#this is logan’s project in so many ways im crying

[britney-rosberg06]

Williams family in lap of legends you will ALWAYS be famous

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

When Our Hands Next Meet

Series summary: Soulmates are given memories of their past lives when their hands touch. For Virgil and Logan, each memory is happier than the last.

This series was created for @analogicalweek and made in collaboration with the lovely @birdsongisland! Please go look at the wonderful art that inspired this work and support them with reblogs so their work can be seen!

Credit to birdsongisland for beta reading this as well, they helped make it flow a lot better.

Chapter 6: Mirror Our Past with a Better Future

Chapter Summary: Virgil didn’t know how he had gotten so lucky being able to work with Logan in stars tailoring shop. All he knew is Logan made him feel beautiful, inside and out. 

Day 5 Prompt: Past/Future

Warnings: none. If there are any please let me know!

WC: 1918

AO3 link

Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @ace-in-a-shopping-cart @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi @logans-library @im-an-anxious-wreck @edupunkn00b

Logan leaned back in stars stool, a quirk to stars lips as star eyed the newest frock up and down. It wasn’t a style star usually went for- elegant and flowing as it was star much preferred a lot more poof and edge when it came to dress design. Carefully taking the pins from stars mouth back into the container star took another look at stars sketch. Long, delicate looking fabric swung off the hips and just barely brushed the floor. star hadn’t added color but star knew that it faded from a rich purple to a smoky black at the bottom, trimmed with a slight frill that made it swirl across the floor. The medium scoop neck flared out into puffed sleeves that gathered at the ends to grip the wrists. star had already made the deeper purple corset covered in a delicate lace, with shining false buckles lining the front and black ribbon that actually laced it in the back.

Looking down at stars own slightly oversized jumper paired with a medium length skirt and boots laced up to stars knees star couldn’t help but laugh softly. This was definitely a far cry from what star ever thought star would wear, let alone make. Somehow though, star knew star wasn’t going to be the one wearing it, and thankfully working alone in the shop meant star could afford a side project without tripping up anyone else. Typically with more elaborate projects like this star would make a prototype first, of a slightly less fancy design, and make sure all the kinks and possible uncomfortable spots were worked out of the design and made into something star could be proud of selling. Ever since star had taken over the tailoring shop star had been working towards a single goal- making things people could feel comfortable in. But with this- it had sat in stars brain for not even a day before star had finally relented and sketched it out and set to work immediately picking out the perfect fabric for it. 

Taking the needle back up star leaned close to gather the waist as carefully as star could, quick fingers moving skillfully to the tune star was quietly humming. This would certainly take a while, but star had a feeling it would be worth it.

-----

Virgil leaned back in his stool, a smile on his lips as he looked the newest frock up and down. It was stunning like everything Logan made was and he found himself caught by how grateful he was to be sitting with stars, listening to stars quiet humming as star worked diligently. He knew star used to work here alone so he was always grateful to be allowed to sit with star. It was a simple thing, far from his usual somewhat dramatic style but Logan had assured him it would look nice so he had eventually resented. Folding his legs underneath him he only smiled further at the concerned look he was given, waving it off but putting one leg back down as a compromise. He assumed the quiet huff meant he had won and settled down even further to continue admiring the other work.

The skirt was gathered at the waist and slightly poofy from the petticoat layer underneath purple plaid dominated the pattern with black accents that broke it up nicely. Swinging his current jean-clad leg he began softly humming along to the tune Logan had been repeating, harmonizing low so it wouldn’t be too much of a distraction. He beamed as Logan shot him a smile- Virgil never could resist it- and looked away with a small blush to observe the rest of the shop. It was quiet today thankfully, the emptiness being a welcome reprieve from the chaos of yesterday. There had been a slight scheduling error which meant nearly everyone had come to get their orders at the same time, clamoring for places in line while the two frantically ran back and forth trying to shove everything in boxes as neatly as they could before shooing the clients out the door and tending to the next. As good a business day as it was they had been exhausted afterwards and the day spent with just the two of them was helping to melt away the lingering anxiety.

His smile turned soft again while watching Logan carefully pin along a seam, admiring the years of skill built into the movements. He remembered the first time he had walked into the store- not realized Logan had made nearly everything there- and being awestruck at the realization of how much time and care was put into every project. This one would most likely still take a while but he had a feeling it would be worth it.

