapy.

Heart sinking, Matt let Foggy lift him to his feet and help him back to the couch. Foggy zipped up his pants and a wave of heat rolled off of him, a palpable blush, but no arousal. Matt didn’t understand. Did Foggy not want him anymore? Had he finally ruined it for good?

Yeah, among other things, this is excruciatingly embarrassing for Foggy.

He could sense Foggy standing over him - staring at him, probably, not that Matt could tell for sure.

“I’m not going to dismiss you, Matt,” Foggy said finally. “I would never do that to you. You’re as broke as I am, you’d default and end up in jail.” He shook his head. “Shit, maybe I should. Maybe you’d be safer in jail, where you couldn’t do any of this.”

Matt wasn’t broke - yet another secret, one he didn’t dare spill, not with Foggy so angry about all the others - but even if he had been, he didn’t care about defaulting. He didn’t care about jail. Didn’t Foggy know that?

He swallowed, and didn’t say anything. Foggy sighed.

“No, you’d probably come up with some way to get yourself half-killed even in solitary,” Foggy said. Matt heard the soft rustle of Foggy raking his fingers through his hair. “I don’t...God, Matt, I’m not going to dismiss you, okay? You don’t have to…” His voice was tight again. “Is that really what you think of me? That I would cut you loose unless you let me fuck you? Is that what you think we are?”

This is the moment that hurts Foggy the most. Matt is terrified of losing Foggy, not legal or financial consequences, but to Foggy this feels like Matt never trusted Foggy and never trusted the friendship between them. Now Foggy not only has to sort out how much of what Matt’s said over the years has been a lie, he has to sort out how much of what he thought was friendship was Matt sucking up to be a good Companion and not actually caring about Foggy.

Matt, of course, doesn’t consider his own friendship as something of much value, so his assumption that that wouldn’t be enough to keep Foggy around without sex at this point is about thinking very little of Matt, not of Foggy. But Foggy’s just entered a new level of Matt’s self-loathing and hasn’t quite figured out how it works yet.

And of course, Foggy would never in a million years dismiss Matt, even if they did stop being friends, because that would be an immensely shitty thing to do.

“I...no,” Matt said. He didn’t know what they were. They weren’t Patron and Companion, but they weren’t just friends either, not with this between them. “I’m sorry.”

Foggy sat down on the arm of the couch, the one by Matt’s feet. “I guess it was naive of me, hoping you didn’t know that I...how I felt about you,” he said after a long moment. “I always thought, you know, maybe someday when you’d settled your account, when we were on an even footing, if I told you, maybe you’d…I don’t know, maybe you’d trust me enough to know I meant it.” He paused. Matt wished he could see his expression. “But you were never going to trust me, were you? Not with your senses, not with the fighting. Not with anything.”

“I do trust you,” Matt protested, but it came out weak.

Foggy shook his head. “No,” he said. “If you did, you’d have told me. Like I’d have told you.” He stood up. “It’s fine. I guess it wasn’t fair of me to expect it, not with the Program and all. How can you trust someone when they have all the power?”

I tried here to hit a balance between Foggy being really, really angry and hurt, and also recognizing his own privilege in this dynamic. If he’d just stormed off like he did in canon, that would be hugely douchey - but understanding and forgiving immediately would be wildly unrealistic considering how upset he is. And even with the difference in privilege at play here, Matt has lied extensively to Foggy, put him in legal, physical, and financial peril, and said some extremely hurtful things, so it’s not like it’s unfair for Foggy to be upset. Foggy has a lot to work through, but this story is from Matt’s POV so we don’t get to see any of that. Sorry. :P

“Foggy, don’t…” Matt started as Foggy drifted towards the door.

“It’s okay, Matt,” Foggy said. “I’m not dismissing you. I’m not...we’re still Nelson and Murdock. It’s okay.” He gave a weary shrug. “But I need sleep, and so do you. I’ll...I’ll see you in a couple of days, buddy.”

And Matt listened to him leave.

[epajournal]

Anonymous9837 Not seeing new messages? Click here to correct.

Anonymous9837:

22:17

While an IMALIVE Volunteer is joining this chat, please take a moment to read this disclaimer. If your chat disconnects unexpectedly, it may be caused by wifi network connection issues, so please log back in and start a new chat. IMALIVE chat is for those who are thinking about suicide or are in distress. If you are having trouble seeing new messages or typing, please select - Click here to refresh - on top of the chat window. If you or someone you know is currently in the state of medical emergency, please dial 911 or your local emergency number for an ambulance. The volunteer will not be able to locate you without your help. If you wish to speak to someone on the phone right now, you can also call 1-800-SUICIDE(784-2433) or visit befrienders.org to find your local hotline. Please stay online while the next available volunteer is connecting to the chat....

Alex:

22:18

IMALIVE Volunteer joined the chat.

Alex:

22:18

Hi, my name is Alex. May I ask your name?