-----

Logan perked stars head up as the bell chimed at the door, managing to get one last stitch in before standing and making stars way out of the workroom. Stepping out star could just barely see a shock of purple hair moving between the racks, piquing stars curiosity enough to smooth down stars choppy, self cut mullet and make stars way over. star caught the other’s eye as star approached and star made sure to offer a kind smile to the obviously uncomfortable customer. They were gripping a couple different dress sleeves and worrying the fabric between their fingers as they shuffled their feet awkwardly.

star offered stars hand to shake, trying valiantly to be polite and not suggest a fidget cube instead for the nervous tic. “Hello, I’m Logan, star/stars pronouns please. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Virgil...he/him.” He didn’t take stars hand so Logan retracted it easily. Some people were weary of soulmates, preferring not to touch anyone’s hand before they were ready and Logan could respect that. “I uh- I like your skirt. I kinda miss wearing them so I was just browsing.”

“Is there a particular style you’re looking for?”

Licking his lips Virgil nervously glanced through the various styles on the rack, mumbling low enough Logan had to strain to hear. “No...I’m not really sure I should be wearing them anymore- just wanted to look.”

Oh. Logan knew where this person was coming from, star had felt the same way when stars pronouns had changed- wanting to pass as...well decidedly not feminine but missing the garments star had made and worn nearly all stars life. Offering an understanding smile, star turned and began sifting through the colors to try and find something simple he might be comfortable trying. “You just have to find something you’re confident in.”

-----

Virgil slid off the stool as he heard the bell chime, motioning to Logan that he could take care of it and making his way to the front of the store. Blowing his purple hair out of his eyes in a vain attempt  to make it look more presentable he caught sight of someone's back to him as they browsed the racks nearest to the front of the store. Leaning against the counter he made sure to make a bit of noise before speaking up so as not to startle them. “May I help you find something?”

Throwing a smile over their shoulder they held up a comfortable looking blouse triumphantly and made their way over. “Already found it!” 

Smiling at the cheerful customer he quickly rang them up and handed them their bag, waving as they left as he thought back to when he had first stepped foot through the doors. He wished he had had even half of that person’s confidence back then, instead if he remembered correctly he had nearly had a nervous breakdown over a skirt. Screwing his mouth to one side he turned on his heel and walked back into the workroom, hands on his hips as he stood next to Logan and leaned his head on stars shoulder. “You’re gonna go cross eyes if you keep squinting like that.”

Rolling stars eyes only to wince immediately after star consented and stuck the needle in a safe spot where it wouldn’t fall out. “I’m almost done anyway. Just need to patch up this side, I didn’t cut it straight enough to lay right.”

Pressing a kiss to stars cheek Virgil looked at the garment with barely contained excitement. “I love it already.”

“I just want to make you something you’ll be confident in.” Virgil smiled hearing the phrase he had heard so many years ago, remembering the effort star had gone through to find something he would like.

-----

“Come out when you’re ready.” Logan called as star hung the already discarded pieces back on the rack. Biting stars lip star glanced at stars workroom in thought. Technically the dress was done and star was sure Virgil would look beautiful in it but star wasn’t sure he’d be comfortable in something so fancy right now. Looking back as Virgil came out with the skirt hung over his arm the decision was made for stars. 

“Wait here.” Shooting him a smile star left to quickly tie off the last of the stitching and tug the dress off the mannequin, grabbing up the corset as star passed through the door. Virgil’s eyes blew wide when he saw the dress, immediately going to protest but getting quickly shushed as the pile of fabric was shoved into his arms. “Go change it’s fine! I need someone to model it anyway!”

A few minutes passed during which Logan nervously worried at the skin around stars thumb, hoping star hadn’t pushed the man too far. When star finally heard the door creak and turned towards virgil however, all the nervous tension drained away leaving nothing but quiet awe.

“Oh,” star said simply. 

The realization earned star a puzzled look but the brief confusion did nothing to wipe away the brilliant smile on his face. The dress fit perfectly, the ends of the flowing skirt hitting the floor just so and the deep purple contrasting nickel with his pale features. The corset smoothed out his curves while still framing him wonderfully and Logan could swear there was air in the room just a moment ago but all star could do was gape stupidly at the radiance before him.

“I must have been making that for you,” star said quietly. “You look stunning.”

Blushing profusely, Virgil raised one of his hands. “I couldn’t get the buttons…”

“Allow me.” Logan was careful to avoid making contact with his skin as star looped the buttons. Pausing suddenly as memory after happy memory flooded stars thoughts star looked down to see one finger curled tentatively around stars own, glancing back up to see Virgil smiling softly.

“I had a feeling.” He offered sheepishly.

Logan smiled, squeezing his hand in stars. “So did I.”

-----

“Come out when you’re ready!” Virgil heard Logan call for him and gave himself one last once over before deeming himself presentable. He ducked out of the dressing room giddily and twirled for his audience of one, cheeks aching from the wideness of his smile as he rubbed the fabric between his fingers excitedly. 

“It fits perfectly!” He watched as Logan smiled and reached for his hand, happily taking it and squeezing. 

“You look absolutely stunning.” Blushing at the compliment he leaned forward to rest his head against the others chest, drinking in stars presence and relaxing against stars.

“I love you.” He offered quietly.

Smiling, Logan enveloped him in a gentle hug. “So do I.”

Previous    Next

[vincent-frankenstein]

ADHD sides hcs :3c

self projection time? self projection time

feel free to add ur own hcs onto this im jus usin my own experiences here 

startin w PATTON

emotional regulation? who’s she? patton only knows feeling emotions with Every Single Atom in his body so powerfully he might one day Explode

if he’s happy hes HAPPY!!!!! it’s like his body fills with light and he’s walking 2 feet off the ground and nothing could go wrong — and then whoops, something goes wrong, and wh o o ps, hes crying, whoops —

has a million stuffed animals sitting aLL around the house so he always has something to Squeeze

Squeezing is a good stim dont @ me

he throws his whole body into stimming

flapping, bouncing, jumping, spinning — his body must be moving at all times or he will die 

starting things is. Very very hard for him. executive dysfunction hits DEEP and he’s just,,, paralyzed. he wants to do the thing!!! he really does!!! his brain just Wont Let Him

logan used to get very frustrated with him but then patton like, explained how it felt and a little lightbulb went off in logan’s head

“patton, I think you have adhd.”

“... i’m guessin that doesn’t mean im a-delightful-hip-dad?”

then they did some Research together and put together a plan to help patton work around executive dysfunction and, it works, sometimes

when it doesnt, logan makes hot cocoa and sits with him

AUDITORY. PROCESSING. PROBLEMS.

“Hey, Pat, what’s for dinner?” “huh?” “I said, what’s for —” “meATloaf”

hearing is an uphill struggle so sometimes he just Signs instead but a lot of the time he gets so excited about what he’s trying to say he just dissolves into flapping halfway through the sentence

lots of hyperfixations !!!! so many !!! he cycles through em one after another suuuuper quickly 

he never forgets a hyperfixation, and the mention of ANY old hyperfixations will have him cry-flapping

roman: hey did u know they’re making another phineas and ferb movie -

patton, vibrating intensely and sobbing, .5 seconds away from launching into orbit: theYR E MAKING A WHAT

ROMAN

singing is his absolute FAVORITE STIM

that moment where u reach a point in a song where ur chest just, Swells and u can feel ur voice Vibrating ? yeah

sometimes Does Not warm up beforehand bc ??? he has No Choice but to sing along to certain songs and he cant always control when they come on so his voice sometimes gets Very Raspy from belting without warmups

aside from that twirling and doing Ballet Poses are also very good stims. he stick his leggy out Real Far mmhm

roman: *starts a new project and doesnt finish it* *starts a new project and doesnt finish it* *starts a new project and doesnt finish it* *starts a new project and doesnt finish it *starts a new project and doesnt finish it* *starts a new project and doesnt finish it* *starts a new project and doesnt fin

his room is a MESS and NO he will NOT clean it LOGAN he has a SYSTEM 

he doesnt have a system and the mess stresses him out to no end but he has one (1) braincell and it’s dedicated to Starting Projects And Not Finishing Them so

needs validation to survive

like legit if he doesnt get validation he will DIE 

on the flip side, if he gets any sort of rejection, he will also Die

logan: so I read through your latest script, and the idea is solid. We can definitely work with this. I did notice one oddly structured sentence so I fixed that for you —

roman: so you basically hate it and i should die 

rejection sensitive dysphoria is the one villain he has yet to figure out how to slay

contrary to what u might think, he keeps his hyperfixations Very close to his heart. he doesnt think he would survive it if one of the others were to criticize them

the one exception to this rule: disney. 