Anonymous9837:

22:18

Hey there. I guess Elise, that's my real name.

Anonymous9837:

22:18

I don't know, I feel silly doing this at all. I guess first, how are you?

Alex:

22:19

It sounds like you're worried about being judged

Anonymous9837:

22:19

Well, I'm mostly worried about being whiny, honestly.

Anonymous9837:

22:19

Like... I don't know, I'm not in an immediate place where I'm going to hurt myself, honestly

Alex:

22:19

Why don't we start with what brought you here today

Anonymous9837:

22:20

I just know if I don't talk about it or at least let someone know I'm having bad thoughts that it'll swell into a pretty crappy place later.

Anonymous9837:

22:20

Well, I guess just... My life's in a real weird place. I'm on medication but I've been off it for a few days, back on it again. I've been in therapy for close to a year but my life just seems to be getting worse.

Anonymous9837:

22:20

I think I need to get a new therapist or something, or at least talk to her about improving our sessions. But it's tough.

Anonymous9837:

22:21

I also know that we're at a place where it's like... There's not too much more she can do for me in a lot of ways.

Anonymous9837:

22:21

And I guess that's scary.

Alex:

22:22

It can be very discouraging when you feel the help you're getting isn't helping. It sounds like this is adding extra stress to your life at a very bad time

Anonymous9837:

22:23

I wish I had something that was more unknown to me or had some big revelation about why I'm all dysfunctional, but. I don't. I feel like a car that's been taken apart and clearly you can see things aren't working right, but somehow you can't get the pieces to fit back together right. There's not much more to do than just trash it, you know?

Anonymous9837:

22:23

And yeah, it's demotivating. It took me a long time to go to therapy again, I mean I went through a bunch of therapy as a kid and none of it was too much help. I took a chance with it again recently and it's just been...

Anonymous9837:

22:24

I guess a lot of it has been useful, at the very least I can say I'm working on it, but I just want to be... Not even "fine", but just better.

Anonymous9837:

22:25

It's hard to imagine a year ago that I was nearly a functioning person, but. I guess it's a real shaky support that keeps that facade going, things were clearly going wrong.

Anonymous9837:

22:25

Sorry, I feel weird not asking again, how are you?

Alex:

22:26

No need to feel weird. We are here to work with you and focus on how you are doing

Anonymous9837:

22:26

Well, thank you.

Anonymous9837:

22:27

I'm in my late twenties and live with my mom and brother... Our house isn't big enough for everyone so we ended up with me in the basement, but in the last few months I finally decided I couldn't take it anymore and moved upstairs, even though that means not having a room and sleeping in the living room.

Anonymous9837:

22:29

And it's been a rough adjustment. I can't get myself to take care of my messes easily as it is, so combine having a small house where I don't have a room, things build up, people get upset. I've been out of work since last July, I had some financial fortune to get by but I fucked that up pretty badly and I'm broke again, but I just... There's no way I can hold a job. My therapist and I are working on SSI but it just... takes a while, and it makes me feel like I'm a brat.

Anonymous9837:

22:30

My mom's disabled, physically, so it's like. I feel like I'm making an excuse for myself when I should just be having a job. I've worked before for years, but I just can't. I mean I can barely keep myself showered, or bother to eat, even though I'm a fat sunnovabitch because I rarely leave my house.

Anonymous9837:

22:30

So it's just... Things get tense. I don't want to be a burden on anyone.

Anonymous9837:

22:31

The answer seems to be that it'd be easiest if I weren't here, but aside from it being a scary idea, I know that'd be a lot of shit my family would have to go through.

Anonymous9837:

22:31

But I still think about it a lot, and it's upsetting.

Anonymous9837:

22:32

I just want to be left alone, honestly. I feel like most of my life I haven't had any chance to just "be". I want to exist but just barely, I guess.

Anonymous9837:

22:33

I've been working on it, it doesn't look like it, but I have been. I'm just not well, physically and psychologically. Today I started an herb garden, I'm raising them from seeds, hopefully they work.

Anonymous9837:

22:34

I try to take my dog out, I got a FitBit so I can be mindful of my movement. But as soon as I do these things, people think I'm shirking important things, but... I need to do anything I can now, because otherwise I just do nothing.

Alex:

22:34

You sound very invested in your recovery. It can be tough feeling like a burden on people, but it sounds like you have a family that you care about and that cares about you. So it sounds like at some point in the past you felt you were doing better, but you now feel yourself spiraling in a downward direction. You're not sure if it's the move to a less private living situation, or the medication or if you should try seeing a new professional and it sounds like all these factors are really overwhelming you

Anonymous9837:

22:35

I fantasize about running away a lot. But I have a dog who I feel like I need to be there for even though my family would take care of her, and I have a 20 year-old cat... And I don't want to ditch him.

Anonymous9837:

22:35

Yeah, that all sounds fair. I mean, it's a long history of dysfunction, I can't even tell you my family history and growing up.