you cant look at this boy and tell me hes not hyperfixated on disney i mean did you s E E him in that one ep cmon

he will ramble about disney to anyone who will listen for hours. days, even, if you give him the opportunity. infodumping about disney is like injecting pure sunlight right into his bloodstream; by the end of it he’s glowing

once, after accepting anxiety, virgil and roman ended up in another debate about the Meanings of disney movies, but this time it was friendly, and by the end of it roman had gotten to ramble about each and every one of his favorite movies and he had never been happier

it was the first time virgil ever saw him Flap

they still get together to talk disney sometimes

VIRGIIIIL

virgil: *stims while listening to mcr* *stims while listening to mcr* *stims while listening to mcr* *stims while listening to mcr* *stims while listening to mcr* *stims while listening to mcr* *stims while liste

like roman, Music is virgil’s main stim, but he prefers to just. Move. bouncin his leg and drumming his hands in the air and shaking his head etc etc

it takes. literally foreVER for him to trust the others enough to stim around them. music is his main comfort but, for a Long Time, he wouldnt let himself listen to it when the others were around, just bc he knew he’d want to stim and he couLDNT bc what if he got juDGED

but then one day roman starts singing and patton jumps up and starts spinning and virgils like “???” and logans like “that’s how they stim” and virgils like “!!!!”

he Tappy Leg Real Fast

he also has a string of beads he carries everywhere to twist around his fingers bc bead,,, Good Texture

he struggles with rsd just as badly as roman, but he shows it in a Different Way

roman hurts, but hes an actor. he’s not about to invite more rejection by letting them know how much their words hurt! no no no, he keeps up the bravado until hes back in his room and then he breaks

but virgil. the rsd hits and its like, a physical blow to his chest and he crumples, wilting in on himself, and the world around him just sorta, ebbs away. for virgil, rsd is static

after AA the others start to learn his Signs for when hes feeling Bad™ so whenever he shrinks away they’ll stop the conversation and talk him through his insecurities until he feels better

SPOOKY HYPERFIXATIONS ALL THE WAY

went to Halloween Horror Nights one (1) time and now listens to the music on repeat and just. stims for hours

also hes in love with austin gumbam from academy of villains me? self projecting? never 

knows Every Obscure Fact from Every Horror Movie Ever and the urge to infodump is Consntantly at the forefront of his mind but he Never Does

unless someone gives him permission 

virgil: oh? chucky? thats a. cool movie.  did you know that — uh. nvm

logan: no no, go on

virgil, vibrating at a speed that could shatter glass: iF YOU INSIST-

LOGAN,,,,

this bitch is just as bad at Emotional Regulation as patton

hes just better at hiding it

that little stunt w the paper in lntao? he is Constantly .5 seconds away from going apeshitt. that was just A Glimpse into the chaos

he’s just,,,, very very bad at Identifying what he’s feeling. patton hid his feelings from the others, but he still knew what he was feeling, and he knows how to identify emotions

logan, on the other hand? 

logan: passion and anger are both Hot. they must be The Same Thing

patton: i. i mean. not really

logan: goddamnit

or

patton: logan? are you crying?

logan, touching his cheek and finding Tears: hm. tragic. and here i thought i was “happy”

he’d much rather just,,, Not feel but thats not an option bc he still feels things intensely, he just doesnt know What he’s feeling most of the time

quiet stims. he runs his hands along the fabric of his tie, feeling the grooves of the stitches, and readjusts his glasses constantly. if he’s feelin extra wild, he’ll even pull out his rubix cube and solve and re-solve it without even looking

LOTS of obscure hyperfixations

he has so many books on so many different subjects,,,, his room is more of a library than a bedroom and thats just the way he likes it

throwback to that one time he hyperfixated on reptiles and thomas’ little “slimy boy” outburst had him chasing deceit around the mindscape trying to feel his scales “FOR SCIENCE”

memory. problems.

he HATES hates hates hates the fact that things slip his mind so easily. hence, the notebook, and the daily planner, and the deluge of postits hanging around his bedroom

it frustrates him to no end especiaLLY when he forgets important information in front of thomas

patton watches out for the signs of Frustration and brings logan a cup of tea later than day and helps him sort through the Mess of notes on his desk to catalogue the Important Info

just let logan and patton be adhd buds @god bls i beggeth

but when he does remember The Information and thomas praises him? effervescent

logan, after thomas called him cool, kicking down pattons door: I FINALLY KNOW WHAT HAPPINESS TRULY FEELS LIKE

patton: hey! cool your jets there, kiddo!

logan:

patton: :3c

logan, turning around: neveRMIND

patton: nO WAI T-

the day thomas called him cool was the first time he ever Flapped

[tulipanthousa]

please rant about your omegaverse fic tell us about those linen/cotton prices (or literally any odd detail you want) drop a random fact about the verse, anything. we'll eat it all up, i promise -💪🌟

okay so the undergarment thing came about because i needed to know what kind of clothes everyone was wearing for Plot Reasons and while i knew i wanted the time period in the Regency-Late Georgian-Very Early Victorian range i still had to translate Real Historical Gendered Fashion to Fictional Gendered Fashion for a totally different gender culture

so, short version (short version because i went totally overboard and actually wrote out the entire content of Roman, Remy, and Remus’s wardrobes, both pre-going to court and post and this post would get FUCK OFF LONG), this is approximately what the gendered clothing looks like

it still got pretty long so under a cut

Alphas

in everyday life, alphas generally all wear the same layers - a linen smock and stockings, a long gown/tunic, and a type of hooded robe called a gaberdine (which is FIRMLY medieval and so way out of the time period range of everyone else but i do what i want)

they usually arent very heavily decorated, maybe colorful or with simple patterns

however, in high-class circles (ie when Roman + siblings go to court) this takes a very sharp left turn into “i make roman cry” territory

the same basic layers - but in heavily decorated and sheer or semi-sheer fabric, worn over what can only be described as lingerie (including codpieces - yeah, that bad)

because “People want to know what kind of husband theyre getting, Roman” say Roman’s shitty omega parents who i already hate and theyve barely been fleshed out yet

Betas

betas wear a lot of fun to design clothing for, because the nature of gender roles in this verse (specifically, betas being coached from birth to be physical protectors of their siblings/future alpha spouse) meant everything had to be easy to move in, and either involve armor or at the minimum double as armor

as such, even fancy formal clothes for betas are made for function before form, every time

a formal shirt for an omega can be made of anything, but a betas would be made from, for example, silk or pressed and laminated linen, both very difficult to pierce, and a full outfit would probably involve multiple layers of clothes in such fabrics

betas do not wear skirts (or at least, a beta in a skirt generally gets the same response that a conservative would give a cross-dresser in our world) and this is a recurring source of :( for Roman/Remy/Remus’s youngest beta sister, Peggy (this universes Pranks)

also, dark and muted colors for betas - think social camouflage, meant to be relatively easy to ignore/in the background. Remus likes emerald green, and while their parents generally let him get away with a darker/forest-y tone, when he can get out in public with his preferred shade its considered downright gauche by other people

Logan’s dark blue is tolerable - Patton’s preferred pastel blue is considered worthy of open mockery

Omega

omegas by far have the most freedom of expression when it comes to clothes - they can wear shirts/waistcoats/jackets/pants, or blouses/dresses/bodices/skirts, and while generally male omegas wear the former and female omegas the latter, they definitely dont get much if any scrutiny if they wear the other, or even mix and match.

all of which is to say Remy is genderfluid in this verse and i will be putting him in Many Pretty Clothes of the mix and match variety (me projecting??? dont @ me)

Virgil too but slightly less so

Virgil, who is pretty much the only omega main character other than Remy, is much less comfortable in opulent/showy clothing, which is an issue now that he’s the crown prince - he’s much more comfortable in what many people would consider “beta colors” - even his signature purple he prefers in darker shades

also, skirts generally dont fall as low as alpha clothes - omega ankles/calves are not considered ScandalousTM, so hems usually hover around the knee.

more general things

we predate elastic and synthetic fabrics here, so the most shapewear we’re getting is reeded or whaleboned stays or MAYBE corsets - the show-offy undergarments roman’s put in (much to his distaste) are revealing and over decorated, but probably not skin-tight

will be putting remus, logan, and patton in actual armor in addition to clothes that double as such, and its totally normal for betas to openly carry around weapons because im gay and deserve it

at fancy parties omega siblings often coordinate their jewelry, and sometimes whole outfits, though the latter is considered somewhat corny

linen is in fact cheaper than cotton XD

[pyr0cue]

animatic ideas that i want to do but am not talented enough for, there’s so many. I have so many ideas by no talent, below the cut

-prinxiety with When the Day Met the Night by p!atd (Virgil as the “moon” and Roman as the “sun” and just,,,fluff)

-Roman angst with False Confidence by Noah Kahan (just a lot of crying :D)

-Roman angst with Karma by AJR (super common but fuck it: Patton would be the person that Ro was addressing)

-Hurt/comfort for Roman with Flares by the script (i just want to, okay?)