Anonymous9837:

22:36

I guess the one good thing about therapy is I'm finally so tired of mourning my past because I just can't be bothered to talk about it anymore, which is saying something, because it's been the only thing I can discuss with any passion for a while.

Anonymous9837:

22:37

But now I'm just like, "here I am," and it's crappy. Like, that's done. There's nothing I can do that I haven't already to try and compartmentalize and digest it better. But I'm still messed up and now I'm an adult and nobody can fix it for me.

Anonymous9837:

22:38

Some days I feel okay. But I just... I'm tired all the time and I don't care about anything, the only thing that I actually feel emotionally responsive to is when I'm upsetting people.

Anonymous9837:

22:39

I tried to move into my dad's a number of years ago after he told me there'd "always be a place" for me with him, and he knows things have been awful, and he's a lot to blame for it. But when I did, he suddenly didn't have room, which sucked. It kind of felt like I finally went to make a huge change in my life even though I was scared and ultimately was told, "nah." Like... Idk.

Anonymous9837:

22:39

I just keep thinking I need to get out of here, and the only feasible way I can imagine that is to not exist anymore.

Anonymous9837:

22:39

But that's a whole mess to itself.

Anonymous9837:

22:40

It's a good thing I'm anxious about what happens after you die, though. A lot of the time that's the only thing that keeps me here-- I guess that's true for a lot of people, but still.

Alex:

22:41

There really is no easy fix, which can make things seem hopeless. Elise, have you been thinking about suicide?

Anonymous9837:

22:41

Oh sure, but that's nothing new. I think about it pretty constantly, but I'm not going to enact it.

Anonymous9837:

22:42

I walked in on my mom readying to kill herself when I was thirteen and decided I didn't want to do that to anybody.

Anonymous9837:

22:42

But it's still a thought, and it's one of those things where it's just... Super depressing to realize that's what you'd kind of like to do.

Alex:

22:43

But you haven't thought about how and when you want to kill yourself and you're able to stay safe while we continue to chat?

Anonymous9837:

22:44

Yeah, I'm okay. That's why I'm talking now, so I don't have more of these thoughts later. I took an Ativan recently and I'm getting pretty calmed down in addition to that. I'm not in any danger to myself now, but. It's preventative, I guess.

Anonymous9837:

22:45

I've never really thought /how/ I'd kill myself, they all seem pretty creepy. More of what would happen after, which I guess is less dangerous.

Anonymous9837:

22:45

(my ativan is prescription, btw, I don't use it often but I do have it officially for when I need it)

Anonymous9837:

22:46

I just kind of needed someone to talk to so it didn't stay in my head and chest and get into Bad Territory.

Anonymous9837:

22:46

I just hope I'll be Okay someday. I keep thinking I'm about to get to the final corner of this maze but it just keeps goddamn turning.

Alex:

22:47

Ok. Well Elise, what else do you think would help you right now? It sounds like having someone to talk to has helped with the stress a bit

Anonymous9837:

22:47

And it's tough, too, because you can't see all the progress you've made in these situations. But that's the depression talking.

Anonymous9837:

22:47

and yeah, it has, I'm getting pretty relaxed again already, so thank you for that.

Anonymous9837:

22:48

I think I need to contact my therapist and discuss making our appointments more constructive, and contact my doctor to start finding a psychiatrist I like. My recent one retired.

Anonymous9837:

22:48

Which sucks, I really liked her.

Anonymous9837:

22:48

I need to keep on my SSI application... And just keep working through my list of to-do's, since every one of those I complete makes me feel like I'm doing a little bit better.

Anonymous9837:

22:49

I guess for right now I should get something to eat or drink and do little things, maybe just fold my clothes while I watch a movie, and probably write in my journal.

Anonymous9837:

22:50

And maybe tonight I'll go for a drive for some privacy and have a good cry-- I've been needing to do that for a while now.

Alex:

22:51

It sounds like feeling like you are making steps toward your recovery is important to you. You have a very well built plan of next steps to take.

Anonymous9837:

22:52

Thanks, I guess it's a matter of me actually doing them, haha. My mom actually is out here trying to get me to talk to her and... I think I should, I don't mean to cut off from you so quickly, but I'm calmed down and I know there are people out there in actual danger.

Alex:

22:52

Would you like someone from the IMAlive Team to follow up with you? That follow-up would be via email, a few days after this chat.

Anonymous9837:

22:53

Mm... I think I'm okay, actually-- Or, would that be just a check-in, I guess?

Anonymous9837:

22:53

Sure, you can contact me at *********@gmail.com, I guess.

Anonymous9837:

22:54

Gives me something to keep working on myself for so I can reply with positive news, haha.

Anonymous9837:

22:54

Hopefully!

Alex:

22:54

A check-in. Ok Elise a member of IMAlive will follow up with you. In the meantime, be good to yourself smiley

Anonymous9837:

22:55

Thanks so much, I really appreciate you listening to me.

🙂

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