-I really really want to make a Black Parade au (Virgil as Fear, Patton as Regret, Thomas as the patient, Roman as the vocalist, Remus as Mother War, Emile Picani as the bassist, Janus as lead guitar, Remy as rhythm guitar, and Logan on the drums) 

-Prinxiety with Summertime by MCR (just,,,somft)

-Logicality with Would You Be So Kind by Dodie 

-Prinxiety (again, i know) with In My Life by The Beatles

-More Roman Angst to Desert Song by MCR (the pain that i bring to myself just thinking about the frames)

-Intrulogical with This Tornado Loves You (chaotic but kind of sweet)

-Stanly Uris with Birds by Thomas Sanders

-The Losers Club with The Kids From Yesterday by MCR

-Fly me to the moon with Intrulogical

-Brotherly Creativitwins with Brother by Gerard Way (angst!!)

-Reddie angst (after IT ch2, when eddie has di*d) It’s too Late by Carol King

-TUA hurt/comfort for Klaus with Missing You by All Time Low

-Human Prinxiety with Just Like Heaven by The Cure

-TUA angst with Boys Don’t Cry by The Cure

-Roman angst with Oh No! by MARINA

-Losers Club with Boys of Summer by Don Henly

-Art Is Dead for Roman Angst

-Demolition Lovers by MCR with demus/dukeceit

-Remus angst with House of Wolves by MCR

-Burn Bright by MCR with prinxiety

-manipulative Janus with You’ll Be Back from Hamilton

-Roman or Virgil angst with Guilt Tripping by Frank Iero

-ok maybe i want to do a danger days au too, sue me (Thomas as The Girl (boy), Janus as Doctor D. Logan as Kobra Kid, Roman as Jet star, Remy as Party Poison, Remus as Fun Ghoul, Emile as Cherri Cola, etc. I would make them killjoy names and outfits and :( i want to be skilled)

-Remus doing “Stupid in School” by Brian Reagan, its a comedy act but whatever (logan as the teacher)

-Icarus by Bastille for Roman Angst

-Under Pressure (the used/mcr) for Roman and Virgil angst 

-Ocean Avenue for Reddie

-Sweet Talk for Reddie and/or Prinxiety

-And fine maybe i want to draw Virgil, Roman, and Remus jamming to MCR together because i do. Leave me alone. im projecting

I said there was a lot. I have no skills and too many ideas

[suchstarryseas-blog]

I remembered where I'd actually been going with that last post. Nice!

There's always gonna be things I'm not good at that are entirely possible, too. Goddess knows I've tried to learn instruments. Can't ever place my fingers correctly. I've tried learning to cook, Filled a house up with gas, made something out of cheese that looked like it might've been human, once. Im no good at math, or remembering history, Teachers weren't ever really my biggest fans. There are things I'm not good at, though, and there are things I've been trying so hard to be better at. Not even good. Just better. I've been trying to eat a bit better, been walking more, been doing more magic. I've been focusing on healthy weight loss, and trying so damn hard not to fall into so many old habits. I've been trying to go out more, even just relatively alone, tried not to shut down and fence everyone off. Those things are all things I can work on myself, though. Things I can do alone. Some things, though, I don't know how to get better at. I've never been good at talking, for instance. As a kid, I'd get in trouble for things I said, things I didn't say. I remember getting hit a lot. I didn't answer a question? Hit. I didn't answer fast enough? Hit. I didn't answer how they wanted me to? Hit. I didn't answer how they wanted to without seeming like I was lying? Hit. I'd get hit so often for speaking that eventually I just didn't speak. I'd talk to Logan, my brother. I'd talk to my friends. But at home, I would creep around the house in silence, down to the kitchen for water, out to the yard to read, up to my room to stay out of sight. I developed this fear of talking, but it was... And is... More complicated than that. The hitting was one thing. The silence spun into worse and worse situations. No matter what I did, it was always wrong, no matter what I said it was the worst thing to say. But the thing that made it all into how I am today was the things they'd say. "We just want what's best for you." "We wouldn't do this if we didn't care." "We love you. We want you to do better." "We want you to be safe." Over time, it would evolve, and so would I. In the middle, I was conflicted and confused. I'd choke on my words and cry, the room would get darker as panic set in, Spinning, making me feel dizzy and sick and like I was on fire. They'd demand words but my mind would race, and unable to decide what they wanted to hear, I'd drift into this cycle of worry and knowing I had to say something, but never being able to, knowing they were getting angrier. "Why won't you just talk to us?" Silence, crying. Hit. "It's just a simple question." Silence, choking. "I..." "I what?" Silence. Hit. Eventually I found I would be less panicked, that it would all end more quickly, if I didn't even try to think of anything to say. If they didn't ask something I could nod or shake my head in response to, then I wouldn't bother putting in the effort to respond. I was hit often, but the talks became shorter. "Why didn't you do well on this test?" Shrug. "That's not a real fucking answer." I'd stare until they were uncomfortable. They'd talk to fill the silence, and I'd know they did so because they didn't know what else to do. Around then was when I started to be proud, when I turned it into a game. Hit. "Why are you failing this class?" I'd shrug. "Have you been skipping your homework?" Nod. "Why?" Shrug. They started giving me choices, occasionally, as I got older. "Clean the whole house, or grounded for a week?" I'd stay inside for a week, as far as they knew. If I chose cleaning, it'd never be good enough- I'd have to do it over and over until a week had gone, anyway. "Do you want to be grounded, or hit?" They learned to interpret long stares. "Grounded for a month, or hit?" "Hit." Eventually they decided nodding was disrespectful and forbidden. So I didn't speak. Didn't panic. Didn't cry. Snuck out when I could. They started grounding me, reguardless of what I had or hadn't done. Hitting me when they felt I'd done anything at all- left a cup of water in my room, forgotten to take the trash out, flicked my brother and made him angry. Talks became longer again as they struggled to fill the silence. I was studying at the table once when my dad came into the living room. I'd been hit two days before and nobody had talked to me since. "---, we love you. We know something must be going on. Something must have happened. Was it the last time you went to your mom's?" He'd asked. Silence. I'd glanced up at Felix, who was glaring holes into my father's forehead. " You know you can talk to us, right? You know that. If something happened, something you remember, or even something that just didn't feel right..." I turn in my chair, away from my work, and stare at him, silent. "We worry about you. Just know you can talk to us." He'd left, after that. It was one of the few times I'd ever seen him with tears in his eyes, and I wondered a long time how long hed suspected I'd been molested. Felix had laughed, in his bitter sort of way, about how my dad thought it was just something from a long time ago. His family was always so much better than my birth mom's. He had no reason to think otherwise. I considered telling him everything. About Felix, how depression wasnt all that was going on, about the two cousins who molested me when I was young, about the one who still was, every weekend. I thought about it for a couple weeks. I thought about telling him I wanted to go back to therapy again. That I was ready to really talk about things. To try and get better. I was silent for two weeks. Debating. Worrying. Felix was worried, too. That I'd be put on the wrong shit if I talked about him, locked up somewhere, electricity pumped through my brain. "They'll drug you out of your goddamn mind, if you aren't careful." One morning before school, I went into my dad's room in my PJs. Red, soft material pants, tied with torn red ribbon, torn at the bottom from walking on the ends of them all the time. A green day t shirt, faded and worn, a gift from my mom when she'd been ready to get rid of it. It was spring. "Dad?" "No, you can't stay home from school. I already told your brother. Just because mom's at work doesn't mean everyone gets a day off." He'd let us stay home once and a while, then, sometimes we'd work on things around the house together. The room he was in was one of those projects. When Jenna's grandma died, I hadn't been invited to the funeral. He'd let me stay home the whole week she and Logan were gone, and we'd painted every room in the house. My room had been purple berry, full of tiny silver flecks. Logan's was a sky blue. My dad's room was this dark, golden yellow, with one dark red wall. "Can I talk to you about something?" "Sure. Is everything okay?" I'd sat next to him on the bed. I'd always been bad at talking, and when I'd finally decided to talk, to really talk about everything, important things, things I didn't know how to talk about, didn't have a right answer for, couldn't nod or shake my head or shrug or be silent... I didn't tell a single person in the world, aside from Felix, and eventually Kayden, what my dad did. Not until I was eighteen and out of his home, away from him and Jenna. I was in the eighth grade, when he did what he did. Afterwards, I'd gone to my room, grabbed my backpack, and started stuffing clothes in it. I was set on going to Kristen's house. He'd popped his head in, told me I wasn't going anywhere, and left the room again. Id put the bag down. Logan and I stayed home from school that day. And I stayed home the day after. I spent hours in the shower, but couldn't get clean. I wanted to go. I was ready to go anywhere, but I couldn't leave Logan. He was too young. He NEEDED me. Who else would make him snacks every Sunday morning? Would help him turn his toybox into a slide? Jenna started mentioning that I looked dead inside, all the time. Sometimes I'd get so tired, so low, that I'd lose my place in things. I stayed up at night afraid, Felix pacing around my room. Sometimes I'd get too worried and sleep in my closet or under my bed. He came into my room three nights. I started sleeping in classes, sitting out in gym. Sometimes I'd forget where I was, who I was, what was real. Sometimes it was like I was standing next to myself, which makes a lot more sense, now. Felix, when he was there, that year, did everything he could. He was the one who reminded me to eat, to drink. When the disconnect got so bad I started hurting myself to feel like I existed, he was the one who knew how to take care of it all, keep it all clean. He felt like he was leaving soon. If I remember right, it was after July Fourth, that year. He pushed it off as long as he could. He tried so hard to stay. But then he was gone again, and I was there alone, unable to remember him, not sure how I'd learned to take care of myself and alone enough that sometimes I didn't bother. I told nobody else until I'd left the house. I was eighteen. In eighth grade, I'd have been fourteen, or so. Four years of not sleeping at night, of keeping a bell tied to my door, of not being able to have both my ears covered, of waking up to any sort of noise and wondering if I was about to be killed and kept quiet or raped. I moved out, and when my dad had to move in with my uncle, I gave him grocery and gas money so that Logan would have food when he went to visit. I've never been good at talking, not out loud. For a lot of my life, the only person I ever talked to didn't have to hear my physically speak to know what I needed said. The person I went through trauma besides, the person who took care of me and kept me here, never needed real words. For a while, I couldn't do it, even after leaving that house. I would write out messages to friends when important subjects came up, holding the phone up for them to read. In an argument, I'd text the person sitting next to me as they talked. My friends grew used to it, usually. To silence interrupted by bright screens. It's always been easier for me to talk this way, it probably always will be. Typing things out gives me time to reread, rephrase, to make sure I'm not leaving anything out. This whole thing might seem like an excuse, or a tangent, which is ridiculous since I really am writing just for me, tonight, but it's not that. There are things I'm not good at. There are pictures of characters that make me walk faster down crowded sidewalks in midday. There are sentences that can set me off, launching me into gross, unexplained stretches of panicked silence I have no control over. There are tunes that make my eyes go wide, make me pick at my nails until they bleed, make me dizzy and sick and empty all at once. If you tickle me, I'll burst into tears. If you tickle me because something serious happened, or I sound serious and you're trying to cheer me up, I'll want to kill myself. There are things I'm not good at that don't make sense. Things I'm not good at that I could be good at. Things I have every chance to be good at and won't be. But talking has always been the hardest. I'm sorry. I am. I'm sorry for everyone who ever tries to talk to me. I'm sorry for everyone who gets frustrated when I fall into the habit of being quiet and talking through a screen; I was raised to believe that a wrong word or bad response can literally hurt me, and being able to see my words makes me feel more calm. I'm sorry to everyone who I ever nod or shake my head at; I know it's not much of anything at all, but sometimes I don't know what to say and get too afraid to say anything. I'm sorry for the people who deal with my silence; the long stretches of putting off meetings, or conversations, the inability to make words happen, the inability to explain myself. For most of my life, I wasn't given the chance. I still fall into the obsession over choosing my words carefully. Talking isn't something I've ever been good at. It might never be. But it's one of the things I've been trying really, really hard to get better at, at least. And whether there's more than one person who can really see the progress I've made, I'm damn proud of it. Go me.